The Day Off
I consider myself to be a relational person. I like to be around people, and I like to know what's going in their lives. But I come from a culture where time is of the essence...where a day is measured in increments of time...where events are scheduled and planned based on time. Africa is not that way, and no matter how much I know that in my head, it seems I have to actually learn it through practice--situations where the American culture of time clashes with the African culture of relationships.
We spent the last several weeks in the capital city for translation workshops, followed by our West Africa Branch Meeting, and any time we are gone, we have a guard who stays in the courtyard to look after things. He is a believer, a friend, and a member of the local church. During our time away, his wife had a baby. Every time I thought of them, I felt bad that we were asking him to work so much during this time of celebration in his family.
So when we finally pulled into the courtyard after the nice, scenic 22-hr drive across the country, I assumed that he was quite ready to be done working and go back to his family. He helped Steve unload the heavy things from the roof rack, we visited with him for a bit, and asked how his family was doing, and then thought we should send him home as soon as possible. Steve told him that he didn't have to stay any longer; we could get everything else unloaded just fine, and he could go home. So he did.
Sometimes, it takes a little while for culture learning lessons to sink in, and maybe this was one of those times. As Steve and I were talking later, he remarked how strange it seemed to him that our guard wanted to stay--how his whole demeanor seemed to change once we told him he didn't have to stay any longer. I think, once again, our culture of time led the way in this situation, and we assumed that he had been counting down the hours until he was done working. Maybe from his point of view, though, he assumed that we would want to sit down with him and visit awhile, giving priority to the relationship--the friendship--over the job.
So many opportunities for miscommunication, yet thankfully, so many opportunities for grace.
We spent the last several weeks in the capital city for translation workshops, followed by our West Africa Branch Meeting, and any time we are gone, we have a guard who stays in the courtyard to look after things. He is a believer, a friend, and a member of the local church. During our time away, his wife had a baby. Every time I thought of them, I felt bad that we were asking him to work so much during this time of celebration in his family.
So when we finally pulled into the courtyard after the nice, scenic 22-hr drive across the country, I assumed that he was quite ready to be done working and go back to his family. He helped Steve unload the heavy things from the roof rack, we visited with him for a bit, and asked how his family was doing, and then thought we should send him home as soon as possible. Steve told him that he didn't have to stay any longer; we could get everything else unloaded just fine, and he could go home. So he did.
Sometimes, it takes a little while for culture learning lessons to sink in, and maybe this was one of those times. As Steve and I were talking later, he remarked how strange it seemed to him that our guard wanted to stay--how his whole demeanor seemed to change once we told him he didn't have to stay any longer. I think, once again, our culture of time led the way in this situation, and we assumed that he had been counting down the hours until he was done working. Maybe from his point of view, though, he assumed that we would want to sit down with him and visit awhile, giving priority to the relationship--the friendship--over the job.
So many opportunities for miscommunication, yet thankfully, so many opportunities for grace.
Comments