13 June 2009

A Reflection on My Growth...

The question MCC asked: Did you grow personally, spiritually and vocationally? Be specific.
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I feel that it’s a bit hard to be “specific” when I’m still here and still living and experiencing this assignment as a present reality. That said…
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Personal Growth
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-Early in my assignment, when my relationships here were still new (or even, in many cases, non-existent), I realized how much I have always relied on other people—friends, professors, family members—to buoy my self-esteem and confidence when I faced challenges or adversity. That realisation, at a point when my relationships here were still developing and as I was about to begin teaching for the first time, was an insight which helped me face struggles and find strength within myself. Even though my relationships here are now much stronger—and more numerous—this assignment has helped me to develop more confidence in my own strength and abilities.
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-I don’t think I’ve ever been a short-tempered person, but this assignment has taught me to shrug my shoulders and laugh in situations where I might once have been quite frustrated or angry. Rare is the day when I actually get to teach all of the lessons allotted to me on the time table. Where this used to frustrate me greatly, I’ve learnt to let it go. Letting go of any expectations that a schedule will be followed, that people will translate long speeches for me, that I will be charged a fair price, or that people won’t judge me first by the tone of my skin has been a freeing experience. And how sweet it has become to savour the times when things do go as planned, when resources are available, when children greet me by name, and when people relate to me simply as a friend.
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-I think my understanding of poverty and climate change have both been transformed as well. Where I once understood these as abstract concepts, they now have faces, names, and stories. I teach students who walk to school with empty stomachs but plead for homework, know families who live on far less than $1 per day, and see gardens dried up because the rains haven’t come. I have pumped and carried my own water; taught in classes lacking windows, doors, and cement floors, during the rainy season; and sat beside illiterate eighteen year olds struggling to finish primary school. With all of this in my heart and memories, I know I won’t go back the same, though what specific changes I will make remain yet to be seen.
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Spiritual Growth
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-A year ago, I graduated from college with a degree in “Christian Ministry,” bitterness regarding the fundamentalism I once adhered to, a million questions about theology, and a belief that faith exists not in the space where all those questions are answered, but where they are simply lived with. This year, I have lived amongst people who characterise faith not as specific beliefs, but as tradition and practice. In a Catholic community where I can never understand the homily but am always invited to take the Eucharist, it has been refreshing to simply live faith. Live and let live. Love each other and do what you can to assist. These are not simply philosophical ideals for my neighbours and friends here—regardless whether the “other” is Catholic, Protestant, Muslim, or that strange unknown, “Mennonite.” I hope I will take much of this same “practice of faith” with me when I return.
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Vocational Growth
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-Awhile ago, I read some passages by an author (whose name currently escapes me) who talked about vocation as a never-ending journey, as a “calling” that can only be understood years later when a person looks back on it. So, in that context, yes, I have grown vocationally. I have journeyed further along my life’s path—I have been a teacher, a friend, a daughter—and I have learnt more about myself in the process. I have worked hard to love others, even in the midst of conflict and cultural misunderstanding, so perhaps my capacity to love has been stretched in the process. I have embraced the role of teacher (a role which once seemed far bigger than I felt qualified for), but continued to learn. I have shared the same struggles and frustrations as my colleagues, and I admire their commitment to their work. I know now that I could not work in this role long-term (i.e. more than a few years), simply because the constraints of the syllabus and the lack of resources would eventually overwhelm me. And yet, it has certainly been a growing experience to work in a position where the needs—academically, physically, emotionally—are in reality too great to be met. It is difficult and humbling to see needs and not be able to meet them, to not be able to provide much more than love to these dear children. Any idealistic hopes I may once have had to “change the world” have given way to a desire to simply walk alongside and love the people I meet.

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And also, my hair has grown. A lot.

Advice to a SALTer...

