Culture Impact and Adjustment Dilemma:
Notes of a New Immigrant
by Charles Wiwa
I woke up suddenly and discovered an unripe day. I looked at my watch; it was exactly 12:00 noon! I opened my shutters expecting nature to unveil all mysteries to me but I became more confused. My predicament was that of a baby's first experience in a rough swing tended by a brutal babysitter. The chilled wind that greeted me on that September 1996 morning (?) reminded me that I was on new shores in a new environment. "It's three minutes past six, it's a good day with 35 degrees, the most part of the morning" my newly acquired transistor radio announced. I examined my watch again, I put it closely to my ears and heard it tick re-assuredly. In half an hour the day began to brighten up but I did not hear the regular voice of singing birds wishing humans a pleasant day. Neither did I see the morning sun rise to show me the North and South poles of my new abode. All I heard was waves of angry tide of Lake Michigan behind my home. Momentarily, it dawned on me that the West Coast of Africa was six or seven hours ahead of Chicago in time.
It was easy to adjust my watch to the Chicago time but my personal activities proved me wrong. First, I walked outside of my building and stood for nearly three hours beckoning transit buses to halt but none did stop for me. In my frustration I called the attention of a passer-by but he continued to walk on with a seriousness of purpose. I guess that the anger and frustration that read all over me also scared him. Guided by hope, I approached a group of kids returning from school. They were humming unfamiliar tunes that reminded me of my elementary school days where we were encouraged to chant phrases of a well known poem -"Old Rogers is Dead." On asking them why none of the buses stopped for me, they all burst into an uncontrolled laughter. I felt demeaned by their action but knew it was not intended to hurt me. One of them informed me that I had to walk two blocks further to board a bus. I thanked them and headed towards the bus stop. As I waited a few minutes on the bus to come, I reminisced into my past where passengers could be picked at any point within the city, and where it was wrong for kids to laugh at their elders. But that's another story.
My twenty-five minute ride on the bus was an adventure on its own. Was I lucky to get a seat in the packed bus? At the next stop an old lady alighted the bus slowly but with confidence. She stood by my seat and jerked back and forth as the bus pulled and stopped. Her walking stick portends that she was over eighty years old, but her smooth and powdered face proved the contrary. Her well kempt hairstyle added beauty and youth to her age. She held firmly to my seat. As a courtesy, I stood up for her to sit down on my seat but received the admonition of my ignorance. "Young man, stop insulting your grandmother. Do you think I have no strength to keep me … would you like people to treat you like a child when you are my age"? She bellowed. Shocked as I was at her misinterpretation of my action, I apologized sincerely to her. As the bus drove off, I stood in the aisle wandering where I was and what could be termed an offence to others. I reasoned also that what constituted my offence to the old lady would be applauded in other societies. In my ordeal I noticed we had passed the grocery store that I intended to go to. I disembarked and walked back, determined to overcome all odds. I found no familiar food items at the store. I bought a handful of cookies and a pack of soda pop and headed back home thinking what my next ordeal would bring.
Weeks passed. The weather worsened. My lived experiences strengthened me. I watched television programs and came to a realization that my new habitation was far different from what I had thought it to be. Opposed to an orderly community I had thought of, I read news of homicide, patricide, suicide, racial beatings, gangsters, rapes, etc. I knew that people were always busy with things and had not much time to explain things in detail and kept most of the time to themselves and were sensitive to certain comments and discussions.
I made up my mind to apply for a job. I was astonished by the questions I was asked. I thought the answers were too private for a job interview or for any employer know. They were unrelated to my skills or the job I sought for. For some reason I thought it private to reveal my mother or father's names or thought it too unnecessary to tell an employer my race and religious affiliation. I was soon to learn its purpose. I read reliably that such act was illegal but some employers still practice it. Expectedly or unexpectedly, I goofed. At a second interview with another employer, I prepared myself mentally for the day. We rehashed the same old interview rhetoric; I was asked why I was overdressed (?) I simply told my interviewers that the weather was unfriendly to me. They demanded to know what I would do with my job if the weather got worse. I answered sincerely that I was not going to risk my life. I was also denied this job.
These instances and experiences left me confused as I considered it as a failure in life. Jill - a therapist, counselor, and friend,- was readily on hand to share with me. I recounted to her all that I have told you in this essay. She eased my tension with an open smile. Having spent eight years in different parts of Africa, she assured me that I wasn't doing badly but that I needed to adjust to the American culture by "giving only what was due." On her advice I went for a third interview. I gave only what was due even if I had to affirm what was not to be expected of me. First lesson, I thought.
After two years of stay in this society I can identify significant changes that the new culture has impacted on my life. I can mention tardiness, accountability and responsibility as peculiar values that have shaped my lifestyle. Conversely, there are innate values that my new culture has not been able to influence. When I received my letter of admission to further my studies; the Director of the English program invited me for an interview. As in formal situations, I greeted him "Good afternoon sir." Regardless of the fact that it was our first meeting, he thundered, "Charles, don’t address me as 'sir', I am not in the military. Just call me 'Jim'." I protested in vain that I had not in my right sense addressed any of my teachers by their name, least to think of addressing him by my grandfather's name. He accepted my plea to let me address him as Professor Jim. The following week I saw him walking towards me from the opposite direction; "good afternoon sir" I greeted. He walked past, not responding, or so I thought. This has occurred over and over again and he is now of the realization that there are cultural aspects in someone that cannot be easily changed.
I have come to the conclusion that cultural transformation cannot be easily attained. It is a slow process; thus the individual is left in a dilemma between what might be the right values to adapt to. Also, it is a true realization that if people from this society travels abroad, they will meet this same cultural difficulties that immigrants face when they are new in America.
To establish a unique cultural norm in our society is a collective responsibility. As we encounter people from different cultural backgrounds, we owe it to the peace of the nation to create an understanding among ourselves that will garner America a respect that is worthy of civilized a nation. We have to support individuals and groups working towards multicultural harmony in our societies. Tolerance and sense of brotherhood and sisterhood can be credited to the efforts of these concerned people.
Dear reader, if you accidentally come by this rough diary, know that it was written as a personal note - not as a total judgement of my new habitation. Somehow, you may pass it on to new immigrants so they might console themselves with what they are passing through. It is only a stage of cultural change in our lives. Like I hinted to some colleagues in our discussion on cultural norms in societies, based on my experimentation at different settings, I have resolved to adjust to my new culture accordingly without trampling upon those values of my original culture that I consider relevant in all situations.
Your final resolve depends on your own experimentation.