Wherever I’ve been in the world, I have always discovered there are different reasons why certain things don’t get done.
In the west, you a) either blame other people or b) give a long list of complex circumstances that prevent you from getting the job done (translated this means excuses) or c) you prove to be a mensch and owe up to the fact that you couldn’t get the job done, which, of course, is the rarest of these three scenarios.
Last week in an American football match, the game was tied in sudden death overtime (meaning the first score wins) when a wide receiver broke loose from the secondary and was all by himself in the end zone, the ball a perfect spiral floating his way. For inexplicable reasons, the ball went through his hands. What should have been an easy touchdown and a sure game winner was a simple incomplete pass and, as Murphy’s Law can tell you, things only got worse from there. The other team got the ball back, scored, and won the game. Asked what happened in a post-match press conference, the wide receiver blamed GOD. That’s right, not himself, not the ball, not the opponent’s defensive coverage, not his quarterback, his new gloves, or the sun that might have burned his little toe. It had to be God.
Arabs, of course, know a thing or two about divine intervention, or the lack thereof. In the Arabic world, the key word is inshallah, meaning ‘God willing’. If you say that you will see a guy tomorrow, the answer will be inshallah. If you have planned a project and set a tentative deadline, the consensus will be inshallah, rather than a nod of the head or a simple okay. Inshallah might just be my least favorite expression in the world because, as I have learned, more than often God is not willing. Even worse than blaming a failure on other people is blaming a failure on God.
In Nepal, you could propose a plan and people would bob their heads to the side, a sign for vacillation in the west, meaning you are not sure. Turns out in Nepal that actually means ‘yes’, although from the gesture you will swear up and down that this guy is everything except positive. In lieu of the bobbing head doll, you will get a ‘next week’. Don’t be fooled by that either. By next week, it is very likely the other guy (and you, for that matter) will have forgotten all about your little arrangement.
Which leads us here to South America. Here it is manana, with a little wavy hyphen over the first n, pronounced ‘manyana’. If people come ill prepared for a certain task it will be ‘manana’ this or ‘manana’ that. The other week when an appliance couldn’t be fixed in a timely manner, the worker just shook his head and told me he didn’t have the part. Let me guess, I said with a tint of sarcasm, you will have it manana? Correct, he said.
When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, I learned that having everything right then and now is not necessarily good for your health, physically, mentally, or otherwise (I could have added spiritually, but then I would have to mention inshallah again). As a volunteer, the instructors said, be prepared to be more and do less. There’s nothing wrong with that per se. That seems to be the modus operandi everywhere in the world. Sometimes I mind it, sometimes I don’t. It’s all a question of how your mind is geared. Just be prepared for the proverbial New York minute to last a La Paz day or a Morocco week, for example.
In the west, you a) either blame other people or b) give a long list of complex circumstances that prevent you from getting the job done (translated this means excuses) or c) you prove to be a mensch and owe up to the fact that you couldn’t get the job done, which, of course, is the rarest of these three scenarios.
Last week in an American football match, the game was tied in sudden death overtime (meaning the first score wins) when a wide receiver broke loose from the secondary and was all by himself in the end zone, the ball a perfect spiral floating his way. For inexplicable reasons, the ball went through his hands. What should have been an easy touchdown and a sure game winner was a simple incomplete pass and, as Murphy’s Law can tell you, things only got worse from there. The other team got the ball back, scored, and won the game. Asked what happened in a post-match press conference, the wide receiver blamed GOD. That’s right, not himself, not the ball, not the opponent’s defensive coverage, not his quarterback, his new gloves, or the sun that might have burned his little toe. It had to be God.
Arabs, of course, know a thing or two about divine intervention, or the lack thereof. In the Arabic world, the key word is inshallah, meaning ‘God willing’. If you say that you will see a guy tomorrow, the answer will be inshallah. If you have planned a project and set a tentative deadline, the consensus will be inshallah, rather than a nod of the head or a simple okay. Inshallah might just be my least favorite expression in the world because, as I have learned, more than often God is not willing. Even worse than blaming a failure on other people is blaming a failure on God.
In Nepal, you could propose a plan and people would bob their heads to the side, a sign for vacillation in the west, meaning you are not sure. Turns out in Nepal that actually means ‘yes’, although from the gesture you will swear up and down that this guy is everything except positive. In lieu of the bobbing head doll, you will get a ‘next week’. Don’t be fooled by that either. By next week, it is very likely the other guy (and you, for that matter) will have forgotten all about your little arrangement.
Which leads us here to South America. Here it is manana, with a little wavy hyphen over the first n, pronounced ‘manyana’. If people come ill prepared for a certain task it will be ‘manana’ this or ‘manana’ that. The other week when an appliance couldn’t be fixed in a timely manner, the worker just shook his head and told me he didn’t have the part. Let me guess, I said with a tint of sarcasm, you will have it manana? Correct, he said.
When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, I learned that having everything right then and now is not necessarily good for your health, physically, mentally, or otherwise (I could have added spiritually, but then I would have to mention inshallah again). As a volunteer, the instructors said, be prepared to be more and do less. There’s nothing wrong with that per se. That seems to be the modus operandi everywhere in the world. Sometimes I mind it, sometimes I don’t. It’s all a question of how your mind is geared. Just be prepared for the proverbial New York minute to last a La Paz day or a Morocco week, for example.
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