-Don’t expect people to be specific about details, schedules, your responsibilities, etc. Even if they are, don’t expect things to often work out the way they have been planned.
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-Come to learn. The people you meet may not even expect to teach you anything. But they will.
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-You will encounter a lot of needs—physical, emotional, academic—but you are one person with limited energy and limited resources. Focusing on the needs, or even on your attempts to meet them, will overwhelm you. Do what you can, but, most of all, focus on loving people.
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-Not every action or tradition you will encounter is “good” or even “cultural.” Don’t be afraid to challenge people to overcome their own stereotypes or change their behaviours. But, first build relationships. Never challenge without the foundation of a strong relationship or without having taken the time to really observe and try to understand. Always affirm before you challenge. And know that change takes time, sometimes a lot of time.
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-Learn to shrug your shoulders and laugh. Laugh with the children who point and stare. Laugh with your host family over your own mistakes. Laugh when your lessons get cancelled because the school garden needs to be dug or there is no water in the tank. Laugh when you pay too much. Laugh the first time you find yourself in a latrine without toilet paper (and the second). Laugh when the electricity is off on the day that you really must print something. At the end of the day, laughter is far less exhausting than anger or bitterness.
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-Put effort—a lot of effort—into learning the local language. Let people teach you—not just your “tutor,” but also your colleagues, your host family, your students, your neighbours, village shopkeepers, market vendors, boda drivers, and anyone else you encounter. Your relationships will be deeper (and far more numerous) and your experience richer if you invest yourself in learning the local language.
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this exercise was part of the end of term reporting that MCC requires of SALTers...
just thought you might find it interesting.

21 May 2009

Consciousness of the Earth

If we think of ourselves as coming out of the earth, rather than having been
thrown in here from somewhere else,
we see that we are the earth; we are the consciousness of the earth.
These are the eyes of the earth.
And this is the voice of the earth.
--Joseph Campbell

17 May 2009

The Appearance of God

God changes appearances every second.
Blessed is the [person] who can recognize him in all his disguises.
One moment he is a glass of fresh water; the next, your son bouncing on your knees,
or an enchanting woman, or perhaps merely a morning walk.
--Nikos Kazantzakis

16 May 2009

Finding God

If you don't find God in the next person you meet, it is a waste of time looking for him further.
--Mohandas K. Gandhi

15 May 2009

Yes.

"Yes," she says as she places her hand in mine and slightly bends her knee. Shyness lowers her eyes even as brave curiousity pulls her toward me. Greeting finished, she turns and runs away, pulling up her cloth to shield the rain, tugging along a smaller child, or sucking the sweetness of a mango. Glancing back, I catch her eye, am gifted with her smile.
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"Yes," she said so softly. I wonder if Earth herself is blessing me. Who am I that she should bestow such favour?

Some things might be better said in verse.

Regarding That Which I Struggle To Explain
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If I tell you they are poor,
I fear you will pity them,
and not see
the beauty and the wisdom
they have to offer.
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If I only show you what is good and pretty,
I fear you will not realise
just how devastating
and unromantic
poverty truly is.
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If I mention my struggles and frustrations,
will you think them overwhelming and constant
or me a hero
for simply trying
to love my neighbours?
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If I say I don't want to leave,
will you fear that it is coming I dislike,
when in truth
my heart aches as deeply for you
as it soon will for them?
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If I call every person equal and alike,
am I perpetuating injustice
and condoning conformity,
who only wants to promote
respect and mutual learning?
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If I express disappointment in my country,
while lusting after its ideals,
will you condemn
the criticism
that weeps for all that might be?
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Sometimes laughter mixes with tears.
Sorrow and joy wander together
the paths of life and of my heart.
Good and bad are petty categories,
lines blurred by reality.
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So far away, each day you breathe,
and also you must feel at times
tired and excited and annoyed and confident,
loved and frazzled and flamboyant and angry--
or perhaps an inexplicable mix.
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It's like that for me,
too.

08 May 2009

How Long Will It Take?

