Youth in East, West

As I was reading the short stories in East, West by Salman Rushdie, two of them stood out to me. “Good Advice is Rarer than Rubies” and “The Free Radio” focus on beauty, its positive and negative effects, and the idea of youth listening to their elders.

“Good Advice” focuses on a young, very beautiful woman, Miss Rehana, and her attempt to find her fiancé in England. Betrothed in an arranged marriage, Miss Rehana doesn’t truly want to be her fiancé, but she tries to receive her passport from the Consulate in order to travel to London for her deceased parents; it’s her duty as their daughter. Miss Rehana is used to getting things by relying on her beauty, although she has the spunk and life experience of taking care of herself and doing things on her own.

Muhammed Ali’s offer of free advice and illegal passport stemmed from Miss Rehana’s beauty, he admits it to her, and if she had truly wanted to meet her fiancé in London and get married, she would’ve taken him up on his act of kindness, but Miss Rehana was both too proud to listen and didn’t plan on succeeding with her mission. With her fiancé so old and never having met him before, Miss Rehana attempted for her parents but had no intentions of passing the Consulate’s test. That’s why she said she wasn’t worried when she turned down Muhammed Ali’s offer. She relied on her beauty to “act dumb” and get the questions wrong like the other “Tuesday women” trying to get a London passport so she could stay in her home and keep her job taking care of children she loves. Miss Rehana gave a half-hearted attempt to do right by her parents, but in the end couldn’t subject herself to truly listen to them or Muhammed Ali because she didn’t want a life with a much older, unknown man. She likes her life, so she went against them by not putting in all the effort she could to pass the test. She used her beauty to, this time, not get what she supposedly wanted.

“The Free Radio” follows a young rickshaw-wallah named Ramani and an old “thief’s widow” according the sahib, the narrator. The thief’s widow tricks the young, beautiful boy into falling in love with her because the young boy is respected and has a successful job that gets him money, and she has five children to feed. She manipulated Ramani into taking care of her and her family because she’s too lazy and isn’t respected by anyone in town. She encourages his crazy dream of being an actor in movies because he’s so handsome. Besides the money he has, that’s all the thief’s widow cares about, his looks.

The sahib wants to save Ramani but doesn’t know how because he won’t listen to him, so he confronts the thief’s widow. She claims that she spared Ramani because he asked her to marry him, but she no longer wants children and didn’t want to stop him from being a father one day. Ramani then does the unthinkable, getting a nasbandi just so the thief’s widow would marry him. Ramani doesn’t think through either of the decisions; he was only powered by his “love” for the thief’s widow. The free radio was a scam the government was doing years ago so people would perform the nasbandi. Ramani clings to the idea of the free radio in order to avoid the consequences of his actions. Once the man who performed the procedure finally tells him he’s never getting a radio, Ramani deflates a little and decides to leave in order to become a big movie star in Bombay. Ramani can no longer deal with his failures since he can no longer hide behind his consolation prize, and now the thief’s widow is shamed once again. Moving far away is done to avoid the humiliation of his mistakes for the both of them, but Ramani can no longer escape them. His tall tales in his letters to the sahib prove that he’s just as unhappy without the lies as he was when he ignored the sahib's warnings and the truth. Ramani relied on his looks and love to provide wisdom and a path in life, but he should've listened to the wisdom fo the sahib and the other people in town.

Kisses in the Nederends

            Nobody appreciates the more grotesque functions of the human body with more unadulterated joy than an eighth grade boy.  I know this from experience and in working at Acts 4 Youth this semester.  Not a week goes by without at least three fart jokes (usually within the first twenty minutes upon arriving).  These boys would have been cracking up from the first page of Kisses in the Nederends.  What they helped me realize about the book was that Oilei is not too different from an eighth grade boy.

            Oilei has many of the hallmarks of a child without much of the maturity of a man.  He is immature, giggles at inappropriate times, lashes out in angry rages, throws temper tantrums, clings to his wife like she’s his mother, and he is extremely susceptible to the influence of others.  He is malleable.  While this mutability does not mean that his identity ever changes or improves (unfortunately) it does make him vulnerable to the influence of others in his town as well as foreigners.  If he was representative of his country, he would be covered in the flags of a hundred different countries.

