Walking the Wall

While the argument over what has more impact–nature or nurture–is
ongoing and interesting, I think it is endlessly fascinating to see how
humanity can be so very different depending on the culture a person is
raised in. We are all made up of the same body structure, same building
blocks–we are essentially the same down to our very bone marrow. And
yet how each culture has adapted to its surroundings, its particular
history, and its influences–shapes each of us so very differently.
When I took an Anthropology class a few years ago, we were given an
article to read about an interesting tribe of people called the Nacirema.
As you can see from this article [and if you don't "see" then make sure
you read the entire article and get down to the explanation at the
bottom of the page], looking into another person’s culture from the
outside and trying to make sense can be difficult.  It seems to be
a common flaw of humanity to make judgements on people based on how
alike or different they are from themselves. My brother, who lives in
Mongolia and has a Mongolian wife and an extended in-law family living
next door, is discovering this on a daily basis. Privacy and personal
space is something that I think is common of most Americans. We have an
expectation that certain boundaries exist and that we are all entitled
to–and find necessary–a certain degree of space around our person. In
cultures (like Mongolia) where people are raised all together with
nuclear and often extended family living in a small, one room
structure, privacy and personal space are unknown quantities. He has a
nephew that he calls his “shadow” and the only place my brother can go
to be really be alone is in the outhouse! And in the midst of a
Mongolian winter, this isn’t a place you really want to spend much time
in! Time after time misunderstandings come up that range from funny to
truly heartbreaking until they are sorted out. At times the gulf can be
very wide, and at other times both cultures stand side by side and show
that there is an inherent “sameness” to both–maybe found in the beauty
of a smile that has no language barrier.  Now my nephew is due to
be born in the next few weeks, a bridge between both cultures, a little
boy who will have all the history, the strengths, and the flaws of both
Eastern and Western cultures. I wish for him clear vision to see both,
to take what is best from both his inheritances and see the beauty that
is Mongolia, and the beauty that is America. I hope that he is able to
see that neither one is better or worse than the other, just very
different–that there is much his Mongolia heritage has to offer to his
American heritage, and vice versa. I hope that his view from the
bridge, in the end, brings him a wisdom that sometimes people
entrenched in one culture can never gain.