To Shoot an Elephant
why did the writer feel so powerless even with the badge of authority?
why did he feel like a puppet?
what could he have possibly done in order to gain respect?
To start off, I understand the situation that George Orwell was in. He is a foriegner, in an environment that different than what he is used to. A european man living in Burma surrounded by a bunch of people that aren't even the same color skin as you let alone speak a lick of english or whatever your native tounge is. Back when I was younger, My parents decided that it would be a good idea to send me to an international school in Taiwan for the seventh grade. I had to leave the comfort of my own home, my friends, my family, and everything else related to what I was used to doing on a daily basis. Once in Taiwan however, I attended the first day of school and it was not a friendly experience. Although I am from an Asian descent, the Taiwanese children were not too friendly towards people that were not of their own race or ethnicity. My Chinese was butchered, just like all the other Chinese that are born here, and it was very hard to make friends. One day after school however, one of the other students invited me to go hang out with him and his group. Excitedly, I followed along with them to the market place. This market place isn't your ordinary shopping mall. It was wide open in the streets, with many vendors selling different things. One of the kids in the group spotted these expensive walkie talkies. Having no money, the guys pressured each other into stealing them. Apparently, the group picked me and I was in a spot to steal the walkie talkies. I noticed the shop owner to be a very old couple. I wondered that if I stole them, would it hurt their business? They must have been as old as my grandpa and grandma. Putting emotions aside however, I stole the walkies and ran for dear life. I could hear all the the kids laughing behind me running, and in the faint distance, the old grandpa yelling for us to come back. That was all he could do, just try to make us return them for he was way too old to catch up to us. When we got back, the group congratulated each other and myself, and we started playing with them. Looking back on that day however, I would have never done that again. I felt so bad stealing from helpless old people trying to make a living off selling small novelty things. But the pressure, the pressure to actually fit in with the crowd and actually make friends in a place so far away from home was too overwhelming for me I guess. Reading this piece, I felt that moment. The same feeling that George Orwell felt during his elephant ordeal.
