Expat Culture Shock

expatriate

noun

noun: expatriate; plural noun: expatriates

/ɪksˈpatrɪət,ɪksˈpeɪtrɪət,ɛksˈpatrɪət,ɛksˈpeɪtrɪət/

1. a person who lives outside their native country.

   • ARCHAIC. an exile.

   • synonyms: emigrant, non-native, émigré, migrant, economic migrant, guest worker; antonyms: national

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Ever since I began travelling, I've always wanted to live in another country. It was something that was always gnawing at me. Not that I wasn't happy living in Canada (in fact, travelling has made me realize how lucky I am to call Canada home), but I longed to live abroad and experience life from a completely different perspective. I wanted a chance to see what it was like to live somewhere new, somewhere different, somewhere that would challenge me and open my mind. I always said that one of my favourite things in the world was to feel completely lost in a new place. I loved the challenge of exploring a new country where nothing was familiar, where I couldn't speak the language, and where i was forced to rely on myself to survive. The feeling of being independent, and having strength and confidence in yourself to survive and thrive in a foreign country is remarkable... even if it's just a little feat, like managing to order a cup of coffee and a meal (and actually getting exactly what you ordered).

But as I find myself living the exact life I've always dreamed of, there are some days that I think maybe I've romanticized the idea of being an "expat" too much. Don't get me wrong, I am beyond grateful that I'm here and that I'm doing something that I believe I was called to do, but some days I'm banging my head against the wall, and or sitting in the front seat of our 4x4 holding on to the dashboard and silently cursing as we swerve out of the way of an oncoming vehicle, narrowly missing yet another head-on collision. "Why can't people just be more patient?!? Why must everyone pass on blind corners, and honk their horns incessantly?! Why can't people just drive neatly in a row obeying "common sense" two-way traffic rules?" But things aren't like that here. There are no traffic lights. There are no painted lines on the road indicating when you can pass, and when you can't. There are no speed limit signs. And I'm still wondering what the purpose of a driver's turn signal light is. Things here are different.

Over the past 2 months I've been really struggling, and I couldn't figure out way. There are moments and days when I settle in and just accept that there are some mornings when I'll have to move the kettle to another room to the one outlet that works when we have generator power... or that the wifi will just not work so I'll have to hope that my phone's hotspot will connect without issue... or that no matter how many times I insist that I'm not hungry, or that I don't need a chair (I'm perfectly fine to stand, thank you) I will always be fed packaged sweet cakes and bananas, and have chairs brought to me because "please, you must sit".

But then there are other moments, or days, or weeks, when I feel the hot lava bubbling up inside me... "Why don't you understand what I'm saying?! Why must you insist on taking all your calls on speakerphone?! Why must the roads be so narrow?! Why can't you just throw your trash in the garbage and not willy-nilly on to the street?!"

A few weeks ago I was walking back from dinner with a friend through our street's obstacle course - tip-toeing around pools of water, delicately walking through mud so as not to have it spray up all over our clothes, and strategically avoiding the dogs and cattle plopped down wherever they felt like it. I told him about how I was struggling and frustrated with a lot of things, to which he looked at me and said "I remember when I felt like that too." He's been here about 10 months now, and said that he went through the same feeling back around his 3 or 4 month mark. It was in that moment that I thought back to the ROC (the 8 day training/evaluation course that's required by this organization prior to them accepting you on to their deployment roster) and remembered one of our sessions that week: "expat culture shock". I remember listening to our lecturer tell us about how nearly everyone experiences culture shock when moving to a new country and thinking: "Naw... this won't happen to me. Moving to another country is what I've always wanted. I've travelled lots, seen a lot, and experienced enough to know how I react and adapt, and this "low" of culture shock couldn't possibily happen to me."

Wow.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

So in an effort to understand and make sense of what I was experiencing, I did some research (yes, I'm a huge nerd, so get ready for some journal article quotes).

"Expatriates usually differ from other people who travel such as tourists or migrants, in the length of time and reasons of travel... Expatriates usually spend between six months and five years at a place, with the intention to return home and they normally have a motive or a purpose for being in a specific country in the first place...

