Honestly, I & II

I.

It is so strange to be living here. Nothing feels like reality...or maybe everything is so real I don't recognize it. It is hard to swallow, hard to believe that I see these things outside my window, that I step over these things with my American feet.

I am so incredibly white.

How do I get used to being a minority? How do I behave when I'm encroaching upon someone else's very ancient territory? I feel so invasive, so rude, just by being here. What right have I to take up space, create waste here? What right have I to let this beautiful fabric touch my foreign skin, this delicious food my foreign lips?

There is no such thing as hiding here. No such thing as going by unnoticed. Men bare voices, authority. Women bare souls, working hands. Goats and chickens bare guts. Children bare their bottoms. Everyone bares their spirituality with pride.

There is so much, too much, to see, hear, feel, sense. It bombards, surrounds, flies into my eyes like the road dust. It is so present, so intense, and yes...so real that I find it unreal. Nevertheless, here it is, unapologetic. Reality, asking to be noticed.

II.

Things must come undone, be recreated, redefined...

Our ideas of clean and unclean

Too much and not enough

Fair and unfair

Rich and poor

Convenient and inconvenient

Necessary and luxurious

Ugly and beautiful

Appropriate and inappropriate

Need and want

Mine and yours...or ours

Work and rest
Easy & difficult

Right and wrong

Truth and fiction

Our reality must change, is changing whether we want it to or not. Ideas we had preconceived don't work, aren't pertinent. The living, breathing essence of this place does not fit into the boxes we brought along. We cannot smooth it out, wipe it down, crop it to size, Americanize it. We are grateful for this. Frustrated and grateful. It forces us to unclench our fists and be rid of our precious "jewels". It forces us to question more, to let go of what we thought were tidy, familiar answers. It compels us to speak another language altogether.