Lessons From the Deep South

Crossing to Isla Tenglo with the children's Chilean "grandparents" Voni and Gigi.

To My Most Amiable Readers;
Having just finished reading the latest copy of Missionary Messenger, which focused on the lives of missionary kids, I was inspired to think of what my children are learning in their host culture. A number of things came to mind; things I've only learned as an adult, but which will be natural to my children as they barely remember American culture. So here are some things we've come to learn and appreciate in Chilean culture:

1. Saludos. Translation: greetings, regards. When you walk into a gathering you personally meet and greet each person in that room with a kiss and, if needed, an introduction. This acknowledges the worth and value of each person in the room and extends your acceptance to them. When you go to leave, you make the rounds again, kissing each face and saying goodbyes to each and everyone of them.
Our co-worker's children, who are more Chilean than American after 15 years here, feel uncomfortable and unwelcome when visiting stateside as "relatives just stare at us, they don't hug us or kiss us". My children are also accustomed to saludos, even at the age of one year Edison would tilt his cheek upwards to receive kisses, and now gives them with relish (much to the delight of Chileans). Sophia throws her little arms around their necks and gives a big smackeroo along with her joyful "Hola!". And each adult is greeted with the name Tia or Tio (Auntie or Uncle), followed by the first name. This extends respect and honor and also affection for adults.
It's amazing how just having your presence recognized in a room can put you at your ease, make you feel at home in any gathering. I imagine that the early church experienced the joy of this in their "holy kiss". I wonder if my children will try to give kisses when we're home on furlough and if they'll feel unwelcome if others just look at them.

2. A glass with an inch of drink in it is still a blessing. Oftentimes we've been in gatherings of, say, thirty people and there's been one liter of Coke. Instead of hiding it away in the refrigerator in embarrassment that there isn't "enough", each person recieves their inch of drink with ease and joy; often having to drink quickly so that the cup may be used for someone else's inch. Can you imagine this in the States? Someone would've taken off in their car to the local gas station and come back with liters of soda and a pack of disposable cups before the embarrassing "lack" could be discovered. So, our children have learned, and so have we, to be thankful for what we receive, whether it be a full glass or no.

The children playing in Isla Tenglo with friends.

3. Paciencia. Translation: patience. In the States it's sort of taken for granted that each person has their own vehicle and can go where they please, when they please. I certainly took it for granted, hopping in my VW Jetta and whizzing around town, efficiently running my errands, visiting friends, taking the kids to the park, and so on. It's different here. Most people we know DON'T have vehicles of their own, have riden buses all their lives, and are used to walking long distances after the buses drop them off. Our own vehicle has been broken down or in the shop more often than it has been on the road, and when Dustin takes his missions trips I'm left depending on public transportation. So we've learned how to wait. Sometimes when we're on Isla Tenglo, exhausted from a day of ministry, we wait in the soaking rain on the boat ramp for an hour for the little ferry to come pick us up. To find a bus headed towards my neighborhood at night after rowing club usually takes about a half an hour, standing on a cold, dark street, sometimes in the rain. Then, as is the nature of buses, it takes about three times as long to get home as it would in a vehicle, and often we're packed in like sardines. A few years of this grows in one a certain tolerance for waiting that our North American culture would balk at. And this is not limited to transportation; if you'd like to withdraw money from the bank, expect at least an hour wait in a line. If it's time to pay the bills, you have to go directly to each business and stand in line for around a half hour at each one. Want to mail a letter? About a thirty minute wait. This is what makes it so difficult to explain an "average day" here to anyone. To say "I spent all day getting out money and paying my bills", to a North American would get quite lost in translation! We have learned to wait. The children do not go bonkers when forced to stand in a line or along a road for an extended time. It's normal to them.

Well, I hope you've enjoyed glimpsing the world as my children see it, and as we are learning to accept it. Blessings to you all!
Your Most Devoted, Sarah