"Culture crossing is about getting out of your story (where you/your people/your values play the main character), and getting into someone else's story where they are the main character, and you realise you're just a cameo, your culture a caricature. It is to move from the centre of your story to the periphery of someone else's . . .
Power-sensitivity needs to be an essential part of the cross-cultural Christian's armoury. Power-blindness is unacceptable in the twenty-first century. Those who assume that the world is a level playing field, that everyone's opportunity is equal, that history does not still exercise power in the present, are naive, dangerously so."
(from chapters 6 and 7 of our current team study, Global Humility)
Blogging is dangerous. Speaking is dangerous. Every flow of words tells a story that can be unfair, lack nuance, be blind to power and history.
The best we can do is to listen, be humble, bear witness, serve, and try. We are scattered people who have an outsider perspective. The barriers of language, culture, class, education, habit, understanding mean we have to work hard to enter in, rather than assuming we know. And yet. . . . every day I think I know more than I do. Sigh. Prayers needed.
Still, as cross-cultural workers, we want to play the cameo roles well (over a decade ago the books I wrote for my kids have all African characters; western foreigners appear as extremely brief supporting roles in the first and the last only. But even then we want to be supportive characters not villains).
So here's the witness to bear this week.
In our story, the main characters this week have been struggling with broken systems that have left medicines undelivered for two months. Power off today preventing light therapy for a baby with severe jaundice. A C-section delayed because patients have to run around trying to buy a tiny vial of atropine or oxytocin to be used in the surgery. No x-rays. Some days, no blood to transfuse. The faithful few still at work, scurrying to put in IV lines and do malaria tests and dress wounds with no access to guaze, tape, and most antibiotics. No schools meeting and no students receiving online classes; only our Christ School students are getting the printed materials from Ministry of Education (because of donors, we pay for them to be downloaded and copied) plus extra handouts from our teachers (because of donors, we are still paying their salaries). Neighbours are making bricks from clay, or hoeing their cocoa, or weeding around their banana trees, looking for a living in a time of limited options. The crew of the water project very industriously and creatively came up with a jerry-rig power-wash to clear out debris from heavy rains and ongoing mud last weekend after a delayed part delivery put the project behind schedule and suddenly vulnerable to ongoing downpours. Massive bags of cement were finally hauled on site and the major structure of the intake basin poured. The church printed up two pages of verses to counter fear and bring hope, and distributed them to home-bound congregants.
And in our story, besides coronavirus shut-downs, and economic roadblocks, we have also thought a lot this week about the police. In this context where behaviour is primarily driven by fear/power and shame/belonging dynamics, the guilt/law dynamic of just wearing a mask or not riding a boda because that was announced on TV a few months ago is not quite as compelling. Enter the police and military. Masks and movement suddenly enforced with uniformed and armed officers, using sticks to beat the non-compliant. Over the last week, even as the whole world marches against police brutality, excessive force, systemic racial bias . . . here in Nyahuka we had two opportunities to see the local system up close. We started the week debriefing with a close-to-us young man who accidentally hit a girl with his car. It was low-speed, in the rain, she ran out into the road with an umbrella pulled down over her head and didn't see him. Never-the-less, he spent the night in jail on the floor alone until he could raise money to pay the family for her thankfully minor abrasions and medical care, plus inconvenience, plus the police. We ended the week with Scott spending hours and hours back at the jail again, after we were tipped off that unauthorized persons were cutting down 20-year-old hardwood trees on the disputed Christ School farm land to sell as boards. We definitely received more than our fair share of deference as the party stolen-from, but it was jarring and uncomfortable for Scott to be put in the position of protecting the school's interests by watching a desperate young man suffer in jail. The field was not level; we had the power, and tried to walk a tricky cameo-role line of not extracting much from the thieves, but also not giving up school assets. Lots of advice was needed.
Perhaps the point is, to prevent power-blindness, you have to open your eyes. And when you open your eyes, it helps to be on a periphery, with people who are suffering, who can tell and show a story that we might otherwise miss. Of course living far from where you were born is no guarantee of being awake to reality, but it is a good jarring jolt that might start the process.
Power-sensitivity needs to be an essential part of the cross-cultural Christian's armoury. Power-blindness is unacceptable in the twenty-first century. Those who assume that the world is a level playing field, that everyone's opportunity is equal, that history does not still exercise power in the present, are naive, dangerously so."
(from chapters 6 and 7 of our current team study, Global Humility)
this photo is from several years ago, but it does contain a starring cast. Pictured are the future of Western Uganda, including electrician, businessman, accountant, lab technician, three doctors, nurse, librarian, teacher, clinical officer, gardener, engineer, personnel manager. Seven are also parents now.
The best we can do is to listen, be humble, bear witness, serve, and try. We are scattered people who have an outsider perspective. The barriers of language, culture, class, education, habit, understanding mean we have to work hard to enter in, rather than assuming we know. And yet. . . . every day I think I know more than I do. Sigh. Prayers needed.
Still, as cross-cultural workers, we want to play the cameo roles well (over a decade ago the books I wrote for my kids have all African characters; western foreigners appear as extremely brief supporting roles in the first and the last only. But even then we want to be supportive characters not villains).
So here's the witness to bear this week.
In our story, the main characters this week have been struggling with broken systems that have left medicines undelivered for two months. Power off today preventing light therapy for a baby with severe jaundice. A C-section delayed because patients have to run around trying to buy a tiny vial of atropine or oxytocin to be used in the surgery. No x-rays. Some days, no blood to transfuse. The faithful few still at work, scurrying to put in IV lines and do malaria tests and dress wounds with no access to guaze, tape, and most antibiotics. No schools meeting and no students receiving online classes; only our Christ School students are getting the printed materials from Ministry of Education (because of donors, we pay for them to be downloaded and copied) plus extra handouts from our teachers (because of donors, we are still paying their salaries). Neighbours are making bricks from clay, or hoeing their cocoa, or weeding around their banana trees, looking for a living in a time of limited options. The crew of the water project very industriously and creatively came up with a jerry-rig power-wash to clear out debris from heavy rains and ongoing mud last weekend after a delayed part delivery put the project behind schedule and suddenly vulnerable to ongoing downpours. Massive bags of cement were finally hauled on site and the major structure of the intake basin poured. The church printed up two pages of verses to counter fear and bring hope, and distributed them to home-bound congregants.
I am always impressed by Dr. Amon's capacity to gently problem solve
Team at work on Jessie's last day with us in BundiNutrition
One way to play a good cameo role: teaching. Here Jessie is working with Ivan, who is almost finished with nursing school, about NG feeds for a critically ill child.
Just a pretty mom and baby who are unsung heroes, because this child survived being born 2 months early weighing just a few pounds and is now triple that at 7 months!
Listening. Serving.
Perhaps the point is, to prevent power-blindness, you have to open your eyes. And when you open your eyes, it helps to be on a periphery, with people who are suffering, who can tell and show a story that we might otherwise miss. Of course living far from where you were born is no guarantee of being awake to reality, but it is a good jarring jolt that might start the process.
If you need a jolt, let us know. These two are leaving us bereft . . . finished their Serge Apprenticeship term of 18 months in project management and nutrition. Sorrowful to say bye.
We relaxed our isolation rules (since no COVID in Bundi and we've not left for 86 days seemed like a risk worth taking) to say goodbye. Here Anna is reading a sweet message of appreciation.
Photo Jessie took as we wrapped up, from in front of our house. Remembering the mercy of the Lord endures forever.
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