I'm not sahib! Right?
30/03/08 15:29
A few weeks after I officially began my job at WWF, I was in a meet & greet call with a staffer from the UK office. He said, We're headed to India in about a week. Perhaps you should meet us there? I was still fairly uncertain what my job was going to be about, but I knew I would be working with Tom and the Indian office quite a bit, so I said, Sure. And booked a ticket.
My arrival and first two days were a whirlwind of meeting and very general discussions, and I'm sure I seemed very nervous. Being 15 hours off of my native time zone didn't help any. And not surprisingly I found myself very awake at 4 am one morning, in a strange hotel in a national park in Rajasthan.
My arrival and first two days were a whirlwind of meeting and very general discussions, and I'm sure I seemed very nervous. Being 15 hours off of my native time zone didn't help any. And not surprisingly I found myself very awake at 4 am one morning, in a strange hotel in a national park in Rajasthan.
Desperately hoping for caffeine and distraction from my personal anxieties, I took my laptop and went to the little dark lobby, watching the bugs circle the lamps outside and the elephant-headed statue of Ganesh beside me as I typed in the dark. Around 5 am, an old man appeared at the door to the hotel and walked in. He apparently spoke little English, but he asked me if I wished some tea. I said yes. Black or Indian? Chai, please, with milk. He nodded and went into the kitchen. Another man followed him wordlessly and began stirring behind the door as well. Sahib wishes for chai, I heard the old man say. And I shuddered a bit.
I wanted to yell out, Please, don't call me "sahib." Offended your liberal tendencies? a friend and colleague asked later. Yes. Deeply. Sahib seems packed with an overlord, colonial layer. And far more authority than I am comfortable with. This issue came up several times in India. The tall white male in the room was assumed to be in charge or responsible in public places, and people were often quite deferential and soliticous. Veteran of the sahib role on the subcontinent, the friend advised: Don't question it or reject the role. Be humane and just, but don't embarass them with your discomfort. But as uncomfortable with being granted authority because of my gender and race, I can also be quite uncomfortable with the authority granted to me by right of my doctoral degree, research experience, and job title.
My PhD focused on several issues concerning long-distance dragonfly migration, including how climate change over the past 40 years in one Canadian population has altered the timing of development in this species. My primary dissertation advisor is a specialist in climate change impacts ecology. And my position with WWF takes these predilections to another level — calling me a global freshwater climate adaptation specialist. I now have several months of people looking at me and saying, OK [sahib]. What do we do here, in this system? How should we think about climate change and this wetland or river?
This other, implicit sahib echoes around my head on at least a weekly basis. I've always been opinionated — always had strong opinions. But the discomfort here is being the expert, having some authority over important issues that matter to a lot of people and species, and realizing people are listening to me. There is something terribly humbling and humbly terrifying at being taken seriously over serious issues. I find myself bracketing and footnoting my thoughts, being cautious in my opinions. Aware they are being heard. Hoping they are not being heard alone. Conscious that at best perhaps three-quarters of my advice in 50 years will have proven to be correct.
And here I think of my friend's advice. Take the role, retain the humanity.
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