Guilt by Association

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Somehow, when you’re an expat, you become a representative for your home country. Willing or unwilling, you are seen by many as an unofficial representative of the Department of State. Any bad decisions your country makes, you are held responsible for. Whether you agree with those decisions, or not, no matter the stance on the issues. Unfortunately, when your country does good things, you don’t get any credit. Not that I want credit for all the wonderful things my government and my people do, but I don’t think I deserve the blame for the bad stuff, either. There have been many uncomfortable situations caused by this, but I’d like to highlight three here.

When I was doing postgraduate language studies in Spain, our professor chose to focus our conversation topics on the news. This was right when the Bill Clinton-Monica Lewinsky scandal broke out, and in our class of 20 students, two of us were American. Any time a question about the United States popped up, we’d get asked. We weren’t friends, came from really different backgrounds and different parts of the country, and didn’t seem to share views on much. Which, in some sense, was good. But it baffled everyone. And then, one day, we were asked what we thought about the scandal (which, I think, hadn’t been confirmed yet). Hello? This was a time before widespread internet access. The only thing we were reading was the Spanish newspapers, and who had time to read more than the one article we had to summarize for homework each day? What value could our opinions possibly have? Who cared what we thought? I guess it’s just people’s curiosity, but I found it weird.

The second situation that I’ll never forget brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it. I was at a local grocery store last winter with Evren, who was one year old. It was snowy and cold and I was in a hurry because we were approaching Evren’s nap time. A man in the parking lot was taking it upon himself to help people by directing their cars out of the tight parking lot without hitting anyone. He was also approaching people and talking to them. I was worried he might be crazy and tried not to make eye contact with him. But as I was putting Evren into his car seat, I heard someone walking behind me, and he said in a quiet voice (in German) “Excuse me, miss, but here is a rose for you.” I, of course, said “No, thank you,” and then he went on. “I am from Iraq. My country is destroyed. My house is destroyed. I can no longer work, I have nothing. I am here now, but if you can give me a Euro for the rose, I would be grateful.” I am pretty sure my eyes teared up right there. “I’m American,” I said. “I am so sorry. My country did that to your country, but I want you to know that I did not choose the people who made those choices.” (Ok, my German is not that articulate, but that is the message I tried to convey. In reality, I probably said my country do bad things your country. I sorry. George Bush bad man.) I could never have predicted what he did next. He gave me four roses and told me to keep them and not to give him any money for them. He said “thank you.” I didn’t deserve the thank you. I didn’t do anything to deserve it except voting for someone who would have been a better president, I think. Someone who might not have destroyed Iraq. I managed to press whatever money I had (I think it was 5 euros) into his hand and was shaken for the rest of the day. I felt really guilty and awful even though he was the victim of a situation I hadn’t created or supported.

On Tuesday, I took Evren to a new playgroup, which is for foreigners. There was a little boy there with the same birthday as Evren. His mother seemed very nice and friendly, though still a bit shy. Her son’s name was Johannes, a pretty common German name, but she didn’t look German at all, so I decided to ask where everyone was from. She said she was from Iraq. I might have flinched. But I didn’t say where I was from. Later on, somebody asked me, and I said it. I’m from the USA. Then she flinched. It wasn’t my imagination. She kept away from me a little bit then. Who knows what she had experienced, good or bad, at the hands of the US. It wasn’t the place to start talking about politics, or apologizing. But later on, when it was time for the kids to sit down and eat lunch, I noticed an open seat next to her and asked if we could sit there. She said yes. I asked her how long she had been here. 4 years, same as me. I smiled at her. She smiled at me. Then, Evren stole a small piece of her son’s pretzel. I apologized and gave it back, but she said he could have it, that her son wasn’t interested in his pretzel today. I thanked her. There were so many unspoken things that I imagine we were both thinking. But I felt really, really sorry. Even though I hadn’t done anything.

Guilt by association. Self-imposed guilt, perhaps. Being an expat, and perhaps the only American many people may have any contact with, can sometimes be a heavy load.

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Comments

[Megan]

Please keep them coming...
I currently live in the US but am tentatively making plans to move to Germany in a year or so with my husband, daughter, and (if everything goes well) another baby. I stumbled across your blog this week in search of a stroller for proper public appearance there. I loved your blog entry about Kinderwagens (I would love to hear an updated double Kinderwagen option)! I found that entry so helpful, I started from the beginning and read nearly all your entries. I am sad that they have stopped--please keep up the excellent and insightful work!

[Kaanosaurus]

Double Kinderwagens
Hello Megan, Thanks for reading my blog entries - and enjoying them, and letting me know. A few people told me to get a used double stroller because you really only end up using it for a year or so - because at some point, the older child outgrows strollers altogether. I followed that advice, and it worked for me. I bought a used one, used it for about a year, and then donated it to charity. I then went back to the original single stroller, and was really thrilled to have such a good one. There are so many more on the market now than there were when I first had to choose one... And as for the entries stopping.... having two children is more work than having one... a lot more work. I do have less time to write... and when I do write, it's often on my book. Finally, I've kind-of gotten used to living here, and therefore find it all less strange, less weird, less funny - Germany has become home. But there's always more to write, and I hope that I'll be able to write more in the near future :)