During a recent barbecue at a nearby island with my work-mates, I broke my sandals.
(Imagine two perfectly grown up men trying to plunge you into the sea. Now imagine you have your life's possessions in your pocket. Now imagine that you cannot swim. Yeah, that's how I broke my sandals.)
For the return journey, I bought myself a pair of cheap, Chinese-made flip-flops- or fen faaivaan as they're known locally (I think) - for maybe 10 bucks.
Seen here bending space-time with its awesomeness
It was meant to be temporary, but I ended up loving the foot-hugging comfort of it - and didn't bother buying a new pair at all.
The more I wore it, the more I had visions of a half-forgotten childhood visit to the Maldives, back in the days when practically everyone wore these flip-flops. It felt like I was wearing a part of my cultural heritage.
So I began wearing it everywhere.
As it turns out, it isn't 1995 anymore, and wearing cheap, nylon/rubber slippers is no longer considered 'cool'.
Now, I don't usually mind appearing uncool. I even carry a heavily scratched Nokia flashlight with an antenna and a number pad as a 'phone' - this, in a town where every high-school dropout who can spell his name insists on carrying the latest iPhone.
But the resistance to my choice of footwear was simply overwhelming. Everyone, from relatives to people I'd just met on the street, seemed to want to comment on it.
"What happened to your sandals?"
Um. I broke the last one. A couple of weeks ago.
"So... why are you in a 'fen faaivaan'?
Er. What about them?
"Well, it's a fen faaivaan, to begin with"
"What. they're comfortable!"
"Maybe, but nobody wears those things, you know."
But.. I. [defeat]
Apparently, it was so noticeable that people would identify me in a small crowd as 'that guy wearing a fen faaivaan', instead of something seemingly far more obvious like "that guy in a grey T-Shirt', or 'that guy who's two heads taller than everybody else in the vicinity'.
The constant nagging was admittedly a heavy price to pay for my cheap footwear.
It wasn't nearly as comfortable as my nylon flats. But hey, blowing $80 on a pair of sandals not only made me a certifiable ambassador of 'cool', but more importantly I would also get to look down and sneer upon the average peasants with their cheap - if not nylon cheap - pedals.
This opened up a whole new philosophical discussion inside my head.
Does the fact that I instantly loved the cheap flip-flops - the kind my granddad wore - somehow reveal an innate Maldivian-ness in me? Or am I more Maldivian for choosing to give in to peer pressure, and wear overpriced sandals instead just so I could rub shoulders with a pretentious, materialistic society?
But wait. Since I didn't exactly like my new sandals, nor cling to the proud heritage of traditional nylon flip-flops, does this make me a complete traitor to the Maldivian spirit?
Ah. Questions. Dilemmas.
Thankfully, I have been put out of my misery. On the eve of the holy month, someone stole my brand new, overpriced sandals from right outside my front door.
So now, after all that, I'm back to wearing my cheap, comfortable fen faaivaan [And secretly proud of it. hush!]
~Peace!
