Middle India 7
Ever Felt So Unwelcome You Recite “Beam Me Up Scotty” Quietly To Yourself?
Well I have and it was very uncomfortable
The opportunity to interact with some of the township ladies, was my plan, when we decided to head the Children’s Festival. To meet some locals and hopefully get involved with community activities will be great. Having been an expat, 2 other times, in Buggerlugs’ working life, I know how important it is to put yourself out there and hopefully find your feet.
There were sheilas (Oztraylian for ladies) everywhere and I was like a kid in a lolly shop (Oztraylian for sweets, candy shop). I started scoping the groups, looking hopeful.
Bingo, I got a win!
I did see a group of 5 ladies who smiled and nodded, so selected this as my starting point, and went over to introduced myself. They offered that I sit down, they didn’t need to ask twice, and as quick as that bush fly up your nose (A big problem in Oztraylian — they either go up your nose or in your mouth to try and choke you, sticky little bastards) I grabbed a chair, and plonked my sorry arse down.
I’m in, or so I thought! The two ladies, directly next to me were very welcoming and friendly. It seems most had been here for a couple of years, with one of them having actually been an expat in Africa. She said,
“Oh, we have all been talking about you, and how hard it must be, when you are so different, don’t know anyone, and that you must be very lonely!”
“Yes, it’s been pretty quiet and quite difficult, but that is how it is when you are new”.
I then asked if they had a community group/ladies club/activity group, or something along those lines. Another lady in the group replied,
“Oh yes, we do, we meet once a month, and do whatever, it’s just for fun, would you like to be put on the mailing list?”
“Yes please, that would be really nice,” (trying not to look too desperate).
She turned to one of the other three,
“Please make sure you add Joanna’s name to the list.”
Well, you could have cut the air with a knife. This other lady was looking at her with fear in her eyes, looking very concerned at the prospect of adding “that person who is so different”. Her eyes were frantically darting from one to the other. Feeling the ‘obvious weird vibe’ and to alleviate the situation I squeaked,
“Oh, it’s OK, no rush, but yes, sometime that would be lovely,” and thanked the first lady for suggesting it.
To change the subject, I then asked some basic questions. Where is the best place for groceries? Where to go? Anything close by? No scoop there — the cheesy/milkman and the cupboard shop seem to be it. I then asked -
“Do they ever have activity or games mornings or afternoons?”
I mentioned how I loved playing scrabble and used to go to scrabble clubs at home, I have googled and the closest one, I could find is listed as in Chennai (7 hours on the road and a flight).
She replied,
“No, they don’t really do anything like that here.”
I shrugged, thinking ‘yep, all good’ and wondering if this could be something I could get going. After all there seems to be a lot of residents here, surely someone might be interested.
I like visiting and celebrating birthdays — I even bought special gifts from Oztraylia in anticipation.
About one minute later she announces,
“I must mention that all the ladies are very busy. They are often very tied up visiting each other, you know like celebrating birthdays and special occasions and many have their little groups.”
“I totally understand, I have lived in many small communities, many times and people have their own friend circles.”
So, in a way guys, I think I have been ‘told’. It’s JoJoNoFriends again — what ev’s. I have a thick skin. I won’t admit defeat yet, after all, it’s only early days. I have some great crafty ideas and activities I would like to start, and make very visible. Once they see what I’m up to, they will probably have wished they had been cuddlier.
Next minute, one of the organising men came over, Sanjeep, lovely bloke, he had told me of this ladies group previously, over lunch, at the guesthouse.
“Oh, glad you got to meet some ladies,” and said to the stony-faced lady with the frantic eyes,
“Please make sure you add Joanna, so she can get to meet people.”
Not this again — please let the ground open up and swallow me! Three of the ladies, sat there like stunned mullets, frantic eye movements to each other, not quite knowing what to do, or how not to do what they were being asked. It was excruciatingly painful and embarrassing. This was definitely a “Beam me up Scotty” moment!
So, it seems, my friends, my friend making has stalled. I’m sure there will be other opportunities but between the bitch-fest about Short Shorts and this, I took my leave (sounds so Jane Austen eh) parting with,
“It was lovely to chat to you all and nice to meet you.”
