Just a Quick Funny Story

Today I was visiting one of my favourite families. They have basically adopted me, and I spend quite a bit of time at their place. Anyways, they were attempting to teach me how to make roti, which is kind of like an Indian flatbread that they eat with all their curries. Attempt is the key word in that sentence...apparently all my experience in rolling out pie dough did not help in the rolling out of roti. Anyways, as we were laughing at my not so circular roti, someone made a blonde joke. I quickly protested, as I was clearly the only blonde in this Indian household. "Oh no," they quickly assured me, "You're not blonde...you're Canadian!"
So now I'm trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not. Is it better to be blonde or Canadian? And isn't it possible to be both? Because I certainly thought I was...maybe I've been wrong all these years!

Creativity...or not

If there is one thing I have learned over the last 23 years, it is that I don't have a creative bone in my body. I don't know how to come up with new and exciting ways to communicate ideas to others in a way that will stick with them. If someone tells me exactly what to do, I can try and follow their directions and something mildly successful might occur. But please, please, PLEASE don't ask me to come up with a creative idea on my own.
And yet, it keeps happening. People forcing me to be creative in order to teach and share new ideas. I knew I would have to go out of my comfort zone when I came to South Africa, but I didn't think it would be into this area. Thankfully no one has asked me to teach an art class. Yet. But they've come close.
For example, the other day I was helping out with a park ministry (similar to a one-day VBS since the schools are on holiday for this week). My role wasn't much - mostly helping keep the kids in line and improvise a short lesson when we split into small groups for discussion. However, as I was leaving, Pastor and I had a short conversation:

Pastor: Amanda, we are having park ministry again in December.
Me: Okay...
Pastor: It's going to be three days this time.
Me: Okay...
Pastor: So you will write a skit to share the lesson.
Me: What?!?
Pastor: And maybe draw a poster to show what we're talking about.
Me: Um...I don't know if I can do that. (If you have ever seen my attempts at artwork, you would know that I am telling the honest truth and not just trying to get out of doing something.)
Pastor: Sure you can.
Me: No, I really don't think I can.
Pastor: Well, we'll talk about it more later. But just start thinking about it. And working on it.

And that's the end of the conversation. Just for the record, I also don't know what the theme of this park ministry is supposed to be. Perhaps it is up to me to come up with a theme?  Sigh. Pray for some idea of creativity to come into this very uncreative brain.

Culture Shock

Culture shock.
Those two words that every missions or cross-cultural course tells you about. They tell you what the relative timeline of it will be. The symptoms of it. How to overcome it.
And yet it still doesn't seem to be enough.

I was arrogant enough to think that I had escaped culture shock. Yes, there was a short period in my first month in South Africa where I realized that I had it, but that quickly went away, and I just went on with my everyday life (whatever that is). I often am asked what the major differences are between South Africa and Canada, and half the time I can't even really think of them. So I just assumed that I had adapted to this beautiful country and was safe from the dreaded culture shock.

And then someone pointed out to me that I was experiencing culture shock without even realizing it. What?!? How could I be experiencing culture shock? I didn't have any of the classic signs. I wasn't feeling sad or lonely. I wasn't angry or unwilling to interact with others. I wasn't overly concerned with my health. I wasn't idealizing Canada or creating stereotypes of South Africa (believe me, there are so many stereotypes already existing in South Africa that I don't need to create anymore!). If I wasn't experiencing any of those things, how could I be in culture shock?

I was, and still am, experiencing a different kind of culture shock. One where I am literally in shock after spending time with people. I don't know how to deal with their stories. I just sit there open-mouthed and wonder how on earth these people have lived such different lives than I have. I honestly don't understand it. At first, I was sad and felt so sorry for them when I heard their initial stories. Then I watched them interact with their friends and families. They opened up more to me and I heard more about who they are and why. And I realized I wasn't sad anymore - I'm angry! I'm angry with them because their stories are one-sided. They don't realize that much of the reason they have such hardships is because of their own choices. I am not trying to say that they haven't had extremely hard lives or that circumstances have had no influence on where they are today. However, instead of overcoming circumstances, they seem to blame them or others for everything that is wrong in their lives. And the reason I am angry with them is because these people are my friends, and they don't want to see that the lives that they are living are leading them down a path of destruction. I'm angry that they are hurting themselves. (Please note - this is not a generalization of all South Africans. This is simply what I have experienced with a couple of ladies and their families. Not everyone that I work with is like this.)

So I guess I have experienced culture shock. I have been sad. I have been angry. I get frustrated with their inability to see things the way I see them. But I don't think that this culture shock is something that will just pass away with time - in fact I don't want it to. I don't want to just accept their sin or lifestyle as something that is okay. I want to be challenging them, forcing them to look at their lives with new eyes, and see that maybe there is another way that is better. Not MY way, but JESUS' way.