What follows is a little introspectivity I did yesterday. Had fun India times getting it posted...the internet wasn't connecting, then the mouse wasn't moving, then the computer was all of a sudden in parts on the floor (by the nice man who in charge of the computers...not me). But all is back together today, so here are some thoughts...
Cross-cultural travel is always interesting. Being thrust into an entirely different situation – different smells, sights, sounds. Our brains have difficulty getting used to everything different. It is called culture shock for a good reason.
In preparing to come to India, I knew there would be such shock. To borrow a phrase, “if there is a bright center to the universe, we are on the planet furthest from.” Yes, there is McDonald’s here, but it is guarded by a man in a starched uniform who stands by a podium with the words “Please Wait To Be Seated” carved into it. Not your American fast food, by any stretch of the imagination. And that is just an easily translated example.
So in my sinfulness, I tried to take the easy way out. I shut down. I am ashamed to admit it, but for the first few days of experiencing India, I felt nothing; I made myself feel nothing. Call me a coward, for that is what I am; I was afraid of the pain of empathy. And the saddest part is that in not feeling their pain I could not love them. What scares me the most is that in hardening my heart towards the people of India, my heart was also hardened toward God.
I had taken two whole rolls of pictures before I confronted my idiocy. And it was my stupidity that forced the issue. My camera developed a small fleck. In my probably ill-advised attempts to remove this speck, however gentle, I scratched my camera.
The result – tears. Yes, I bawled. Not just because I had scratched my camera, although that was definitely a factor. I felt as though my hiding mechanism had been taken away; I could not hide behind my camera anymore. I could not see India from the safe distance behind my lens. It would come crashing in and I didn’t know what to think or feel about that because I had shut all of that down.
My sister, being the wonderful person she is, counseled me to let her take the camera and finish the roll. I would walk join her in a walk-about without it. So for the first time, after being here for four days, I experienced India. And it did break my heart. But the Lord bound it up again and, in doing so, made is possible for me to love.
Halfway through our walk, I had the camera for a moment. And I took my first picture because I loved the person in it. Not the subject, not the composition, the person. There was an old woman begging and my heart loved her. I wanted to tell her story of sitting on a cold sidewalk with an outstreached hand as pants walk by day after day, hoping those pants will drop a coin or bit of food. I don’t know if the picture will turn out, but I do know that I have that picture in my soul. She doesn’t know it, but that woman was my first true introduction to India.
Being of a more rational mind now, I am not sure if this scratch will affect the pictures. We are attempting to develop the roll soon to see. I do have a digital camera for backup and will be using that, although I am not completely comfortable with it. Pray that it will give the pictures we need. And pray that my heart will stay soft. Until next time...
1 comment:
Jessy, that was a sweet post. I understand what you're feeling-it's very hard to be vulnerable to the people that are around you that you don't know. I confess I normally take the easy way out and hide behind the veneer of 'tourist.' It's too painful to do otherwise...but then, at the same time, it's pretty painful doing it my way. You've helped me rethink my approach. Thanks for writing with such honesty.
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