            And even after opening up his body to whoever is brave enough to take a stab at exploring his innards, Oilei is the open child.  By calling him a child, I am not implying that he has the wonderful innocence that children are born with.  He resembles a stinker that you can’t help but spend time with even though he could probably afford a fair bit of discipline.  By the end, Oilei has not grown up, but he has learned how to love in such a way that his body is no longer tearing itself apart and the people around him are no longer exacerbating the problem.

            Seeing Oilei as a child not only endeared him to me, but it made him seem vulnerable despite all of his bravado.  I realized that maybe all he needed all along was love and protection.  Even though he was a boxer and he had been married, he no longer can find comfort in either one of those.  Oilei is an island, separate and alone.  It is only after he learns to love others that his pain may cease and the story can end happily.

            This story shed some perspective on the boys I met through service.  A lot of them clam up and do not want any help or even interaction.  If you try to tell them that they should fix a wrong answer on their homework or to tie their shoe, they take that as an insult and their pride is hurt.  But maybe it’s not just pride.  Maybe, like Oilei, they are working so hard to be self-sufficient that little things like zipping their fly and crossing their t’s slip through the cracks.  They do not need me correcting their homework and their habits, they need someone who is going to show them love even (or even especially) when they least desire it.  I only see these boys once a week, so my contribution is small and consists of no more than consistency and unconditional concern, but somewhere in their life is someone who can give them "kisses in the Nederends" and remind them that they are not alone.

Kisses in the Nederends

Catlin Castan

13 March 2013

Kisses in the Nederends

            In the second part of Kisses in the Nederends, Hau’ofa continues to remind his audience of the importance of the whole body. He states: “We must do more by adding to the revered triumvirate of the body, mind and soul, the hitherto lowly anus”(101). In this moment, Hau’ofa is urging us to search not only the societally recognized parts of the body but also the parts that are left unacknowledged.

            Initially while reading this book, I found myself worrying about how I was going to relate Hau’ofa’s rather graphic text to my service-learning experience. And then it all clicked--the pre-kindergarteners that I work with each Friday afternoon at Tunbridge Academy epitomize the type of individuals that which Hau’ofa wishes to convert his readers. Just as Hau’ofa confronts the, “ dirty, disgusting and shameful,”(101) parts of the body, these little four year olds do the same.

            Just as every other Friday this semester, I arrived at Tunbridge Academy around one o’clock—a time when the kids are absent from the classroom and are running around in the gym. After completing several classroom tasks such as stuffing folders and passing out snack, finally the kids joined me back in the classroom. These adorable four year olds never cease to amaze me; even after spending an hour in the gym, their energy level remains unchanged: they are little balls of continuous energy. Along with their miniscule gyrating bodies, their mouths are moving at the same space—they never stop talking. More specifically, these kids will talk about anything and everything; they have no filter. 

            Amidst the chaos of snack time, one of the kids—a four -year old named Quinn approached my desk and asked me to have a “little chat”. If you can’t already tell, Quinn is by far the most animated four-year old I have ever met—he’s a riot. So of course I let him plop down on my lap and he began to tell me that he, “needs to go to the bathroom because [he] has to take a HUGE poop,” and needs my help. Despite having two brothers, I can honestly say that I was not prepared for that kind of conversation! I tried my best to hold back my laughter and agreed to help him. While in the bathroom, Quinn sat on the toilet and talked to me as if we were at a local café—he proved unfazed and unembarrassed by the bodily function that he was completing.

