Culture Shock

Short-Term Mission

When I lead a mission trip I prepare people for culture shock. Typically, on a short term trip, culture shock consists of the shock of experiencing, and possibly living amongst, extreme poverty, and then experiencing the shock of returning to what feels like undeserved luxury in the states. This type of shock is often referred to as re-entry, return or reverse culture shock. Sometimes people cry themselves to sleep the first few nights that they’re home, have difficulty getting dressed, completely shut down emotionally, feel anger and/or resentment, experience guilt, or find it difficult to do basic things like shopping for groceries.

I recall some of my own experiences. My first trip to Nicaragua, I had difficulty sleeping the first few nights I was home. One time after a trip to Haiti I “went off” on a woman in the grocery store for acting “privileged,” or so I believed. Another time I realized I was experiencing culture shock when I started to cry, being overwhelmed by the tea and coffee aisle in a Super Stop & Shop.

I’ve heard many stories over the years about culture shock. After two weeks back in the states post mission trip, a friend told me of having to pull her car over on the side of the highway, because she just needed to cry. One time, when I was discussing culture shock in a mission presentation, a young woman stood and shared that after returning from Central America she couldn’t wear anything but her jeans and t-shirt. She would sit on the end of her bed and stare at her closet, which had more clothing than she had seen in the entire village where she had traveled. I’ve also received calls from people to whom it was “suggested by a friend” that they call. One woman shared that she had been on a mission trip to Haiti a few weeks past. Her son was on the same trip. After sharing what she was experiencing … in particular, that neither she nor her son had said a word about their trip to Haiti and weren’t talking with each other … it was clear that they were both experiencing some form of culture shock.

Long-Term Mission

Again, the preceding paragraphs are about culture shock in a short-term mission context. Culture shock for people who live in another country for longer periods of time takes on different forms. Most people talk about it in reference to four stages. The UK website for Kwintessential Ltd identifies four stages: Excitement, Withdrawal, Adjustment and Enthusiasm. The standard opinion is that we progress through these stages over the course of 6 to 12 months.

In the excitement stage people experience positive feelings about their new culture. They can be overwhelmed by new impressions and find their new culture to be exotic and fascinating. When they enter the withdrawal stage, they can experience people’s behavior as unusual and unpredictable, react negatively to behaviors they aren’t used to, feel anxious, and begin to withdraw as a kind of self-preservation. In extreme cases, people begin to be critical of their new environment and the people they encounter and may even fail to make the transition to adjusting to their new surroundings. In the Adjustment stage, people begin to understand and accept new behaviors, feel less isolated and alone, and begin to develop a newfound sense of humor about life. In the fourth stage, enthusiasm, people settle in to life in their new culture and begin to function like everyone else around them. They integrate certain cultural traits and adopt some of the behaviors exhibited in their new environment.

Some of the types of experiences people talk about when they discuss culture shock are extreme frustration with language limitations, feelings of isolation, lack of support systems, finding it frustrating to shop in a grocery store when you can’t find the kinds of products you’re used to purchasing, opening a bank account, dealing with governmental services, accessing medical care, and so forth. Culture shock can manifest itself as emotional volatility, not wanting to talk with others, not accepting invitations to interact with others, spending most of your time at home, and getting angry easily with people for insignificant things.

Extenuating Circumstances

A major challenge for people experiencing any kind of cultural transition is extenuating circumstances. We can know a great deal about culture shock, and do our best to prepare ourselves along with give ourselves space and time to work our way through the various stages. But while we’re doing that, life continues to go on around us. We may experience a death locally that inadvertently triggers something from our past while we’re also experiencing culture shock. A family member or close friend from home may die. In my case, I recently experienced the loss of a family pet that we’ve had for over 14 years. While experiencing culture shock, we may not understand why we’re reacting differently to a given situation than we have in the past. We may say things like, “I don’t recall ever having those kinds of feelings losing a family pet.” We may feel particularly vulnerable or alone … more so than we’ve been feeling. We may act out in strange ways, becoming angry, edgy, or withdrawn. All of these reflect the fact that culture shock may be playing a role in how we’re processing the extenuating circumstance.

