One of the problems about culture shock is that it's hard to pin down exactly what is wrong. Part of this can be because in your own culture you know how things ought to go in any given situation, and you know when you are justified to feel angry or frustrated. If you are aware that your own cultural expectations are likely to be unreliable in judging such things in another culture, you are in for an uncomfortable time. You are often left feeling you are adrift in a sea of ambiguity and unrecognisable social cues.
Here are a couple of examples.
On Saturday, I found a piece of paper in our Post Office box saying that they had a parcel in my name (too big for the box) and that I should come to the Post Office with proof of identity to pick it up. The Post Office was closed on Saturday, so Simon and I headed back there on Monday. Marc had already told me that he couldn't figure out how things really worked when you went into the Post Office, so I had already decided to ask.
As we went in, I could see two desks with employees behind them, and what looked like a small hatch marked “Parcel pick-up”. At one desk there seemed to be two customers, and at the other, a group of 3 or 4 more customers. I knocked, without much hope, on the hatch, and there was no answer. A woman being served at the first desk said to the employees, “There's a lady here with a question!” which forced them to notice me, and I asked, “Is it this hatch or one of the desks to get my parcel?” One of the employees replied, “It's here, but you'll have to wait your turn!” (as if I was trying to jump the queue!) then said more politely, “Please take a seat,” indicating some plastic chairs the other side of the room.
This was reassuring, as it showed me that, 1) there was some kind of queuing system, and 2) they knew I was there and where I should be in the queue!
But then followed half an hour of the two customers at the desk going up to the desk, leaving again to come and sit down, being called back again, leaving again … the employees seeming to do nothing very much … and I realised that while it wouldn't be unheard of to wait for half an hour in a European Post Office, at least I would understand what was going on! You'd be in a long queue, hearing people called to different desks, watching the Post Office employees doing recognisable things like selling stamps, weighing parcels, dealing with people's accounts … and here I really didn't understand what was going on or why I wasn't being called. But I didn't feel I could be annoyed at being made to wait, because probably everything was being done according to the “rules”!
And yes, it is always said that Africans have a different idea of time, and don't mind waiting (a bit of an over-generalisation!), but when it is 37°C and you have a rather warm small boy sitting on your lap, you can't help thinking wistfully of your air-conditioned car sitting outside!
A funny twist to this was that a woman who arrived after me did go up to the desk before me, but the PO employee still called me up first (phew – the English side of me wouldn't have liked to see any queue-jumping!). He did then ask the woman what she wanted, in French, but she answered in another language (obviously not knowing French), and he rolled his eyes at me and said, “Oh, these other languages!” which was a bit odd, as I suddenly found myself included in the “us” of French-speakers against the “them” of non-French-speakers, where I'd been thinking of myself in the “them” of non-Beninese compared to the “us” of Beninese!! (No, I didn't attempt any Monkolé, as even if she had been Monkolé, I doubt I'd have understood her well enough to translate!)
The second example is a young man who called round today to ask us for some clothes. Not only do we not have a whole lot of clothes anyway, but we didn't know him from Adam so had no idea if he really needed them or would just go sell them at the local second-hand market! Marc chatted with him for a bit, then hinted that he should go away (if you call, “Au revoir!” a hint!) and the guy then leaned over the bonnet of our car and fell asleep there!
It seemed to us that it wasn't just our Western culture that made us think that was a bit strange, and that was confirmed when some Beninese colleagues came round and also found it very odd behaviour!
We've always been told that you have to be careful to welcome people here, but they told us we don't have to let just anyone into our house. They said you should be ready to talk to anyone, but that if you don't know the person it is fine for Marc, as head of the household, to talk to them at the gate of the compound, and only invite them in if he thinks they are genuine.
We are very thankful that we do have wise Beninese friends to advise us about this kind of thing. We really want to avoid offending anyone, but don't particularly want to be taken advantage of either!
Here are a couple of examples.
On Saturday, I found a piece of paper in our Post Office box saying that they had a parcel in my name (too big for the box) and that I should come to the Post Office with proof of identity to pick it up. The Post Office was closed on Saturday, so Simon and I headed back there on Monday. Marc had already told me that he couldn't figure out how things really worked when you went into the Post Office, so I had already decided to ask.
