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| Farida and Liana |
Forming
deep friendships is never easy. It
becomes infinitely more difficult when you are living in a foreign country and
must sort through your differences in culture, experience, and language. You have to get used to sitting in awkward
silence and misunderstanding each other time and time again, fearing that you
have just said something that has offended the other person. Your mind races with questions, like “Have
I said too much? Have I stayed too
long? Have I eaten too little?”
(The answer to that last question will always be a resounding, “yes.”) The fear
of man has been made manifest in me these past couple of months, as I’ve had to
step out of my comfort zone and pursue relationships with people in
town. However, God has been
encouraging me every step of the way.
I have been lucky to have teammates
who have graciously allowed me to tag along with them on visits to friends’
compounds, in hopes that I will connect and form friendships of my own in time. Having the social buffer of a third
party is helpful when you are as shy as I am. Also, African culture works in my favor—people are generous
and amiable hosts, willing to throw aside their whole day for an unannounced
visit from an acquaintance. (How
different we cold Americans are!)
Even when I start to feel like I’m imposing and suggest heading back
home, my host will hand out hibiscus tea and mandazi (fried dough) and refuse
to let me leave.
My first week in town, I was
blessed to connect with Karen, a young Ugandan woman living in town. Having spent most of her life in the
Western city of Kampala, she consumes American books like g-nuts and speaks
superb English. I had initially
met up with her to discuss the possibility of having weekly Arabic lessons with
her. However, when we met, we enjoyed each other’s company so much that we
decided to be friends instead of language partners. Even though we became
friends quickly, it doesn’t mean that the friendship itself is an easy
one. Karen is hesitant to trust,
as she once confided in a white woman who later left town and cut off
communication. I am slow to
divulge too much personal information as well, wondering what is culturally
acceptable. The Lord has been
giving me boldness to initiate and speak about the hidden areas of my heart, and
Karen is slowly following suit. The hard part is knowing how to speak to her in
truth, as she struggles under the burden of African gender roles and what I
would initially deem as “unhealthy” relationships. I am praying for the Lord to help me distinguish between
what is “wrong” and what is just culturally “different.” The last thing I want
to do is impose my culture on my new friend.
And then there are Farida and
Flora. While my relationship with Karen bears the weight of broken
relationships, my friendship with these two teens is as light as a sesame leaf,
flittering in the African wind.
They work on the compound of my neighbor, Bishop Bismark, and initially
made my acquaintance by coming over for a casual jump rope session. From that day on, whenever I pass by
one of the girls, I hear their animated calling of “Jonnifa!” and see their
beaming faces. Both are studying
English in school but would like to learn more; I would like to learn more
Arabic. With this common desire, we
set up a relationship filled with hangouts and some light-hearted bi-lingual
conversation. We sit in the shade,
drink moya barid (ice water) and laugh at our failed attempts to speak each
other’s language. Yesterday, they
braided my hair as we talked—and I left their place looking like someone from a
90’s hip hop group.
I am so thankful for the Lord’s generous
blessing on my weak attempts at friendship making here in Mundri. I have ridden anxiously into town many
times, forgetting that the Lord has gone before me, moved in the hearts of my
new friends and will work in spite of my spastic actions and awkward silences. All I have to do is take the shaky steps
in faith down that dusty red road and into the warm homes of the loving Moru people.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but
on what is unseen. For what is
seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal – 2 Corinthians 4:18