Change in Context

Having shared my understanding of culture shock, I wonder if we need to rethink it a bit for today’s context. The typical stages of culture shock make a few assumptions. One basic assumption is that when we’re in a new culture, we’re cut off from our support systems. Another is that our experience of a new culture is entirely “new.” It’s my opinion that these assumptions aren’t really accurate any more, and as such, the stages, or the way we think about culture shock, need revision.

For example, in my case, I’ve had a great deal of experience of other cultures. Thanks to transportation technologies and today’s lifestyles, I have traveled a great deal … and travel for me isn’t a two-day romp through all of the museums in a particular international city. I have experienced cultures in many different locations in Latin America along with the Caribbean, Europe, East Africa, and the Middle East. I’ve lived in homes with families, worked on job sites with the local community, studied and lectured. Yes, I’ve done the tourist thing, but as a sociologist, I’ve also made sure I sampled the local “flavor,” so to speak, everywhere I’ve traveled.

I’ll also point out that today all of us have access to some of our support systems through the use of communication technologies. We can use Skype and VOP (voice over IP) to easily connect with friends and family. Computer to computer calls are free and computer to phone calls are $.02 a minute. In other writings, I’ve noted that in some cases our access to support systems back home may actually limit our engagement in a new culture. Students studying abroad have often noted that they don’t believe they fully experienced their host culture, because they spent the majority of their time online with friends and family. This isn’t just their own doing, either, as their family and friends often assert their own social expectations with regard to electronic communication, not realizing they are limiting the individual’s opportunity for engagement in their host country.

A possible manifestation of culture shock is frustration, anxiety and anger over access to healthcare. But, today, in many parts of the world, the same medicines we use in the states are universally accessible, and medical care is provided in many languages. For those of us from the US, we can often find medical care providers who not only speak English, but may be from the U.S. and were trained in universities in the U.S.

Some of what’s unique for me is the fact that I’ve done a great deal of international travel through my global mission work in the Diocese of Massachusetts as well as having lived as an exchange student in Paraguay and having been involved with Witness for Peace in Central America. In addition, before settling here in Colombia, I lived in Cochabamba, Bolivia for 10 weeks. Transportation has also made it easy for me to attend meetings and conferences in the U.S., like the GEMN conference I just attended in Connecticut, enabling me to cross paths with family like I’ll be doing in July when I travel to General Convention in Indiana where my mother lives.

My point is not to deny that I experience culture shock, because I know I do. Rather, I think my experience is different from the classic stages noted by scholars … and I don’t believe I’m unique in that. I’ve had moments where I felt stressed and a bit more emotionally volatile than I would be otherwise. For example, I’ve gotten emotional watching movies that wouldn’t have been emotion inducing in other circumstances. I also appreciate that as an academic I’m used to being able to express myself fairly articulately. Not being able to do so in Spanish has been, and still is, quite frustrating and, occasionally, anger inducing. On a few occasions, I have reacted more strongly than the situation warranted. I’ve also had moments when I wondered if maybe I was in denial or stuck in a stage of culture shock, because I wasn’t feeling anything. I can look through the stages and their various manifestations and recognize things I’m currently experiencing, and things I’ve experienced in the past. So, again, I’m not trying to say that people with similar experiences to mine don’t experience culture shock … just that we experience it differently.

Thankfully, I believe I’m self-aware enough to know when something isn’t quite right, so that the red flags go up and I take the time to do some processing. And, of course, having an active prayer life doesn’t hurt. As I’ve noted in other blog entries, missionaries discover quickly that they are quite dependent on their faith. An active prayer life serves to strengthen that faith, and provides one avenue for dealing with the kinds of things that can arise with culture shock. I find it comforting to believe that God will assist me in dealing with whatever I’m facing and forgive me for those culture shock induced moments when I may be out of line.

[I felt inspired to write this particular post, aware that it wouldn't lend itself to photos. I look forward to sharing photos of my life in Colombia in future posts.]

Bureaucracy

Bureaucracy … I suspect we all know it well. As a sociologist, what comes to mind is Max Weber and his iron cage of bureaucratic, rule-based, rational control of society.

