Fátima Reyes, Grade 11
UWC Costa Rica
Holding a mug full of hot chocolate, and a water-filled pachón in the other, I arrived at my Anthropology class as I had done for several weeks prior. I usually enjoyed the discussions that somehow merged politics, history, and psychology into an intricate attempt to understand human nature, but that day I was particularly tired. It could have been the last block on a Friday after a long and tiring week, or the first period on a Monday morning that promised the same, but I don’t quite remember. Although I do remember that I was already on my second or third cup of caffeine and the placebo effect that usually kept me alive was failing me that day.
Fighting to I sat in my usual spot in the U-shaped seat arrangement, directly in front of the Mercator map displayed on one of the walls. Maps have always been a peculiar interest of mine; their ability to condense our entire planet into a little piece of paper I can manipulate at will feed my young ambition and satisfy my pride. The first time I ever set foot in Classroom #10, as I waited for the teacher to start her introductory presentation to the subject, I was instantly captivated by the colorful map displayed next to her desk. Maybe that was why, unconsciously, I picked my seat as the one closest to the world’s two-dimensional miniature. Occasionally, without really thinking about it, I would enjoy glancing at it just to double-check my country hadn’t changed places or to corroborate the location of Burkina Faso or to remind myself of the English name of Letonia.
As I unpacked my materials, I tried to guess what the day’s discussion was going to be about by recalling the main themes addressed in the chapter we were assigned to read the night before. My notes reminded me of the dichotomy that existed in post-Revolution Iran, where youth tried to embrace the influence of modern Western culture while the older generation did everything in its power to maintain firm the traditional Islamic values upon which the country had been built. Most of the time, not only did we agree with the defiant youth, but related to them in our own, less conflicted contexts. We believe ourselves to be the heroes of the story and perceived the elders as the careless and oppressing antagonists that deprived us of our right to freedom of self-expression and globalisation. I smirked at the realisation that our discussion would likely follow its natural course, and I might have a chance at resting my mind a bit.
To my surprise, however, our teacher did not take the conventional route. Instead of sitting at the center with an open book and notebook filled with questions to entertain us throughout the class, she handed all of us printed blank world maps. They all looked exactly like the one behind me -the classic Mercator projection with America on the left and a Greenland that looked even bigger than Brazil; the map I had grown up with. She asked us to color all former colonies with one color and all former colonisers with another. For a couple of minutes, we all had fun laughing over the many English colonies and trying to decide whether the US should go as one color or the other while teasing each other for our countries’ positions on this hierarchy. When done, the conclusion was fairly evident to us all: most colonisers were found on the North while most colonies on the South. Plain and simple like that.
“Now,” she said “what is wrong about this map?” We listed the obvious problems with colonisation and the political and economic superiority of the North. “No,” she said, “what is wrong with this map?” Someone (whom, I can’t remember) explained the traditional problems with the Mercator projection. It is disproportionate; it places Europe in the middle and the North, well, up in the North. Although I was always aware of these issues, I never thought too much of them until presented with a bigger problem. If the Earth is round, and the Universe infinite, who decided the North shall be the North and the West shall be the West? Who dictated that Norway and not Chile, that Spain and not the Philippines, that Canada and not Madagascar would hold these privileged positions in a flat square that could never make justice to our tridimensional round planet?
These questions and many more sparked a change in me, as did the discussions that they aroused. Though I had always perceived myself as an open-minded and critical global citizen, for the first time ever, I was openly encouraged to dismantle my entire reality. Right before my eyes, I saw how the values and norms which had held me so secure for 17 years suddenly shattered like walls of mere glass. I saw how the truths that had protected, guided, and molded me disintegrated on my own hands and disappeared into thin air. My entire world was being slowly but steadily deconstructed and rearranged into a Picasso painting that I did not yet understand, but was determined to decipher.