            While reading Kisses of the Nederends, I couldn’t help but think of Quinn. Hau’ofa brilliantly writes, “It is only when you are able to lovingly and respectfully kiss your own anus, and those of your fellow human beings, that you will know you have purified yourself of all obscenities and prejudices, and have overcome your worst fears and phobias”(101). In this moment, Hau’ofa is summarizing the underlying premise within his text. That is, he expresses the necessity in confronting the unspoken parts of the body and urges his audience, “to assign the same values” to their body parts as a means to equalize them. Quinn successfully achieves this ideal by feeling comfortable talking about his own poop; he views all of his body parts as equal. Just like Quinn, most other little kids are still unaware of the negative societal stigma that surrounds the processes of the “open” body, and therefore these kids find it quite simple to comfortably embrace all body parts. Hau’ofa writes, “Only when you treat every part of your body equally can you begin your journey toward true love. Perhaps Hau’ofa is suggesting that his audience should attempt to restore their “4-year old mind-set” and embrace their poop. 

Our Body, Our Home

The idea that our bodies are our homes is an interesting one.  They are portable homes; ones we can (well have to) carry with us wherever we go.  No matter how out of place we feel, in a foreign country, in a room full of strangers, in any new situation, our body is something familiar, something comforting.  When the body fails us however, all of the comfort and familiarity disappear.  Our traveling home betrays us, and sometimes there is nothing we can do to fight back.  Epeli Hau’ofa in his novel, Kisses in the Nederends, teaches the reader the importance of the body.  Because without its health and well being, we have nothing.   

The body is a beautiful thing.  It can grow and transform, it can survive and thrive, and it can even support and give being to new life.  The body however, can also be gruesome.  It excretes waste, can be taken over by disease, and if not cared for properly, it can wither and die.  The body is susceptible to whatever we choose to do with it.  Hau’ofa, however, wants to teach us that no matter how disgusting, how vile a body can be at times, it is still ours, and we are responsible for seeing the beauty in it.  I think this message is especially relevant in our society today.  Too many people get so caught up in body-image and “looking good” that they forget the true essence of the body and its health.  How much we weigh, how tall or short we are, the color of our hair, eyes, or skin, shouldn’t matter.  Our bodies are our homes, no matter how they look, we need to care for and respect them.  Because without our bodies, and our health, we would be rendered useless.   

Hau’ofa illustrates this idea in his novel again and again.  One particularly engaging passage says this, “The anus, as you have now seen, is neither revolting nor obscene.  The most revoltingly obscene thing that we live with today is the threat of nuclear annihilation” (104).  When put like this, the trivial problems we have with our own bodies seem just that, trivial.  If we think about all of the real problems the world faces, the fact that we sometimes smell, poop, vomit, or sweat is insignificant.  As Hau’ofa points out “every part of the human body is beautiful and sacred in the eyes of the gods” (105).  Instead of looking at every physical feature, we must look the the whole.  The body, even with its most disgusting aspects, is beautiful and deserves to be respected.  It is after all, our home.     

         

We Almost Didn't See It Coming

            Kisses in the Nederends proved quite a difficult text when I attempted to understand the story and its conventions in relation to the idea of Homelands. The unorthodox and rather taboo nature of the plot forces readers to consider the not so obvious meaning of Oilei’s ailment. For the first few chapters, we are uncomfortable as we wonder how the subjects of farting and ‘arses’ could possibly relate to us, our societies, our cultures and our homes. As the story develops, the exploration of the body as a homeland reveals its great abilities to equalize and promote the teachings of love and peace through acceptance. Needless to say I did not expect such a moving philosophy to spawn from glorification of one’s anus.  But, that is the beauty and meaning of Epeli Hau’ofa’s text. 

            Hau’ofa breaks his text into blocks, discussing Oilei’s encounter with each of the dottores and modern doctors.  After a series of truly odd remedies and teachings, we finally encounter one that seems to transcend all others in depth, truth and universal application. Hau’ofa writes that “the true nature of beauty [is] the essence of the unity and equality of all things” (101). This striking claim stretches to cover the beauty of minds, souls, cultures, customs and yes, even anuses. It is no surprise that the philosophies of Babu Vivekanand should be administered in probably the weirdest and most socially unacceptable manner. This proves to be the most remarkable juxtaposition in the entire text. Oilei has been offered this life changing philosophy and must now find a way to accept its practice. This is a teaching we can carry with us everywhere. We have encountered the raw truth and are now challenged to live out its meaning. While the body is one’s personal homeland, Hau’ofa proclaims through Babu, that equality must also be a sort of the natural homeland for all; we just need to find the courage to accept it.

