(most of the time) I Can't Take the Heat...
... which has gotten me thinking a lot about my choices.
For instance, I should have coughed up the $200 to stay in one of those "luxury tents" that were set up mainly for the foreigners (who are probably the only ones who can afford them). I was there last night, as my friends were performing nearby. I really liked how quiet it was there. I have to keep remembering that although I'm working poor in the US, I'm not here. I think I have a habit of acting and thinking like a poor person. But we shouldn't operate out of habit. Why be at a disadvantage when you have the ability to be more comfortable? The issue with these luxury tents has been on my mind for the the past week and a half, as the intensity of this place has been increasing.
Though everyone is feeling the heat equally, I think it would have been helpful to at least have gotten a comfortable place to stay. "Comfortable" is a relative term. I'm not talking about luxury like riverside cocktails, though I had that kind of picture in mind when I thought of luxury cottages, funny me and my preconceived notions. Luxury in these circumstances means quiet, order, sufficient water, a decent clean restaurant nearby, time to reflect, time to relax. That's not bad, nor would I feel guilty in participating in that kind of privilege right now. Ah, this is also my message to my social justice friends, because I think it's too easy for those of us who work for the equality of all and for righteousness to dismiss right away what could be seen as classism. And this certainly is. The foreigners here have so much more privilege than the general public.
And though I see that everyone's suffering here, I have to acknowlege where I'm coming from (nationally and experience-wise). I did not grow up in Asia. And my tolerance level for living in the circumstances that most people do is very low. Embarassingly low, given that I freak out a lot and at this point, have thrown a tantrum a few times in the past week.
Let me explain why: My living situation has been a carnival. The first week we got here, there were fewer people but less infrastructure. We were without electricity and fully-functioning toilets. We worked things out, getting water from the pump and using candles at night. By day, the government workers were doing construction on water tank (out of cement) in front of our room.
By the second week, a lot more people were arriving, so every day the water pump was crowded with people bathing, getting water for cooking, washing dishes, washing clothes. The pump got no rest, and it took at least 5-10 minutes to get water. I made sure to get a full bucket of water so that we could simply have the water to flush the toilet. But the other members in my room have been bums about a few things, and they never bothered to match the courtesy of keeping water around (since you never knew when there was going to be water or not). Actually, I should say there were not being discourteous. It's just that they weren't paying attention. And they were just doing things the way they do. It's quite a challenge for me on the cultural level too, to be living with Tibetans rather than other foreigners. But let me not generalize. This specific group has a way of doing things that works for them. Add onto that the fact that there have been increasingly more and more people coming around to use the toilets (The government guy who was in charge of managing our room and its occupants came around only a few times, and then said, "oh, but these toilets are only for you," which is funny because there is no mechanism by which to lock them. That's the other thing that frustrates me is the way things {don't} work. Why spend a week building a water tank when we can't even use it because there's no water supply for another week?).
Now we're in week 3. At this point, the water pump has broken, and instead of getting us water supply and fixing the pump, they divert the water from the pump source to that water tank they built. Meaning we still don't have enough water, but everyone's coming our way to get the water, so there's increased traffic. At this point, people have also started to use our toilets and baths (There are only 2 toilets and 2 baths, whereas the areas in the camps where people are staying, they've built a lot of toilets and baths). It means we can't take our daily bath, which is very much needed since we sweat all day and get dust blown in our faces everywhere we walk. The water tank overflows regularly, wasting tons of water, and we're unable to turn it off because we have no mechanism and those guys who are supposedly responsible for our room have not checked back with us for a few days. Then today the water ran out.
Short of it is, living with a lot of people with all of their various habits and no infrastructure and scarce resources is extremely trying. It's a new experience to me. There has been a lot that has been new to me since I got here, and I'm seeing again how luxurious are even those most basic things we can get in the US. Tamdin has been taking it in stride, and reminded me of what His Holiness said today, that we must cultivate inner happiness because the outside circumstances in this crucible (my description) won't relent. He's right. The only peaceful place here is in my head (ahemm... and at that luxury camp). It's so humbling. I think I'm hardy and loving and compassionate and then I find during these trying circumstances that I'm struggling.
To me, this is ascetic. I would rather fast by myself for a week than undergo this. I should have thought of the middle way, that is, not suffering unnecessarily (I should have coughed up the money). After all, the Buddha taught that one should neither be too slack nor too taught, neither too undisciplined nor too stringent.
But no point for regrets. What I've learned is that we all have to work from where we're at. I have been expecting way too much of myself (heh, I wasn't asking to be a saint, but still I had upheld high standards). I think in being gentler to myself (since it's my habit to be ultra disciplined), I can actually enjoy the daily lessons better and then I'd be writing about more scholarly and philosophical stuff than my issues with water and toilets.
