Saturday, February 20, 2010

We Are NOT In Kansas Anymore


Most days, I love living in another culture. I am thankful that I was blessed with a childhood in West Africa . Perhaps that, and the four generations of our family that have served in this part of the world, fuels my love of the people and the languages and allows me to celebrate how God has uniquely created this place and these people. I am fascinated by the way people do things, and the language they speak, how they express themselves and what excites and encourages, as well as what bothers and discourages them. It is amazing to me.

Just this week, Jim and I went to visit the doctor who supervises this area. There were about 15 of us –all squashed into a little room – people sitting on stools and broken chairs and exam tables or just standing. The whole experience was intriguing to me – from the discussion that bounced back and forth between 4 languages (I only understood 2 so was lost at least half of the time), to whom got to sit where, and all the unspoken, but obviously understood, hierarchies of power and influence. I met both of the doctor’s wives. “This is my first wife and this is my second wife.” (We are SO not in Kansas anymore.)

Language is another things that I love to discover more about. I don’t necessarily enjoy the painful process of learning another language, mind you. Speaking like a toddler when you are an adult is frustrating and embarrassing much of the time. Being in the middle of a deep discussion and realizing that you don’t have a certain word that you need (either because you forgot it or never learned it) can make you want to beat your head against the wall. On the other hand, when you do learn a new word, and use it correctly, it can be exciting. Just yesterday, I used the word “yellow” correctly for the first time when describing medicine and the lady I said it to was excited. And it is always fun to meet people who haven’t been around us, because they are AMAZED that a white person can speak their language. Those who are new to us will say, “DID you hear her? She said Hi. Wow, she said that well!” Makes me smile.

In some ways, though, we have been in the country almost 5 years, I feel like we are back at square one because our new village is surrounded by other ethnic groups – so many people have to bring an interpreter with them so we can communicate. Here is a typical discussion:


Why are you here?
My child is sick.
How is your child sick?
His body is warm and his belly is running.
How long has he been sick?
Not only since today.
How long is that?


And on and on we go.


Of course, I speak in Yalunka , which is then translated into another language and then the reverse happens, so the whole process takes a very long time. Lately, I have to smile when our friends Sayon and Mordika help me. The patient will answer and they will say, “Gulun-nga, you heard what they said” and will proceed to translate and I am thinking in my mind, if I heard what they said, I wouldn’t need you to translate for me. :^)


They repeat the same thing to my patient. I will ask a question and they will to say to patient, “You heard what she said” (which obviously they didn’t) and proceed to translate.

I am also intrigued by what is considered important or insulting or what causes joy or sorrow. Here is a great example. Last week, I went back to our old village with my teammate, Dawn, where she led a Bible study with the church ladies there. Dawn has been teaching on marriage and this time, we were discussing what God expects from a husband so they could be informed and help their husbands honor God. (This week is about what God expects from wives.)


I love to sit there with them and hear what they think about different subjects. So, Dawn asks the question "In your culture, how can a man show love to his wife? If he sees his wife is very busy with the kids and the cooking and the farm work, how can he help?" I was thinking about how an American would answer that question. Maybe he could take the kids for the afternoon or offer to make supper or take the family out to eat. . . . I loved what my friends in Niaya came up with. They discussed it for a while and decided that the best way a man could show love to his wife was to hire people to go out to his wife’s farm and pull grass so the rice didn’t get choked out. I LOVE that! What a wonderful expression of the difference in cultures!

We continue in a learning role, studying our new culture and observing and questioning and listening. We're amazed to learn that so much of what we do as people reflects how we have been raised and our culture. How wonderful that we are not all the same! More and more we gain a deep appreciation for our friends here, for their hard work and perseverance. And we find ourselves thankful that we are not in Kansas (or the US) anymore because, while not always easy, it is a huge privilege to be here!

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