Rudeness

I was contemplating rudeness this week – actually I do every time someone on a motorcycle arrives at my front door and honks obnoxiously until I show my face. As a student of another culture, it is interesting to discover what this culture considers rude. And it certainly doesn’t take many months to solidify in your mind the practices in your host culture that we Americans would consider rude.

For the most part, the people we live among are fairly polite. They greet everyone they see – multiple times. They ask about each other’s families and farms and relatives and health and on and on. If you walk by them at meal time, there is always an invitation to come and eat.
I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that the things I consider rude are NOT considered rude to them. But they have been known to set my teeth on edge.

Take for instance the motorcycle thing. Almost without fail, when someone arrives by motorcycle, they honk, and honk and honk. I am sure it is just a friendly way to say, hey, you have company! But to tell the truth, it snaps my nerves – which are often a little frayed by evening anyway. I hear them do that to each other as well, so I know it is an acceptable practice. Now I try to take deep breaths as I walk out to the porch. I have also been known to mutter under my breath "They are not trying to be rude, they are not trying to be rude, they are not trying to be rude."

Late one evening, a man arrived with a sick child. He was on a motorcycle, and true to form, honked obnoxiously several times so I would know he was there. I went out to greet him, no doubt muttering under my breath (unfortunately, it was probably not “Thank you Lord for the opportunity to serve this person”). When I got to the porch, I discovered that he didn’t speak much Yalunka, so I was able to communicate enough to send him back into town to find someone who did. Off he went on his moto, and when he returned, guess what…. the honking again, "Hey, I’m back!"

I am certain by this point I was muttering loudly – but probably no longer under my breath. As I chatted with Mordeca (our friend and a believer) and he translated for me, I discovered that this man had gone all the way to the big town near us (an hour away) with his sick child to shop, but never bothered to take him to the doctor or hospital. He simply dragged the child, with a high fever, back up here to see me. My frustration grew. It was already dark. I was tired. He had left a town where there were many doctors and much medicine, to return to the village so he could get free medicine from me! (They are from this village to begin with.)

I argued with Mordeca. “Why should I see this kid? They had the opportunity to go and get medicine somewhere else but refused because they wanted it free. What happens when a kid gets sick here in the village and I am out of medicine because this man refused to pay – even though there is a lot of medicine in that town?” Meanwhile, the little boy was just watching me. It was, I confess, not one of my better moments. Back and forth we went. Finally, Mordeca said, “Gulun-nga, you are right. What he did was wrong. But are you going to make this little boy suffer because his father made a wrong choice? I wekile." (That is a Yalunka phrase that has a bunch of meanings – take courage; take heart; or it can be said as kind of “buck up and deal with it.” Mordeca and Sayon have occasionally used it on me when they see me getting tired and fussy on the porch at night when there are still a lot of patients to see. He was meaning it in a nice sense of the word.)

I could feel myself beginning to soften until the horn honking dad spoke up – “Yeah,” he said, “ I wekile” in a tone that sounds suspiciously like “buck up and deal with it.” I took one look at him and then looked at Mordeca – who wisely told the father that it would probably be better if he stopped talking at that point.

Mordeca (who seems to have been given the spiritual gift of mercy) said, “Look at this little boy – he has a fever, you have to help him.” I finally consented, mostly for Mordeca’s sake, and for the little boy – certainly not for the horn honking, rude dad.

Another rudeness issue I deal with in interrupting. This happens often when I am on the porch – usually surrounded by a lot of people – and someone new arrives. Even if I am deep in the middle of a conversation about medical issues, I am expected to stop talking and greet them – even if this is the 10th time if has occurred in the last 5 minutes. It is ALWAYS difficult for me to interrupt my conversation with a person I am trying to focus on to greet. The problem is that it is usually not a “Hey, how is it going?” It is a “Hey, how is it going? I am bringing you this sick person who has been sick for 10 days with a fever and runny belly (diarrhea) and. . . ” So, I put my hand up to stop them and say, you have to wait until I am done. I have no doubt THAT is considered rude here!

As Americans, we provide endless hours of entertainment to the village by our strange language and ways and things. People love to come and watch what we do. They can sit for hours – staring in the back yard through the fence or trying to look inside the house when we open the door or sitting on the porch, just watching and waiting for something exciting to happen. In general, gawking in America is frowned upon. But here, that is just part of being in a village. They do it to each other. Fighting with your wife – no, problem, an outsider can offer a solution. Fighting with your neighbor – everyone is all over that.

I know I have not even begun to scratch the surface of the things they consider rude here in this culture. A big one is the inappropriate use of the left hand. That hand is used for bathroom services – so it is very rude to hand someone something with your left hand. That is slowly becoming ingrained in us – so much that I struggle when we go to the US and have to hand someone money at the drive-thru with my left hand. Thankfully, they are gracious with us – and don’t make a big deal when we mess up.

Not greeting someone and asking about their family, life, health, cows, farms, etc. is also considered rude. So we make an effort to slow down our Western ways of thinking and take the time to visit with people.

I have no doubt I commit numerous acts of rudeness on a weekly basis – mostly out of ignorance. That makes me TRY to give grace. I am working on it and making progress.

Just don’t test me by arriving at my house – horn a blazing!