On Being a Foreigner
I am a foreigner. To call someone a foreigner in the U.S., might be rude. It is at least politically incorrect. We call people from other countries, “internationals” or we call them by various labels such as “Latino,” “Asian,” “European,” “Middle Eastern” or “African.” Sometimes the descriptor is correct and sometimes it is not. We don’t seem to notice. But in many places in the world if you do not look like the dominant population, you are deemed a “foreigner.”
As I have lived in India, I have become comfortable with that title because every day I am aware that my surroundings are foreign to me. The feeling of people pushing me each other to get to the front of what I used to thingk should be a line (or Q) to get on a metro train, the smell of masala, onions, and garlic being heating in mustard oil, and the sound of the language I have to strain and guess to understand remind me that I am the foreigner.
When I am in the U.S. there is a sense in which I am still a foreigner. I look an American, I sound like an American, I smell like an American, but I don’t always feel like I fit in. Some things in the U.S. seem foreign to me. Everyone seems to have a car, technological gadgets namely GPS and phones that go online, white babies, houses, and green grass yards. I don’t have any of those things (and I’m not sure I want all of them).
But, the truth is that I have always been a foreigner. I guess that is why, when a little girl who had just moved from Hungary and didn’t know any English joined my third grade class, the teacher sat her next to me and asked me to help her. At that age I had heard the stories about my country, I knew that we were different. I knew I would never fit in.
The country that I heard about was not Korea or Italy or even the “good ‘ol days” of America, that so many evangelical kids are raised hearing about. The country that my parents talked about as the homeland was a far away place. Though I couldn’t remember being there, we were from a place were every child was loved and lived and danced and played—and taught the adults to do the same. In our country we didn’t need a president or congress or anything like that, because Jesus was the King and that met that everything went right. It is a place where everyone was healed and every tear was dried.
And the secret that my parents reminded me of everyday was that that country–that Kingdom that was so different from America was coming–coming to here. In fact that country actually existed in us. And, as we lived that dream of the Kingdom to come–praying for the sick, loving the poor, writing to people in jail we were a part of that invasion.
All these people (the ancient people of the Bible) were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers of earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. –Hebrews 11:13-17.
“Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall, Who’s the Fairest of Us All?” Thoughts on Being White
If I could be any Disney princess I would be Jasmine. She has the best name, she has green eyes, long dark hair, a funky wardrobe—and tan skin. Plus Aladdin is pretty hot. But, alas I have pale skin. And for the time being my hair is cut in a bob. Especially in India, I feel more like Snow White than Jasmine. If you don’t know the story, Snow White is hated and envied by the evil queen because of her light completion. She flees from the evil queen and comes to live with seven dwarfs. There she is happy. They are brothers to her. But as long as the queen’s mirror says that snow white is the fairest of us all, the queen cannot rest. So, she poisons Snow White with a red apple that puts her into a coma until or unless she is kissed with a kiss of true love. Because this is Disney, prince charming eventually comes and kisses her, waking her from her sleep. 
I get a lot of attention in India. But instead of it being flattering, it is overwhelming and sometimes insulting. Insulting, because many people only see white skin when they look at me. The allure is not me, but my “white” skin. They call it white, but ever since I was a little girl with a box of crayons, that has been a point of confusion for me. I am glad that I am not literally white, because being the color of computer paper would so much more bland that this peachy translucent color that sometimes reveals my blue vains. But I wish I had more color. Being gold or being brown or black somehow looks more a live to me, but at least I am not literally white. It seems as though most people want to be lighter than they are—being light has status. When did that change among “white” Americans?
I suppose it must have begun to change during the industrial revolution when the masses worked in factories but the wealthy could vacation at the beach or sit by a swimming pool and their cheeks would become rosey in color. Before that the workers worked out in the field where they became tan and dark and the wealthy had the luxury of remaining in doors or being shaded when out doors. By the time I was in high school in the 1990’s the more “popular” you were the more your skin was “fake and baked” from the tanning bed. In the U.S. we have also been influenced by dark beauties. Who is more tall dark and handsome than Michael Jordan or Densel Washington? Plus, there is the inherent sinfulness in all of us that results in some self-hate and envy. If most of the world wants to be white, then of course the whites want to be dark. God help us.
It’s Festival Season: Dusserha
In India, Festival Season has begun with Id and now Dusserha. It’s exciting to start “the Holidays” in mid October instead of late November (Thanksgiving). But true to form, I am clueless about these festivals. I’ve created some links on the side bar that are helping me understand what is going on.
Tonight as we were driving home from Sunday worship, we drove past festive light canopies and even witnessed the burning of the demon god Ravana. This is the climax of “Ramlila,” a nine day play or reenactment about the defeat of good over evil. The Ram (the good god) defeats Ravana (the evil god). Just as I was feeling proud of myself for knowing what was going on, we turned the corner into our own neighborhood (or colony as they call it here). We could not get through the street. Everyone was in the street. There were some stages with chairs on them lining the street. Some kids were wearing masks. It reminded me of Halloween, a little bit. Music was blaring from competing tents. As we waded through the crowd, we passed hundreds of people walking to the main street. People from the slum near by and people from our neighborhood shoulder to shoulder in the street. Why? I do not know.
We made it home. Dad had gone to a home group and he ended up having to do a lot of walking people the roads were so crowded. Life is an adventure…
You know you are experiencing culture shock when…
…you spend an hour cleaning your bathroom even though you have a cleaning lady that washes the floor six days a week, and you still think it is not clean enough. According to Duane Elmer, in Cultural Connections, a person from a western culture adapting to an eastern culture is a square head trying to fit into a world of round heads. I think I know what he means.
200 Sheep, 20 Cows, 15 dogs, 5 pigs, 1 Elephant, 1 Ox, 1 Monkey in the Street
So, I live in New Delhi. New Delhi is the metropolitan capital of India. People and companies from all over the world settled here. Using my Dad’s frame of reference from the U.S., Delhi is about the size of Atlanta with the Population of NYC. Crazy. (For details see Lonely Planet).
We have ice cream, electricity, international cuisine (at least kind of), an amusement park, golf courses, a metro system, ect. But I am still on the other-side of the world, and I can feel it every minute. To turn a light on, you flip the switch down not up.
And, all God’s creatures roam the earth freely (except perhaps female humans after dark). In the last few days I have seen approximately: 20 Cows, 15 dogs, 5 pigs, 1 Elephant, 1 Ox, 1 Monkey in the Street. The sheep were funniest sight. We we driving to church, or rather my friend Sam was driving us and there in the middle of a traffic jam where three men guiding about 100 sheep. The sheep had brightly painted faces: green, pink and yellow. Then a few minutes later, there was another herd of sheep. This brings a whole new light on the parable of the lost sheep.