Now, every time I encounter a Mercator projection, I still search for my country’s name, verify Georgia’s location and make sure that Bangladesh hasn’t been absorbed by India. I am always fascinated by its ability to condense an entire planet into a piece of paper I can manipulate at will, but I make sure that I don’t let myself be deceived once again. The Mercator is just one of the many shapes our world can assume, one of much misleading projection, all equally problematic and inaccurate and enchanting. It is my job every day to make sure none of them defines the world I want to live in.
Fighting to I sat in my usual spot in the U-shaped seat arrangement, directly in front of the Mercator map displayed on one of the walls. Maps have always been a peculiar interest of mine; their ability to condense our entire planet into a little piece of paper I can manipulate at will feed my young ambition and satisfy my pride. The first time I ever set foot in Classroom #10, as I waited for the teacher to start her introductory presentation to the subject, I was instantly captivated by the colorful map displayed next to her desk. Maybe that was why, unconsciously, I picked my seat as the one closest to the world’s two-dimensional miniature. Occasionally, without really thinking about it, I would enjoy glancing at it just to double-check my country hadn’t changed places or to corroborate the location of Burkina Faso or to remind myself of the English name of Letonia.
As I unpacked my materials, I tried to guess what the day’s discussion was going to be about by recalling the main themes addressed in the chapter we were assigned to read the night before. My notes reminded me of the dichotomy that existed in post-Revolution Iran, where youth tried to embrace the influence of modern Western culture while the older generation did everything in its power to maintain firm the traditional Islamic values upon which the country had been built. Most of the time, not only did we agree with the defiant youth, but related to them in our own, less conflicted contexts. We believe ourselves to be the heroes of the story and perceived the elders as the careless and oppressing antagonists that deprived us of our right to freedom of self-expression and globalisation. I smirked at the realisation that our discussion would likely follow its natural course, and I might have a chance at resting my mind a bit.
To my surprise, however, our teacher did not take the conventional route. Instead of sitting at the center with an open book and notebook filled with questions to entertain us throughout the class, she handed all of us printed blank world maps. They all looked exactly like the one behind me -the classic Mercator projection with America on the left and a Greenland that looked even bigger than Brazil; the map I had grown up with. She asked us to color all former colonies with one color and all former colonisers with another. For a couple of minutes, we all had fun laughing over the many English colonies and trying to decide whether the US should go as one color or the other while teasing each other for our countries’ positions on this hierarchy. When done, the conclusion was fairly evident to us all: most colonisers were found on the North while most colonies on the South. Plain and simple like that.
“Now,” she said “what is wrong about this map?” We listed the obvious problems with colonisation and the political and economic superiority of the North. “No,” she said, “what is wrong with this map?” Someone (whom, I can’t remember) explained the traditional problems with the Mercator projection. It is disproportionate; it places Europe in the middle and the North, well, up in the North. Although I was always aware of these issues, I never thought too much of them until presented with a bigger problem. If the Earth is round, and the Universe infinite, who decided the North shall be the North and the West shall be the West? Who dictated that Norway and not Chile, that Spain and not the Philippines, that Canada and not Madagascar would hold these privileged positions in a flat square that could never make justice to our tridimensional round planet?
These questions and many more sparked a change in me, as did the discussions that they aroused. Though I had always perceived myself as an open-minded and critical global citizen, for the first time ever, I was openly encouraged to dismantle my entire reality. Right before my eyes, I saw how the values and norms which had held me so secure for 17 years suddenly shattered like walls of mere glass. I saw how the truths that had protected, guided, and molded me disintegrated on my own hands and disappeared into thin air. My entire world was being slowly but steadily deconstructed and rearranged into a Picasso painting that I did not yet understand, but was determined to decipher.
Now, every time I encounter a Mercator projection, I still search for my country’s name, verify Georgia’s location and make sure that Bangladesh hasn’t been absorbed by India. I am always fascinated by its ability to condense an entire planet into a piece of paper I can manipulate at will, but I make sure that I don’t let myself be deceived once again. The Mercator is just one of the many shapes our world can assume, one of much misleading projection, all equally problematic and inaccurate and enchanting. It is my job every day to make sure none of them defines the world I want to live in.
www.unitedworldwide.co