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23RD OF JULY AT ELEVEN IN THE MORNING: wearing my favorite,
green, ribbon shirt and blue, flexible caprice, my family and I
departed from John F. Kennedy airport to
Abu Dhabi. Upon our
arrival, we immediately had to rush to our next plane to Lahore. In
the plane, though, before I got comfortable in my seat, I made a trip
to the lavatory to change into my “appropriate” clothing. Now one may
wonder why I would change from a long, green shirt, barely showing any
other body part, and caprice not even reaching knee-length, into an
even longer, checkered shirt up to my waist, with tan pants and a
duppata around my neck. My previous clothing did not seem
inappropriate to my family or my fellow plane passengers.
At about tea time (in
Pakistan,
that is about five in the afternoon), our flight landed safely in
Lahore. We disembarked; we ladies put on our scarves around our necks,
and walked to the customs and baggage claim area. But as I was going
through the halls of the airport, something strange was crawling up,
some kind of confusion. Brown and bareheaded, as I walked, men stared
at my curly perms contently and women and children squinted in disgust
at my “naked” head and my exposed arms. The observations of unease and
awe left me questioning my appearance. Was it the way I dressed?
I mean seriously, a long shirt covered even my thighs,
along with long pants. Or was it my hair? Once that thought flew in my
head, the answer bit me in the nose. No women were bareheaded; all
were wearing heavy, black hijabs and abias to cover up their
appearance, while I was the light bulb of the dark, wearing bright
clothing with no veil. Yes, I was the odd-[wo]man, and as they always
say, “odd-man out.” Like the popular game commonly played in
elementary schools, in countries, besides
Pakistan, a theory I
like to call “odd-man out”, lingers over all kinds of society. Think
of society as a black and white image, jointly and simple. Everyone
has the same “colours”, as in; everyone has the same clothing,
language, religion, values…many aspects to list. If you fit these “colours”,
you are the “good-man in” for the sea of people, the moderate,
plain-looking flounder. However, if your colours differ from the
others, conspicuous and bright, you are considered the “odd-man out”,
the lonely and rejected fish, unable to swim with the rest of the
school.
Culture defines many things such as your habits, values and
behavior. All of these points shape an image of a country. Each
country has its own picture with its own colours. Usually the case is:
if one individual flocks from his home “picture” to another, his
colours may not match with the picture of the new country.
Here’s a descent example:
It happened at my Khala’s house
somewhere in early August when I was visiting my uncle and his new
wife. Now, my uncle’s new wife was, hands down, a very nice lady,
always considerate in her doings and understanding to anyone’s needs.
So, nicely, I talked to her about
America, but I spoke
in English. Her reaction to my conversation was quite bland and
seemingly, uninterested (yet, she still listened with a faint smile on
her face). A minute after our short conversation comes my younger
sister. Outgoing and confident, she asked my uncle’s new wife about
her arrival in America. She listened with such apt attention and
happiness. Why? Because my sister spoke fluent Urdu! Then my mother
spoke to her, after that my uncle, and then my brother, then my Khala,
then my cousin…talk after talk, they lasted for more than two minutes
because they all spoke Urdu and/or Punjabi, while I was the only one
who spoke English. ODD MAN OUT, GOOD MAN IN! Shortly after my uncle’s
new wife left, my inner confusion turned into anger and tears; I was
crying for hours because of this language gap. Three hours after my
mom relaxed me, I knew from that point on the vicious cycle.
Being the odd-man hurts because different
characteristics maybe not fit with the culture and society, making
one’s distance between fellow citizens or family members widen. For
years in
Pakistan, I always emerged as the odd-man, the flashy-colored fish in
the sea that felt separation from others in society and within my own
family. After numerous visits, I familiarized with this pattern very
well, for I found out that this cycle is completely normal for anyone.
No matter where one goes in this hectic world,
he or she may encounter a situation where they become the odd-man out.
Of course, cultural diffusion is natural and apparent in almost every
country, but in human nature, we tend to get a sense of fear of the
unknown. It is as if Hindu parents feel uncomfortable for their
daughter with a white-skinned man. A similar matter occurs in
countries; rejection often happens not because of hatred of the
individual, but fear of new, unknown characteristics that may impact
culture, positively or negatively.
Unfortunately, the “Odd-Man” theory is
inevitable and unpleasant that often occurs. Henceforth, a person
should recognize foreign culture and ways of any province to at least
get along in the society. That is the painful truth I learned to
survive getting along in
Pakistan.
They say earth is a scary place because of the
unknown that lies beyond the boarders. The unknown, however, does not
necessarily have to mean a dangerous trap, but maybe a wondrous
discovery. A favorite poet of mine, Robert Frost, once said,
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
One can adapt to new culture, but also hold on to his or
her own home culture for a sense of identity and origin. A person can
take that extra step, that different path, to meet new people, to see
new “colours” or to learn new culture. Who knows, if every individual
of a country has their own colours, it would not be a burden to mix
their own colours with others to make a beautiful, new picture. Maybe
the “oddness” of every person could turn out to be the new “in”.
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