(Wednesday September 7th)
Today was literally the craziest day I have had here. With three months' experience in dozens of different homes, towns and cities, that's saying something. The day began innocently enough, with a skype date and printing off some education surveys to distribute at my friend Swata's school, which is down the street from our office. I walked into the large, really new looking green ediface, not really sure I was at the right place. I explained to the man at the admissions desk who I was and where I was from. I had really just wanted an excuse to see my friends and to see what the school they taught at was like. I then met the Vice Principal. The last school Melissa and I visited has an extremely skeptical and questioning vice principal. This man was her utter opposite. From behind his large black spectacles, his eyes widened as I gave my explanation about wanting to observe some classes to learn about the education system here, “Oh! You're from America! Our friendly country! Yes, of course. Come!” I was soon announced as a “surprise” to a group of class 12 boys studying physics. They all stood, as one, and smiled broadly as I entered. Their teacher graciously allowed me to observe her lesson, and, for the most part, the boys seemed to be paying attention other than occaisional stolen glances at me. No matter how long I live here, it never fails to surprise me that the color of my skin should be a novelty. I have often wished that I could simply blend in, but my nationality and race also open the doors to relationships that I would never be able to have if I were a national. So though I don't wish to be loved and instantly accepted because I come from the “friendly country,” I realize the value of my work here for opening doors for nationals to do the same work I'm doing long after I'm gone. That's the goal out here, to work ourselves out of a job.
Forty five minutes later, I was placed into another class, this time class 11 trigonometry (again, totally out of my league in terms of subjects I understand). I was pleased to see five girls in this class, and I sat on their side of the room opposite about 19 boys and observed the lesson. After the lesson, the teacher asked me if I had “any speech to give” for the students. As usual when put on the spot in this culture (an almost daily occurrence), I turned the question to the students and asked if they had any questions about schools in America. They were incredibly excited to hear what I had to say. Later, two of the girls were awarded a prize for getting perfect marks on their last exam, and of course I had to hand them the gift. Two of the girls sitting behind me quietly asked if I celebrated Christmas in America. When I responded that I did, and was starting to tell them what we do on Christmas, they said “We know. We are also believers. What fellowship do you go to?” I have never had a stranger apporach me and respond that they were also a believer, so needless to say I was excited. However, just as I was about to join the girls on their lunch break, the teachers pulled me into their lounge for tea and conversation. All of them are well educated and speak excellent English. I answered questions about our work here and my own background. After realizing that I spoke their language as well, the chemistry teacher and the Economics teacher ganged up on me and insisted that I sing them a song in the national language and our local language. (Being asked to sing a song for someone you've just met is also a really common thing. In fact, many people here tend to burst out into song spontaneously and without regard for their surroundings. It's one of my favorite things about this culture.) I sang them a believing song in the local language that our homestay mother taught us, as well as another that I know in the national language (which I do not speak), praying as I sang (and as my chemistry teaching friend recorded my voice on her cell phone) that they would somehow understand what I was singing and know Who I truly represent. Singing believing songs is a great opportunity to share the truth in public settings when speaking it directly is nearly always forbidden.
I bid my friends goodbye and left our phone number and contact information for the vice principal in case he wants to invite us back to the school for a training. I have the feeling I'll be welcome again there any time. I headed across town to a local department store to meet some of my friends for their lunch break. A few days ago, Melissa and I met for a coffee there with Liz to discuss our education work, and stopped in the grocery section. I asked one of the female employees if they had any liquid milk (most people use only the powdered kind), and her face brightened as she asked me if I spoke her language. We talked for a few minutes as other workers began to surround us, also smiling widely. Within a few minutes, we had exchanged contact numbers with two of the women. I love how the father brings us new friends out of nowhere, even when we're not expecting them. (I met my teacher friends when I was eating lunch alone at a local restaurant before a meeting one day. They looked like they might speak English, so I smiled and greeted them in their language. Of course, the continual response is total shock that I know their language, and I instantly have a new friend.). So on Wednesday, I went back to the department store to join Ritu and her friends for their lunch break. We had a hilarious time, sharing chicken chow mein and egg rolls (not typical local cuisine, but many people eat other types of Asian food as a snack). There was so much laughter as we attempted to communicate. Melissa joined us and we took photos together before they had to return to work. Ritu seems to really enjoy my company, as evidenced by the fact that she now calls me several times a day. She's so funny and full of life, and I really want her to know the Father. It's a little difficult to understand her over the phone, but we're trying to make plans to hang out again because I told her I want to spend a lot of time with her. I feel that Dad has shown me several ladies he wants me to invest in, all of whom are unbelievers who I met randomly. As crazy as our days always are in the city, no meeting or interaction ever seems to be without purpose. Even the auto drivers who are consistently rude and try to charge us double the fair price every day teach me patience!
After lunch with the girls, Melissa, Liz and I headed over to meet our new language teacher. It took us several weeks to find a good helper here in the city, but B. is really good and willing to teach us what we want to know, rather than giving us a list of things she wants us to know, which was the method of our home stay teacher. B. and her husband are from a Neighbor background, but B. is really seeking the truth. We believe that she'll probably make a decision to follow within the next month or two. What she really needs most is to talk to another national woman who has made the same decision to follow from a different background. Ask that the father would provide through the women at our NGO and others we know who can invest in her. Her husband does not have any interest in the truth at this point in time. While Melissa had her lesson, I did some exploring around the neighborhood. I ended up across the street from B's house in front of a small, one room bamboo house with some women who were sitting in their yard with their small children. We chatted for about forty five minutes. As I was sitting in the yard talking to these women, B's husband came from across the street and asked what I was doing. I had met him just an hour before, but I somehow didn't recognize him. Thus, I politely looked away and said hello and he walked away. B. later told me that he had wondered what I was doing talking to their neighbors, who are strangers to me, but was too embarassed to keep talking to me when I didn't recognize him! One of my favorite things to do is follow random people into their homes to take tea after talking with them at their shop or in their front yard. In America this is an incredibly bad idea, and would surely be unsafe, but it's how we make friends! Once you have been granted entrance to someone's home, you are really a part of their life. Culturally, they consider you to be a close friend, even a member of their extended family, once you've spent time in their home.
So, naturally, Melissa and I ended up in these womens' home for tea. We were greeted inside by a goat and a chicken, and were led to the sitting room, which for most people is also their bedroom. It was growing dark and we needed to leave, but it's hard to say no when kind people are offering you tea, biscuits and fresh fruit. It was so good to spend so much time investing in nationals and building new relationships, I'm more than glad we have a day like this built into our schedule. I love being at the point where I can walk down our road or down the street by our office and have friends up and down the road greet me as I go. We may live in a city of three million people, but we are still, undoubtedly, a part of a community.
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