Red Pen Days

I have tried several times over the past few days to write a blog post. I get part way through typing my thoughts and decide to finish it the following day. Then when the next day roles around, how I felt about the certain situation I was recounting the day before I find boring or my feelings have changed.

I have never considered myself to be a particularly moody person but on the contrary a rather even keel, emotionally stable human being; however, when I was chatting with one of my friends from grad school on Skype this past week I was sharing with her how frequently I find myself floating on cloud nine one day and the next the most miserable human being. For example: on Wednesday night I received a SMS (text msg) from the girl I share my office with, Clara, informing me that she would be out of the office the remainder of the week. In the SMS, Clara scolded me for signing some documents in red pen, which implied that I was angry with the recipient of the documents. Immediately I was infuriated! Now that might seem silly to you but let me explain. First, I simply grabbed the pen that was closest to me without knowing there were any cultural implications attached to my proceeding action. Second, Clara and the document recipient were both there watching me make this horrific mistake and didn’t tell me in person prior to or after committing my offense. Thirdly, I had to sign the document twice! Therefore, they had two opportunities to educate me. And forth, why supply the office with red pens if we shouldn’t use them? (I know this point is a bit extreme) So in the midst of processing my incensed emotions, I was thinking ‘it is a good thing you aren’t going to be in the office the rest of the week’ even though I realize it is not her who came up with what seems to me a ridiculous cultural innuendo.

It is not so much the fact that Clara scolded me or the hint of disappointment I may experience in not utilizing my red pen in the future that ignited such a negative feeling in my being but rather the exhaustion that comes with living in and learning a new culture. It is easy in moments like this to justify my feelings with such self-sacrificing thoughts as -- I have after all come to a new country forsaking my own in an effort to serve; all day every day I am maximizing my senses and readjusting my cultural perceptions to match those I live with and work by day in and day out; and I am learning so you can’t expect me to know everything about Malagasy culture in two months what you have known for thirty years. In instances like this my western culture collides with my present culture in wishing that someone would just tell me directly and not in Malagasy passivity like SMS’s. And in the midst of my mental tantrum I selfishly question if those I labor with every day are trying just as hard as I in understanding each other’s culture?

Thankfully tomorrow always breaks and I am back to cracking jokes with my co-workers, pausing for a moment to realize actually how far I have come culturally. I am sure my red pen days aren't over; however, I hope that next time I will be quicker to offer grace to those around me as well as myself in what can sometimes be a very taxing learning curve.