These four stages of culture shock aren’t new to me. I’ve experienced them many times!
But this time back in South Africa feels different. I don’t know if it’s that the country is so less stable than last time I was here three years ago. Or whether it’s my age? Or that my expectations of integrating into everyday life here were too high? Or the life situation I was coming from so precarious anything seemed better?
It’s probably a combination of all the above.
Honeymoon
I love this country. I love the lushness, the birdsong and the hadedas morning wake-up, the noisy city streets with people talking and calling each other at the top of their lungs! And there are the mundane things like having someone doing my ironing and mopping and vacuuming. Let’s not forget the very beneficial exchange rate. And oh, the weather!
This honeymoon phase doesn’t wear off when I am here. If anything, the feelings become more intense.
Frustration
But I do understand, perhaps more than most, that I am living in the not-completely-burst apartheid bubble. And that’s where a lot of the frustration lies.
I remember how things used to be and I am so disappointed with how things - government, the infrastructure - have deteriorated to in some cases, just collapsed.
I get frustrated with all the politic-speak that is thrown around and nothing happens. Load shedding is a huge threat hanging over the country. And although the exchange rate benefits me, it’s terrible for the country. Trash piles up on the streets because trash trucks are non-operable for lack of maintenance, as are fire engines.
Education and medical standards, which used to be world-class, have been reduced to atrocious. Unless, of course, you can afford the high costs of private schools and medical care. Test scores are lowered to where the students barely need to attend school to pass. And that part is probably the most frightening.
So I get angry, frustrated and depressed.
Adjustment
When I arrived five months ago, I had high hopes of making this country my “forever” home! But knew I needed to be on my own to be able to experience the country, or at least this area, as single, older, white woman.
Making the adjustments coming from California haven’t been difficult for me. I’ve done it a few times!
The biggest adjustment that I haven’t come to terms with, and probably won’t, is the lack of safety. The sense of fear and caution is pervasive. And trying to separate them from reality is difficult. Most of my life, I have lived without being fearful of my safety, and it’s such an ingrained mindset that to adjust to all the cautions coming at me, is very difficult.
Learning to determine between a real threat, constant cautions from well-meaning friends, and what I think and see is not easy. On one hand, I don’t want to believe all the shit handed out, but on the other hand, I can’t afford to be stupid and put myself in bad situations. Separating out fact from fiction and “fake news” is a full-time job.
Adaptation
In the past, I’ve been called a chameleon because I could adapt so well. Maybe I can’t change colors so easily any more!
Here’s where my age comes in. For me anyway, I’m finding it both easier - and harder, to adapt.
Easier, because I can let some stuff go and not let it bother me as much as it used to. Live and let live. Harder, because I have far less patience for some BS than I used to have! Finding the happy medium isn’t easy!
I suppose being a chameleon will help when I move on to wherever my forever home is.