When I traveled to Yunnan Province, China in 2008, the students from the countryside there thought I resembled the pop star Wu Chun.
It's slightly bizarre to enter the town "cinema"- a room full of benches and TVs playing B-action movies- and realize that everyone in the audience has shifted their attention from the movie to you. Or to walk through the roundabout in the center of town and feel the unflinching, soul-piercing glares coming at you from all sides.
Trudie, a Peace Corps volunteer who has worked a year here in Dembi Dollo, has theorized that the residents of this town have so little contact with foreigners that they have essentially "other-ized" them, in effect viewing foreigners as some sort of non-human entities. While some of my experiences have lent credence to this theory, the excitement in the eyes of most of the children who spot me on the road leads me to believe that a sizable proportion of the population here is genuinely- and innocently- curious about these people who look and speak so differently from them.
One time, when our car was stopped to pick up a sick man to take him to the hospital, a few kids spotted me in the passenger seat and began running up to the car to shake my hand. One little boy, confused as to what the other kids were doing but aware that he should be following them, imitated the others by shaking my hand then looking around at his peers to see if he had done it correctly. I've even had experiences where young kids no older than 7 will spot me riding along in the car, and happily chase the car all the way down the road, gathering more and more children along the way.
On another occasion as I was riding to clinic, a stranger hopped into my car and started asking me about myself, explaining that he had seen me walking through town and wanted to meet me.
A picture of Wu Chun- you be the judge
Thus far in Ethiopia, I [thankfully] haven't been told I look like any local celebrities, but the sensation of feeling like one is perhaps even more pronounced. Because the town of Dembi Dollo is a rather close-knit, homogeneous community, newcomers are strikingly apparent, and even more so when the newcomer looks entirely different than the rest of the town's population and dons blue scrubs and knee-high clam-digging boots everywhere he goes.
It's slightly bizarre to enter the town "cinema"- a room full of benches and TVs playing B-action movies- and realize that everyone in the audience has shifted their attention from the movie to you. Or to walk through the roundabout in the center of town and feel the unflinching, soul-piercing glares coming at you from all sides.
Trudie, a Peace Corps volunteer who has worked a year here in Dembi Dollo, has theorized that the residents of this town have so little contact with foreigners that they have essentially "other-ized" them, in effect viewing foreigners as some sort of non-human entities. While some of my experiences have lent credence to this theory, the excitement in the eyes of most of the children who spot me on the road leads me to believe that a sizable proportion of the population here is genuinely- and innocently- curious about these people who look and speak so differently from them.
One time, when our car was stopped to pick up a sick man to take him to the hospital, a few kids spotted me in the passenger seat and began running up to the car to shake my hand. One little boy, confused as to what the other kids were doing but aware that he should be following them, imitated the others by shaking my hand then looking around at his peers to see if he had done it correctly. I've even had experiences where young kids no older than 7 will spot me riding along in the car, and happily chase the car all the way down the road, gathering more and more children along the way.
two girls who would shout hi at me then run and hide when I waved back
kids playing in the dirt
candid poses
One day during my lunch break at the eye clinic, I took the opportunity to explore the nearby area and stumbled upon Bethel Church. Curious as to what the local Protestant churches in Dembi Dollo were like, I poked my head through the gate and spied a man inside motioning for me to come in. Upon entering, I found the man and some of his fellow teachers supervising a group of elementary school children, who were whispering and giggling nervously. One by one, the teachers directed their students to introduce themselves to me, and they each mustered up the courage to deliver their carefully practiced phrase, "Hi, my name is _____ ." One of the teachers directed me to continue on to the rear of the church, where the church's school for Kindergarteners to 3rd graders was celebrating its last day of classes. As the principal came up to greet me, I heard a low rumble emanating from the classrooms as the kids scrambled to get a better view of the foreigner who stood in their school courtyard.
I'm not sure it's possible to know real joy until one has seen 210 four to ten year olds dressed in bow ties and dresses pushing their heads out their classroom windows and doors, smiling from ear to ear, shouting "China!" and screaming with delight when I waved to them.
I acknowledged that it almost seemed self-serving to knowingly enter a school where I knew I would be the center of attention, but as my entrance had been solely serendipitous, I decided to enjoy the moment for what it was and share in the joy of the students. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera that day, but in some ways that may have been better- the memories of that visit are now purely memories, unadulterated by the distorted recollection produced by a digital image.
Cameron, I understand your observation regarding the "distorted recollection produced by the digital image." While I have many pictures of children and teens at school and on the road, there were sacred moments when the beauty and even the tragedy of what I saw became "pure" memories, and all the more memorable and important. Underneath was the feeling that taking some photo's would be an invasion of personal and spiritual space. Larry
ReplyDelete