Well, the title is a rather tall claim to make on the basis of just a couple of such incidents. But still these incidents happened and so I have to write and tell you about them. The first incident occured at a well known charity shop in town very close to where I live, and the second has to do with a One-World Shop in a nearby village. And the third story I tell here, just to put things in perspective and to show how things could and should really be; it took place in a Gymansium in a little town outside Wuerzburg. Nothing really happened in any of these occasions, but still a lot happened. So here goes...
I guess living in Germany and looking different from the 'normal' Germans means different people make different assumptions about me. Most often they believe that I don't speak or understand German. That happens all the time, and doesn't bother me too much. Let me give three small examples before coming to the three bigger stories:
Once I was on a train and there was this woman who was doing a survey of passengers for the DB, where they came from, where they were going, how they came, how they will go etc. etc. She asked everyone around me but not me... some people refused to answer, many of the others obliged, some simply out of politeness. But she did not ask me even once if I would take the survey. Later when I mentioned it to a fellow passenger, he said that the English novel I was reading perhaps made her believe that I did not speak any German. Perhaps he was right, but still it did feel a little strange to be the only one left out... Did I look like someone who would not be able to understand the questions and give reasonable answers?
Then often at supermarkets, rather than tell me how much I need to pay the person at the till often simply points me to the screen where the amount is displayed and waits for me to make the payment! Sometimes they continue to speak in gestures even after I speak to them in German. Not sure why... they have no wish or time to engage with strange looking women, perhaps they just need to get on with their work as fast as possible...
The last incident happened only last week. My friend Petra and I were taking part in some session on Mental Strength organised by a small town community close to where Petra lived as part of some Women's Initiative. We all sat in a circle, and I was sitting between the mentor and Petra. Our mentor was a bright young woman, very smart and very good at her work, but who also had some mixed background, perhaps she had a grandfather who was Moroccan or Egyptian or whatever... At some point she started distributing paper and pencils to all the attendees. She gave the lady on her right some pencils to pass on to the others around the circle. But rather than give me the rest, she bypassed me and gave them to Petra instead. I was amused... Did I look incapable of handling that small task...well..well...well...
Anyway here are the bigger stories I promised to tell you at the beginning:
Incident 1.
There is a Charity shop very close to where I live in Germany. So much so that I normally drop by almost every day there to see if there is anything interesting that has come in or that I could buy to use or to take back home. Many of the senior ladies who work, or rather volunteer their services, at the shop know me, at least by face, since I am so often there. Often we have also exchanged pleasantries and discussed the weather. And whenever I have bought anything there, the ladies have been gracious and friendly.
But then the dared to do the unthinkable -- I decided that I had too many things in my flat and decided to give some stuff away -- so I packed two bags, one with novels that I had finished reading and the second with some mugs, bowls, dishes and other crockery that I no longer needed but which were not damaged and could be used, and took them to the shop to donate. The normal procedure when anybody brings any donation to the shop is that one informs the lady at the counter who then presses a bell and a lady from the inner room then opens the door at the back of the shop and takes the items from the donor, asking him or her to wait while they check whether the items brought are 'good enough' to be sold in their extraordinary shop. Often I have heard the person coming back after inspecting the items given for donation, and returning some of them saying something rough to the donor like, 'Sorry, but we cannot sell such rubbish in our shop, your stuff is only good for the trash can or for recycling!' It can be really embarassing, if not humiliating, for the person donating to have to face such chastisement when all he/she was doing was trying to donate something for free! After all these charity depended on donations. It would not do to offend all the donors, would it?
I think it was this possible unpleasantness that I did not want to face that had kept me trying to donate something even earlier. But this time I had some almost new stuff that I was sure would pass muster. So I arrived at the shop armed with my two bags. I walked up cheerfully to the old lady at the counter, who I knew from my previous visits. But her smile changed visibly when she saw me with my two bags; not sure how to describe her expression, consternation, confusion, shock, surprise, something in that general direction.
She somehow got herself to ask in a low shaky voice: You have brought something to give to us?
Yes, I said, still cheerfully. I always buy from here so today, I told myself that I should also give something to the shop, for a change.
Well, yes, but we shall have to check whether what you have brought can be sold here, you know. We don't take everything.
I know that, I responded.
Not knowing how else she could fend me off she reluctantly rang the bell and asked me to go to the door at the rear and wait. I thanked her and went up to the door.
One of the other senior ladies who I have also seen and exchanged greetings with many times before at the shop, came out. Seeing me standing there with my two bags, she almost did not believe her eyes.
Y-You want to donate something, she stuttered, her smile vanishing instantly. The way she looked at my bags made it clear that she did not believe that there could be anything in it that could possibly be of use to anyone else.
Yes, some books and some crockery that I don't need any more.
Well, that is nice but we will have to check whether they are good enough to be sold. I don't think we could use your stuff. We don't take just everything, you know.
Did I hear a tinge of irritation, even hostility, in her voice? But I was not giving up. Yes, I do.
Not knowing how else to get me to leave, she reluctantly took charge of the two bags from me, saying, Please wait here. I will have a look at the items and then tell you whether we could use them.
