"The Danger of a Single Story"

As many of you know, this past week was particularly challenging for me. Feelings of uncertainty and discomfort reverberated in my head until I feared they cloud my entire experience. I had identified that there was a problem - I was not happy! - and knew it was time for a change; the question was "how?"

After completing my morning bout of yoga (a new routine toward finding my "inner peace"), and laughing about my sleepless night due to all of the noise in my surroundings, I was reminded of a Ted Talk given by Chimanda Adiche Ngoze. A Nigerian novelist and short story writer, Ngoze's presentation craftily described "the danger of a single story," the consequences of taking one presentation of a nation, a city, a peoples as law without considering that it is only one story. Ngoze talked about her childhood of reading British novels, of "white and blue-eyed" characters who "played in the snow" and "ate apples," and then recreating those scenes in her own short stories, not realizing that literature could depict people like her. The danger of a single story. Ngoze also described her experience when, at the age of 19, she came to an American university to study. "My roommate was shocked by me," she describes, "She asked where I had learned to speak English so well, and was confused when I said that Nigeria happened to have English as its official language. She asked if she could listen to what she called my 'tribal music,' and was consequently disappointed when I produced my tape of Mariah Carey." The danger of a single story. My interrupted sleep erected this concept, probably because it - too - was an unexpected take on the "the danger of a single story." My visions of a peaceful, quiet Malawi isolated from the real world were shattered as a 5 am prayer was broadcast from the neighboring Islamic center and my neighbor's goats sprung to life and began their day 2 hours before I began mine. The danger of a single story.

It is this very concept that challenged me to reexamine my own experiences here thus far, while also learning from the experience of others. Two volunteers I met candidly shared that their Malawi experience at the 6 month and 1 year marks were similar to mine, with constant feelings of disrespect and a need to cling to their "American" identity (never mind their African-American realities). Their stories of Lilongwe and village life implanted in my mind that things here aren't going to get better, and that I may not like the person I become, but I can learn to change how I respond to situations and to live in the moment.

But just days later, I met to two volunteers whose two month stint in Malawi had been quite different. They encouraged me to "try to be open" and suggested that perhaps my deficiency in this was why car rides often involved tens of minutes in Chichewa conversations in which I cannot participate. Their friends, they shared, often tried to include them in conversations in English, so it must have been my fault or insensitivity that those around me did not frequently do the same. In their opinion, the situation here in Lilongwe would get better as months passed; I just needed to be patient.

The danger of a single story.

My realization is that a single story, or even a single experience, should remain as just that: a single, instantaneous occurrence. I've been cognizant of drawing parallels over multiple days, weaving understanding and theories from several stories. But my daily life also consists of single characters who will continually present only one story. Perhaps my housemate, for example, is not the typification of a Malawian male, and thus the challenges and comforts of interacting with him should not be projected onto the whole population. Perhaps my organization, as another example, is just that - a single organization - and can't be viewed as the "Bible" of NGO work in Malawi or the developing world.

On the other hand, although Ngoze didn't emphasis this, perhaps there is a lot one can learn from a single story. My organization is just one of hundreds in the world, and yet the lessons I take from my time here can enrich me no matter where I end up. Similarly, it's the memories from my last 7 roommates that have contributed to my current housing transition. And the interactions that I have with my housemate may help me understand other aspects of people here in Malawi, preempting unforeseen disappointment or frustration that cultural differences could encourage over the course of the year.

"The problem with stereotypes," Ngoze acknowledges, "is not that they aren't true but that they are incomplete." Moreover, she concludes by emphasizing "That when we reject a single story, when we realize that there is never a single story about any place, we regain a sense of paradise. "

I wonder if we can ever regain a sense of paradise. It's true that a single story is incomplete, a microcosm of a greater picture. But it is also doesn't minimize are own experiences, the stories that we haven't just heard but have been one of the characters inside of. Perhaps the message I take is that everyone has a different story, and there is value to be found in this fact. Some we may share parts of with others, as well as the character roles we assumed within that story; some we may completely disagree on. The best thing I can do is not only accept that there is never a single story but to work toward being okay with the differences.