native soil

It feels pretty good to be back on American soil, even if it was the product of a 17 hour flight from Jo-burg to NYC and I still have about another 12 hours in lay-overs, transfers, and flights to come. I love the fact that the US citizens line in customs looks as diverse as the visitors to the US line in JFK. And, I'll admit it, my triple-shot latte also tastes pretty good after 4 hours of sleep and 11 months delay. These are mid-terms for me, a chance to step back and figure out what the last year has been about, where I'm headed to in the future, and where I am being led from here. We're conditioned to pursue happiness in America. I wish I could say that I was ecstatically happy all the time in Zambia, and I would have to say that I'm pretty content most of the time. But it's a complex place. Let me try to outline some of those ways.

Friendships: Mukinge has been an amazing place for friendships with some really wonderful people who I have grown close to because of all our shared experiences, but also because of who they are. There are people that are really worth spending the time to get to know -- Zambian and ex-pat alike. At the same time, Mukinge is a place where many people are there for a short time and then gone. And cross-cultural friendships are difficult because of expectations of financial/material gain that are often placed on them, differences in cultural backgrounds, family structures. So it can be lonely at times as well.

Work: Work can be really fulfilling. I put together a slide show of pictures of just a fraction of people who've we've helped -- the man who slit his throat in an attempt to kill himself and came back to his family and to Christ after we sewed him up, the woman with the massive hemopytsis holding her baby after her C-section a week later, the man fitted with his wooden peg-leg after his traumatic amputation of his leg, smiling and sticking his thumb up at the camera. I'm reminded of people's lives that I've saved over the year, people who are grateful for a gentle touch or kind word, and families who were strengthened in their faith and love for each other because of work that we did. At the same time, the slide slow reminded me of all our failures -- the immigration officer staring at the camera like he can see his own death in the lens (he died two weeks later), Josua reaching out to the camera and then laying in the high-care area of pediatrics 3 months later, dead from malnutrition, Tom sitting in his wheelchair gradually losing his smile over a few weeks as he's forced to grow up unexpectedly by the tragedy of unexplained paralysis. Some days are really good, but some days I find myself losing hope that what I'm doing makes a difference as well. I find that rationalizations that 'what would it be like if you weren't here' to ring hollow when you know about how much more effective medical care could be if you could bring the funds and personnel to bear.

Cultural adaptation: I mentioned above that we pursue happiness in America; it's in the Declaration of Independence, which in itself is so foreign to many people from other cultures, who live by the Declaration of Interdependence: on friends, on family, on the rest of the world. That transition for a bachelor who's practiced being independent for around 10 years to a culture of interdependence has been rocky at times. Part of the reason is that coming from a position of power, interdependence can very easily become just dependence, a one-way street, especially if you don't take the time to appreciate the non-quantifiable gifts that many Zambians have to offer, and Zambians don't take the time to learn about your non-material gifts as well. I was transitioning from a pluralistic society to a monolithic society, which has its own adjustments in terms of voluntarily giving up your freedoms in order to have cultural relevance. Rural Mukinge is not the cultural melting pot, something which is hard for us to understand when we go because it seems so foreign, such a great 'exchange of ideas'. When I arrived, however, I quickly realized that to make a difference I would have to change myself in order to make the differences that I can't change less obtrusive. Giving up your freedoms to be relevant -- giving up deep friendships with women because of the misconstructions that are placed on them here, changing the way you greet people, structure your day, deal with interruptions -- it's obviously the reason you go, and the lessons you learn are awesome, but it's also a painful process of subjugating yourself in ways where you're taught as an American that you should be able to pick how you're going to live your life.

I think this is going on too long for a blog -- probably half of you tuned out after the first paragraph -- so I'll stop it here, despite the adrenaline that only a triple shot latte can give you after 11 months of abstinence. Hope to talk to some of you in person, or at least by phone while I'm home.