For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. He told us to follow him to the other side of the bus that would take us from Thailand to Cambodia, so we did. Some of us went around back while the rest went around front. I tried to hand him my bag after the first person, but he put his hand up and wouldn’t take it. I waited as he took bags from my squadmates who had come around back. Then when he was done with those few, I go to pass my bag again since I was the first from those who went around front. But again he put his hand up as if to signify “wait”, and still would not take my bag. As I tried to push back asking why he wouldn’t take my bag, all he did was continue to put his hand up, and proceed to take bags from my squadmates behind me. As someone asked me “why won’t he take your bag?”, all I could do was walk away towards the other bus holding the remaining 34 of my squadmates, trying my best to fight back the tears that so desperately wanted to come out. As I asked someone to grab Jessica who had already boarded the bus, I stood there staring into the distance feeling utterly defeated, with my guitar in hand. I didn’t even bother to bring my bag with me. As Jessica gets off the bus and comes up to me to see what’s wrong, all I could do was finally let the tears fall when telling her “he wouldn’t take my bag, he wouldn’t take my bag”.
Being in Asia these past 3 months has been so different than our 4 months spent in Central America. For one, there are no black people in Asia, so when walking down the street or into the grocery store, you are guaranteed to get lots of points and stares, especially in Burma, but other places as well. We were in an extremely touristy city our first month in Thailand so I didn’t really notice it then. But the moment we crossed over into Burma/Myanmar, the country that had not allowed foreigners in for so long, there was a distinct difference. Right after crossing the border while we were waiting for Edwin and Anna to find us a hostel for the night, a man came up to us wanting to take a picture with me. I was completely caught off guard and so all I could think to do in that moment was grab Paul, who was the closest person to me, and make him get in the picture too.
Some experiences have been not such a big deal like the picture taking or people who are just genuinely interested in who you are. While others are a little more direct and hurtful like the guy who wouldn’t take my bag on the bus. Or the guy that hit me with a cane on the back of my leg in Cambodia as I walked past him trying to get my attention and asking if I was from Africa. Or the time we tried to take the local bus in Yangon into town, and then bus after bus would not let us [or me I should say] on. Rachel insisted it was because we were foreigners. But “they let foreigners on the bus” is what I heard from local after local….so it must have been something else.
For the first time in my life I found myself feeling uncomfortable being in the black skin that I’m in. I spent the first week of Burma sick in bed and so the last thing I wanted when I went out was attention. I found myself dreading everytime I walked out of the hotel because I knew the stares would come, and the points, and I couldn’t tell you what people were saying because I can’t speak Burmese. I remember the first time one of my teammates noticed we were in the grocery store. I walked in front of her to find something, and a few minutes later she comes up to me and says “wow, the people are really interested in you here. Everyone’s pointing and staring at you”. I was fully aware.
For the most part though, people are friendly and genuinely interested because they have never seen a black person before. But the way some respond which makes you feel like such an outcast almost makes you wish like you never came to their country. But I’ve had some great experiences in Burma and got to meet some amazing people. It was such a great month and if I had to experience those not so great moments in order to have those great ones, then it was worth it. Like befriending Bobby and Nelly and the rest of the staff at Hotel Sahara. And hanging out with the kids at the children’s home and teaching them “who’s in the cellar”. And getting to share a message with the students at a Bible College and spending time with them in class. All of these latter experiences make the former, though not fun, at least worth it! And it’s teaching me a lot myself, and where I find my identify, and whether or not I need the approval of others (never thought I did before).
So with two month left in Asia, I’m walking with my head held high and making the most of it. Yeah people still point and stare and yeah I still get a little nervous when we’re taking a bus and we stop at a checkpoint for security that they might signal me out, but I’ve loved working with the kids in the village, and teaching them English, and them teaching me to do laundry by hand. I will not be overcome by these negative experiences. The heart of God in me will prevail!
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Please consider supporting if you haven’t already (or if you feel lead to again). I’ve been given some grace with my final deadline but in order to continue with the rest of the Race I have to be at $13,500 by August 1 (I’m about $1200 away at the moment) and $14,500 by September 1. Thank you everyone for your continued prayers and support.
