Describe a situation where you had to work or closely associate with someone from a culture very different from your own. What challenges did you face and how did you resolve them?
Righty for Six Days
If you were an airplane passenger, the thought of thirty teenagers occupying four rows of seats would probably be your worst nightmare. Luckily, we were seated at the very back of the plane where our disturbance would be minimal. We were en-route to Kota Kinabalu, the capital city of the Sabah province in Malaysian Borneo, because we had opted to delve into the lives of a Malaysian family for six days.
Our host families lived in a village in the outskirts of Kota Kinabalu. Weeks before departure, our teachers constantly reiterated the many rules that we should be aware of since Malaysia is a predominantly Muslim country and the Sabah province was no exception. There were so many restrictions imposed by Islamic culture, especially for females, that we were each give a list of do's and don'ts. We were visitors to their homes and their country so showing respect was very important. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that their lifestyles would be drastically different from ours. As my eyes quickly skimmed the list, I felt bullet points literally jump out of the page at me, most noticeably: "It is considered rude to use your left hand when eating or greeting someone with a handshake. Please use your right hand on such occasions and as often as possible".
Left-handers make up approximately 10% of the human population, and considered to a certain extent as a non-conformist, I am very proud to be part of this minority. Just like the majority of situations, my left handedness was not going to work to my advantage in Malaysia. We had a small, home cooked buffet as a welcoming meal, and my struggles to achieve a balance between personal comfort and respect immediately surfaced. I realized that eating was not going to be an easy task as I stabbed at vegetables multiple times and pushed mushrooms to every edge of the plate until their path probably covered every inch of the green plastic plate. It had been almost eight hours since our last meal so when I thought no one was looking; I quickly switched hands and gobbled down chunks of food. "Don't be disrespectful, Pri!" my friends teased, but I was starving! However, as a representative of our school and in some ways also the city of Hong Kong, it was my duty to be respectful so I did not maintain my left-handed eating ways for long. Throughout the meal my friends watched in amusement long after they finished eating as I switched from left to right and vice versa multiple times. This was only the beginning of the epic saga of our experiences with Malaysian and Islam culture.
Growing up in a Chinese family, healthy eating was preached constantly at the dinner table - "Don't eat so many fried things!", "Eat your vegetables!" my mother would always demand. Her reasons went far beyond the usual of zits and the food pyramid; they delved into the realms of Chinese superstitions that I do not (and never will) understand. Apparently, these arguments hold no merit in Malaysia where, one night, we helped prepare an unusual dish - deep fried cauliflower. Wasn't the whole point of eating vegetables to be healthy? So doesn't deep frying them completely negate this purpose? As guests it was not our place to be critical. It was an unusual dish and I was surprisingly reluctant to try it; I suppose my mother reinforced her rules well.
Throughout the trip, everyone had to take extra precaution with their actions. Handshakes and greetings were only considered polite if done with the right hand and a gesture as simple as pointing had to be done with the right thumb instead of a forefinger. The left hand is considered "dirty" due to its connections with the bathroom. It was obvious that life in rural Malaysia was very different from the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong, but we were open to the many adaptations and adjustments we had to make. After all, nobody was asking for us to live there forever. The village folk happily welcomed us into their lives and all we could give them in return was our respect. This was their lives and they weren't going to change it just so that we could continue to live our city lifestyles. That also defied the purpose of a home stay program. It was up to us to adapt to their culture and lifestyle as much as possible because as guests it was our responsibility to show the utmost respect to these generous strangers. Most of the time they were extremely understanding, knowing that we were not accustomed to pointing with our thumbs and that I could barely hold a fork with my right hand (there were numerous occasions where I used my left hand first), and soon enough following their cultural practices was unimportant as we realized that it was our differences that brought us so close together.
I'm not sure if I answer the prompt well enough because it wasn't that big of a challenge after all. And there wasn't really a clear resolution...
I wanted to be honest and I really suck at fabricating something realistic so...I went with a true story.
