I haven’t written in this blog in a while. Almost exactly five months. Since the day I left my beloved South Africa. The blog was started as a way for me to track my experiences in South Africa, a new country, a new culture. Everything was new and exciting – even until the day I left. I was always discovering new things and I loved that. Learning every day, the entire country was my classroom, and that’s how I lived while I was there.
I was warned about reverse culture shock countless times, even before I’d left America I was told that coming back might be harder than first going to South Africa. At the end of my study abroad period in June we did a workshop on it, so I was prepared six months before I was even going to leave. I think I’d over prepared myself for coming back, because when I finally got to Boston and met my friend James, nothing was all that overwhelming. The T hadn’t changed – I still took the blue line to the orange line to get home. Bostonians were the same – hobos and all. The things that really shook me were much smaller than I expected. All of a sudden everyone spoke American – and yes I am using that phrase here because the English spoken in South Africa is nothing like the English we speak in America. The accent I’d been trying to get rid of, and disassociate myself with was all over. By the time I left South Africa I spoke just like all of my friends, I used South African slang, South African expressions, the formation of my sentences had changed (in other words – I learned to speak with proper grammar). So it was a little jolting for people to not understand me when I said something like, ‘I SMSed my flatmate.’ What? THAT’S NORMAL! Who are you? I would think to myself. Riding on the bus the first day back I experienced a few seconds of panic being surrounded by American teenagers shouting and crowding around, but then it was gone, I figured that was it, I’d had my culture shock. But the smaller things went much longer than that. My first time in a club back in America I stood still in the middle of the dance floor not knowing what to do because I realized I’d forgotten how to dance in America. Yelling to my mom in a department store I automatically covered my mouth, worried that I’d spoken in my American accent too loudly and that those around me would hear me and know I was foreign (a legitimate fear I had while abroad and part of the reason I began speaking softer), until I realized a second later that everyone here spoke with my accent. Even today I’ll walk by people with certain voices on the street and be surprised to hear their accent, and I’ll think they sound so American, before reminding myself that now I do too, and so does everyone else around me. It still shocks me every time it happens.
And then there are the deeper aspects about culture – ideologies that I’ve had to get used to. I spent my time in South Africa realizing what is important in life and basically changing my entire life plan, which has continued now that I’m back in America. But I was unsettled by hearing friends talk about casually hooking up with guys, or the amount of money spent at Sephora and Express – material things I could not afford while abroad and had escaped my thoughts for the most part. For a long time, and actually at times still do, I converted everything I bought back into Rand and was appalled at the money I was spending, appalled at how expensive everything was. I thought about the townships I’d visited, worked in, made friends in and was ashamed. The way the most Americans live on a day-to-day basis is unimaginable for the majority of South Africans. There were times I sat back and just watched a group of friends chatting in the dining hall or in class, hearing how they were speaking and interacting, what they were talking about – I felt like a foreigner in my own country. I had to learn America all over again, something that is strange since I never felt I had to ‘learn’ it in the first place, I just lived it.
In any case, this is all coming back to my right now after the events of the past week. I go to school in Boston. I’ve lived in Boston pretty much full time since January 2010 (excluding 2012 of course) and I know it pretty well. I know the streets and the T, I have my favorite bars and shops and Thai restaurants. I was at work on Monday when I heard about the bombs – which were actually heard by my co-worker at the front of the store since we are only one street over from Boylston. After an hour and a half of lockdown we were told to leave the mall and I walked back to campus to join my friends, and try to catch up on what I’d missed. I had friends from Seattle to South Africa texting me to make sure I was ok, which truly meant the world to me and I am thankful to every one of you. I felt so much pride for Boston this week, my current home, possibly my future home, and forever in my heart. Reading the stories of those who ran towards the blasts to help sent tears down my face and I happily posted them on my Facebook – we are a resilient town, and we came together in this tragedy.
The day after the Boston bombings, I read about the earthquake in the Middle East – a 7.8, which having experienced a 6.9 I knew was bad – killing many people and injuring hundreds. My immediate thought was – this is worse, way more people died and were injured so they are going to cover this. Of course they didn’t really, Boston ruled the week, even over an immense plant explosion in Texas that killed 14 and injured over 200. The American news coverage is obviously biased – something that the rest of the world is fully aware of, and most Americans are ignorant about the shit hurled our way when our news stations spend too much time covering our tragedies and not the world’s tragedies, which often times are much worse.
I haven’t felt the need to defend America to foreigners in a while, not since April or May last year. I began agreeing with everything said about America while abroad, since it is true and I saw it from the same perspective, being outside the United States. I just feel the need to preface what I am about to say since I am going to defend us right now. But yes, of course we are biased, of course news about our own country gets more attention than world news…it’s our country, and this is a nation with a lot of pride. In terms of media, America makes quite a splash on the rest of the world, so I understand why we are seen as the biggest perpetrators. But I’d also like to say in light of this week’s events that human beings are attracted to drama. Why did Boston get more coverage than Texas? Because it was a mystery, it was unknown, we were all curious. A manhunt? Bostonians thought they were living an episode of Law and Order – the fact is it was just good TV and that is the jackpot for news stations. That being said, comparing what happened in Boston to what happens in the Middle East daily is a little rash. I did not honestly feel all that unsafe at any point this week, and while I did have some fears of trashcans exploding as I walked by the days following, I was not truly worried for my life. We all need to be realistic that the situation in the Middle East –a WAR ZONE is a million times worse than Boston this week. And while the three deaths were tragic, and I pray for all those recovering from injuries, the bombs could have been much worse – and in the Middle East they are.
After the second suspect was caught last night, Boston erupted into celebrations. Streets were clogged with people singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ and the National Anthem and chanting ‘USA!’ Red, white and blue were everywhere and American flags were waved from windows and held over people’s heads in the crowd. My first reaction was awe, followed quickly by embarrassment. To be this American, this proud was shameful to me. You’re not supposed to do that. I realize this is part of my culture shock that I am still coming to terms with. I could not be proud of America in South Africa, and I wasn’t. And in South Africa country pride is a complicated issue.
But at the same time I’d like to point out – this is what makes America great. That we all do have so much pride in our nation, that we all can sing our national anthem together, that we love our flag and wear it on t-shirts and wave it from rooftops. While some might think it vain, it honestly is a wonderful and rare thing. It is because of this pride that we’ve rallied together this week, that blood banks are full from donations and doctors walked right from the race into the bombsite to help those injured. And I will admit that to be a part of it is a wonderful thing.
Now I still will say that I think the street celebrations were a bit inappropriate, beer cans litter the street this morning, which someone will not have to clean, and police officers who deserved a break from the day instead had to keep an eye on the situation. But I respect it as an example of America’s culture, and our people. Being in Boston this week has been incredible, and I am so, so thankful for all those officers who helped me still feel safe while living in a city that had bombs exploding five days prior.
Hi Kimberly,
An excellent analysis!
Tracy