“Common Sense” and Manners

The past couple of days Bideshi 1 and I have been remarking on what a cultural phenomenon “common sense” is. At home it is not uncommon for people to appeal to “common sense” to justify a certain practice. For example, if you want to keep a swimming pool clean you don’t jump into it with your clothes on, or if a stranger in a big city asks for your phone number you don’t give it, or if you want to borrow a cooking pan from your new neighbor you knock on the door and introduce yourself first, or if you want a wound to heal you keep it out of the dirt. For most Americans above age ten these things are simply “common sense.”

However, the fact that I have to qualify this statement to include Americans “above age ten” illustrates that these customs are in fact learned. In Bangladesh where the education is different and the prevailing religion is different and the family living situation is different and the houses are different and the streets are different and the cars and plants and animals are different – where every blasted thing is different! – it should be no surprise that what we think of as “common sense” really doesn’t apply. Yet Jen and I are regularly perplexed, humored, and even offended by actions that contradict our “commons sense” notions. I’m sure it goes both ways. What seems like “common sense” to us probably seems completely bassackwards or even rude at times to the locals.

A case in point: the other evening we were boarding a bus with our friend Karen in order to return to Dhaka from Cox’s Bazaar. The bus was leaving at 9:30 p.m. We would be spending the night on the bus and arriving in Dhaka at dawn. The bus was like a typical Grey Hound with two rows of two seats separated by an isle. We had purchased three seats, two next to each other and a third window seat right across the aisle. When we sat down, Jen and I sat next to each other and Karen took the window seat across the aisle. To the three of us this seemed like a perfectly “common sense” arrangement. Let Jen and I have the benefit of each others’ shoulders for the night and let the third wheel have her own window seat.

But the steward on the bus noted the arrangement and pointed out that a man would likely sit next to Karen. Yes, Karen was aware of that. There was an awkward pause. Again the man says, but a man might sit there, pointing to the empty seat next to Karen. Yes… are you saying you would like me to move? Confusion ensues. Jen, who is next to the window on the other side, can’t hear what the steward is saying and thinks Karen wants to move. But Karen doesn’t want to move. She’s traveled the world alone for years and is perfectly comfortable, but the steward can’t seem accept that Karen doesn’t want to move. I understand the situation, but can’t get any words out in either Bangla or English to explain to anyone else. The problem is that our behavior is violating the steward’s “common sense.” No respectable woman in her right mind would choose to sit next to a male stranger for an overnight bus ride when she could instead be sitting next to a female friend – it just doesn’t make sense! Eventually Jen and Karen succeed in ignoring the steward and manage to sort things out in English. We all stayed put (and as luck would have it, the seat next to Karen remained empty for the better part of the trip).

The differences in “common sense” are even more evident in any situation involving personal privacy. Personal privacy doesn’t exist here – at least not as we construct it in the U.S. Consequently the culturally appropriate “manners” for respecting someone else’s privacy are quite different. It is quite common for neighbors, acquaintances, and even total strangers to just walk into our house. Typically people have some business to conduct –newspaper or milk to deliver, trash to pick up, pots and pans to borrow or return – but rather than knock politely and wait for someone to answer, they just barge right on in. The thought that maybe we’re in bed or in the shower or eating breakfast in our underwear doesn’t seem to occur to them. And why would it? Here, people sleep in their clothes, usually in a bed full of other relatives. There’s nothing private about sleeping. Since you don’t sleep unclothed you wouldn’t be eating breakfast half-dressed. So why knock? Everyone should be ready to deal with company any time.

Once inside, people don’t usually conduct business and leave straight away. Given half a chance, they tend to wander aimlessly through the apartment, peering into corners and snooping in a manner that drives the two Americans crazy. Perhaps if we spoke better Bangla they would put more effort into making conversation. As it is they often just wander past one or the other of us to wherever curiosity takes them. I’m not sure, but I suspect that the snooping is not actually considered typical polite behavior. But people just can’t seem to help themselves when faced with the intriguing prospect of exploring a Bideshi’s household.

Initially we felt rude throwing them out (after all we really shouldn’t have to explain…common sense?) but as time goes on we’re getting better at it. Just this morning Jen, very straight faced and sternly, told a young woman that she expected her to knock before entering, yes we will eat (there seems to be genuine concern that we don’t eat properly), and do you need anything else at this time. No? Well then let me walk you to the door…

By this point, the astute reader is probably wondering why we don’t just lock the damn door!? Well, in fact, we do. However, in any given household in our building there are enough people that someone is always home. So someone always knows when we are home. So even if we lock the door to prevent people from just walking right in, they will bang on the door until we come open it. If we ignore the first 30 seconds of banging, they just bang harder and maybe give a shout. It seems not to cross anyone’s mind that we might not want to come to the door. Or perhaps we are just being incredibly rude by ignoring them – they know we’re here, for crying out loud!

I can feel my character building at an alarming rate…