Categorically Baffled

Black, 5’7, INFJ, D/S, 2 who presents as a 4, 90, female, African-American. And the list just goes on and on. Even if I were to offer you the results of every single test I have taken and listed every category or stereotype I could conjure that might label me, you would not claim to know me. So why do we think that we actually can sum up a person’s behavioral motives by smacking a label on people based on our cursory knowledge of some random stereotype or test (that took years to hone mind you)?

It seems to me like just another excuse not to know anyone deeply. Tell me if this is familiar, you share something about yourself that is revealing and the person, smiles knowingly, laughs, then sings out “You must be an F?”Or some other alphabetical stamp. Then this person takes the posture of addressing you as some case study that needs to be solved. In that moment, I am stumped. I think to myself, is that all you have to say? Could you be anymore halting in what could be intimacy? Now I know that these categories are tools to help you understand and relate with others better, but I think we have moved past their intended usefulness onto something that has become pejorative and stereotypical. I have a name and experiences I would like to share with you and enter into a dialog that can lead to a deeper knowing and now I feel stopped dead in my tracks because you think that you know so much about me that you can predict my motives and thoughts. If I refute your armchair diagnosis then I am just acting out some negative manifestation of your prescribed category and what I share is dismissed. It is frustrating!

It seems these test results in popular culture are like any other stereotype. Stereotypes seem to be descriptions used to globally define something so that there is not need for further investigation, explanation or understanding. If a person looks at you and says, “Oh your White and from Orange County so you must be a republican and drive a SUV,” you’d be a little offended wouldn’t you? Even though the statistics may be in favor of such a statement or correct in your case, aren’t you put off because you think that you are more than such a small label?

What if we came back to the core of what these test were designed for, to foster deeper relationship and understanding of the subject, not as a way to objectify and define. If you notice that someone has D traits from the DISC test, wouldn’t it be more inviting to say to the person, I notice that you have strong convictions, do you find it easy to make decisions? And then you wait quietly for the reply. It invites more freedom in the conversation and leaves room for discussion. Just a thought, what do you think?

Bureaucracy is everywhere

Remember my TIA entry? Well maybe this one should be titled TIB, this is Britain! All the jokes about queuing and having a department for everything under the sun seemed to crash into my reality.

I am in the throws of importing my personal items to the UK from South Africa. I hired a forwarding agent in SA to complete all the forms for Britain and read the new legislation (changed 26 March) to make sure all was in order. Every person I spoke to in the HM Revenue and Taxes assured me that all was well and I only had to pick up items with my passport at arrivals.

Day One:

My second day here, I called the number for freight at Gatwick. The phone rang for no less than 3 minutes then I was cut off. I made subsequent attempts but no one ever picked up.

Day Two:

I checked the calendar to make sure there were no holidays I was forgetting and tried again. No luck. I called their branch at Heathrow to confirm the number, spoke with several supervisors who all told me that the number I had was correct. One gentleman told me he spoke with the Gatwick offices earlier that day so I was assured to keep calling. It was even suggested that I check the phone line.

Day Three:

Called Heathrow again to check the status of the shipment that was flying today. I was told that I was mistaken and the freight would not leave SA until the next day and I would need to hire a UK agent because civilians can not self clear packages as it was strictly ruled out by HM Customs as of 26 March. A supervisor went so far to take the number of my South African agent to give them an earful. As he read through the documents to me over the phone (the same one I had been using), his voiced trailed off as his mouth pronounced the words I so carefully quoted to him 3 hours previously. To this he offered apologies and passed me on to yet another person.

This person proceeded to tell me my items actually arrive the previous day and that I was going to be charged stowage unless I could process customs in the remaining 15 minutes before they closed. Which meant, I would have to hire an agent who miraculously could process my documents 24 hours a day. So I rushed the documents to the forwarding agent, only to be told the items were only leaving Jo'burg that evening for arrival at Heathrow in the morning, then transport to Gatwick by early afternoon.

Day Four:

My items arrived at Heathrow and I am now prepared with documents in hand to complete the transactions myself sans the agent. I have doted my "i's" and crossed all my "t's" – I was ready for anything they would dish out. Until I was told that the items would not go to Gatwick until this evening …Friday evening (as the day crew was in training), meaning customs would be closed until Tuesday (May Day on Monday so they are closed). All this translated to three days of stowage charges or hiring an agent all at about £200 more than I was intending to spend. The cherry on top, was the agent telling me I would have filed the previous day after-hours for processing in the morning.

I love bureaucracy!

Ah Rats

My last day in Africa was a roller coaster ride. I expected my departure to be emotional but there were a few surprises along the way.

Saying goodbye to the team members was one of the hardest things I have had to do. What I thought would take an hour turned into two and a half. We cried and laughed with them as we recalled moments and walked through some painful moments. It is hard to leave when the team leaves for their first touring cycle because it is a pivotal and exciting time. The night before I was blessed with a beautifully decorated box filled with letters of thanks and encouragement. I sat up most of the night reading through all the heart felt sentiments. I did not realise how much influence I had been in the lives of so many people until I saw it on paper. Even people I had little contact with seemed to feel that my presence added value to their time at 13^thFLOOR.

After crying for what felt like days with the team I rushed home to finish packing and get ready to leave for church and the airport. For the first time my excitement started to peak as my South African responsibilities were coming to an end. I could not help singing praises in the car; the time of long anticipation was finally in my sights. I thought to myself now I can be happy and celebrate….