            Many of our homelands texts are connected by this thematic string of “courage to accept.” All of our readings have opened us further to the understandings, plights and triumphs of others. Although we have come a long way, we must view our growth as a two stage process. We have been enlightened, informed and made aware; now we must decide what to do with this opened mind and vision.   Kisses in the Nederends offers one of the deepest messages which, after some reflection, successfully leaves you wondering how you could have been so derailed by the taboo nature of the story, that you almost did not recognize its profound wisdom. 

In Defense of Oilei's Language

In the first half of Kisses in the Nederends the focus of the story is on Oilei’s pain in his butt and we discussed in class on Tuesday how Hau’ofa kind of normalizes talking about one’s “embarrassing” physical problems or hiding our imperfections of our bodies.  In the second half of the novel, the message is made clear of why “we should love and respect our anuses” (113 Hau’ofa).  We discussed how when we are finally able to see the world from the top and the bottom and when the top and bottom are switched, only then can we truly value the sacredness of all things equally, including our arse.  With this in mind, I went into the second half of the book with much more of an open mind about Oilei who may be easy to dismiss as inappropriate because of his use of constant offensive language.  There is a kind of parallelism that can be found between finding the sacredness in all parts of the body, and perhaps finding the sacredness in language and culture found in all people.

            There are more people and cultures introduced in the second half of the novel, particularly in chapter 8 when Dr. Zimmerman visits to give his diagnosis of Oilei.  Oilei has always said “arse” to describe where is pain is while Dr. Zimmerman uses “anus,” the proper anatomical term.  Later, one of the priests scolds Oilei for cursing so much saying he should stop using such “ungodly language.”  At another point, the word “oomfoo” cannot be translated into English, but it does not mean fists in “their language.”  There seems to be constant variations and misunderstandings in language in the second half of the book between the different cultures of the characters.  It was clear that Oilei was not accustomed to using “anus” and that he curses a lot since that is his character.    

            In Amy Tan’s book, The Joy Luck Club, she describes at one point how her mother is an immigrant and has “broken English,” words that make sense, but are not following our standard grammar rules.  She is angry when people dismiss her mother as stupid or uneducated or just not trying hard enough to learn proper English, and many people dismiss her ideas as invalid.  In fact, many times Tan had to make phone calls for her mother when reserving something or registering for something important because many times people would not take her mother seriously and treat her much ruder than Tan, a person who can speak “proper” English.  Her mother’s language difference really hinders her ability for the meaning of her thoughts to be considered by someone else.  The same thing can be applied to so many dialects in the United States even from native English speakers.  So many times do people living in urban communities speak using slang and not enunciating words fully, and many times they are deemed uneducated or incompetent.  Whether the person is uneducated or not is not the point.      

            The point between all of these examples is that it does not matter what the words are so much as the meaning behind them.  Dr. Zimmerman uses somewhat technical or elevated terminology while Oilei uses curse words and slang terms to describe where his pain is.  In comparison to the top and bottom of the body analogy, Dr. Zimmerman’s language and culture would assume a dominant position, coming from an educated background, whereas Oilei’s use of “arse” might be seen as a lower or less educated person.  However, either way, the words still mean the same thing.  Even if Oilei reworded his vocabulary instead of using curse words, he would still convey the same message.  Even if Amy Tan’s English is considered “broken” it does not mean her thoughts and ideas are invalidated because of her language.  In this way, I really found a parallel between the sacredness of the body and the sacredness of language and culture, in both cases changing the top and the bottom positions as a chance for cultural renewal.  By seeing all sides of body, we can recognize the sacredness.  Similarly, those who might be considered less-educated like Oilei using “ungodly language” can be seen as an inappropriate person or too offensive in his language, or we can take the meaning of his words as more important than his politeness.  Perhaps we can find the sacredness of the person and of the culture where they use “arse” instead of “anus” or where they curse heavily instead of using synonyms for curse words, in hopes for a similar “cultural renewal” where we can recognize the differences in culture and how language is used.  If we miss parts of life only seeing what is at the top and ignoring what is at the bottom of our physical individual human selves, in a way language portrays the same thing in the second half of the novel on a broader scale between people as a global community.  Dr. Zimmerman tries to use “correct” terms and Oilei is not, creating a higher and lower type of person.  But, if we only listened to and took seriously the “top” people who are educated and speaking perfect English and ignore or frown upon those “bottom” people who have language differences or actually do not have as much education, we are still missing crucial aspects of the wholeness of life and the variance of the human experience.       

