Filet-O-Eastern Culture

   Since Ben decided to bring us back to the days on Mitchell Avenue, I'll share with you a few cultural lessons I learned from Amir's family.
   As Ben mentioned in the previous post, Amir was a friend of ours from the block, who happened to be Indian (as in Bombay, not Cherokee). He was the oldest of 3 children in their house. He had a brother named Kabir, who was wheelchair bound due to MD, and a sister named Meinase (pronounced Men-Ahs), who was Ben's age.
   Amir was one of my best friends in those days. We did just about everything together, from riding bikes, to those stupid wagon races (really stupid); even working on a number of foreign cars with his dad. His Dad owned a mechanic shop down on Vandeventer, somewhere, and would always drive home one of the cars he'd been working on from the shop, and tinker with it at home. Strange cars. All little foreign jobs. All a little obscure. I can remember Fiats, Opels, Triumph Spitfires and TR3's, and a few Volkswagens (Which Amir pronounced "Wolksvagon"). Not very common cars. I even worked on a '75 Porsche 911, once. That is, if you count holding a flashlight or crawling under the car to retrieve dropped bolts, "working on it". Good times nonetheless. Amir's father did not ever speak English in my presence, so I really have no idea whether he could speak it, or just chose not to. But when he spoke, it didn't matter what language he was speaking. If he had something to say, it was loud; and apparently urgent. Everything had to be done in a hurry. His mother, on the other hand, could speak English very well, but was not permitted to do so in her husband's presence.
   I never really gave much thought to the cultural differences that we had, though. I mean, Amir was just Amir. He wasn't Indian to me. He wasn't Hindu to me. He was just my friend. I was about 8 or 9 years old at the time, and didn't give such matters any thought. I suppose the innocence of my youth prevailed in regards to such things, but I just didn't ever think about it. That is, not until much later.
   As a kid, back then, I never gave much thought to the different colorful saris that Amir's mother wore, or the jewel on her forehead. I paid even less attention to the various statues of Hindu gods and cows that seemed to be in every room of the house. I do remember the cows, though, and thinking to myself, "Wow, they sure like cows!". But, to me, it was no different than my mom's collection of porcelain angels, or so I thought.
   Something that did strike me as a little different was the obsession they all seemed to have over the now infamous Filet-O-Fish at McDonald's. His mother would often take us to McDonald's after an afternoon of playing at the park, or whatever, as a treat. And they would all order the same thing everytime; Filet-O-Fish sandwiches. I remember thinking that they must just really love those things. After many years, though, it dawned on me. That was the only thing on the menu that, because of their Hindu beliefs, wasn't offensive for them to eat!!!
   The point is, that as a child, you didn't give much thought to the color of someone's skin, or what religious beliefs they had. There's an innocence, there, that transcends cultural bias, prejudice and bigotry. A blindness that actually allows you to see. To see someone for who they are, not what they look like or what they believe. Sometimes, the greatest lessons can be learned from childhood. To me, Amir was just simply Amir. Oh, to be able to keep that kind of innocence!!
   When we moved away in 1982, I never saw or spoke to Amir again. Since I never knew his last name, I'd probably never be able to find him, anyway. But I can still remember, fondly, the fun we had in the old neighborhood.
   It wasn't until was much older, that I learned a bit about Indian culture and Hinduism, and how the sari is a ceremonial garment. The jewel on the forehead (or bindi), depending on the color and shape, represents a woman's marital status, and/or what sect she belongs to. And, that a cow is a sacred animal in their culture. Interesting stuff!
   I mean, I'm no scholar of Eastern philosophies, but at least I know enough now, to know why they weren't very fond of the Quarter Pounder with cheese!!!!


Thanks for reading.