For instance, I should have coughed up the $200 to stay in one of those "luxury tents" that were set up mainly for the foreigners (who are probably the only ones who can afford them). I was there last night, as my friends were performing nearby. I really liked how quiet it was there. I have to keep remembering that although I'm working poor in the US, I'm not here. I think I have a habit of acting and thinking like a poor person. But we shouldn't operate out of habit. Why be at a disadvantage when you have the ability to be more comfortable? The issue with these luxury tents has been on my mind for the the past week and a half, as the intensity of this place has been increasing.
Though everyone is feeling the heat equally, I think it would have been helpful to at least have gotten a comfortable place to stay. "Comfortable" is a relative term. I'm not talking about luxury like riverside cocktails, though I had that kind of picture in mind when I thought of luxury cottages, funny me and my preconceived notions. Luxury in these circumstances means quiet, order, sufficient water, a decent clean restaurant nearby, time to reflect, time to relax. That's not bad, nor would I feel guilty in participating in that kind of privilege right now. Ah, this is also my message to my social justice friends, because I think it's too easy for those of us who work for the equality of all and for righteousness to dismiss right away what could be seen as classism. And this certainly is. The foreigners here have so much more privilege than the general public.
And though I see that everyone's suffering here, I have to acknowlege where I'm coming from (nationally and experience-wise). I did not grow up in Asia. And my tolerance level for living in the circumstances that most people do is very low. Embarassingly low, given that I freak out a lot and at this point, have thrown a tantrum a few times in the past week.
Let me explain why: My living situation has been a carnival. The first week we got here, there were fewer people but less infrastructure. We were without electricity and fully-functioning toilets. We worked things out, getting water from the pump and using candles at night. By day, the government workers were doing construction on water tank (out of cement) in front of our room.
By the second week, a lot more people were arriving, so every day the water pump was crowded with people bathing, getting water for cooking, washing dishes, washing clothes. The pump got no rest, and it took at least 5-10 minutes to get water. I made sure to get a full bucket of water so that we could simply have the water to flush the toilet. But the other members in my room have been bums about a few things, and they never bothered to match the courtesy of keeping water around (since you never knew when there was going to be water or not). Actually, I should say there were not being discourteous. It's just that they weren't paying attention. And they were just doing things the way they do. It's quite a challenge for me on the cultural level too, to be living with Tibetans rather than other foreigners. But let me not generalize. This specific group has a way of doing things that works for them. Add onto that the fact that there have been increasingly more and more people coming around to use the toilets (The government guy who was in charge of managing our room and its occupants came around only a few times, and then said, "oh, but these toilets are only for you," which is funny because there is no mechanism by which to lock them. That's the other thing that frustrates me is the way things {don't} work. Why spend a week building a water tank when we can't even use it because there's no water supply for another week?).
Now we're in week 3. At this point, the water pump has broken, and instead of getting us water supply and fixing the pump, they divert the water from the pump source to that water tank they built. Meaning we still don't have enough water, but everyone's coming our way to get the water, so there's increased traffic. At this point, people have also started to use our toilets and baths (There are only 2 toilets and 2 baths, whereas the areas in the camps where people are staying, they've built a lot of toilets and baths). It means we can't take our daily bath, which is very much needed since we sweat all day and get dust blown in our faces everywhere we walk. The water tank overflows regularly, wasting tons of water, and we're unable to turn it off because we have no mechanism and those guys who are supposedly responsible for our room have not checked back with us for a few days. Then today the water ran out.
Short of it is, living with a lot of people with all of their various habits and no infrastructure and scarce resources is extremely trying. It's a new experience to me. There has been a lot that has been new to me since I got here, and I'm seeing again how luxurious are even those most basic things we can get in the US. Tamdin has been taking it in stride, and reminded me of what His Holiness said today, that we must cultivate inner happiness because the outside circumstances in this crucible (my description) won't relent. He's right. The only peaceful place here is in my head (ahemm... and at that luxury camp). It's so humbling. I think I'm hardy and loving and compassionate and then I find during these trying circumstances that I'm struggling.
To me, this is ascetic. I would rather fast by myself for a week than undergo this. I should have thought of the middle way, that is, not suffering unnecessarily (I should have coughed up the money). After all, the Buddha taught that one should neither be too slack nor too taught, neither too undisciplined nor too stringent.
But no point for regrets. What I've learned is that we all have to work from where we're at. I have been expecting way too much of myself (heh, I wasn't asking to be a saint, but still I had upheld high standards). I think in being gentler to myself (since it's my habit to be ultra disciplined), I can actually enjoy the daily lessons better and then I'd be writing about more scholarly and philosophical stuff than my issues with water and toilets.
posted by sylviashines at 4:28 AM
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