Me and My Mundu
As I mentioned in my last post (and I'm only going to mention it in passing here as well. I'll write something insightful and meaningful about it soon, I swear!), last week was Kerala's 50th birthday as a state. As part of the celebration, people wore the traditional Kerala garb-- a cream-coloured sari with gold trim for the ladies, and a mundu and white shirt for the gents. This was my first time wearing a dhoti out in public (I wear my lungee in my room pretty frequently), and I loved it!
So now I'm wearing a mundu pretty much everywhere I go. I'm realizing, however, that this may create a problem of sorts. It's completely acceptable, and the Indian people love it that a saipu is wearing traditional clothing. They've actually taken to calling me "the Malayalee Saipu"-- the White Malayalee. Which is great. But this is also precisely the problem.
I've now completely annihilated any possible chance at relevance.
In listening to the people at the college or at Chacko Homes talk about previous volunteers, they never mention the work they did or the impact they had; they only talk about to what extent they succeded or failed in embracing the culture here. I hear about how good such and such volunteer was at eating with his or her hands; what foods they enjoyed or really disliked; how easily (or impossibly) Malayalam came to them; the trouble they had wearing a sari.
So now, instead of being remembered for the stellar communicative English classes I taught; instead of being remembered as the guy who started up the inter-faith fellowship/social issues discussion group; instead of being remembered as the guy who really threw down the gauntlet and challenged the SCF, NSS, and college as a whole to have a social conscience and acknowledge the presence and needs of a world outside their walls; instead of being remembered for my smile, warmth, insight, or music, I'm going to be remembered as "That Guy Who Loved To Eat And Wore A Mundu All The Time."
But I guess there are worse ways to be remembered. It's not like I'll be "The Guy Who Ended Up Hating India And Indians So Much That He Went Home And Told George W. Bush That The Country Is Laden With Oil." But who knows... it's still early in the year.
And I shouldn't be worrying about how I'll be remembered anyway. Got to keep my head in the present.
As I mentioned in my last post (and I'm only going to mention it in passing here as well. I'll write something insightful and meaningful about it soon, I swear!), last week was Kerala's 50th birthday as a state. As part of the celebration, people wore the traditional Kerala garb-- a cream-coloured sari with gold trim for the ladies, and a mundu and white shirt for the gents. This was my first time wearing a dhoti out in public (I wear my lungee in my room pretty frequently), and I loved it!
So now I'm wearing a mundu pretty much everywhere I go. I'm realizing, however, that this may create a problem of sorts. It's completely acceptable, and the Indian people love it that a saipu is wearing traditional clothing. They've actually taken to calling me "the Malayalee Saipu"-- the White Malayalee. Which is great. But this is also precisely the problem.
I've now completely annihilated any possible chance at relevance.
In listening to the people at the college or at Chacko Homes talk about previous volunteers, they never mention the work they did or the impact they had; they only talk about to what extent they succeded or failed in embracing the culture here. I hear about how good such and such volunteer was at eating with his or her hands; what foods they enjoyed or really disliked; how easily (or impossibly) Malayalam came to them; the trouble they had wearing a sari.
So now, instead of being remembered for the stellar communicative English classes I taught; instead of being remembered as the guy who started up the inter-faith fellowship/social issues discussion group; instead of being remembered as the guy who really threw down the gauntlet and challenged the SCF, NSS, and college as a whole to have a social conscience and acknowledge the presence and needs of a world outside their walls; instead of being remembered for my smile, warmth, insight, or music, I'm going to be remembered as "That Guy Who Loved To Eat And Wore A Mundu All The Time."
But I guess there are worse ways to be remembered. It's not like I'll be "The Guy Who Ended Up Hating India And Indians So Much That He Went Home And Told George W. Bush That The Country Is Laden With Oil." But who knows... it's still early in the year.
And I shouldn't be worrying about how I'll be remembered anyway. Got to keep my head in the present.
posted by Andy at 9:55 AM
1 Comments:
Andy, don't lose sight of the importance of leaving that impact you are leaving, even if it is not for the incredible accomplishments you have made at UCC and in Aluva. While I was there, I learned that it is not as important to be remembered for what I did as for who I was; and it sounds like that is just what is happening for you. It's a positive thing.
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