What are the kinds of things we all need to do to settle into a new country? Open a bank account … maybe get a locally accepted credit card … get a new cell phone … and set up accounts for natural gas, electricity, cable and internet services in our new home. Well, that’s what I’ve been trying to do over the past couple of weeks.

To get anything, I learned I needed to register my visa (passport, not charge card). After registering my visa, I needed to apply for an official ID. Your Colombian ID is what you use for identification to charge purchases on a standard credit card, open accounts, and so forth.

It was clear this was an important process for me to start, so I went to the bank to open an account. They informed me that I needed to get my ID first. Next I went to a government office to file for an ID. I was told there that I needed to go pay a fee at another office and bring back that receipt. So, I filled out the form, went to the other office, and paid my fee. It felt great to walk out with the official paper to file for my ID … now I thought I was getting somewhere. I then returned to the first office and waited in line only to learn that I needed to register my visa first, which needed to be done at yet another office … this time much further than walking distance. After lunch, I went to the other office and waited in line, and then learned that I didn’t have the right kind of passport pictures. So, I left the office, found a photographer in the neighborhood, purchased passport photos precisely like they wanted, and returned to get in line all over again. When I reached the counter, I received a form for registering my visa and receiving a Colombian ID. Great … again, I thought I was finally getting somewhere.

Needless to say, I waited in lines most of the afternoon, during which I filled out forms, had additional pictures taken (why I had to go get passport pictures I’ll never know), and had my finger prints taken. After being put through what felt like the proverbial “mill,” I was called to one of the official windows to review my paperwork, sign my forms in the presence of the official, hand in my passport photos, and submit my receipt of payment from the office we visited in the morning. When we were done the official handed me back my passport, explained that I was registered with a new registration number, and that I would have to wait 4 months for my ID to process. … Did I hear that right?! … 4 months?! But I was told I needed an ID to open accounts, etc. Seeing the expression on my face, which I suspect is fairly typical, the official explained that I could use my visa registration number on my passport to get a temporary letter that would function as an ID and would help me get by until my official ID was ready.

Okay … so there was a way around this 4 month wait. The next day I made copies of my documentation, specifically my visa registration, and went off to yet another office for my temporary ID, which I received without any problems. So, now I was back where I started … needing a bank account. So, on day 3, I headed back to the bank … only to learn that I should have been told that I need to be resident in Colombia for six months before I can open a bank account. Argh!!!

Bureaucracies! Can’t live with them … and can’t live without them! Now before you start thinking, “Oh, those South American countries and their bureaucracies,” take a few minutes and think about your own experiences with bureaucracies. What was it like applying for a US passport? How many forms did you have to sign, and how many offices did you have to visit, before you were seen by a doctor? At college, most of us waited in lines to register for classes, get our dorm assignment, and process our scholarships and tuition payments … and a fair amount of the time, something was wrong. A payment didn’t process, a grade didn’t get posted, a requirement wasn’t logged, and the list goes on. I had international friends in grad school who had to return to their home countries and make an appointment at an embassy to apply for a visa renewal to continue their studies in the US.  As I think about my own experiences, the thought of returning to the DMV for anything gives me nightmares. And I don’t even want to think about the headaches of applying for a real estate tax abatement.

While bureaucracies can be a pain in the neck, I also appreciate why they exist. As my students at BC would often say, “how else are you going to organize society?” … and they’re right to ask that question. We may not like it, but the reality is that we need bureaucracies to maintain organization in a sophisticated, large scale society. And if you think about it on a more practical level, how may narcotics traffickers do you think have tried to launder money in Colombia? … and how many of those money launderers do you think might have been North American? Just think about that in the context of a banking requirement that you be resident for 6 months before opening an account. I’m also currently residing in a city of 9 million … 9 million people! I should think that alone would lend itself to mega bureaucracies. On top of being a large city, Bogota also happens to be the capital. Gee, do you think there might be a few bureaucracies in Washington, DC?

