Last night I watched a documentary entitled The Lost Boys of Sudan. It followed two teenage boys enrolled in the U.S. Refugee Program, as they made their to the States for resettlement and continued education. It was thoroughly interested to witness the challenges they encountered in suburbia, and the difficult processes of assimilation.
At one point in the film, one of the boys rang home - something he hadn't done in quite some time - to be greeted by an angry sister. Upset because he ought to have been calling home at least once a month to brief the family on his progress and the whereabouts of expected remittances. After much arguing, the boy made a poignant remark, something to the effect of, "Here, there is no time to call. If you came to America, it would take you a year to call your husband. Then you would believe what I say." This boy obviously had a deeper understanding of our culture than many gave him credit for.
I found it especially relevant as I've been contemplating of late the increasing isolation that I feel from those that I care for, and with it, greater superficiality of correspondence. Especially in this country, we live such fast-paced lives, always on the go. Always chasing something...the sorts of somethings that require a sacrifice of community and real bonds. (No) thanks to technology, we've largely replaced face-to-face (or voice-to-voice) communication with the electronic. It's often easier, less time-consuming. But while we think we're making things easier on ourselves, we're really doing potentially long-term damage to ourselves and our relationships. I've noticed it in mine. And frankly, I don't like it.
I've long felt that all this technology we've grown so accustomed to has led to greater isolation and anomie; I know that I am not alone in this, that my perspective is far from novel. But it's now that I'm beginning to see an increase in its adverse affects a bit closer to home.
I remember when I was living in London and making some local friends there, one guy expressed surprise when I told him that I'd call him at such-and-such a time before we were to go out. He said that people (especially of the younger generations) in London rarely spoke on their phones anymore, they were simply used for text messaging. Though it was only two years ago, I remember thinking that that was ludicrous, annoying even. And here, I and others like me are making that unfortunate transition.
While I've always preferred being in another's presence to speaking with them on the phone, distance and other such impediments make it harder to do. Often that has meant that I just don't communicate with others as much or as often as I might like. So, I'm going to make a point of picking up the damn phone once in a while, and I'm going to try to see my friends more often. Even though I feel like I have no time most of the time. Because there's no replacement for geniune, human interaction.
