On Getting Lost and the Question "Where are You From?"

Hello Readers,

In typical Shira fashion I haven’t posted in over two months. It is now fall, although I really don’t feel it when I step outside. During the daytime summer lingers and at night winter is hinted at. I know, however, that in another week or so it will be winter already. I’m enjoying the use of a light jacket while I can.

What have I been up to these past months? I started Sherut Leumi (National Service) on september 1st and I’ve been very busy with that. I spent the first three days at the hospital I will work at, and since then I’ve been attending a course at a different hospital. The course is all in Hebrew, and I miss large chunks of information, but aside from that everything is dandy.

I have great flatmates (two are American as well!) and am already making some good friends. I call them children or babies because most of the people I interact with are eighteen. At least one of my flatmates is twenty though, and she and I jest at the expense of the youngsters at every chance we get! :D

A quick narrative I can share is the time I got lost my second week. During my my first week I had gone out to pizza with two of my flatmates. We had heard there was a mall near our apartment so we set out to find it with our GPS (Waze). We soon found out we were not good at navigating Waze when on foot so asked for directions from some passerby. They were very kind, and happened to be heading to that mall or very close by so offered to walk us the whole way. We followed them, and managed to find an affordable and delicious pizza joint. As the time neared to leave, my flatmates started looking around worriedly and expressing concern on how we would return. As it began to get dark they fretted about how they had no idea how to get back and what would become of us. I asked them why they hadn’t thought to pay attention to where we were going so we could get back on the way there, and they returned that they had been thinking about pizza and the mall. I had paid attention to the way and led us back without incident, the whole time mulling over their immaturity and, fine I’ll admit I had the thought--idiocy.

The next week I began my course. I had expected a terrible first day and was surprised by how tolerable it was and how kind the staff were to me. I got on the bus at the end of the day with a friend of mine who lived in the city right next to my apartment and didn’t think anything of it. During the bus ride my friend mentioned she’d be getting of before me, but I assumed the bus went to the central bus station which is a short walk from my apartment. Soon after she got off, I realized I wasn’t recognizing the roads and asked a fellow passenger if it went where I wanted it to go. I was directed to the driver who told me no, I had to go the opposite direction. I descended from the bus, crossed the street to a bus stop and promptly began freaking out. In my cocky self-assurance I hadn’t thought I would need my phone battery so had just about used it all up on the bus rides. I shot a text at my mother’s second cousin who lived in the area and then tried to conserve the small amount of battery I had left in the meantime. I tried to ask people around, but everyone was on their phone. I started to cry. Then I asked a bus driver of a bus that stopped at the bus stop and he told me to take bus #2 and explained to me where the bus stop was for that line. His explination sounded like this to me: “go to kbdhljhdwdndlkwe and then kdhsosme after you ahdjfjkkf and fkfjhwellponbcklks.” Suffice it to say it wasn’t so helpful. At this point I was starving, and my water was out. I finally got the guts up to ask a woman who explained it clearly to me and made sure I understood. As the bus stop came into view my mom’s second cousin called me and I told her hurriedly that my phone was dying and I thought I had managed. After I hung up my phone really did die, and I had to wait in mystery for the bus to come, since I couldn’t check where it was or what time it was at on my phone. For all I knew it didn’t run at that time of day! Again, I was starving, thirsty, and exhausted. The bus did come, and the driver was kind and told me when to get off. I made it back to my apartment, a starving tear-stained mess and after some tuna and a shower I surfaced with a little more compassion for my “immature” flatmates and basically felt like a failure at life. I’m much more careful now, though. Well, I try to be. I still managed to lose a bag of all my notes on a bus later that week...I guess I’m talented.

Gee whiz that was not very “short” at all. Ah well, on another note, this last Shabbat I spent Shabbat in Kiriyat Shemona, a city further north. I spent it with nine girls from my shevet, and it was also all in Hebrew (there was one other English speaker there, thank G-d. Thus she was able to smooth over and small issues and prevent catastrophic misunderstandings). When I stepped into the car with my friends to drive up one of them turned and said, in Hebrew of course, “wow Shira, a shabbat all in Hebrew. Yay for you!” I turned to her and bestowed one of my sourest looks. I responded that I preferred to think of it as a Shabbat with friends, not one in Hebrew.

I will note that it was a very enjoyable Shabbat. I didn’t cry once (a major accomplishment). I managed to feel somewhat at ease and savor a weekend in pajamas and tasty food. I definitely could not have done that a year ago. With all of that said, I still didn’t understand much of went on, and the girls made plenty of exceptions for me during games we played. It’s difficult to explain precisely, but more than simply the frustration of not understanding the physical words spoken, it’s the feeling of being secondary (not competent, subpar) in its entirety that I dislike. I detest always having to ask for help, being the one who everyone has to make allowances for. I am irritated that I cannot do things on my own, and unaccustomed to asking for help with simple tasks or concepts. I am habituated to giving aid, and being the one approached for help, not the other way around. I can’t express how depressing it is to sit in circle of friends, understand the topic of conversation, have meaningful ideas to add, but not being able to. I often feel constricted, choked, stifled, and bound. There are so many ideas and words spinning in my head and yet they will never be said.

I still liked it and had fun. I really adore the friends I have made here, and perhaps even more so because I had to work a little bit harder to earn their friendship due to the language barrier. Also, before I close this post, I just want to mention and share an awesome TED talk I watched recently. The woman talks about the idea of where people are “local” as opposed to where they are “from”. As a Hybrid and a new immigrant I really related to much of what she said as well as appreciated her eloquence and vocabulary. I won’t spoil it by sharing more of my thoughts until after you have all watched it. I will quote one thing she said during the talk that really struck me: “When somebody asks ‘where are you from?’ or ‘where are you really from’ they are actually asking ‘why are you here?’”

https://www.ted.com/talks/taiye_selasi_don_t_ask_where_i_m_from_ask_where_i_m_a_local

Thanks for reading and feel free to comment!

Yours etc,

Shira

P.S No Hebrew this time and not edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity. Both of these calamities are due to the hour (nearing two in the morning) but I dare say if I don’t post right now it may never happen.