I got lost on the way to a friends house for dinner. It was after a monsoon, so many of the roads were flooded. My first moto driver wouldn’t take me over flooded water, was annoyed with me, and made me get off. I get it man, it may ruin your bike- no worries. So, I walked. That’s why I am here anyway in this new country isn’t it? Walking through trash filled and muddy flooded waters is not going to kill me.
After a couple blocks another moto came carefully moving through the water as well and asked if I would like a ride. I jumped on and he took me the final block till the water slowly turned to a puddle. I jumped off, reached in my purse and gave him my last $.75 (except for a few 20’s I have, but motos never have change for something that big). To go all the way across the city is $1. So. I thought this would be plenty, generous in fact. Immediately he got angry and demanded a $1. I told him I didn’t have it. His fists clenched, I got scared, left the money on his seat and walked away. Oh, if only arguments went that way. He followed me, putting his bike in front of me several times, demanding the other $.25. In the end, I got thrown on a wall, eventually ending on the wet ground- and my money taken.
So this was the beginning of fear, this is what it felt like again. The last ten years in America allowed me the luxury to forget that feeling that starts in your gut and slowly seeps into your heart and mind. That minute was the minute I lost my calm about the city. It is the minute I longed to be home. It is the first time in ten years I wanted to hit someone, but was very aware that I was a woman surrounded by no one to help- except the six men who seemed to be drinking and playing cards down the street. I got up………..
I found my way home from another driver- the kindest moto driver. He smiled at me and in a authentic way told me “good luck” when I opened the door to my building. I could tell that was his limited english telling me, “ I hope you are alright.” In my mind I thought, “Thanks for the immediate reminder that everyone is individual, and not all moto drivers will push you.”
I walked into my house, received warmth from my wonderful roommates who had a much more violent experience in Nepal, and went to my room to Skype my sister and tell her I love her. Just in case a next time proves to be not so lenient.
As emotions usually do, my feelings started to shift again. Once I could calm my fear which so quickly turned to anger and pushed tears from my eyes out of frustration, I just became sad. I realized that in a matter of minutes I was thinking the whole city was unsafe, and I was targeted because of my skin color-a powerful lesson for a white girl from the USA. I was blaming. I was reconstructing my whole life to only go out during the day and only to certain places which meant one cafe to work, and home. I didn’t want to experience anything anymore, not even the good things.
This is how fear fuels our lives. If we are not aware of it, soon we start shaping it with fear as the foundation. I don’t want my foundation to be made of that. During my 2 weeks in the city, and 5 weeks traveling, that is the first of countless encounters with people that was negative. And by the way, I am safe, I am home, and I am wiser.
More importantly, it was the man’s anger that instilled this fear in me. So let’s go deeper. How many other people in this city live with that anger and WHY? How many other people live with fear all the time without support when they come home, or healing that comes from a day off, or time to journal on your mac computer about your experiences? Why was he so angry so quick? What was his moment when he became fearful- I wondered if it was an awful story. Through that anger there seemed to be this NEED for the other $.25 cents. Why didn’t I recognize that and have him take me up a few blocks to the gas station to get change for my $20.
Because I reacted to his fear, his anger, with more fear and more anger- instead of kindness. Its scary how contagious it can be. Its ironic that it is hard too see yourself in others when you are reacting the same way.....
The genocide here, the poverty, the strong sex trafficking culture- it seems to be a city that has lots of reasons to be angry. Reasons that I will never be able to understand on a personal level, I hope.
Many of my loved ones spend their time telling me how optimistic I am, but I want to be clear that I am not naive. I know pain well, I used to be lost without it. I simply know now, that pain/fear/anger starts somewhere for all of us, and these feelings cannot come from pleasant beginnings. Fear is a tough and quick process to find, and for me, it was a longer and even harder process to live in for years. And fueled by what? Just a few bad experiences out of millions.
Before I went to sleep I wrote down the times when I had been in his shoes before. When I felt like I had been ripped off, when I hurt someone to get what I want, when I pushed someone when I didn’t have the tools to express what I was thinking. My list was long.
And so it seems, him and I are not as divided as our argument suggested.
My gratitude list tonight ended with…….”the space to heal from painful things allowing fear and anger to leave me, the comfort of friends, the need not to take things I may need, the ability to see myself in others.”
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