I Miss The Melting Pot
I miss the Melting Pot. While the fondue restaurant would really hit the spot right now, not to mention it was my “last meal” with Maral before I left for the Race, my desire rests with the diverse population of the United States, not melted Wisconsin Cheddar and graham cracker-coated marshmallows.
I was sitting downstairs Friday morning playing guitar to myself when a group of twenty 5-6 year olds, who attend the preschool next to the home we are staying in this month, came about 10 feet from the table and just stood there…staring at me. I looked down and kept picking. After a couple minutes I looked up, and they were all still staring blankly. Trying to get them to walk away I said, “bye.” I was greeted with 20 “hello’s,” followed by several mocking “bye’s.” At this, I turned to stand up, and they all ran away like I was about to swing a left-hook their direction. I went upstairs; annoyed and wondering.
Let me preface this morning by setting the scene of the last 23 days here in Takeo. We live in a small village. There is one other white person here. His name is Aaron, and he is working with the Peace Corps. That leaves the six of us Racers and Aaron. For the last 23 days I have been stared at by hundreds of people. I wish I could say that the reaction was just that of pre-preschoolers, but it resonates all the way up to the elderly.
When we are walking to Teen Challenge, every motorist, truck driver, and bicyclist turns their head and stares for an annoying amount of time. When We walk past the school each day a group of 5-15 students line up and stare at us like we have a toilet seat cover hanging from our back. When we go to a shop and ask for a certain item, we are met with hysterical laughing in our faces.
It’s not something you get used to; at least not in month two.
We were told in the Philippines that the locals will sometimes laugh because they are nervous. Whether that is the reasoning or not, I really don’t care. Instead of trying to figure out why these people respond like they do, instead of trying to reason why laughing in a person’s face is okay, and instead of trying to determine what a blank stare day-after-day means, God put a different notion in my head.
How blessed am I to live in a place where there are people who do not look like me. How blessed am I to live in a land where I hear different languages everyday. How blessed am I that people can function in society wearing different clothing and believing different things than me without being stared at, without being laughed at.
I miss the Melting Pot — that is America.
God brought into light a piece of me that I’ve never been proud of, and mostly just blown off. Truth be told, I’ve lived for far too long with racist and prejudice thoughts against people who are not like myself. Part of it is being raised in the South. Part of it is what I’ve picked up from friends and even some family. But at the end of the day, it’s just another lie I’m buying in to from the Evil one.
No more; I have never been so excited to go back to a place where there are people unlike me. Thank God for diversity!
I remember shortly before I left, the state of Tennessee was trying to pass a bill that would make English the legal language of the state. I wish every citizen would come to Takeo, Cambodia for a single day and see what life is like in a place with no diversity. Take a walk in my shoes, and be the only person a child has ever seen in his/her life that does not look like them and speaks a language other than Khmer.
I know there will be people reading this who, daily, accept the grace of Christ, yet harbor prejudice ideals in their hearts. Can I just pray that God breaks those bonds?
Be thankful for your neighbor who has crazy traditions from another country. Respect your co-worker who worships a different god than you. Bless the people you run into at the store who are dressed in clothes that look totally ridiculous and nothing like yours. Delight when you hear conversations in a language other than yours. Thank God that you can go to restaurants that serve food from across the globe. Thank God that you can go to school and sit in a classroom with 7 different nationalities and it’s no big deal.
I thank God Maral is Persian, and that she speaks Farsi with her family. I thank God my school has people from all races. I thank God for letting me live in a land with people from all-over and I thank God for giving me the honest desire for a diverse people.