Fair enough, I told myself, she said the same to everyone else who brought something to donate, but the look on the lady's face made it clear that she did not believe for an instant that someone who looked like I did would have anything to donate to charity. I looked like someone who needed charity, how could I then turn around and try to do charity? That upset their understanding of the world completely. For those lovely old ladies who felt that they were doing the poor and needy of the world so much good by vounteering their time at the shop, they found it hard to accept that I was trying to break ranks.
The door opened again after a while, it took somewhat longer than I had expected, this time there was a weak smile on the lady's face and she had nothing in her hands for me to take back.
Thank you very much for your donation. We are happy to accept the items you brought along. They are all in good condition.
That was the end of the matter. I went home. But something changed, also within me, in the easy manner in which we had greeted one another whenever I went to the shop earlier. Our mutual interaction has become rather awkward. Perhaps even a little nervous. They seemed guarded, and a bit confused about what to do about me. As long as I was buying things there, I fitted in. But no longer. On my part, I was surprised, I guess, and even a little hurt, by their reaction. I had not expected that. I had imagined that people who cared for the world enough to be doing charitable work cannot be rascists... And then this happened. This little incident showed me that they would be polite as long as I stayed where they had placed me. Not when I try to cross lines... I wonder what they would say if one day I went to them and offerred to also help them in the shop...
Incident 2.
This is from long time ago, when I was still living in a village in Germany. My husband was still alive then and everyone knew me as the exotic Indian wife of a German mathematics professor. There is a small Weltladen (One World shop) in our village and when the women there came to know that I was Indian they urged me to come and speak about India to their group, in one of their monthly meetings. It was very nice of them to ask me to speak. They were all curious and well-intentioned. But try as I might, I could not get myself to accept their invitation to speak. I turned it down. Every now and then I have wondered about why I could not get myself to speak. I think the immediate reason was about loyalty. I'm not sure how to say it. It suddenly felt disloyal to have to talk about India from the outside, as if I was not part of it, as if I was somehow better; how could just the fact that I lived in Germany make me eligible to give speeches about India?
I guess, there was another even more complicated reason. I belonged to the India that they wanted to hear about. I did know my country in some sense. But would I be able to do justice to the India I knew in my presentation? It was probably not the India they wanted to hear about. I could not agree to speak and talk only about those things that they wanted to hear -- about poverty, disease, malnourishment, overpopulation, gender inequality, squalor and dirt, Bollywood, cricket, ... On the other hand, would I be able to make a convincing case that what they know is only part of the story, and that every issue is complex, and that nothing is black and white? What good could it do to confuse them and upset their understanding of India if I did not feel confident about being able to do a good job of presenting another more balanced picture.
I was fed up of having to answer the obvious questions about India, and I did not feel up to taking on the task of 'disenchanting' them. Doing any less would be wrong on my part, so it was better to just decline the invitation.
Incident 3.
But I have not always declined invitations to speak about India. Often a Q & A format works much better to establish a real connect with the audience. Once a friend of mine who husband taught in a Gymansium in a nearby village, asked me if I would come to his school to speak to his students. The students had just read a story in their English text book about a Pakistani schoolgirl growing up in Lahore and they had a million questions. I told Gerd immediately that India was not Pakistan, and I had absolutely no idea about a schoolgirl in Pakistan.
But you can tell them about a school girl from India, he told me. That would interest them as well.
My German is not good enough, I tried to protest.
Well, speak in English then. It will do them good to hear a native speaker.
Well... that sealed my fate. I agreed. And I am very glad I did...
There were at least 25 young 17 year olds in the class, mostly boys. I thought it best to lay all my cards on the table at the outset. I told them that I was Indian, not Pakistani, that these are different countries, that I am not Muslim (as the girl in their textwas) but Hindu, that my German was funny, and that it has been a very long while since I was a school girl myself. Still I would try to answer their questions.
They took a while in coming. Meanwhile I told them a bit about the English medium convent school I went to in Guwahati, about government schools and private schools, about fees and tiffin time, about exams and about uniforms. Slowly the questions started coming, What is that red spot on your forehead? Is it a salwar-kameez that you are wearing? Is it different from a sari? Is it really true that Hindus worship cows? Is it true that people drink cow-urine in India? Is it true that Hindus have a million Gods? And there were harder questions: How did Gandhi come up with the idea of non-violent protest? Why are Indians supposed to be so good at IT? Could I tell them more about the Pink Sari Movement? [I must confess I had not heard of that movement till that point.]
The questions went on and on and before I knew it, we had chatted for more than two hours. I was amazed at how much they knew, how well-informed they were, and how curious and engaged they were to find out more. There was respect, awareness of the differences, yet an openness to new thoughts and ideas; they had not slotted me before they met me, even if they had they were gracious enough to unslot and reslot me as the conversation proceeded. Later I asked Gerd for some feedback. He told me that I had received the best possible compliment -- the students had told him that they found me 'cool'. Nothing can top that, he told me.
True enough, that wonderful interaction has not been topped till today.
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