Medical School is a Gaaon (Village)

The major difference between the Home Country and America is individualism. In America, to paraphrase John Donne, every man is an island. We live on Thoreau's Walden Pond and pride ourselves on our rugged individualism, our ability to thrive without the confines of society, and our Hemingway-like stoicism in keeping our private lives and emotions to ourselves.

In a striking contrast, everyone in the Home Country is all about living communally. Teenagers don't say to their parents in a petulant, whiny voice as some loud, emo music blares in the background, "I am my own person." Instead, said teenager lives with not only his parents, but his grandparents, his uncle and two kids, and his other youngest unmarried aunt, usually named "Baby Khala." This teenager doesn't move out at 18 to go to college at Pakistani U; he commutes to class via a colorful bus. He doesn't move out when his parents find him a demure, silent girl who makes an awesome chapati.

Anyway, the point to this verbose introduction is that when I decided to go to medical school in Ohio, I expected classmates who were a part of this individualistic, "me" culture. I felt my deduction was logical, considering Toledo is in America. I was wrong. Very wrong.

Everything in medical school is a communal event. Everyone is involved in every, single aspect of another person's life. It's as if I live in a flat in Lahore with all of my khalas and mamoos and nani and nana, except that these people are all early twentysomething medical students from random countries. In short, medical school has proven to be a gaaon of sorts (in Urdu this means a village complete with buffalo chips).

For example, one day, after some internal drama regarding blog politics, I confided in the two people sitting next to me about my troubles - Farrah and Shlee. Farrah quietly commiserated, and Shlee, in his usual sensitive manner, said "Who cares?"
At break time, everyone got in on the action.
"What happened?" asked fellow blogger Ashot.
"You should really do something about this blog thing," advised fellow countryman Tahir.
"What you freakin' out about now, Mariam?" complained Eurotrash Elvis.
"I don't know why a 23-year old would care about this. It's so stupid," said the always tactful Shlee.

Another example of communal gaaon living is eating out with the backrow. After visiting Europe, I realized American restaurants give people way too much food, and hence, the obesity crisis! And so, I get overwhelmed by the amount of food with my plate overflowing with mashed potatoes, deep fried catfish, green beans etc. etc. The task of cleaning one's plate at a restaurant seems insurmountable, comparable to climbing Mt. Everest with all body parts intact or winning the hearts of millions on American Idol. Every time we go out to eat and I haven't finished everything on my plate, someone from the backrow calls me out. They don't say, "Oh wow you didn't eat much, Mariam!" Said individual instead makes a loud show of it, and says, "DO YOU EVER EAT?" The answer to which is obvious - um, yes, how else would I be alive? Even my idiosyncratic eating habits have become a village discussion amongst the medical school family.

The irony that I am left with is this - at medical school, I have learned more about the Home Country than I have about the muscles of the anterior compartment of the leg.

--By Mariam, who is firmly convinced that Ferris Bueller's Day Off is about the restrictive and soul-destroying nature of the American educational system on the youth.