The Speculation Of The Unseen

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I talked with Arli yesterday who said she is always worried about her child, a teenager, who was going to be disadvantaged in a lot of ways in her opinion. When I asked her to elaborate on those disadvantages, she said she couldn’t. She had no detail to give and no specific info to share, but she was sure that her worry was valid and what she was worrying about–the disadvantages–would happen.

Since she couldn’t express it more clearly, I was left guessing. Miscommunication can happen even in the best of the circumstances. And in this case, between her vagueness and her hesitation, either by her deliberate refrain or by her inability to articulate, I felt that a communication was almost impossible to achieve. Still I couldn’t help speculating why she said what she said, and wanted to make her feel that we had communicated even if we had not really communicated.

I guess I wanted to make her feel that I understood her and  I sympathized with her. To tell her that I really didn’t understand her very clearly seemed to be impolite or even unsympathetic. Or probably my vanity came into play here too. Probably I tried to project myself into somebody who is quick in understanding. In reality, I think I am a person who is quick in misunderstanding and slow in understanding — many past events and embarrassments attest to this. 

Knowing my own weaknesses didn’t help me in our conversation. It only made me more eager to hide this, dissemble that, adjust whenever possible to suit the image I tried to make up in front of her. I wanted her to think that I am a knowledgeable and helpful person, despite the fact that I know I am quite ignorant in most of the things, and my help to her is limited. Somehow I often feel that some people can see through me right away and take my words as harmless overstatements, which they have to tolerate in social situations. However others believe me and a few of them really have faith in what I have to say. And Arli is one of the believers, at least for the time being. 

Why didn’t I just tell her I didn’t really understand; I was not knowledgeable; I could only help within the limits of our arrangement? If I was totally honest, I should have said that, but I didn’t. To a degree, I couldn’t since her artless confidence in me made me feel quite flattered. It is very hard to argue against flattery, isn’t it?

Why didn’t I just tell her I didn’t really understand; I was not knowledgeable; I could only help within the limits of our arrangement? If I was totally honest, I should have said that, but I didn’t. To a degree, I couldn’t since her artless confidence in me made me feel quite flattered. It is very hard to argue against flattery, isn’t it?

Anyway, Arli said that her daughter just refused to listen to her or value her opinions. Everything she said seemed to be too archaic, too irrelevant, too immigrant, not suitable for an Asian American girl born and raised here. Even though Arli couldn’t specifically present an example of such a mother-daughter verbal exchange, I could just imagine the scene of the mother feeling being slighted while the daughter feeling being imposed on.

I have to say immigrants’ opinions about America are pretty much like the ancient Indian fable: “blind men and the elephant”. If one happens to touch the tusk, one thinks an elephant is like a long smooth skinned piece of ivory. If one touches the trunk, one thinks an elephant is like a soft young tree. If one touches the side, one thinks an elephant is like a wall.

I am not saying both Arli and I are blind. We have normal sensory organs, but seeing and hearing and feeling the elephant have never convinced us that we know the elephant. Arli is afraid of the unseen, unheard, unfelt, and the confusing aspects of the elephant. She is not afraid for herself since she has accustomed to an immigrant’s life in an immigrant enclave of Central Jersey. She is only afraid for her daughter who is going to be thrown into a mystical wider world. America is very much like a wild wild west to her, not exactly lawless or unruly, but still governed by rules or customs she can never fully understand.

Actually I was just as confused and ignorant as Arli, but I gave her an impression that I was not confused, and I understood what was going on. Actually I was far from the confident image I projected. I had to cut the conversation short since given enough time, she would see me for who I really was.

Suggestions were solemnly given by me — I put up an air of a kindly sage figure — and she received them with politeness. I felt that probably the suggestions were too generic and too general, but she seemed to be content with them, at least for now.