Weber saw bureaucracy as a potential threat to our individual freedoms … hence his use of the expression, “the iron cage.”  But philosophers have also reminded us that we make sacrifices of some liberties for the “greater good.” In some ways, you could argue that Colombia’s bureaucracy limits my individual freedoms, in particular, by constraining my movements, etc., for the next few months. But in many more ways, that bureaucracy provides me with a certain level of protection and security. The ID is going to provide the government with information about me, as a foreign worker in Colombia, that could be crucial in the event of a crisis. And the process that I’ve had to go through enables the government to track folks who may be, shall we say, less desirable. So, for the sake of a more secure and safe environment, I’ll gladly live with the bureaucracy and wait for my ID … I just wish it wasn’t going to take 4 months.

Good Friday

A Global Episcopal Mission Network (GEMN) colleague asked me to post something about my Holy Week experience in Cochabamba. Well, my Holy Week has been odd, to say the least, and I’m no longer in Cochabamba. I’m keeping vigil on this Good Friday sitting in the airport in La Paz. I arrived around 7:45 PM from Cochabamba, and am waiting for a flight home to Bogota at 5:00 AM … Argh!

Since my luggage wasn’t checked through, and I’m having to sit in the main terminal until the airline is ready to check us in … probably some time after 3:30 AM … I need to stay reasonably awake for the next several hours to keep an eye on my belongings.

Interestingly, a blond labrador retriever has taken up residence at my feet. He hobbled over a couple of hours ago and stood next to me for about 10 minutes, leaning against my bags. Initially, I thought he might be sniffing for coca in my luggage, something I’m sure airport dogs in Bolivia are trained to do. But he never put his nose against my bags, nor has anyone come along to claim him. At one point he looked up at me, then snuggled down at my feet and went off to sleep, which is where he has been ever since.

Maybe he senses something such as that it’s safe beside me, given I’m a dog person. Maybe he is some kind of reminder to me of Christ’s presence tonight. Maybe he’s just here to keep vigil with me as I wait for my flight. (As I type this, his feet are moving in a rythm and he is making low barking tones, clearly in a puppy dream state.) Whatever has brought this dog to my feet, its strangely comforting and has given me opportunity to do some spirititual reflection about keeping vigil on Good Friday.

It’s interesting to note the things that can bring us into a spiritual state of mind. I was missing not attending a Good Friday service this evening, and yet here I am having an opporunity to reflect on what it means to keep vigil. It’s not the spiritual experience I would have chosen … but then again, when do we ever get to choose our spiritual experiences?

I count my blessings that I find Christ in any number of ways and places, no matter how odd they might be to others. Maybe that makes me a little strange. Whatever it makes me … as I sit here waiting for my flight to Bogota, I’m glad to have this time to reflect and appreciate Christ’s presence in my life … and this dog’s presence at my feet.

I wish you many Easter blessings!

Food

As many of you know, I’m a bit of a foodie … okay, more than a bit. I tend to experiment in the kitchen cooking international foods, and I have some fun cooking equipment such as my Moroccan tagine. So it will come as no surprise to hear that I’ve been enjoying learning about Bolivian food.

Many of you also know that I’m allergic to wheat, making experimentation a bit of a challenge at times. A number of food items in Cochabamba are breaded, so I make sure I ask about food prep … though, frankly, that can get pretty annoying, both for me and my hosts. Thankfully, indigenous foods often don’t include wheat flour, because wheat is relatively new to the indigenous diet. One of my favorite treats in Cochabamba has been cuñape, a Guarani Indian bread made from yucca flour, locally made cheeses, eggs, and a little milk. I have had a couple of lessons in making cuñape, thanks to my hosts and their neighbors … naturally, everyone has their own way of making them … and have had an opportunity to make cuñape myself. Another similar food is zonzo, which is made from yucca, cheese and potato, and either baked or fried. Both work for me!

A typical meal in Cochabamba includes some kind of meat such as chicken, beef or churizo (sausage) and most of the time both rice and potatoes. You probably didn’t know this, but you can get lost in the potato section of a market here with all of the different varieties. They come in various colors, shapes, and sizes. Much like we New Englanders use different apples for different types of recipes, Bolivians use different potatoes. If you manage to make your way out of the potato aisle without getting lost, you have another opportunity to get lost in the platano (banana) section. Meals may also include some type of salad, which is usually a platter of sliced tomatoes, onions, avocado and lettuce.