Yep, there are definitely cliques, groups, posses and gangs, of which I’m not keen to get caught up with. I will persevere, but I will also walk my own path, as it looks like I might have to. I headed back to my fellow Aussies to say “G’day” (Oztraylian for hello) — she’ll be right (Oztraylian for all will be ok). The last thing I want is to be caught up with this sort of rubbish. It’s a shame really, as I have so many ideas for community activities, excursions and adventure.
Hopefully I will find a way to get some things off the ground, and they will be so jelly. Not knowing my character, or what I am able to offer, it seems a shame but this is only the beginning. Things are bound to get better. I will keep trying and if I manage to instigate something. They ain’t seen nothing yet in perseverance and stubbornness. I pray to the Middle Indian Making Friends God that she shines her rays of friendship in my direction.
Howzat!
As I had had to play musical chairs and the fellow male Aussies had made fun of me — I advised them,
“Oi, you lot have to suck up your words and now play in the cricket game!”
They were promptly dragged up to play. The kiwi on one team (we accept him as an Aussie) and the two Aussies on the other. Had to spread the Southern Hemisphere talent.
Poor old geezers (Oztraylian for old men) hobbling, limping but thankfully not having heart attacks, they sped out, onto the field, like crippled Shane Warne’s ready to do their “Howzat” appeals to the umpires. Lucky for the boyz from Oz these two teams were the pre-real game entertainment and yes it was quite amusing. Their cricket playing prowess was as good as my musical chairs, somehow I don’t think we will get team call ups with lucrative contracts. They would be paying us to stay away.
After the geriatrics and leftovers finished the pre-game entertainment the “Dedicated Cricket Players” were ready to rumble. They all looked pretty schmick (Oztraylian for smart and looking the part) in their team uniforms. I gather the competition was an inter-department rivalry, with the stakes being high. They take it very seriously and remember, never diss the cricket.
The mozzies are out — time for ‘curry in a hurry’
Team photos and a lot of fuss was unfolding prior to the first ball being bowled. It became surprisingly cool as evening fell, we started noticing a new mozzies (Oztraylian for mosquitos) and by about 7.30pm, the left overs (us), scuttled back up to the guest house to grab that ‘curry in a hurry’. They still hadn’t even bowled the first ball by the time we escaped, and later, in the distance, we could hear in the commentator describing each play as it happened. Strange how the PA system was now working for the cricket and NOT the musical chairs. It all added to the nice community atmosphere — good on ’em — May the best team win. All in all it was nice to go down and meet some residents — time will tell.
We have been the talk of the township. Everyone knows where we are going to live — literally from all the ladies, to the cupboard shop man, the cheesy/milkman and the guest house workers. I think they can tell me what I’m going to be doing next. They know what Buggalugs does. What he is here for and they probably know what time he picks his nose.
Prime example — we were over at the villa the other day, having a snoop, and suddenly this man comes over to us. He was a Chinese fella (Oztraylian for man).
“You are moving in here?” pointing to the house.
“Yes.”
“Are you an engineer?”
“Yes.”
He then points to me,
“Are you an engineer?”
“No, I am his wife.”
“So, you not an engineer?”
“No,” — immediately dumps me — back to Buggalugs,
“So you are the advisor?”
“Yes.”
“And where you come from?” We answer.
I ask “How long have you been here?
“2 years.”
“Do you get to go home much?”
“Once in that time.”
I then asked “And where do you live?”
He points over his shoulder and says,
“Over there, the Shit House.”
I nearly choke and reply,
“What? I know things are pretty grim but geez it must be really bad if you’ve called it a shit house”
Then after a bit of kerfuffle and lots of repeating,
“Shift — shift house.” It seems it is the Chinese Shift House not the Chinese Shit House.
“Ah, I see,” and chortle to myself.
We try and make friendly conversation. He’s not really interested, he’s got the gossip he was after, tips the rest of his tea cup out, at our feet, promptly says “Good bye,” and heads off over the lawn, hurdles the small fence and makes a bee-line to their lodgings.
I have no doubt, promptly relaying the gossip to the rest of the shit house residents. The Chinese Shit House term is now lodged in my brain. The Chinese Shit House it is. Sounds a lot more fun than shift.
