Most of us expat bloggers have a reading list of a few other expat blogs that we enjoy reading and occasionally glimpsing new story ideas from. One of my favorite of these is Life in the Expat Lane by Miss Footloose, currently stationed in Moldova but having lived all over the globe, with fabulous adventures and mishaps to share (you know me – I’m a big fan of the mishaps particularly, as they make such good stories).
The following is a guest post by Miss Footloose to be shared here on Joburg Expat. Enjoy, and I hope you will go check out her blog.
She stood in front of me in tears, our number two daughter. Sadly, expat children don’t always realize how privileged they are to be living such an exotic educational life in a foreign country, to be able to learn about new customs and cultures and therefore become true Global Souls and grow up to be ambassadors for world peace. Our four-year-old certainly didn’t care about becoming a Global Soul that tropical day in Indonesia, land of rice paddies and smiling people. She’d come running into the house, wailing, followed by Tuki Jon, the young man who took care of our housework and laundry.
“What happened?” I asked, ever the concerned mother. Her hair was a mess, she was missing a sandal, but I saw no blood, no broken limbs, and she was breathing.
What happened was this:
The laundry was fluttering blissfully on a washing line strung between a tree and a wooden post. Daughter was playing nearby. The wooden post decided it had had enough of holding up expat laundry and keeled over, taken the washing with it. Daughter got buried under an avalanche of clothing and fell into the grass. Horrified, Tuki Jon excavated her from the mountain of cotton and rayon.
Here they are now, in the kitchen: He’s giggling, she’s crying.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
“No!” she wails. “But he’s laughing! He’s laughing at me!”
She’s all in one piece physically, but her four-year-old dignity is torn to shreds and she’s bleeding big tears of outrage.
Tuki Jan is still laughing. Actually it’s more like giggling. But it’s not because he’s having so much fun. He’s trembling all over, terrified he’s in trouble. Surely I will blame him for my child’s distress, fire him and render him jobless, hungry and destitute. He may have to go back to his home village and herd ducks in the rice paddies. He can’t stop giggling with the sheer horror of it.
It’s a cultural thing here in Indonesia, this giggling and laughing: a nervous reaction to stress, fear and danger. But number two daughter does not understand this. She’s little and all she understands is that she was terrorized by a tidal wave of textile and Tuki Jan laughed at her when she cried.
Clearly we were in the middle of a Cultural Crisis. But rest assured, I managed to solve this one. It took a hug and ice cream for the daughter (and a quiet talk later), and reassurance for Tuki Jan that I wasn’t going to fire him, or even chastise him. He dance-stepped out of the kitchen to gather up things cotton and rayon.
And now I have to wrap this story up somehow, so here goes: It’s a difficult world, but it’s the only one we have, so deal with it.
Do you have a (giggle) story? I’d love to hear it.
Dutch Miss Footloose is the alter ego of romance writer Karen van der Zee. As an expat writer she has cooked, shopped, mothered, traveled and written stories in Africa, Asia, Europe, the US and the Middle East. She has seen her Palestinian butcher’s bedroom in Ramallah, dined on fertility goat sausage in Kenya, and almost ended up in a bush jail in Uganda. She now lives in Moldova in Eastern Europe. You you can find the tales of her (mis)adventures on her blog Life in the Expat Lane.