Either/And

By: Andrew Thomas

In some societies, written laws are often interpreted loosely as more of a suggestion rather than a way of life. Traditional customs and rituals that have been passed on for generations in eastern collective societies can outweigh new laws based on western individual principles. One who is raised on individualism might struggle to be fully immersed in the complexity of collectivism but once exposed to it one can discover that boundaries blur and spectrum interpretation can be brought on.

I was having these epiphanies on a series of events as I was crammed into an auto rickshaw with two other people and a driver. As I came back to reality after spacing and piecing these thoughts together I suddenly realized that I had no idea where we were going.

“Where are we going, Johnny?”

“To my home, I want to bring you guys to my home for dinner with my family.”

“Why?

“As a thank you for trusting me. Good people are always welcome in my home.”

“Like a gift for good karma?”

“Hah. If you want to call it that then yes.”

Five days earlier, I had never ridden in an auto rickshaw. It was tight with two passengers; laughable with three. The motor sounds amidst constant honking and yelling were an orchestra of chaos. And Johnny turned out to be the one to take me all across Chennai, India and invite me and two friends to his home. All of this was a chain of events that led me to appreciate not only having knowledge of various cultures but to actually be open to exceptions of every rule.

I had arrived in Chennai a few months after the devastation caused by the Sumatra-Andaman earthquake and the subsequent tsunamis in 2004. There was an estimate of over 10,000 in India who died due to the tsunami. Debris was still seen everywhere; especially near the coast. Despite the tsunami impact, the city was still very much alive. The dense humidity and temperature there immediately purged the alcohol I had the night before through instant sweat. On top of humid heat, I was experiencing competition for olfactory dominance with complex curry and scattered garbage. Wiping off the sweat and blowing my nose I shook my head and decided to focus on plans for this trip.

When I casually walked out onto the streets of Chennai, I got swarmed by rickshaw drivers. I’ve never liked loud competition, so I just tried to ignore them by walking by. After the initial crowd, however, I looked and saw a man standing next to his rickshaw looking me right in my eyes with a laid back smile.

“Where do you want to go?” he asked before I even had time to attempt broken Tamil words. I slowly explained that I had a list of places I wanted to go and I didn’t want to be dragged to other stores in which he gets a cut. He laughed. “Wherever you want. I’m an honest man. Hop in.”

We then zipped all over Chennai: we explored religious icons from Marundheeswarar Temple to San Thome Church, where the apostle Thomas is buried. We stopped for lunch at a low key Southern Indian restaurant that exploded with spices. It was a nonstop rickshaw ride around the city. While riding I caught glimpses of many people in shacks and thought back to what my Western trained mind had read about and expected to find. Seeing this first hand but seeing Johnny smiling driving me around seemed contradicting. It seemed as though here in the Tamil Nadu region, laws can be interpreted as just ideas while different races and religions can simultaneously intertwine.

The next day, I met up with two traveling friends Fallon Ryan and Theresa Minogue and I told them about the laid back vibe of Johnny. We decided to try and find him and cram into one rickshaw for the experience. When we saw the swarm of obnoxious rickshaw drivers I guided the other two to get away and went back to the place I met Johnny. And there he was, as if he was waiting for me to return. He laughed, “You’ve brought more people, let’s all have fun.”

He took us to a series of textile places to see everything from yarn to high end silk clothes. The majority of the shops that we browsed engaged in a constant stream of bargaining in the Tamil language between Johnny and the shopkeeper. Other shoppers would hear and join in on the bargaining, seemingly to apply leverage to get a better price. After the first few we would just roll with it and we began to see a pattern ending in eye contact and motions that would help win the deal.

These first hand interactions with people around Chennai, introduced by Johnny or flashing by along the journey, pushed my understanding of boundaries and the intersection between values and laws, becoming the theme for me and my friends across multiple days.

And that was how I found myself contemplating my own surprised reaction at an invitation to go to his home. Once we parked and set foot, we all put our guard down and just followed Johnny through the Chennai neighborhood. Word of mouth traveled quickly as floods of people ran out to see the three foreigners walking through the neighborhood.

We wove our way through the maze of buildings and then finally walked up a narrow staircase. The view at the top displayed the entire neighborhood. It was amazingly crowded and filled with dilapidated buildings and flooding sewage; a setting that is often displayed in the media. But the smiles and welcoming aura of the people who call this home contradicted what my mind believed it knew about the scenery. And lines continued to blur as a small mosque right on his street called local muslims for prayer time while Hindu and Christian symbols surrounded us. Here, I discovered, religions blend with a spiritual consistency. Another contradiction to my western individualistic views.

After exploring the viewpoint, Johnny finally opened the door to his home. We were immediately greeted by a series of people; nine children ranging from 4-17 years old alongside two women about a decade apart in age. He explained that he had two wives; one longer marriage than the other. They also had different religions; one was Catholic and the other a branch of Hindu.

Time froze while we were there. Everyone was in the moment; Fallon was asking Johnny’s oldest child a series of questions, Theresa was observing the bookshelf and utensils and I was trying to keep a beat on percussion. Hours filled with story after story, eating in a circle on the floor, and finding ourselves getting surprisingly tipsy. When we went back outside to watch the sunset the neighbors quickly ran outside again to catch a glimpse of the foreign tourists. As the sun set I went back to the themes of rules and laws and their contradictions and exceptions. In this wide array of different rules and spirituality, I allowed myself to open to different interpretations and embrace the experience of connections with different cultures.

As the sun set we reluctantly said our goodbyes to the family and after many rounds of hugs we crammed back into the auto rickshaw to return. Back at our destination we waved goodbye to Johnny. I walked a few feet, then turned around again and the brief sadness had evolved back into his usual grin followed by laughter.

A first hand experience of cultures different from our own can create a new level of empathy and understanding for what could otherwise be too quickly misinterpreted. If ever given the chance, hop in that rickshaw with arms extended.