soul-less

So as an American outside of the United States, you get used to getting a lot of flak about the American culture - or as the rest of the world sees it, the lack thereof. At least I thought I had gotten used to it. Look I haven't been everywhere, by all means, but I've got experience on 3 different continents, 4 if you count North America. In Australia, the US is alright, but kinda far away and nothing in comparison to Australia. In Europe, the US is new and uneducated and nothing in comparison to Europe. Here in Africa, the US is soul-less and the enemy and nothing in comparison to Africa.

Now, it is safe to say that I have pretty traditionally adopted the European point of view on American culture. But since, my conversion to Cleveland - which only happened after I left for three years - I'm through the roof about American culture. And I am beginning to take great offense to the concept of America as soul-less.

I'm not quite prepared to say that Africa, South Africa, and South Africans are soul-less. Actually that is pretty far from what I want to say. If the music and the art and the style and the whatever of a place move you, I suppose some would call that soul. And I'm not saying that nothing about this place moves me, but the truth is that very little does. And that applies alot to the population general. I mean what good is "the soul" if you aren't sharing it with people. And look people here have their friends and family and I'm pretty sure that there is some soul sharing going on. But people here are often downright unpleasant to be close to and I often wonder why I am sharing the air with them.

The unpleasantness, as far as I can tell, comes from fear. Everybody here is afraid - for themselves, for their friends and family, for their things. And what does everybody fear? Everybody else. So no one is particularly nice. No one goes out of their way. No one will get close enough to help you out for a second.

Case in point. Standing at the top of an escalator with the stroller / pram with Oscar in it and no other way down and I've got a piece of luggage to boot. How does one get down, knowing that it all has to get down in one go? Well, you can stand there for 15 minutes looking helpless, hoping someone will assist (as I did), or you can ask someone who works there so that they can send you to the other end where they swear is an elevator/lift, which there isn't (as I did), and you can march up to some gay German tourists and respectfully demand their assistance (as I did). Then you find yourself facing a curb of no challenge in the States (Cleveland Heights to be specific) and the first person by asks if you need assistence getting up on to the sidewalk. And as you manage to get up before they've even finished the question, they say something nice and wish you a pleasant rest of the day.

I call that soul. And it moves me.