Writing about the moon and moon babies yesterday really got
me thinking about Niger. Niger is a
wonderful country filled with wonderful people.
Watching the news with talk of Boko Haram entering southern Niger is so
very sad to me. My experiences found
very welcoming people that have an immense amount of knowledge to share, with
their arms wide open to visitors.
I hit on this a little in one of my previous posts, my host
Mother, Hisa, showed me how to create a vegetable bed with one tool. It resembled a hoe. That’s it, no other tools or fancy
gadgets. Coming from a country of
everything has to be bigger, better and faster this was eye opening for
me. “You mean you don’t need an
impressive piece of machinery to start a garden?” Then how about learning how to welcome
others…
The Peace Corp Training Manager, Yves, explained how the
Muslim faith/custom is to welcome with open arms ALL visitors. He explained how a weary traveler may simply
stop at huts along his way to seek shelter for the night and he would be embraced
and possibly fed. Are we that welcoming
in the United States? Not even
close. If someone came knocking at our
door we would act suspicious of them and send them on their way to the closest
hotel, whether they could afford it or not.
I realized we really have something to learn in the US.
The average person does not mean malice or harm. If someone asks for help we look at them as
though they are going to pull everything from underneath us. We guard our “wealth” with real and simulated
guns. Instead of looking at our
countrymen as brethren, we look at our fellow countrymen as competitors or
thieves looking to take our next big break or the items/belongings we worked so
hard to attain. Wouldn’t those
possessions be that much more valuable if we were sharing them with others?
We are all the same, the same beating heart, the same hopes
and aspirations and the same needs and wants to connect with others and protect
those we care for. The key is to keep
all of those needs and wants in check so that they do not spiral out of control
leading to discourse, a disconnect in communication and an irrational fear of
someone lurking around the corner waiting to take something from us. When we meet others, especially those that
seem so different superficially, take the time to learn something.
My third night in Fandoga Beri was a time I wish I had the
ability to have recorded. Hisa (my host
Mother) and I were once again eating dinner under the stars. Hisa made my dinner every night and never
acted as though I was some sort of burden or annoyance. Keep in mind, I may have looked like an
adult, but my language skills were that of a baby just learning how to talk.
I figured at some point I would be working hands-on with
livestock during my time in Niger so I brought one of my tools, my
stethoscope. Hisa asked me what I did in
the US. I explained that I am a
veterinary technician and made a comparison to a nurse. I explained that I wanted to work with the
livestock in Niger. Although this may
seem like some sophisticated talk for my third night there, I’m leaving out the
constant flipping through my language booklets, the incomplete sentences and
fumbling through explanations.
At this point I pulled out my stethoscope and asked her if
she had ever seen one of these, Hisa said she hadn’t. I flipped wildly through my language book
trying to figure out how to say that this device listens to the heart. I ended up using the word for beat, as in a
drum, and placed my hand over my heart.
I asked Hisa if she understood, expecting her to say “Ay man faham,” I
do not understand. I sounded clumsy and
was using words that may have had no connection specifically to what I was
trying to convey. Hisa said she
understood and I felt like “OK, this language thing is coming along.” I then took the bell of the stethoscope and
placed it over my heart and showed her how to place the other end in the
ears. Keeping the bell over my heart, I
handed her the listening end to place in her ears. Hisa looked in amazement. I then offered to place the bell over her heart
so she could hear her heartbeat. Hisa
eagerly said OK. Hisa was able to hear
her heartbeat for the first time and she sat there, holding the bell over her
heart for the longest time astounded. It
was a beautiful moment. Hisa’s heart and
my heart sounded the same.
The same, what does that mean? Trying hard to prove we are so different, so
much better, so much richer, so much smarter, so much more cunning, we forget
how we are the same. All of us. We need to come together “…and whatever other
commandment there may be, are summed up in this saying [namely] ‘You shall love
your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no
evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law.” (New American
Bible, Romans 13: 9, 10)
I don’t want to sound as though I am critical of my fellow
Americans. I know and have met many nice
people, willing to give the shirt off their back. I have met many people that welcomed visitors
from other countries as though they are extended family. I have read about Americans, met many people
and have worked alongside others doing amazing things like sheltering the
homeless, feeding the hungry and giving assistance to families in distress.
How easy is it to love someone you CAN understand, you CAN
relate too or you CAN connect with. How
about those you feel little or no connection too? Saint Paul in Colossians 4: 5, 6 stated
“Conduct yourselves wisely toward outsiders, making the most of the
opportunity. Let your speech always be
gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you know how you should respond to each
one.” All of us have something to learn,
something to gain with understanding or wisdom and something to contribute to
with gained knowledge. When everyone is
united, maybe even in what we call diversity, love abounds good things happen
and organizations like Boko Haram are extinguished.