Upon the arrival of expatriates in the new culture, there is a general uncertainty regarding acceptable or unacceptable behavior. As they stay within that culture, there is a realization that certain behavior which is considered acceptable in their home culture might not be acceptable in the host culture and certain behavior which is considered inappropriate or even offensive in their home culture might be acceptable in the host culture... this is something very important because when an expatriate or any individual as a matter of fact, leaves a familiar environment and enters an unfamiliar one, old habits and routines are uprooted and disturbed, hence creating a psychological uncertainty.... Culture shock is a normal and predictable phenomenon, although those experiencing it may feel that they are inadequate or weak, even believing that they are suffering some form of mental illness’" (Naeem, A, Nadeem, A.B., & Khan, I.U., 2015).

I haven't yet felt like I'm suffering from some form of mental illness, but this all makes so much more sense to me now. I'm now at the 4 month mark, which is right around that time that, according to most research, expats begin to experience the irritation/anger and rejection/regression stages. There are 5 accepted stages of culture shock, and obviously like any other "stage model" one can skip stages, revert back in stages, and the length and timeline of these stages can vary widely. However, in most cases, this is what it looks like:

1. The Honeymoon Stage " You are very positive, curious, and anticipate new exciting experiences. You even idealize the host culture."
   

2. The Irritability and Hostility Stage "You start to feel that what is different is actually inferior. The host culture is confusing or the systems are frustrating. It's a small step from saying that they do things in a different way to saying that they do things in a stupid way. You may blame your frustrations on the new culture (and its shortcomings) rather than on the adaptation process."
   

3. The Gradual Adjustment Stage " You feel more relaxed and develop a more balanced, objective view of your experience."
   

4. The Adaptation of Biculturalism Stage " You feel a new sense of belonging and sensitivity to the host culture."
   

5. The Re-Entry Shock Stage " You go home and it isn't what you expected it to be."

Talk about an emotional rollercoaster... on top of the physically and emotionally draining work that one experiences as an aid worker in a displacement camp. It's no wonder why we're encouraged to have 1 person back home who has agreed to be our dedicated support person. It also makes sense why it's so difficult to maintain relationships with people back home. It's so easy to form strong bonds with the other expats you live and work with in-country because they get it. They understand the day-to-day struggles in the things you see, experience, and live through. Whereas it's immensely difficult to explain everything to someone back home, who, in all honesty, probably doesn't care that much... or if they do, will definitely struggle to fully understand. And it's not that I don't love and appreciate my friends and family back home, because I do... more than anything. They are my rocks. They provide crazy amounts of support and encouragement. I love hearing about what's going on back home, listening to updates from everyone, sharing in their successes, and nuturing those relationships. But it's a challenge to maintain those relationships when there are times I feel like I'm struggling to adjust to life here.

So what are the culture and customs like here? And what does life look like? Well, here's a bit of what I've noticed and learned so far:

• men and women don't shake hands, hug, or touch each other in any way (unless they are married)

• men touching other men is common and acceptable - for example: holding hands (and even interlocking fingers), an arm around the shoulder, etc

• women dress conservatively, but beautifully, in long tops (often knee or mid-calf length) with 3/4 sleeves, baggy or slim fitting pants, and an accompanying scarf drapped ever so elegantly across their chest and shoulders. T-shirts, tank-tops, shorts, or even capris are an absolute no-no

• men clear their throat (and spit) often, in a way that can be decribed nothing short of "hoarking" (I still cringe every time I hear it)

• rice is eaten at nearly every meal, and is always done with their right hand (the left hand is used for serving food and drinking water)

• marriages are generally arranged by one's parents; love marriages seem to be rare

• most Bangladeshi are Muslim, and associated religious ways are commonplace and very much an accepted way of everyday life ie. praying 5 times/day (the call to prayer is frequently heard on loud speakers, even in the camp), it is common for women to wear a hijab (a veil that covers the head, neck, and chest), "inshallah" is a common response in conversation (which means "God Willing" or "if God wills"), etc

• you can't drink the tap water, so we filter all our water (say NO to plastic bottled water)

• thankfully we have a washing machine here, but when it's 30 degrees forget about a dryer... it's all about air drying in our rooms (or on the roof apparently).
  

I'm definitely not depressed or wanting to run to the airport to catch the first flight back to Canada, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't struggling. Don't get me wrong. I still love my job, and life here isn't all that bad. We have running water, A/C, a comfortable flat, a gorgeous beach, access to all kinds of food, and in terms of safety and security from a humanitarian perspective, we have loads of freedom and manageable restrictions.

But for all of my friends and family back home who I don't talk to as much as I would like to, please don't think I'm abandoning you! I'm trying my best, and think of you all every day. Please keep me in your prayers while I continue to adjust to life abroad.

Things will slowly start to get better and I'll come around.... Inshallah