Diaspora

Wherever you travel in the world you will be assured to find a Chinese population.  Even in most far-removed corners such as in Madagascar you can be assured to find a China town.  There is a Chinese run cotton factory in my small town in the Northwest.  They manage the fields that this commodity is grown on, process it, and export it to Guangdong Province on boat.  I’ve befriended the owners of this company and have been invited to share scrumptious meals that cause me to become a bit homesick.  I find it interesting how resource constraints and a burgeoning population have forced entrepreneurial spirits out of their home countries to try their luck elsewhere.  These I feel are some of the bravest souls I've ever met and make Peace Corps Volunteers look a bit wimpy.

  These are truly people who have thrown themselves into the unknown.  With perhaps one loose contact, no knowledge of the local language or culture, and an uncertain salary they feel the risk is worth taking.  Labels are thrown at these “Karani” (population with Indian/ Pakistani heritage) and “Sinoa” (Chinese immigrant) groups.  They are blamed for exploiting this country of its natural resources and subjugating the local populations.  I will not comment here exactly why this is but it’s evident that wealth concentrated in certain groups causes for stratification of class, and the abuse of power.  The entire population of East and South Asia are stereotyped as being the same.  This has made me especially conscious of how I am to represent Americans, because for the majority of people I encounter I am the only contact they will ever have from the US. 

  Being of Asian heritage many people here don’t believe that I am American or a Peace Corps volunteer, but rather judge me firsthand with carrying certain attitudes of those within the merchant class.  It’s difficult to walk down the road with adolescents trying to mimic fake Mandarin to me.  I used to haughtily answer in fast Mandarin then switch to fluent Malagasy chastising them then finally ask whether they wanted an answer in English, French or Russian.  Most times their jaws would drop, which was amusing for a while.  I believe I even initiated a physical match one time because of this issue.  I’m just not sure I have the stamina to fight anymore though.  My mother was able to relate, explaining to me that her experiences with bullying wasn't so different nearly thirty years ago when she first arrived to the US from Vietnam.  Classmates would pull their eyes back and chatter in gibberish.  “Turn a blind eye and continue your work,” she advises. 

  Because I’ve tanned quite a bit I sometimes here whispers behind my back as people try to discern what exactly I am.  “Is she Merina (the ethnic group in the highlands with Asiatic features), Metisy (of Chinese and Malagasy background), a vazaha (an Westerner)?  I know what its like to be viewed as a minority, however I grew up in America, have acquired an American identity that was new to my parents, and speak English as an American.  For the first time in my life I have felt like an alien life form.  Not only do I speak kind of funny, but act and look a bit strange.  One thing that is great about the Chinese expatriate community here is that they are extremely well networked across the country.  If I wanted 500 grams of raw sapphires and rubies, shark fins, hard to find cooking ingredients, medicines delivered within a week from Guangzhou I know who to turn to.  I find it fascinating how families are built when blood families are left thousands of miles behind as a form of protection and comfort.  It is our duty as Peace Corps Volunteers to engage with the local population and integrate as much as possible but understandably we need a break too, and we seek this in the places we find most familiar to us.