I can't believe I've been in Kwangali for nine months already.
What a trip! You can't imagine everything I've learned from being
appropriated by a homogeneous culture such as they have here in the
land of the morning calm. The self- perpetuating state of rigid
conservatism infiltrated by the cosmetics of Vogue and now
Cosmopolitan and the fast food and rhythms of American Pop culture
is out of this world. I don't know where to begin and I want to make
sure I tell you everything because it's so different from what we
are used to.
First of all, the people here are actually happy. There is very
little evidence of any kind of "woe is me against the world"
existential defensiveness. In fact, the status quo, far from being
an enigmatic societal regulating device that must be tirelessly
criticized, attacked and transformed in order to satisfy an illusory
sense of progress or coolness, has become something of a heavenly
ideal here. A state of simple bliss seems to fuel the machine of
society and breathe life into all its members.
How is this possible you might be asking yourself? Of course, the
people have an amazing sense of humour about themselves which is
refreshing coming from that stiff necked- try too hard- wanna be-
pit of despair we call home.
Have I mentioned the women before? More than anything else, the
women have the most to do with realizing the Kwangagalian ideal.
What an incomparable breed they are? They are petite and delicate in
both stature and nature. Even if they are bursting with that
benevolent rosy Buddha smile from ear to ear, glistening with the
wisdom of ages, there is still an element of fragility that prevails
as the ultimate cast of femininity. They are prone to giving off
this wonderful siren noise when provoked or embarrassed. If they are
impressed they don't mind shamelessly oooohhhing and ahhhing in
unison with each other.
Mind you, most of their squeaking and squiggling is just for show
since actually they are extremely patient and generous in giving
both their time and effort towards reaching a calculated goal. Their
only distractions seem to be the high technology hand phones, some
no bigger than your ear, equipped with cute phone accessories and of
course, it seems like no woman is complete without a compact and a
supply of facial oil removal paper.
Just the other night at a bar, one girl sat down and
talked to me for over an hour without either of us knowing a single
phrase of the others language. The language barrier didn't stop her
from bringing to light some of the most essential questions of
existence, discretely masked behind cute little phrases like, "my
name is..." "where do you live?" and "how old are you?"
It's so funny. This one girl called me ugly and crazy within
minutes of our meeting, mocked everything I said, then asked me to
marry her and go to Africa. She insisted that we dance to some
celebratory techno anthem congratulations sealing our fate in each
others arms. Given the relatively little information that is shared
between a foreigner and a Kwangagalian you would be surprised to
hear how many foreigners actually get married to local girls. The
only pre-requisite seems to be meeting the parents and paying for
the wedding portraits that are customarily hung in a visible place
within the house to remind the married couple of their eternal
union. You never know mom...
Speaking of bars, you should see what they do with ashtrays
here. It's quite clever. They soak a napkin with water and tuck it
into the bottom of an ashtray. If you put your cigarette down than
it immediately becomes water logged and unsmokable. Naturally no one
here puts their cigarettes down so very little tobacco is ever
wasted waiting around for someone to smoke it. Also, the ashtray can
never catch on fire, which is a good thing too. As I was
saying the women are beautiful creatures who do more than their fair
share of fulfilling the Kwangagalian ideal. But you should see the
street dogs! Potentially they are the most magnificent specimens of
canine anywhere. Their coats are shiny and exquisitely well groomed.
A thruvung population of all breeds prance freely throughout the
streets enjoying all the love and attention they receive from the
people.
If there was ever a common objective within a group of people
towards which every endeavour of the society aspires to it would
exist here. That is, everything inclusive within the economy, the
value system and the political structure is geared towards
populating this dear little rabbit shaped peninsula with as many
children as possible. You can't imagine how many snot nosed little
kids are running around in the shadows of the apartment buildings.
Countless numbers of these apartments stand as monuments,
celebrating the co habitation of millions of families, erected to
keep them all encased in a pretty little love nest of
togetherness.
This architecture I'm referring to is a marvel in itself and I
often wonder if it has been a deliberate attempt by city planners to
maintain a sense of togetherness or equality or homogeneity. Or
perhaps it is just a coincidence that in their rush to provide homes
for their ever- increasing population they accidentally created a
state- wide utopia. All the buildings look the same, not unlike
trees, sprouting from the land just as if nature had divined them
herself. Imagine fifteen chalk white stories splattered with bits
and pieces of colour, stacked on top of each other like lego and
arranged together in small clusters or cells around the city. From
the mountains these clusters look like complex molecules and give
the definitive feeling of community as warm tender centers of peace
and harmony. It's amazing what can be accomplished without the use
of too much imagination.
One of my favourite past times is to take a seat in the stairwell
of any old building between 7:30-8:30 in the evening and watch the
opposing building as the lights are flicked on in the kitchens
indicating the beginning of the evening festivities. One after
another it seems like everyone gets home and starts cooking dinner
at the same time. What a comfort it is to eating a bowl of kimchi
chi gei, knowing that your 1000 neighbours are all doing the same
thing. But maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit.
I think you would understand the Kwangagalian spirituality best
in light of two conversations I had recently. The first conversation
was with a tenor singer/primary school teacher, and he really opened
my eyes to the value system of this culture. I mentioned that I had
taken philosophy in university and the peaceful rotund man smiled
and said, "I think philosophy is a waste of time." I asked him if he
thought it was important to question the values and norms of society
in the spirit of progress and he said matter of factly that "too
much thinking is unhealthy and gets in the way of your appetite." He
demonstrated his point aptly by providing us with a multitude of
different snacks and fruit drinks including everything from shrimp
chips to milk soda. I asked a girl who studied German in
university what she thought the Kwangagalian ideal amounted to. She
said while sucking her teeth, "you know! You want everything is
good. The common life is best. I want to have a normal family but I
want to have special thing. I just don't want to work to make
money." Needless to say I am at a loss for how to impose my
own self- important opinions about what a good society requires to
function.
In Kwangali there is very little evidence of a cultural movement.
Museums and galleries are few and far between, although there is one
theatre where I saw a touching musical in which they had done away
with the problem of making a symphony pit by not having a symphony.
I often catch myself thinking that maybe there is no urgency for
that kind of culture as we understand it. However, the absence of
culture doesn't seem to inhibit the quality of happiness any. Even
though it is nice to humbly confess that back home we have such and
such a grand museum and a world renowned art gallery, aren't they
just testaments to a stuffy nostalgia for things we may covet but
never truly possess? I've told you before that everyone here is
smiling and walking arm in arm, laughing and generally at peace with
how things are. What more do you need?
Interestingly enough, it seems as if a Kwangagalians sense of
humour means laughing at the suffering of others and mocking
anything they don't understand with long drawn out harmonious
protests of contrived pity. One of their variety shows goes around
the world filming the hardships of less fortunate places. They
introduced a refreshing pre recorded laugh track over the entire
thing. It's wonderful to be able to distance yourself from the face
of pain and suffering, especially when it does not immediately
affect you. The sickening sentimentality that the west draws
over the darker regions of the soul seem unnecessary here in this
land of cotton candy fireworks frivolity. Anyways I don't want to
bore you with my presumptuous speculations any longer so maybe I'll
cut it short and leave you with some wisdom that I learned from an
old man in the parking lot.
He told me, "When it rains we just lie in the Ondol room, read
comic books and eat pancakes." Isn't that funny?
We want to hear what you think of our
advertisers. For Information about our advertising policies and rates
or to offer feedback about one of our sponsors, please visit our Sponsorship
Page