Just like in the states, coffee shops in the downtown area are popular for mid-morning snacks of tea, coffee and pastries … though, you’ll have a hard time finding a chain store like a Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts. As a rule, though, Bolivians don’t snack much. So, you don’t usually see chips, cookies, or other types of snacks around the house. Pastries, cakes, and cookies are reserved for special occasions such as birthdays, Mother’s Day, or holidays. The majority of the time dessert is yogurt and fresh fruit. Every once in a while there may be ice cream, but it’s typically homemade and containing mostly fresh fruit.

When you’re invited to a party you need to go prepared … that is, go with an empty stomach. Not only will the buffet be brimming with salads, vegetables, chips and local items like fried bananas, but you’ll think someone bought a whole cow, given the amount of meat coming off of the grill. I recently attended a couple of parties. At one, most of us were full, having eaten sausage and spicy chicken pieces along with everything else on the buffet, and then they started cooking steaks. When we thought we couldn’t eat anything else, out came two cakes, a flan, and then an extremely large birthday cake. I was one of few who could gracefully bow out of the food orgy by politely reminding our host that I was allergic to wheat. [The one thing I haven't quite gotten used to is the amount of salt used in some of the food. For barbecues, they use a kind of rock salt on the meat. At my first barbecue I felt as though I could feel my arteries hardening as I ate.]

According to recent studies, people in the states are opting for healthier beverages instead of sugary, carbonated drinks. Sales of the major soft drinks are currently in decline. That, however, is not the case in Bolivia (or elsewhere in Latin America). People make their own juices from Guava, oranges, and other fruits, but just about every dinner table also has a large bottle of Coke nearby. Coke here is still made with sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup, so it tastes different from what you purchase in the states. Coke and Sprite are also the typical mixers for cocktails of Rum or Singani, a Bolivian brandy made from grapes. Chuflay is a popular drink made with a jigger of Singani and Ginger Ale, 7-Up or Sprite, and garnished with a lime.

Speaking of beverages, I couldn’t talk about food and drink in Bolivia without sharing a little about chicha. “Chicha” can refer to most fermented and non-fermented beverages made from corn (maiz) or yucca, but the most common use of the word is in reference to a locally made corn beer that dates back to a time when the Inca made offerings to the gods. It’s popular in Bolivia … at times, a bit too popular … and quite different from anything I’ve ever had to drink. When you drink chicha, you’re expected to observe traditional custom. Chicha is consumed from a cup cut out of a dried gourd. When passed the cup … which you drink, because it’s rude not to … you’re expected to make a small offering to nourish the Pachamama, the supreme goddess revered by the indigenous people of the Andes. (Pachamama means “Mother Earth” in the native Quechua language.) You make your offering by spilling a small amount from your cup before you drink. You then drink it down and select someone else who is expected to do likewise.

Home

In a recent conversation with a colleague at the language school, we talked about our sense of home. One of the oddities for missioners is how you respond when someone asks you for your address, or when they ask “where’s home?” And, of course, the answer to that question varies for each of us. For some, if not all, this can be anything from a source of discomfort to extreme dismay. As missionary-types, we’re in transition from place to place … we’re in spiritual transition in how we’re processing what’s currently happening in our lives, living outside of the U.S. … we’re in transition with our comfort level dealing with a new culture and language … our support systems are in transition, as we’re separated from most, if not all of our regular support structures … and we may be in the process of selling the place where we have resided for many years, so that we can move forward as missioners.

Whether or not you’re a missioner, I think we all have to ask ourselves at some point in our lives, “What and where is home?” I also suspect the answer differs at various points during our lives. I think there’s a part of all of us that will always feel as though wherever “mom” or “dad,” or some other familial or pseudo-familial connection resides, is the place we call home. Parents … grandparents … aunts/uncles … brothers … sisters … as we carry in our hearts and minds all those who are intimately connected to our lives, maybe where ever they are is home.

