Trials of a trailing spouse

SAMBAL ON THE SIDE by BRENDA BENEDICT

It’s the New Year and our writer is packing up and leaving Germany for Hanoi, Vietnam. 

When I signed that Sijil Perkahwinan at the National Registration Department in Petaling Jaya a few years ago, I knew I was resigned to travel to wherever my German husband would be posted. 

Inking my “I Do” came with a new identity tag: Mitausreisender Ehepartner. Roughly translated, it means “co-travelling spouse or partner”.  

To me, it’s the polite version for “trailing spouse”, those brave souls who forgo their own careers to follow their partners around the world without whinging. While obviously less glam-sounding than “ex-pat wife”, trailing spouse aptly describes those – like me – who are married to people who work in development-type assignments in Third World or even war-torn countries.  

They are the unwavering sort who believe in world peace, saving the forests and making poverty history. And who are neither Bob Geldof nor Bono.  

Their postings aren’t usually in plum spots either. And given the nature of their jobs, they prefer not to have a phalanx of local interpreters, maids, gardeners or drivers to help deal with mundane matters. These often fall squarely on the shoulders of their trailing spouse. So it is understandable why we sometimes “trail” as opposed to “traipse” after our spouses!  

Don’t get me wrong. There are obvious perks that come with this position.  

First off, we get to travel the world. I can’t claim to have seen much as we have only been married three years. But I have lived in South Africa and Germany, and both have been enriching despite the challenges.  

Of course, I sometimes argue that the Caribbean islands could also benefit from my husband’s area of expertise! This year, however, it’s Vietnam.  

A trailing spouse gets to experience different cultures. For me, experiencing a culture means accepting and living the local way of life. For instance, it is slowly dawning on me that there exists the concept of “Vietnamese time”. Just like how “Malaysian time” generally means arriving half an hour late and the South African “now” means anytime within the next 24 hours.  

The German Pünktlichtkeit (punctuality), though, condones no tardiness.  

As I write this, I am sitting in our new study-cum-office in Hanoi. Our Internet connection has once again failed and the technicians are again late. Trying to find out their whereabouts is an exercise in futility. All I get is, “Ah, he come, he come. You wait 10 minutes!” Well, “10 minutes” ended two hours ago. 

We were also told that English is widely spoken here. This is true if you mingle exclusively within diplomatic circles or deal with governmental agencies. Outside of that, we have to consult our worn-out Vietnamese phrase book or simply mime our needs. And I don’t see myself mastering Vietnamese – a six-tone language – anytime soon. Besides, I already speak a weird patois of Bahasa Malaysia, English and German.  

Despite the language barrier, I am getting the knack of it. I can now “communicate” with our landlady, the kumquat seller, the garbage collector and the newspaper vendor through constant grinning and nodding and shaking of head.  

You also tend to develop McGyver-like qualities and find nifty alternatives to unavailable items. For instance, using handcuffs instead of a metal link chain to secure your front gate, or using a shallow plastic pot as a kitty litter tray. (The handcuffs, by the way, were courtesy of my landlady who is a policewoman). 

The biggest challenge for me is the friendships I have to leave behind each time we move. And the time and energy I need to invest in making new ones.  

I have somehow developed a keen sense for picking out Malaysian accents in crowds. I met my two Malaysian girlfriends in Germany after having overheard their conversation in a ladies room. I recently befriended the Sheraton’s front desk manager after overhearing his conversation with a guest. Turns out he’s from PJ. 

Trailing spouses tend to get written off as ladies of leisure. Let me tell you it is not the activities that we enjoy; it’s the people who interest us. To date, I have joined a Pilates class, an international choir and offered editorial services to a local English publication – all in the hope of meeting people I can hang out with. And if, in the process, I improve muscle tone, sing for visiting dignitaries, or earn a side income, why not?  

In all, being a trailing spouse tests your resilience and develops you as a person. You appreciate the littlest details and learn to cope with new challenges. You grow a thick skin and become street-wise. Whenever I feel like throwing in the towel, I remind myself that I am luckier than others.  

After all, I could have been living in a yurt in the Mongolian plains with only the moon for light. Thankfully, another trailing spouse had already filled that position.