Cultural Sensitivity Got Me Razor Burn on my Butt

If you would rather not read any more about the misadventures of my backside then you will want to stop reading at this point. I knew you couldn’t resist. I have a herniated disc in my back. Without getting into the medical details let’s just say that it is painful and inhibiting. To get the full scope of my predicament you first have to understand something about Chinese people. You have probably seen in some of my previous posts that the Chinese people are very communal. Everything is everybody’s business. Our American tendency is to wall ourselves off and tell others to butt out. Chinese people are always trying to help each other. When they ask us if we are cold because we are wearing shorts, or tell us to drink more tea, our American reaction is to be bothered. They ask because they care. So when I was no longer able to keep my back issues private…everyone wanted to help. I appreciate their concern. I really do. However… The principal of the orphan training school where I work has a friend who is a doctor in Chinese medicine. (disclaimer: I don’t think all Chinese medicine is hocus pocus. Much of it is, but much of it has legitimate medical benefits) She insisted that she call her friend and have her come to the school to help me. I did not feel like I could say no. I have no problem brushing off the old lady on the bus, but when we are talking about co-workers we have to have more sensitivity. I agreed because at this point I am willing to try anything that won’t further damage my back. The plan was that she was going to put a “sticker” on my back (that was the best translation our translator could come up with). She came to the school to check me out. Since the issue is affecting the nerve that runs down my butt and the back of my left leg it was necessary for me to disrobe. When she saw what she was dealing with she doesn’t even hesitate to say, “bu xing” (translation: we can’t do this). She tells me I have too much “mao” (translation: fur). Chinese people are fairly hairless people. I think she was a bit shocked by the amount of fur on my butt. She composed herself well and shouted down the hall for someone to find a razor because the foreigner has too much fur on his butt and it needs to be shaved. If I wanted to back out of this uncomfortable situation I would have had to have done so a few days earlier. By now I had crossed the point of no return. At this point, cultural sensitivity is trumping my own personal comfort. We now have half the staff looking around the orphanage for a razor to shave the furry foreigner. They found a razor without too much effort. I then thought I would be heading to the bathroom to help the lady out but before I knew it she was lathering up my backside and taking care of my fur problem. Let’s just say she didn’t miss anything. She painted a concoction of volcano something or other and some other minerals and whatnot onto my lower back, my butt, and my upper left leg. The mixture then solidifies a bit and penetrates heat and volcanic goodness deep into my back. After 45 minutes the “sticker” then peels off like a fruit roll up and is put back into the box to be microwaved and used again next time. This treatment is supposed to be done every day for 2 months. I knew she didn't want to come to the school every day for two months to paint me up, but the good news is that one pack can be used up to 100 times. This is perfect. She will give it to me, I will teach my wife how to apply it, and if I don’t like it then I can pitch it – but then she told me how much it cost. If I was not already in too deep with the razor burn, now I have to shell out $250 in the name of cultural sensitivity. There were ways out of the situation but none of them were options. 1. “No thanks, I think Chinese medicine is hocus pocus.” 2. “My “Qi” is just fine thanks.” 3. “I was OK with this until you started talking about my fur. I’m done now.” 4. “I could buy half an ipad with $250, are you crazy?!” I care about these people too much to offend them. If someone tries to put pig ears on my plate at dinner I can jokingly say that we don’t eat that part of the pig in America, and I’m off the hook. This is different. The bottom line is that I care more about my relationship with these people than I do about the hair on my rump or the $250 dollars in my pocket. The truth of the matter is that I enjoy the volcano treatment. I will continue to do it for a month and a half. Will it heal my back? It can’t hurt. And more importantly my relationships with my co-workers have been strengthened.