Then, again, home might be that place we’ve made for ourselves … that place of comfort where the dog greets us at the door with wet kisses, and the cat joyfully jumps into the comfort of our arms … that place where we cohabitate with our spouse, significant other, children, roommate, or whoever else happens to be a regular part of our lives. Maybe home is that place where the neighbors are familiar and where the clerk in the local store knows us by name.

Engaging in mission, I have yet another thought about “home.” As I sit down to dinner in the house of a local church leader, share lunch with children in an orphanage, meet with a bishop over a cup of coffee, I have this stirring in my heart that brings me great joy. I feel a fullness in my heart and soul that I don’t always experience elsewhere in my life. In such moments, I often say to myself, “Ah, I’m home.” To use a cliché, maybe home is where the heart is. As Christians, and specifically for missioners, our heart isn’t always in the familiar or the comfortable, but yet deeply embedded in our faith. For me, I feel as though I’m “home” in Christ when I’m a pilgrim, putting my faith, trust, and hope in God.

Hmmm … Home?!! … Where’s “home” for you? Is it a place? Is it a feeling? Maybe “home” is all of these things. Maybe as we carry Christ in our hearts, throughout our daily lives, home is anywhere we want it to be. Maybe “home” is just a state of mind. Maybe home is wherever we feel “at home.” I own a house in Boston … I’m currently living with a host family in Cochabamba, Bolivia … I have a good start on setting up an apartment in Colombia, where I intend to live for the foreseeable future. All homes, and yet, somehow, not “home.” … Hmmm … Home??! …

 

Bolivia

I sat down to dinner a couple of nights ago. We totalled eleven, with extended family. As we started to eat, the family member next to me put down his fork, turned to me and asked in Spanish, “can I ask you a question?” Before I had time to respond, he then added, “what did you think of Bolivia before you came here?” Given the look on his face, I knew this was unlikely to be a casual conversation.

The kinds of questions that typically run through my head in moments like these include things like, “did I say something that gave a negative impression?” Or “might there be something else going on than someone just wanting my perspective?” After a pensive moment, I responded that Bolivia was pretty much as I expected, having had some experience in South America. By the look on his face, that wasn’t a satisfactory answer.

I followed up my initial comment with a question of my own regarding why he was asking, and whether or not there was something in particular he’d like to know. He responded that he was interested in how people from the U.S. thought about a place like Bolivia. At this point, it was clear that something had stirred him. He finally commented that he had read an article that afternoon by someone from the U.S. and it bothered him. He then asked if people in the U.S. thought Bolivians lived in huts, with dirt floors, no running water and no electricity? Unfortunately, these types of stereotypes are all too common. Many well intentioned friends have commented to me about their concern that I’ll be kidnapped, get parasitic infections from bad food and water, live in less than inviting abodes, worry about insect bite infections, and the like.

From my perspective, we see what we choose to see. Is there potential danger living in Bolivia, Colombia, or any other Latin American country? … Yes. Is there danger walking alone down the streets of Boston late at night? … Yes. As we talked, I was reminded that along with all of the usual stresses one might find in a less developed country, many Bolivians have college educations, and have studied, lived and traveled abroad. They are doctors, lawyers, engineers, politicians, college professors, nurses, and … .  A significant number of people in Cochabamba live in comfortable middle class homes. What’s more, they don’t have credit card debt and they don’t carry massive mortgages. Again, we often see what we want and choose to see.

The question about how people from the U.S. see Bolivians stirred the dinner table into an interesting discussion about international perspectives, stereotypes, cultures, and more. At various times the conversation shifted into politics, economics, and cultural hegemony. It was one of those occasions when I became painfully aware of the fact that I’m an ambassador, of sorts, whether or not I want to be. At times, I’m speaking for the church. Other times, I´m speaking  on behalf of my friends and family. And then on occassions like this, I’m representing the U.S.  I guess you could say, “that’s all part of the job of being a missioner.”