Between Masaka, Uganda, and Phnom Penh, Cambodia, mail usually takes at least a month.
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I think it's the same cost as to the US, but I usually send longer (and thus, thicker) letters to Christa, so Geoffrey makes me pay extra postage. He's gotten used to the fact that I have friends all over the world, and he's the one responsible for making sure that y'all always get fun and interesting Ugandan stamps.
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This week, I thought Christa might like a letter with Rwandan stamps.
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But, boy oh boy, did I ever confuse the clerk at the Iposita in Kigale city center. 28 grammes meant I had to pay extra, but I was surprised at how much extra. Since I can only say about three words in French (okay, maybe five on a good day), and the clerk didn't know much English, she proved it by showing me the rate chart. But then, the real confusion began. Cambodia? Where is that? I think she thought it was a state in the US... because she wanted me to write "America" below the address. I tried to explain that it was actually near India--so then, she thought I should add "India" to the address. I finally agreed to write "Southeast Asia," but I'm still not sure if she realised that Cambodia is actually a country.
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Then, using the rate chart that was still sitting on the counter, I pointed out (or tried to, at least) that a 28 gramme letter to Asia should actually be 25 francs cheaper than one to North America. She let me pay the lower price, but ten stamps later (Emily took a photo as proof), it had enough postage to reach the US. I gave up.
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I wonder how long it will take an orange envelope with ten stamps to meander its way from the "foreign letters" box in downtown Kigali to the MCC office in Phnom Penh? And how many countries will it visit first?
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Personally, I wouldn't be surprised if it makes a pit stop in Canada.

In case you confuse the "K"s...

...you know you're in Kigali (and not Kampala) when...
  1. you see large sections of green grass and colourful flowers between buildings and in round-abouts.
  2. you notice city workers watering and caring for such greenery.
  3. you learn that walking on the grass is illegal.
  4. you learn that jay-walking is also illegal.
  5. you notice that these laws are actually being followed and enforced.
  6. you find zebra crossings at most intersections downtown.
  7. you see more city workers hard at work repainting the zebra stripes.
  8. you also spot pedestrian signal lights at some of these intersections.
  9. you notice that all vehicles actually stop for pedestrians crossing the road.
  10. you get asked for money in three different languages (English, French, and Kinyarwanda) by children wearing shoes, sweaters, and braids.
  11. you are almost always walking up or down a large hill.
  12. you walk on sidewalks.
  13. you can easily distinguish boda drivers by their green vests.
  14. you note that bodas will only take one passenger each.
  15. you discover that bodas actually carry helmets for their passengers.
  16. you see a female boda driver.
  17. you notice that vehicles are driving on the right side of the road.
  18. you notice that vehicles mostly stay in their own lanes.
  19. you regularly see traffic lights.
  20. you realise that drivers actually stop at, and seem to understand the purpose of, traffic lights.
  21. you realise that drivers also seem to know how to properly use round-abouts.
  22. you only notice the power go out one evening out of five... and the hostel has a working generator.
  23. you pay "American prices" for common items.
  24. you consistently have difficulty locating an internet cafe.
  25. you find wonderful coffee and delicious ice cream at Bourbon Cafe.

06 May 2009

untitled.

my eyes are dry, my heart full
of pictures and stories.
my mind cannot quite
comprehend
the utterness
of this desolation.
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genocide
seems too small a word
to encompass
such great tragedy.
too simple a phrase
to summarise
bloody pangas,
mass graves,
and nameless victims.
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eight years old,
i never suspected the world capable
of such profound ignoring.
pretending away reality
should be left to children's minds.
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still no mention in the history books
of my teenage education--
but then,
we also overlooked
armenia,
bosnia-herzegovina,
south african apartheid,
palestinian suffering,
amin's reign of terror,
and our own historic culpability.
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past and present
seem difficult to reconcile.
even as we honour their memories,
they challenge us
to see
how history repeats itself,
like an old play
rewritten
with modern staging.
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when will peace prevail
on this fragile earth?