I don’t know to feel embarrassed

           Last week I made a mistake. Upon walking into my clinic at 7:20am I moved past a group of Batswana (multiple people from Botswana) and entered our morning meeting room. I sat down quietly and was waiting for the meeting to begin when one of the midwives called to me “Mogomotsi there’s someone asking for you.” Curious, I stood up and walked out into the hallway to be met with several looks of annoyance. One man spoke to me directly. “Ahh you did not greet us when you walked in.” I stood there awkwardly for a moment before shifting my body language. Leaning forward I said “Ahh sorry sorry sorry sorry, Dumela rra le bomma. Good morning to you all.” I was soon met with cracked smiles and soft “dumelas(hello).” As I stood up to head back into the meeting room I made a note to greet everyone at the doorway to the clinic regardless of how many people were there. The thing was that I didn’t feel bad about it at all.

           Culture is a curious thing. You can study it, learn about it and even seek to understand it, but there’s never an end to the nuance of culture. In that moment, I insulted a group of elderly gentleman and older ladies. Were I a young boy in the village I might have been scolded by my parents and possibly beaten for such disrespect, but I’m not. In fact, I hardly even felt bad for the disrespect. I was more annoyed at myself for missing an opportunity to integrate into the community. Why didn’t I feel bad though? The reason came a week later.

           Sundays here might as well be a public holiday. The majority of, businesses are closed and the only places open are lodges (Hotels) and supermarkets. Therefore, if I want to have any resemblance of a productive day the only place to go is a lodge and the fact that it has a view is an added bonus. As I sat there sipping my cup of coffee (my ticket into the lodge), I couldn’t help, but watch the tourists enjoy themselves in the pool and bask in the sun without any understanding of the area in which they were staying. They had no concept of the culture and most likely didn’t know how to even greet someone in the village. Obviously, I don’t blame them in the slightest because I’d be doing the same thing if I was on vacation, but it gave me clarity as to why I didn’t feel bad about disrespecting the Batswana in the clinic. I didn’t have a deep enough understanding of the culture. The nuances of that moment flew over my head higher than a 747. I didn’t feel embarrassed because I didn’t know what to feel embarrassed about. In my culture such a moment wouldn’t happen and if it did a simple apology would have sufficed. Even if I spent 10 years here, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed since I wasn’t raised here in the same way.

           There’s still hope. Even though, I may not be able to understand all the nuances of the new culture in which I live I can still seek to learn. To learn about the people, to learn about the clinic and to learn about the land. If anything, being aware of the divide is the first step.