Memories Imprinted on Objects

    Vision trip. The field trip that envisions minds of students. The one that, hopefully, leads students to have the visions about their futures. Meetings with KMLA graduates from different universities to hear about the campus lives. Learning different cultures and bearing international minds. Nights at big fancy hotels. Big sandwiches. Tall modern buildings. Streets full of liveliness and, inevitably, huge crowds of people.   They were what the America vision trip was about. One more thing to add, though.
    Shopping for the souvenirs. It all started from university bookstores. During the short break time after the campus tour, my friends and I ran into the shop to look around what they had. At first, I had not even had any ideas on what they would sell. Nor had I thought I would spend much money in the shop. Soon afterwards, they turned out to be one of the coolest places that you could expect to go. After having been to different university ‘book stores’, I realized the true value of university book stores were in the souvenirs and university hoodies they had, not so much in the actual books they sold. 
     It was not only the university shops we explored. We got into different shops, ranging from the one in old brick house covered in ivy trees, and the one in stylish modern building with big glass windows. We were absolutely stunned after experiencing different civilization and exotic scent of America in the shops. Meaning, we were willing to open our purses with excitement. Some of us ran and crammed in there, making a very long queue to buy another ‘cool’ things to bring home. 
    It was rather amazing how one could spend vast amount of time in choosing what to buy. I even spent about thirty minutes in the sea-shell shops, deep in thought of which one to choose between the literally same looking sea shells, according to my friends. One of them actually asked me why I would buy those ‘meaningless objects’ without any practical uses. After all, she added, they were going to be sitting on my table in the end anyways. I looked into my bag. Hand drawn post cards bought at streets in New York, small so-ju cup with the writing ‘I love Boston’, different collection of pens from different universities, pretty sea shells bought near the sea shore, a small doll bought at Time Square and so on. They were a kind of things which only had meanings because they were souvenirs. If I were to buy them around my hometown, I would have hesitated.  
   I guess the point my friend was true, to certain extent. However, the true meaning of those things was not in their materialistic values or usefulness. Not so much in their prices or fame. It was in the stories they contained.   All objects contain stories within themselves to tell. Their sole existence seemed to be a story itself, in the way that archaeologists tell a story about mysterious drawings from medieval ages. The souvenirs. They may appear a bit silly and sometimes, just useless. However, they were collection of different stories. Objects with memories imprinted on them.  Captured scents of enjoyable moments. Actually, they were like keys that could lead us back to the past experience, to the time we spent in America. 
   On our last day, with bag full of clothes, souvenirs and a bit more memories on top of them, we left the airport.

Looking at Naciremas

Naciremas. People misled by the promise of ‘magic’. Their culture full of secrecy. Maybe, a sheer madness. Those were the first accounts I made when I read the writing. As the opening sentence indicated, Nacirema culture did seem like ‘an example of the extreme to which human behavior can go’. Their obsession with the body rituals, devaluation of their human bodies, ‘magical portion’ all seemed to have crossed the line of reasonable understanding. There were some elements that gave the sense of horror and shock when I was reading the essay. For instance, it seemed the interaction between the medicine men and people were sheer exploitation of human beings. With my mind full of clever things I learned from schools, I was outraged to see such undermining of human values which were well-written down in Droits de l’homme. Also, how mythical belief of Nacirema led them to be categorized as undeveloped, primitive human kinds. They were simply illogical, insane, and non-sensial in my sense. However, starting to interpret think in accordance with ‘cultural relativism’ which was one of the most emphasized value in social studies class, I started to think differently. I even tried to be generous about the culture by thinking those ‘primitive’ culture was one of the phases it had to go through in order to be a more ‘developed’ and civilized one.

Breaking the Nacirema code...

Now, imagine the shock and humiliation I went through when I found out Nacirema was backwardly spelt word for American. Different elements in the essay had certain ideas or objects they represented. For example, the ‘holy-mouth-ritual’ stood for brushing one’s teeth, and the ‘magic potion’ stood for medicines. After having realized how the interpretation I made were absurd ones, I came to look at the observations I made more closely. The interpretations-whether they were positive ones or not- were made as a person living in 21^st century. They were mostly based on what I had learnt, seen, and heard from my surroundings. It was natural to interpret things from where I stood. It even seemed like I was having a condescending attitude toward Naciremas and their culture. The great twist in the essay made me realize how I was interpreting objects around me according to where I was, who I was.

The writing’s underlying idea related to that attitude was Americans’ obsession toward ‘cleanness’. The idea of cleanness represents both the abstract state of being clean and free from dirt, and the process of achieving and maintaining that state. In order to get profound meaning of cleanness, we need to look more closely into what it can stand for in one’s society. Being clean implies that one is in a healthier and more beautiful state. To be in that state, one needs to have an ability to maintain one’s cleanness. However, individuals’ ability to maintain the quality differs as where one stands in the society differ. Take as an example a contrast between those living in poverty and others living in more prosperous state. The latter have more chance of living in cleaner state and environment. In that very aspect, cleanness can stand for one’s social status. The social status brings about differences in people’s perspectives. Because of the difference, variations in understandings of different culture, groups, races, and genders result.

For further observations about cleanness in the context of ‘American value’, check out the book “ChasingDirt: The American Pursuit of Cleanliness” written by Suellen Hoy and the article ‘Cleanliness as an American Cultural Value’.

People all stand in different platforms called ‘stances’. Those platforms vary in shapes and heights. They form according to their surroundings. When people look at one another standing on the platforms, they are able to look as far as the stances allow them. It applies the same with observations we make on things which are not within our niche. As a human being living in certain era, one’s thoughts, in actuality, are colored with the same one that characterizes the era. No matter what kind of intrinsic characteristics ones have, they are not free from where we come from, which essentially is who we are. The writing on holy body rituals of Nacirema, opinions I formed about it, and stark realization of the real meaning of the writing provided me an opportunity to look at my opinions more objectively. One thing was certain. I would never be free of the bonds that tide me, sometimes called ‘identity’, essentially the age I live in.

Something that I am losing

It

I wanted to be a person who lived with 'it'.

Not misled by the mist of the future,

Not bound by the rope of past,

I desired to be a person whose mind belonged to it.

 

I wanted to be a person who enjoyed its presence.

Not overwhelmed by waves it would bring about,

Not hesitating to reach for a hug it gave,

I craved to be a person who took it with a great joy, a delight.

 

I wanted to be a person who believed in the promise it leaked.

Not longing for the rainbow hung up in the future,

Not looking back to see foot prints in the past,

I hoped to be its devoted friend.

I am losing something.

Exams are over.

People to meet.

Books to read.

Places to go to.

Plans to add.

Things I really wanted to do. Ones that I would willingly pour my passion into.

When was it that I last made a promise to myself that I would be different?

That I would change in the 'near future'? To start new thing? To 'enjoy the moment?

After I am done with this assignment. After this week. After the exams are over.

Until then, I would put aside the things that really mattered to me.

Not working, apparently. 

Stuck with the same promises never kept, the same cycle dragging me. 

Still agitating as time passes without bringing any changes.

I wanted to be person who was lived in the present.