I was a Shafiq too, kind of letter to Love / no. 4

Dear Love, 

It's been a while, and I tend to write to you only when I am furious. Don't get it wrong, I have been angry for some time now, but I am also tired. Way too tired. 

Many things are going on at the moment. Local lockdowns, protests, corruption in the country (yes, it has always been around, so nothing surprising here), but I guess I was trying to get a grip for my survival, mental, financial, and physical. I have been facing some ups and downs lately but nothing worrying, despite my body responding to some of my recent stress. 

I have been on and off Facebook, refusing to follow what people write about until a few weeks ago, and I guess it's my time to stop following the feed again. Sorry for yet another letter of excessive ranting of COVID-19, and I am pretty sure you had enough of those from all of your lovers. But Love, the pandemic, is provocatively undressing the cruelty of inequality. And you know how I feel about that. It makes me hate myself with every fiber of my being because I was born white and privileged.  

 There is this small supermarket store near my studio; I see the same person every day, always serving all customers with his mask on – but he wears the mask covering the nose and all, no joke. I went this morning to buy some things I needed for the studio, and I asked for his name. He said: 

"My name is Shafiq madam. What's your name?"

"My name is Vasileia. Nice to meet you, Shafiq. Where are you from? India?" 

 I just assumed he was from India because the shop sells Indian stuff, and every time I go there, I keep on sending pictures to my Indian best friend in England, asking her whether it's worth buying the products.

 "No, madam. I am from Bangladesh."

 "Oh, okay."

 "You no like Bangladesh, ma'am?" 

 "No, Shafiq, I don't mind; I like everyone." 

 "Here is your change, madam."

 "Thank you, Shafiq."

 "You will forget my name when you come again, madam."

 “No, Shafiq, trust me, I won't. Have a nice day." 

I feel weird every time someone calls me madam. I am not a madam; I am barely a lady for what I know. However, I understand why it is so ingrained in their understanding of what good behavior consists of when talking to Cypriots.  But, a Cypriot would never address another Cypriot with madam or ma'am. Especially someone that is of similar age. Shafiq is not that older than me either. But, there is this understanding that he should be respectful or always be polite; otherwise, he will face the consequences. Being a foreigner in one's country means one should never cross any boundaries. Maintaining that boundary implies that they should refer to all Cypriots as "sir," "ma'am," or "madam." 

But I think, It gets more complicated than that, Love. It gets more complicated when people like Shafiq come to work in Cyprus, and they are given a minimum wage salary. Then they are given accommodation, which means 6-7 people living together under one small household. And it gets more and more complicated when they should say "thank you" in return. Thank you for what? For offering them the worst living condition that a person lives in, in this country? And then the argument that they should be thankful because their country is a mess is no indication that this country ain't a mess either.  This country is even worse because it's treating its people and foreigners like shit.

So yes, Love, addressing someone madam, is inferiority vs. superiority issue. And then I came back to my studio, I was scrolling on Facebook while I was having my hot brew, and I saw a post saying that today is Sunday (no shit Sherlock). It's raining  (yes, too happy about that), and all these foreign workers have their day off, and they will be meeting into small apartments to spend their day, and that this is causing a high risk of spreading the virus. 

Aham, that might be the case. However,  I am thinking about Limassol's abattoir and the 92 COVID-19 positive cases found in that abattoir. And then I am thinking about that bakery shop and all the COVID-19 positive cases back in March. I am then thinking about privileged white people's audacity to ask for the restriction of one's freedom based on their skin color or occupation.  The statement suggested or promoted it as a straightforward solution: these apartments (even if they follow the government's ten people protocol) should close down. And then, I sat down, and I started thinking. Suppose you are to close down apartments that foreigners gather in their day off (so they will not potentially spread the virus to the families they are working for), okay?  In that case, you should restrict fancy dinner parties in which privileged white people gather together on a Saturday or a Friday night. How about we do that? Or maybe we should cancel the entry of football or even basketball players that come in the country (they are foreigners too, no? But they are wealthy foreigners so we can't demand that) because they are also a source of spreading the virus. And I do believe we had cases in which the virus was spread in fancy dinner parties. 

My point is that the virus does not fucking discriminate against anyone, okay? If you restrict one person, you limit the other too. If you limit the gathering of foreigners, you curtail the gatherings of locals regardless of their status. If done or suggested otherwise, you are a racist white privileged person in which I refuse to breathe the same air as you. I was a Shafiq, too, you know, in the United Kingdom, once. 

That's all, Love. Until next time.

Yours forever,

Vasileia

Cartoon by Christopher Weyant of The Boston Globe, syndicated by Cagle Cartoons