Encounters That Leave a Mark

Not only does Kisses in the Nederends reflect on the importance of being at home with oneself and one’s body, but it extends to the home that is brought forth from one’s personal community and/or support system.  Hau’ofa stresses the essence of varying perspectives throughout the novel and the importance of well-incorporated perspectives in forming and validating one’s homeland.  In his interview and commentary at the end of the book, Hau’ofa reflects on the semi-autobiographical quality of the novel, specifically honing in on his experiences with an eccentric, yet loving support system.  He observes: “Yet trough it all Oilei’s family and friends stayed by him, as mine stayed by me.  They suffer and laugh with him, as mine did with me.  These were some of the things I wanted to bring out.” (159).   Although it may seem like Oilei is in this alone, every action or motion he endures is done so in an interactive process, a process that involved a new character.  In turn, he is often affected or influenced by that character. 

For example, Oilei establishes a different sense of home with himself and even with Rita after is session with Babu, the yogi.  This is just one of many examples of how the different forms of healing work collaboratively to impact Oilei both physically as well as spiritually, socially, and emotionally.  The post-Babu behavior example is probably the most pronounced in the novel.  Immediately, the normative “home” life of Rita and Oilei has shifted.  Oilei, up until this point in the book, had been marked by crudeness and an overall ill-mannered persona.  They’re way of being functioned according to a standard of disorganization, a total lack of intimacy, and mutual disrespect.  In chapter 7, Babu’s influence proves to have a hold on Oilei as his nasty persona dissolves and a sense of calm emerges in its place.  In regards to Rita’s abrupt request of intercourse, he responds, “My dear Rita…we no longer use that word.  It fogs the mind and stains the soul.  You should have said, ‘Let us persuade our respective members to engage in the sacrament of love.  That is the cleanest way of putting it’” (106).  This shift is a great way of showing the influence the doctors and dottores have over Oilei’s whole person. 

It is evident that Hau’ofa wishes this idea of allowing oneself to being open to being impacted is a huge theme in the novel.  At the close of the novel, Hau’ofa implements physical imagery as a micro model of Oilei’s five-year long battle and the encounters that fueled his various medical experiences.  Hau’ofa captures this theme in the following: “His arse had been preached at, prayed upon, exorcised, breathed into and out of, sung and danced.  It had been exploded, jabbed, blown, hummed, needled, steamed, smoked, carved, discarded, transplanted, race-transformed, sex-changed, nosed and kissed back to life” (152).  This really made me reflect on the commonly used metaphor, or physical representation of “scars” that is often implemented in spoken or written language to mean the emotional or spiritual hits that an individual has taken, whether due to a rocky childhood or let-downs and losses throughout adulthood.  I also couldn’t help but think about how our encounters with others contribute to the existence of these scars.  And perhaps not all scars are bad, persay, but in general, they are a great physical representation of an “inner” markup.  It seems to me that in keeping with the concept of “the open body,” Oilei’s body would show physical scars that collectively represent his innerness—his moldability and breakability.

It speaks a great deal to me.  I think that I feel more at home with myself as I continue to allow myself to be influenced by others.  Additionally, I find it does leave “marks” whenever a new perspective or approach is introduced.  I think “our scars” can really just be autographs of our loved ones, mentors, or lesser acquaintances: a sort of graffiti reading “I was here.”