One of the messages that this discussion drives home for me is that a country like Bolivia, like any country, has its share of variety. Yes, poverty is visible on the streets (and yes, it may be significantly more than we’re used to seeing in the U.S.) … yes, homes in Cochabamba don’t look like they might in downtown Boston … yes, basic infrastructure often doesn’t match what we in the U.S. might expect (dodging potholes is an art, and no, you shouldn’t drink the water from the tap) … BUT, letting something like an experience of poverty or untreated public water define Bolivia is no more appropriate than letting a visit to Appalachia, or a soup kitchen in downtown Boston, define the U.S.

[*** I encourage you to note the name "Latin America" and also "U.S." and/or "United States," as they are used in this entry. I'm trying hard to move away from referring to myself and others in the U.S. as "Americans," since everyone from Canada to the southern tip of Chile are "Americans."]

Language

Soy un Evangelico!  Translation: I´m an Evangelical. I bet you never thought you´d hear me say that?!!

One of the benefits of studying at the Maryknoll Center here in Cochabamba is that that they host guest lecturers on a variety of different topics. Last week we had the opportunity to learn about the history of Christian mission in Latin America from a Jesuit history professor who teaches in Lima, Peru. The early part of the series was, understandably, focused on Catholic missions and the Catholic Church. Toward the late 1880s, though, we began to talk more about Protestant missionaries and the emergence of Protestant tradition in Latin America.

It was in these history lectures that I was reminded that language always needs to be appreciated and understood in its cultural context. For example, many of us have had the experience of speaking English in another country where English is the primary language only to discover that we mean very different things yet are using the same words. Our lecturer, Jeff, reminded us that Evangelico in Spanish does not mean “Evangelical” as we use it the U.S. In fact, all Protestants are “Evangelicos.” Not being aware of such nuances in language can make for strange conversations. I could easily see myself engaged  in a conversation with someone to whom I´ve just explained that I´m not Catholic, only to have that person announce their new knowledge by declaring that they understand that I´m an “Evangelico.” My natural response would be to say, “No!” And then that person would likely respond, “but you just said you weren´t Catholic.” 

This type of confusion is why it´s best to maintain a sense of humor. I can´t begin to tell you how many conversations I´ve had in the past few weeks that were clearly miscommunications. Sometimes the conversation is based around different understandings of a word, as I indicated above. Other times it is due to my misinterpretation of a particular word, which often results in my counterpart giving me strange looks until one of us figures out that I meant something different. In class today I tried to explain that I was embarrassed … only to become exceedingly embarrassed to learn that the word I was using meant pregnant; my teacher assured me it was highly unlikely that I was pregnant. One of my favorite examples of miscommunication was when a woman in Ecuador asked me if I was married. I thought she asked if I was tired, because in Spanish the words for tired and married are quite similar. I don´t think I will ever forget the expression on her face when I responded, “a little.”

It´s one thing to make silly mistakes in class, where they´re expected. It´s yet another to do so in the grocery store, during dinner with your host family, and on the street trying to be friendly with a neighbor. Thankfully, I happen to be one of those people who appreciates that all of life is a classroom. That´s certainly the case living in another culture. Everything I do … every place I go … every person I speak with … is a learning experience about another language … culture … way of life.

Preparation

I’ve been thinking of two particular things, as of late … where to start my blog, and the number of people who asked me before I left home if I felt prepared to go forth in mission to serve in Colombia. As I continued to think about both, I surmised that talking about the latter issue would give me an opportunity to address the former.

As I suspect many of us would say, “it’s not really possible to be prepared.” In fact, one person I encountered before I left felt the need to make this point quite forcefully, insisting that no one can ever be prepared. In many ways, this is the reality for missioners. You can´t ever really be prepared to be mugged or kidnapped. Who knows for sure how they’ll feel if hostilities break out in the region in which they are working, and they find themselves running into the night carrying  the suitcase they´ve had to keep in waiting by the back door. Those, of course, are extreme situations. On a more basic level, can you ever really be prepared to be rejected based on race, as some missioners have experienced as the only white person in the room? Can you ever really know how  you’ll feel or react being excluded from work discussions about the very things you’re supposed to be doing, based only on the fact that you’re an outsider? You may have an appreciation for the post-colonial desire of your hosts to not want the “colonizer” to be a dominant voice in what they might perceive as you “telling” them what to do … even when that was not your intention. But the intellectual knowledge about post-colonial reality, for example, has little impact on how it “feels” to be rejected … that is, if, in fact, you´re actually being rejected (which is yet another matter, isn´t it?).

