The Thing About Culture Shock

It seems to me that culture shock is not a quick, intense flash of incomprehension, but can be an ongoing, life long thing.

I’ve been part of an African family for about a decade now and, while I’ll never think of myself as African –even though this is expected of me– I do have a pretty good understanding of my family’s culture and their values. Still, I find myself being shocked once in a while, and I’m starting to suspect I always will.

A junior cousin of my husband’s died unexpectedly last Friday. It’s a terrible story –such a sudden thing, a little thing, but it cost her her life. She leaves behind her husband of three years and a son. She was pregnant with her second baby. Everyone’s distraught, as you can imagine. But when I asked my mother-in-law if the girl’s parents would be travelling to London for the funeral –I wasn’t asking really, I assumed. It was just something to say when all other words failed me– she responded with an abrupt ‘Of course not. Parents don’t bury their children.’

This was the greatest shock to me, greater than the news of the cousin’s sudden death. I won’t allow myself to judge as I realize it’s a cultural difference, but that didn’t stop me from feeling uncomfortable. I know the experience of grief isn’t any less for them, and my heart goes out for everyone involved. But I couldn’t help but feel relieved knowing that, if I were to die, my family would be there to support my husband.