The first time I put on a pair of soccer cleats I was 28 years old. They were already well worn and served me best with double pairs of socks on each foot. Being as they had endured several years of wear upon my husband’s feet, they felt incredibly comfortable and I really did not have any complaints. With my new footwear, I now looked the part of a soccer player. I matched it with a team jersey and shorts, ready for the field. Yet, I felt incredibly unprepared, just as when I prepared myself for walking into a new culture.
In many ways, learning a new culture is like learning a new sport. I fit the bill for both it seemed. I learned the basic soccer rules and had observed many games. I was physically fit and could take orders. That should be enough to be part of the team. Culturally, I had observed festivals and rituals, read about clothing and language. I considered myself a flexible person who could adapt to ever-changing plans. Although I had prepared myself and fulfilled the given requirements, my first steps onto the field brought failure. The truth is, I still did not know how to play.
The culture I walked into, just as any other, is complicated. The rules have exceptions and without experience, you are not sure when they apply. In soccer, hands are not allowed. Unless you are the goalkeeper. Ideally, you play the ball forward down the court, unless another player is open next to you or behind you. You want to get as close to the goal as you can to make a shot, but you can’t get in front of the second defender from the other team. And if you move from a field for 11×11 to a football 7, rules change, speed changes, size changes, and even technique changes. It can be hard to keep up with, harder to succeed in.
As a new player on a team of girls who live for soccer, positions were shifted around to accommodate my desire to play right back. Defense seemed more straightforward. Win the ball. At least, that´s how I imagined it after analyzing my husband´s games. Now that I had a position, I had a general area marked out for me as well. If I strayed in the back right corner, I could catch any girl coming into my territory. But then the ball went to the other side of the field and the center back pushed me to move up to the center line with her. That was out of my boundary, it went against the cultural code I had assumed. Should I stay back in arrogance stuck in what I had already understood or humble myself and listen to the seasoned player of 18 years?
Our past helps make decisions in moments like these. As a morally upright American since birth, rules are rules and they shouldn’t be broken. I was given my spot and there I shall remain even to the death of my team. Of course my Mexican husband would not have suffered so. For him, rules are principles which change based on the situation. In America, we are required to drive a 4-second following distance. It is meant to keep us safe and accident free. If I adhere by that stipulation while driving here, I would never be able to get out of my driveway. Four seconds means three cars pull out in front of you. And then you have to wait another four seconds and another three cars. Nope, we are all about bumper hugging here.
I can also choose to remain in my own understanding and rigidity and find myself back on the bench, or I can choose to be humble and listen to the locals. When I grew up I took care of some plants with my father. We had to provide the right amount of shade to the sun and make sure to water regularly, but not every day. Don´t water the leaves or they could wither, only the bases of the plants. So when I came to Lao and watched people spraying hoses up the trees I thought they were doing it all wrong. When they watered it every morning, it seemed too much. I could do it the ¨right way¨ that I had learned or I could adapt despite the annoyance, feeling I was changing my ways only to please people. But, the act of ignorant humbleness brought plants and trees to life here. The tomato plant I grew up watering has different needs than the jackfruit tree or the giant trees with vines crawling up their trunks. Turns out that my knowledge and education can be pretty worthless when living in a new place.
As I tried to remain humble and approach life as a learner, I had to adapt to my new life. When we shifted upfield in the middle of our soccer game, we remained defenders, but acting in a new role. As our team took a more offensive position trying to score a goal, we had to be prepared to get back but also available to support our attackers. We now had a slightly different role while simultaneously fulfilling our original. Just like me being a mother and wife and teacher simultaneously, but having each of those mean something separate. In this new culture, I have to dress differently to teach as when I walk around playing with Camilo. I use different language and communicate with distinct people, but my identity as the other never disappears. I can slip back in at a moment’s need.
But please don´t mess up my thing by sending me to be an attacker. I´ve identified my role as an English teacher in Lao. I have spent time learning what that means. Should I focus my teaching on grammar or pronunciation? Do I start my classes at the specified hour or extend grace? How do I teach what works for my students over what works for me? I think I am getting it down. But if you sent me to become a business woman consulting about the sale of bananas, I would be lost. Same culture, same language. Same field, same game. Yet, setting my role will determine my success.
Some people can switch and adapt quickly. Some learn the game faster than others. And for some of us, our lack of playing since kids can really hurt us. We improve, we learn, we adapt. But it is never natural. I can train and grow, but my friend´s four year old daughter will always speak more clearly than me. She will always fit in better. She will always just be programmed to know what I struggle to understand as I look for the meaning beyond the spoken words. Maybe it would have been easier for me to take up a different sport, something more similar to what I knew as a runner. Maybe rowing or double dutch. I could have excelled more. I would have learned faster and helped my team more. Even so, it was better to have me enter as a lost eleventh player than have the team forfeit the competition due to lack of participants. I hope the same is true for my service here in Laos. Saying the wrong words, running the incorrect direction, but giving value through my simple presence.
Leave a Reply