When some missioners head out to serve, they carry with them the thought that everything  they need has been given to them by God. And, yes, I suspect that we can agree that there is biblical foundation for thinking  this way. When Christ commissioned, he didn´t tell people to head to class, or go to orientation, he just said, “Go!” I seem to recall on a couple of specific occasions people responded with statements like ¨can I bury the dead first?,” to which Christ responded “let the dead bury the dead.” Throughout scripture Christ challenged the disciples to “put down their nets” and just go. Don´t tend to the family … don´t tend to the nets … don´t tend to any other business … just go. It would seem Christ felt people had what they needed and didn´t need to take time to prepare.

When I was asked if I felt prepared, I tried my best to respond thoughtfully. I figured I could say something about having a number of mission experiences that provide some sense of preparedness in places like Haiti, El Salvador, and the West Bank. But, frankly, to say that my many short-term mission experiences adequately prepares me wouldn’t be honest, or correct. While short-term experiences can give you a vision of what you might expect, on short-term trips you don’t have the opportunity to plumb the depths of human relationships (… in 2 weeks? … I don´t think so), and you journey knowing that in a short while you’ll be back home in your comfy bed, eating processed American comfort food (okay, I admit, that was a little bit of a dig), talking with your friends, and accessing healthcare to cure anything you may have picked up during your travels.

In addition to experience, some might talk about their intellectual preparation. Social, cultural, political and economic preparation are routine for many of us. We either go to the most obvious sources such as The Rough Guides or The Lonely Planet … and, yes, I´ve read both … or we head to the library or bookstore (or more likely our Kindle or NOOK). For those who are really in to it, like me, government synopses are available on history, demographics, economics, politics, and social problems. To try and get a handle on the culture, some read fiction. I think I’ve read a little of everything …  travel books, local authors, online documents, blogs, books on mission, regional histories, economic analyses of the region, and … . In addition to having visited Colombia, I’ve talked with Colombians living in the US, people with experience in Colombia, and missioners who have worked in the region. But, again, does any of that knowledge mean I’m “prepared?”

On top of my preparation, the church made available a mission orientation, a two week retreat opportunity for new missioners. Attending, enabled us to spend time focusing on the kinds of issues outlined above in “preparing” for our new mission assignments. Orientation was held in Toronto in January (3 – 14). Orientation had guest presenters from other cultural perspectives to challenge our thinking and prepare us for what we´ll undoubtedly encounter. Another potential challenge, as well as opportunity, was the chance to swap stories and experiences with mission colleagues from other denominational traditions. While the intention was for us to step out of our comfort zones, which I´m sure many of us did, I´m not sure a retreat center in a developed international city where English is the dominant language would qualify as “preparing us” for life in a country like Colombia.

Along with orientation/retreats, many missioners choose to spend time in language immersion programs prior to beginning their assignment. I´m currently studying at the Maryknoll Mission Center in Cochabamba, Bolivia. This time of study will provide me with yet another “preparation” for my assignment, enabling me to improve my ability to communicate in Spanish, while also providing me with a more gradual transition into my new life in South America, as opposed to immediately stepping into my new duties after leaving home. But, again, does orientation and/or language immersion in Bolivia constitute being “prepared” for life in Colombia? (And, in case anyone is interested, I´ll be in Bolivia until April. So my next few posts will reflect my experiences here.)

We bring our spiritual, educational, and personal experience to everything we do … mission or otherwise. And I suspect we all can agree that it´s good to do what we can to prepare ourselves  as much as possible. I also happen to believe learning as much as possible about a host´s country and culture is, if nothing else, respectful of your new hosts. But, I also don´t allow any of that work to fool me into thinking “I´m prepared.” No matter how much I think I´ve done to prepare, it´s ultimately my faith, and my trust in the Holy Spirit, that prepares me for what lies ahead … in mission, or anything else in my life. I suspect that´s part of Christ´s message when he tells people to just go …