Water to a Parched Soul

Sunday.  First full day in Chiang Mai.  We worshiped at an ex-patriot church and visited the night bazaar.  But one of the highlights for me came while riding in the back of the truck while Sharon and Kristi rode up front.  I sat in the back and noticed that almost no signs were in any language but Thai.  That, of course, makes perfect sense since I am in Thailand.  But I found myself disoriented.  Oh, I recognized service stations and 7-11's (which are on almost every corner), but the vast majority of shops were not as obvious as to their services or products.  I found myself feeling like an outsider.  I didn't have a decoder ring that would help me orient myself to where I was and what was around me.  So when I did see a sign that had English subtitles I emotionally grabbed onto it as an anchor.  I felt as though in some small way I got my bearings, if only briefly.

The other thing I noticed is how tiring it is to try to keep deciphering.  (Although jet lag may also play a part in how I felt yesterday.)  I was mentally and emotionally exhausted by the end of a full day.  When I saw English or heard English spoken by those at church, I was re-oriented and refreshed.  It was like taking a drink of water when I'm parched.

It was this feeling that gave me a renewed appreciation for the immigrants  who come to the United States with no working knowledge of the English language.  It reminded me how difficult it is to learn another language and, in this case, another alphabet.  When I have traveled to Germany, at least the script is the same and the language has Latin roots so I could discern the pharmacy and such. (Pharmacy in German is Apotheke which sounds like apothecary.)  Here there is nothing in the letters to bridge from what I do know to what I do not know.  This happens to those who choose to come to the United States.  They wrestle to make sense of what they see and what they hear.  They are exhausted by the end of each day in navigating life in a different culture, but also with few verbal cues to help them understand where they are.

It also put back into perspective the short-sighted comments of those native-born Americans who wonder aloud why the immigrant can't "just learn to speak English" and why do these immigrants not just "become like us" and why do these immigrants "huddle together" in certain areas of the city?

I understand, at least at some level, why they gather with people who speak their language and eat their food.  I understand, at least at some level, why they live in areas where the signs are in their language and the food options are familiar to them.  As I mentioned earlier, getting out of my own culture and into another's I have a renewed appreciation for those who are willing to leave their own dominant culture. Whether it's people coming to the US or missionaries leaving their own country, culture and language to plant themselves in another country, culture and language to bring the good news of Jesus to those who have not yet heard.  It's hard work, but it's worth it.