You First Read This!

Boda-Boda “Jalaby,” Sudan Tribune

Today I am featuring a co-worker’s take on life here in South Sudan. Please welcome my good friend, writing about his experience interacting with nationals here and living abroad:

" "You don’t drive on dogs!"
I was startled and confused by my friend shouting at a boda-boda driver who had come a little too close to one of the many street dogs.

“People just don’t have any respect for animals here,” my friend continued.

While most of us in the car agreed with him on that point, we were too baffled at the lack of grammatical structure in his sentence to reply.  As we repeated what we had just heard amid bouts of laughter, it occurred to me how much my speech and syntax had changed since moving to South Sudan.

It happens slowly over time as you spend many hours working with South Sudanese, Kenyans, Ugandans, and any number of other nationalities.  With numerous interactions daily with people for whom English is not their first language, you begin to pick up phrases that will help you to be more easily understood and to also understand others.  Sure, you pick up a couple of Arabic phrases here and there to make yourself feel like you fit in and are not like “those other expats” who don’t take the time to learn the local language.  The harsh reality is that, despite our best efforts, for the most part all of our communication is in English.  Choppy, halting, broken English.

This is fine for the time that you are working in this environment, where phrases such as: “You first wait” (please wait a minute), “I see you are just on bed” (it appears that you are sleeping in), “how do you see this place?” (how do you like it here?) are acceptable sentences to communicate with other human beings.  The issue comes when you return to your home country and walk up to the immigration officer at JFK and reply, “I was just enjoying,” when asked what you were doing overseas for so long. 

Even your accent begins to change when you speak to someone who you know is not from an English speaking country.  This usually happens subconsciously as we begin to emulate those around us and the people that we interact with, and easily turns into a habit that can be switched on when we are around locals.  It isn't necessarily a bad thing, despite making you look a bit over-eager, or a little thick in the head, but it can be problematic if you attend a meeting with other NGO workers and speak to them in the local tongue.

I say all of this to ask you to bear with us NGO workers as we return to life in our home countries.  The effects aren't usually permanent, but can take some time to wear off after leaving the field.  If anything, it will be a point of amusement for those around us as correct grammatical rules are slowly re-learned and our vocabularies are purged of the slang and lingo that comes with working internationally.  For now though, we are just enjoying and see this place very well."   

His observations are 100% accurate. At any given moment I find myself changing the way I speak to communicate more effectively with nationals, asking them to "come pick me" (can you pick me up at....), or starting a sentence in a meeting with "for me..." (I think...), or answering a greeting with "I am somehow" (I don't feel very well). And while this adaptation provides a bit of humor in everyday interactions, I think it also reflects a deeper truth. I think he put it best as we reflected on it one afternoon, claiming that it brought new meaning to the idea of meeting people at their level. 

When I first arrived in South Sudan, I silently criticized my peers around me for altering the way they spoke just to interact with the locals. I thought it was degrading. Yet the more I interacted with locals, the more necessary I found it. One of my South Sudanese friends even confided in me that she struggled to understand people who were new to the country until the individual learned to speak 'Juba English'. After I heard her thoughts, I realized it didn't matter what I thought was 'proper' English, I needed to humble myself and communicate in a way that would be understood, in a way that showed I desired to interact with the people around me in their comfort zone.

I think (or, "for me") this concept was largely represented in the way Jesus interacted with those around him, and in the way God interacts with people today…and that looks so different across the globe.

The traditional, overly-emotional, alter call experience I’ve always seen is beginning to look a lot less like becoming a Christian the more I study the person of Jesus and what he has asked of us. Now, I don’t want to strip anyone of the authenticity of their conversion through “saying the prayer” or “surrendering at the feet of the cross” in front of the church—in fact I’m right there with them. Heck, I prayed the prayer and hugged friends in tears after their own alter-call-epiphanies. But perhaps the reason we all struggled so much with the affirmation of our salvation in the years that followed was because we believed it was rooted in that ‘feeling’ we had then: in the hype, in the dimmed candlelight, in the light guitar-strumming.

How much more could we meet people where they are at if we simply admitted that we don’t have it all figured out, that perhaps the ‘proper’ way of doing Christianity hasn’t really effectively communicated the right message after all. There are people in this world that will die without knowing the written name of Jesus. There are indigenous people without a bible in their language, without any experience in studying theology. Despite all mission work, despite all the printed copies of scripture available, we are not capable of communicating the message of God’s love in a way that is understood to every person. It’s simply reality…but I have to believe that the God I believe in is bigger than our evangelical capacity, our literacy, or the location/culture we are born into. So though I believe Jesus is the only way, I also believe that the God of perfect justice and mercy will extend grace to those who believe in Him with all their heart, mind, and soul—as limited as their circumstances on earth may force that to be. The rocks and earth scream His glory, and even without knowing who God is doctrinally, every individual is accountable for their decision to recognize God personally. Would this be possible without Jesus? No. But I do believe it is possible for someone to decide to follow Christ, to follow God, without really understanding the ins and outs of Christianity. The man who died next to Jesus on a cross that last day was promised a spot in the kingdom. Did he bow his head to say a prayer, read his not-yet-written-bible every day, or fully understand the idea of the not-yet-completed-resurrection? I doubt it. But did he recognize his own sin, unworthiness, and a desire to follow something so much more powerful than himself? Absolutely. That’s the whole concept of ‘Christ following’: denying ourselves, picking up our cross, and following him.

I think theologically, “becoming a Christian” is still something I’m trying to figure out. There are a lot of opinions on it and denominational traditions that muddle the simplicity of faith, but I think practically, faith is actually all it takes. I believe we are all held to different standards of accountability—that there is still grace for the one who can’t physically speak despite the fact that he can’t “confess with his mouth,” for the one who died too young to understand, for the one too illiterate to read the bible, for the one who’s mental handicap keeps them from comprehending the notion of grace. God is good and just; I trust in that. Today, I am so thankful for a God who meets us where we’re at—on our level.