Tell me what you think, thanks!
Righty for Six Days
If you were an airplane passenger, the thought of thirty teenagers occupying four rows of seats would probably be your worst nightmare. Luckily, we were seated at the very back of the plane where our disturbance would be minimal. We were en-route to Kota Kinabalu, the capital city of the Sabah province in Malaysian Borneo, because we had opted to delve into the lives of a Malaysian family for six days.
Our host families lived in a village in the outskirts of Kota Kinabalu. Weeks before departure, our teachers constantly reiterated the many rules that we should be aware of since Malaysia is a predominantly Muslim country and the Sabah province was no exception. There were so many restrictions imposed by Islamic culture, especially for females, that we were each give a list of do's and don'ts. We were visitors to their homes and their country so showing respect was very important. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that their lifestyles would be drastically different from ours. As my eyes quickly skimmed the list, I felt bullet points literally jump out of the page at me, most noticeably: "It is considered rude to use your left hand when eating or greeting someone with a handshake. Please use your right hand on such occasions and as often as possible".
Left-handers make up approximately 10% of the human population, and considered to a certain extent as a non-conformist, I am very proud to be part of this minority. Just like the majority of situations, my left handedness was not going to work to my advantage in Malaysia. We had a small, home cooked buffet as a welcoming meal, and my struggles to achieve a balance between personal comfort and respect immediately surfaced. I realized that eating was not going to be an easy task as I stabbed at vegetables multiple times and pushed mushrooms to every edge of the plate until their path probably covered every inch of the green plastic plate. It had been almost eight hours since our last meal so when I thought no one was looking; I quickly switched hands and gobbled down chunks of food. "Don't be disrespectful, Pri!" my friends teased, but I was starving! However, as a representative of our school and in some ways also the city of Hong Kong, it was my duty to be respectful so I did not maintain my left-handed eating ways for long. Throughout the meal my friends watched in amusement long after they finished eating as I switched from left to right and vice versa multiple times. This was only the beginning of the epic saga of our experiences with Malaysian and Islam culture.
Growing up in a Chinese family, healthy eating was preached constantly at the dinner table - "Don't eat so many fried things!", "Eat your vegetables!" my mother would always demand. Her reasons went far beyond the usual of zits and the food pyramid; they delved into the realms of Chinese superstitions that I do not (and never will) understand. Apparently, these arguments hold no merit in Malaysia where, one night, we helped prepare an unusual dish - deep fried cauliflower. Wasn't the whole point of eating vegetables to be healthy? So doesn't deep frying them completely negate this purpose? As guests it was not our place to be critical. It was an unusual dish and I was surprisingly reluctant to try it; I suppose my mother reinforced her rules well.
Throughout the trip, everyone had to take extra precaution with their actions. Handshakes and greetings were only considered polite if done with the right hand and a gesture as simple as pointing had to be done with the right thumb instead of a forefinger. The left hand is considered "dirty" due to its connections with the bathroom. It was obvious that life in rural Malaysia was very different from the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong, but we were open to the many adaptations and adjustments we had to make. After all, nobody was asking for us to live there forever. The village folk happily welcomed us into their lives and all we could give them in return was our respect. This was their lives and they weren't going to change it just so that we could continue to live our city lifestyles. That also defied the purpose of a home stay program. It was up to us to adapt to their culture and lifestyle as much as possible because as guests it was our responsibility to show the utmost respect to these generous strangers. Most of the time they were extremely understanding, knowing that we were not accustomed to pointing with our thumbs and that I could barely hold a fork with my right hand (there were numerous occasions where I used my left hand first), and soon enough following their cultural practices was unimportant as we realized that it was our differences that brought us so close together.
I'm not sure if I answer the prompt well enough because it wasn't that big of a challenge after all. And there wasn't really a clear resolution...
I wanted to be honest and I really suck at fabricating something realistic so...I went with a true story.
Tell me what you think, thanks!
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