As we went in, I could see two desks with employees behind them, and what looked like a small hatch marked “Parcel pick-up”. At one desk there seemed to be two customers, and at the other, a group of 3 or 4 more customers. I knocked, without much hope, on the hatch, and there was no answer. A woman being served at the first desk said to the employees, “There's a lady here with a question!” which forced them to notice me, and I asked, “Is it this hatch or one of the desks to get my parcel?” One of the employees replied, “It's here, but you'll have to wait your turn!” (as if I was trying to jump the queue!) then said more politely, “Please take a seat,” indicating some plastic chairs the other side of the room.
This was reassuring, as it showed me that, 1) there was some kind of queuing system, and 2) they knew I was there and where I should be in the queue!
But then followed half an hour of the two customers at the desk going up to the desk, leaving again to come and sit down, being called back again, leaving again … the employees seeming to do nothing very much … and I realised that while it wouldn't be unheard of to wait for half an hour in a European Post Office, at least I would understand what was going on! You'd be in a long queue, hearing people called to different desks, watching the Post Office employees doing recognisable things like selling stamps, weighing parcels, dealing with people's accounts … and here I really didn't understand what was going on or why I wasn't being called. But I didn't feel I could be annoyed at being made to wait, because probably everything was being done according to the “rules”!
And yes, it is always said that Africans have a different idea of time, and don't mind waiting (a bit of an over-generalisation!), but when it is 37°C and you have a rather warm small boy sitting on your lap, you can't help thinking wistfully of your air-conditioned car sitting outside!
A funny twist to this was that a woman who arrived after me did go up to the desk before me, but the PO employee still called me up first (phew – the English side of me wouldn't have liked to see any queue-jumping!). He did then ask the woman what she wanted, in French, but she answered in another language (obviously not knowing French), and he rolled his eyes at me and said, “Oh, these other languages!” which was a bit odd, as I suddenly found myself included in the “us” of French-speakers against the “them” of non-French-speakers, where I'd been thinking of myself in the “them” of non-Beninese compared to the “us” of Beninese!! (No, I didn't attempt any Monkolé, as even if she had been Monkolé, I doubt I'd have understood her well enough to translate!)
The second example is a young man who called round today to ask us for some clothes. Not only do we not have a whole lot of clothes anyway, but we didn't know him from Adam so had no idea if he really needed them or would just go sell them at the local second-hand market! Marc chatted with him for a bit, then hinted that he should go away (if you call, “Au revoir!” a hint!) and the guy then leaned over the bonnet of our car and fell asleep there!
It seemed to us that it wasn't just our Western culture that made us think that was a bit strange, and that was confirmed when some Beninese colleagues came round and also found it very odd behaviour!
We've always been told that you have to be careful to welcome people here, but they told us we don't have to let just anyone into our house. They said you should be ready to talk to anyone, but that if you don't know the person it is fine for Marc, as head of the household, to talk to them at the gate of the compound, and only invite them in if he thinks they are genuine.
We are very thankful that we do have wise Beninese friends to advise us about this kind of thing. We really want to avoid offending anyone, but don't particularly want to be taken advantage of either!
(And in case you're interested, the parcel was well worth the wait!)
4 comments:
Pour ce qui est d'attendre une demi heure à la Poste, ça me semble finalement assez normal car c'est le cas ici le samedi matin ! Mais c'est vrai qu'au moins on sait plus ou moins ce que font les postiers...
Sinon j'espère que tout va bien pour vous, et que la chaleur ne vous paralyse pas trop !
Gros bisous !
Bless you!
hahahaha! "a sea of ambiguity and unrecognisable social clues"... perfectly put! The post office story reminded me of similar situations sorting out paperwork here. Someone "explains" the "system" to you and you do what you're told. After a while, when things aren't going quite as you expected, you start to wonder whether you've completely misunderstood what you were expected to do. Then you start to look around for clues as to what the "system" might be, but it's too late - you've already realised that whatever assumptions you might make from the clues are probably no less flawed than the assumptions you had made about the instructions you were given!
the post office, always a good one to learn about culture: Here in Turkey it teaches you at least two things: if everybody is standing in a long queue in front of one counter and nobody is queueing at the other counter you will probably have to join the longer queue as well. And: opening hours or any other systematic rules are just there as a very rough guideline. I came in at 16:45 one day (it closes at 16:30) and the lady told me it was closed. I said (having learned a bit about the culture at least...) that I couldn't come back in the morning because I had to go to school. So she attended to my problem: A parcel containing a porcelain plate for my moms birthday. However, upon learning about the content she refused to send it (her explanation: it could brake!). A few more questions and discussions as well as a phone call to her superior later she agreed to send it if I signed a statement relieving the Turkish Post of all responsibilities in case something was broken. Lo and behold, a week later the plate arrived safely in Germany...
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