Greetings

There are faucets everywhere that I've been in the Congo, but this is the first faucet that has worked. I looked all over the kitchen for water. Each bucket or trash can held rice or trash. No water. Weird. It took me a second to try the faucet over the sink, and when water came flowing out, I had a moment of culture shock.

Oh yeah, running water.

I've only been in the field for a month, but I've submerged into Congolese culture. Coming out again gives me small stutter steps at odd moments.

Congolese culture, like many other African cultures I have experienced, has a big accent on greetings. Hand shaking and asking how some is doing that day are un-skippable parts of interacting with someone for the first time that day. It is inexcusable to not offer your hand as you greet someone. Or at least very rude. For Muzungus, most Congolese seem to look the other way at our social faux-pas.

Handshaking is not nearly so prevalent in the western world, which I temporarily forgot about one trip back. I was fresh off the plane from Africa, and hurried to a bus station to catch the budget bus to visit friends. The bus was a bit late, but it pulled up to the curb in good order. The harried commuters and other passengers bustled on as I held back. I had a ticket for a later bus, not knowing if travel would go smoothly or not, and I wanted to see if I could change my ticket to this current bus.

When the crowd cleared, I walked up to the driver, stuck my hand out, and looked him in the eye as I shook his hand and asked him how he was doing that day. He was so shocked and surprised that he took a second to answer. That stumbling second brought me back to American culture, where what I did was very old fashioned and formal, probably to the point of embarrassment. All of my American social conventions came flooding back to me, accompanied by the rush of blood to my face. The bus driver was so flattered that, after I explained my request, he didn't even check my ticket, just let me on the bus right then and there.

I forgot about that incident for a while, but the memory resurfaces every now and then. The power of a simple greeting, of grasping a hand and giving someone the time to ask how they are. How that has been forgotten, or left by the wayside. A sacrifice to American efficiency, a relic in the age of online communication, where the only greeting we think about is an email header.

I still don't know if I made a faux-pas or not. I guess it doesn't matter at this point.