My landlord was suppose to meet me so I could give him the keys to the house and have a final walk-thru. We scheduled 10h30 so I would have plenty of time to get to church by 12. At about 11 I called to find my landlord out shopping and running errand near Johannesburg (an hour away). I alerted friends I would be late and set about waiting in my unfurnished home. There was no where to sit, so I leaned against the kitchen counter searching for some logical, spiritual or decent reason for this unscheduled pause in my life. I was surprisingly calm considering the list of things I need to accomplish before leaving. About 12h45 I started getting calls from people waiting at church to see me. My landlord was still 20 minutes away and I could not exit the property without my keys nor was there anywhere to leave the keys for him to collect later. My high was starting to wane now and just when I was about to envision all that could go wrong, my landlord arrived 5 mins before 13h.

I rushed to the car and rapidly drove to Chilles, the bar where we meet for church and found my very patient friends waiting to say farewell. In addition to our regular crowd, most of the NieuCommunities gang was there plus a few 13^thFLOOR alumnae. It was a wonderful to see both old and new friends gathered together. Due to delays I missed the sermon, but I felt that I learned so much about God by seeing my friends and having last conversations. I will miss gathering with them.

Hilde was my chauffer to the airport. I thought it was fitting that she take me, as she was my first contact with C-Kruis (now 13^thFLOOR) in 2004. She arrange for me to see the show that would change my future and introduced me to Flaps, the man who invited me to remain in South Africa. On the way we laughed about relationships; the near-misses, faux pas and hope that make dating a constant source of entertainment. I will really miss having her right across the hall. Who am I going to talk with now?

After a few rearranged errands, we arrived at the airport about 16h. I went through security, paid my excess luggage and then got the news. My flight was delayed three hours! Good thing I was not in a panic to get to the airport in spite of the days hold-ups! This meant I would have more time to spend with Hilde so we had a snack and continued our conversation. As I walked her to the parking lot and said goodbye, I realised I was saying goodbye to was my last significant tie to South Africa. Neither of us wanted to cry, but I knew that as soon as we parted the tears would come. And indeed they did.

I made my way into the security area to use the dinner voucher SAA provided. It was billed as a great restaurant, but it was a step above a glorified cafeteria. I had my chicken and then began to wait. After some time I decided to have a chair message to work out the kinks brought on by days of packing and the cold winter. It was heaven. I could feel my stress melting away – my muscles became jello like and gave way to the masseuse's pressure. Five minutes before it was over an announcement was made, "Flight SA 236 to London Heathrow will be delayed until 2 AM." I sat up and released my contribution to the communal moan heard around the international waiting area. Let's just say my muscles were no longer as pliable.

After my treatments, I made my way to SAA's corporate offices. I wanted to know what was happening. Was this new delay one in a series of delays to put off the flight a day without paying lodging us or was there a dare I say good reason. Then I heard the words that became the title of this rant. Rats!

Apparently, a rat was found on board and they spent almost two hours trying to catch it. Eventually they gave up and did what in my opinion should have been done first, fumigated the plane. I stared bleary eyed at the woman as she explained that the plane had to be tented for 4 hours and we would indeed leave at 2 AM.

What an ending to my time in South Africa. I cannot say I am surprised that something of this magnitude happened on such an auspicious day, especially with my track record. As I drifted off to sleep, I chuckled and mumbled the words, "…of course, rats."

TIA

For all you Blood Diamond fans, I had a true TIA (This is Africa) day and it is only 10h30 in the morning.

Let me recount

Yesterday a student who desperately had to go to Home Affairs with me (it is a government office that processes legal documents for the country) and begged me for days to take him with as I was going to extend my South African visa. I explained it would be out of the way for me to come back to the camp to fetch him and it would need to be early because I wanted to get there 15 mins before they opened because I needed to make an appointment at the camp later that morning. He pleaded and said he would be in front of my office at 6h30. So I drove back to the camp, waited and waited at our agreed upon location. When I went looking for him he tells me that he decided to stay behind and did not call me because he figured I was not coming.

Late, I make my way to the highway that is now congested with the morning grind (Oh close your mouth – yes we have traffic caused by actual cars in South Africa). I am chiding myself for going against my better judgement while trying to convince myself that contrary to what I might feel, it will not be one of those days. There is a long cue at the door and it is 7h35, the office was suppose to open at 7h30, but TIA so I have learned to expect less than prompt openings and premature closings. So I wait and wait and wait. I check my calendar to make sure it is not another SA holiday I am not aware of but it is not true and the person I spoke with yesterday confirmed their hours. After 30 minutes I can see people milling inside so I know they will eventually come to our rescue. 90 minutes pass before someone saunters to the door and opens it with out explanation or remorse. When I arrive at my counter I ask why the inordinate tardiness, "Oh we had a meeting offsite." And when I asked why there was no notice on the door or why I was told when I called yesterday of the changed hours. I was told, get this, people will wait until we open.

Frustrated I start my application sans pertinent documents I was not told to bring in previous conversations, but through calls and a neighbourhood shop with a fax I managed to secure everything needed. With my feathers sufficiently ruffled, I somehow managed to shake of the frustration and marched semi-triumphantly to the counter. As I stretched out my arm to put the papers on the counter, the power went out before the documents hit the counter. "Sorry you will have to come back, please leave the building." I asked if I could leave the documents and pay my fee because all the receipts are done by hand, I was told there was nothing he could do because they had to close.

Yes so like I said TIA!