Coexisting Worlds

A Story by NoraMaria

Different worlds coexist on this planet. To make Earth a fairer place realizing the contrasts between societies key.

There are different worlds that coexist on this planet. I have become so used to my world that I forget not everyone lives in it. I am used to being asked about where I am applying to college and where I am going to school now. I am used to driving in a car with the air conditioning turned up, because it is too uncomfortable to just sit in the sun. I am used to calling others from my world who live on the other side of the planet and ranting on the phone about what we consider problems.

Only one billion out of seven billion people on Earth have a Facebook account, but to me, it seems that everyone has one. It seems that everyone knows it is healthy to drink eight glasses of water a day, but millions of people have no access to clean water. It seems that everyone complains about going to school, while people from other worlds fight to get an education. Of course the people in all worlds are the same human beings, everyone has the same heart that beats to keep us alive, the same knees that get wobbly when we’re tired, the same eyes that tear up when wind blows in our face. We all live and laugh and love equally, but different expectations create boundaries.

When I travel to foreign countries, I seek to discover new places and experience the variety of cultures. What really happens, however, is I see the country through my own bubble. This bubble was first damaged when my family and I traveled to India two years ago. We sat in a bus with air conditioning, comfortable seats, and a cooler filled with sodas and water. In our little bubble we were driven through towns and slums to visit touristy sights. At one point we had to stop because of traffic; outside children played with sticks and pieces of string. They noticed the bus and ran up to the windows. They raised small, fragile palms of their hands while their eyes stared through the glass that separated us from them. I was listening to music on my phone, but the desperate tapping on the windows resounded through my head. I realized we weren’t visiting another country, we were just observing it from the perspective of our own world.

With every tap and forlorn glance, the hole in the bubble grew a little bigger, until we got off the bus and it burst. We walked in the village, a town built next to a river with water that had turned black from garbage. Open sewers flowed through the streets. Groundhogs scurried around eating trash. Beautiful girls in colorful saris walked to their houses, the smell of spices enriching the air. Past the village lay a forest of lush greenery. Why do we notice the contrasts in other worlds, but ignore them in worlds with which we are familiar?

When we returned to Oman, the country I live in, my bubble started reforming itself again around me, restricting my vision of worlds beyond my own. It worries me how quickly we adapted back to our routines.

One weekend we stacked our four-wheel-drive full of sleeping bags, tents, healthy snacks, folding chairs, and coolers with sodas. My family and I were set to go camping near a wadi about two hundred kilometers from the city. We set up our tents in a valley next to a village, where women wore traditional clothing and the houses were made of stones cemented together. As we cooked our pasta for dinner, several men from the village came and sat a few meters away to watch us. They looked down at us like they were spectators, but really they were observing the contrasts. Even within one country the differences in lifestyles are striking.

Experiences at the opposite end of the spectrum are shocking as well. Standing outside the houses of people I’ve only seen in movies felt just as surreal as being watched by others like a celebrity. A friend I visited in California, Jasmine, lived right outside Beverly Hills. Jasmine’s best friend, Maddy, had a mansion and her neighbors were the Beckham family. When we walked into her house we were surrounded by paintings, not a shred of white space left on the walls. I asked her if she had any works from famous artists, she told me to name someone. Van Gogh, Picasso, Dali, Warhol, anytone, you name it. It was there. In her living room stood a skeleton of a dinosaur, outside was a pool with a Jacuzzi, and in her walk-in closet the designer clothes were stacked to the ceiling.

I am blessed with a roof over my head, three meals a day, and a great education, but when I saw where Maddy lived I almost felt poor. I felt like she was judging what I was wearing and how I acted. I started to envy her. For a moment I forgot that I am actually part of the top 10% of the world with clean water, my own bed, and money in the bank. Why couldn’t I live in a mansion in LA? Why didn’t I have my own BMW? Why wasn’t I able to go to New York for a fashion designer internship? For a few hours I was caught up in this unrealistic comparison in my mind. Only after we went back to Jasmine’s house, which was actually pretty impressive as well, did I realize how arrogant my thoughts had been.

Human nature makes us jealous creatures, always desiring more than we have. When we witness extreme poverty, we often become sympathetic; however, observing great luxury can make us forget how well-off we are. This leaves me with the question of what can be done to change the situation. The wealth gap is a complicated issue which doesn’t seem to have an immediate solution. Nevertheless, knowledge is a start. Realizing the stark contrast between the poverty stricken countries and those places where people have money to waste is the first step in the shift towards a more equal society.