Learning through Confusion

By: Sarah Baron

March 18, 2019

I have a theory: while exploring a new culture, most of the learning comes from moments of confusion or even anger. 

Two weeks ago, my study abroad program went on a weeklong “rural retreat” to Wadi Rum, Petra, and Irbid. Each place was stunning, but I learned and accomplished the most while in the forests of Irbid. One day, our teachers (all of whom were male) informed us that we would be visiting a halal sheep farm where the owners process milk, cheese, and sheep meat. We were told to prepare questions because we would all go into the owner’s home and discuss what life was like on the farm. The time came and we all walked over to the front door of the house. The owner then said, “Men stay outside; women go inside.” The professors behind us, we exchanged confused looks. Do we take our shoes off here or do we keep them on? One girl ran back to a professor to ask. Finally, shoes off, we walked into the house and were directed into a room lined with cushions. We each took a seat and sat there, staring at each other—and at our feet. We knew that in Arab cultures, it is unacceptably rude to point your feet at someone. We wondered: Do we leave our feet in front of us or curl them up on the clean cushions? 

Eventually, a woman came into the room with coffee; distracted, we took a break from staring at our feet. The woman handed the girl closest to the door a cup of coffee. She started enjoying the coffee and savoring the taste slowly before realizing that we all would be sharing the same cup and the woman was waiting for her to finish. While waiting, the host found comfort in one student also dressed in a hijab. From that point forward, she was relaxed enough to speak only with that specific student while the rest of us sat there painfully aware of our American identities. Finally, we had all sipped from the same coffee cup. The woman took the single cup back and left the room. Confused again, we went back to watching each other, playing hand games, and waiting to see what would happen next. Eventually, one girl stood up and said that she was going to go ask the woman if she could help in any way. However, was this polite? Were we allowed to leave the room? What if asking to help would be seen as an insult? She sat back down, and we returned to waiting. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the woman came back with a delicious pot of tea and her daughter in tow. Finally finding something to do, some of the girls in our program excitedly started playing with her daughter and attempting to interact in some way. The daughter, on the other hand, was so scared and mortified (in my opinion) of being treated like a zoo animal that she began to cry. Thus, even more confused, we went back to sitting on the cushions and waiting. Why had we not been better prepared for what to expect? Why had no female Jordanian adult in our program joined us or guided us through this experience?

Later that evening, sitting around a fire with our professors, we brought up our frustration and confusion. One of our professors responded, reminding us to keep in mind the D.I.E perspective (describe, interpret, evaluate). In a new country and environment, he stated, we must always describe, attempt to interpret, but never evaluate. As students, it is unfair and disrespectful of us to evaluate Jordanian society through our American perspective. He elaborated that in rural Jordan, conservative values largely define people’s way of life. Hence, in almost every home, women and men must be separated. Furthermore, the woman of the house is often in charge of caring for guests. In the context of a halal farm, however, she has so many household duties that she does not have the opportunity to take long breaks, sit with a group of foreigners, and answer every single question they might have. Finally, the host is also a human being with the same emotions of shyness and anxiety that we all experience. No wonder she and her daughter were scared to engage fully. No wonder she found comfort in the one girl who clearly shared her religion and, possibly, her values.

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