Throughout our orientation to MCC and to Chad, our country
reps tried to prepare us as best they could by sharing stories about their own
times of transition. One such story was about the first time they moved their
family to Africa – the realization of a long term dream. Upon arrival, however,
the reality of the situation was not quite the dream come true they were
expecting. They found their front yard littered with broken glass and other
dangers for their young children. What exactly where they doing? ...they
wondered this aloud to one another, sitting on the front porch on their first
day. Then as if on cue, their young daughter burst through the front door with
a huge grin on her face and proclaimed, “I… LOVE it here!!” It was just the
encouragement they needed, and if you read their current blogs about life in
Chad, you’ll find it’s just this spirit of acceptance and joy that makes Chad
feel like home for their family today.
It would be dishonest of me to write this reflection as if I
have not had my own trying and emotionally exhausting experiences during these
first few weeks. I have indeed had several
sitting-on-the-front-porch-wondering-what-I'm-doing kinds of moments. But
today, I felt my inner child bursting out the front door of my heart to exclaim
“I… LOVE it here!” It’s hard to say exactly what inspired this sudden and
profound explosion of love for this place. Perhaps it’s the atmosphere in the
office where every little accomplishment is worthy of celebration. Perhaps it’s
the conversations about things that matter and the sincerity with which I’m
being embraced for who I am. Perhaps it’s that every time I see a new area of
this crazy city, I’m baffled and intrigued and delighted and curious and aghast
at the extraordinary, everyday lives people lead. Perhaps it’s the adventure of
every meal, of eating an entire fried fish with my fingers or trying to guess
at the seemingly strange ingredients in the sauces from their French names.
Perhaps it's the feeling of a cool shower (dfn: fetching a bucket of cold well
water and using a small plastic bowl to pour the water over one's self) – pure
bliss, even for someone who has always had an aversion to cold water! Perhaps
it’s the enormity of realizing (just by stepping around a bend in the road by
my house) just how tremendously the torrential rains change the lives of people
in Dembe every year and the resilience with which they take the damage and
inconvenience in stride. Perhaps it’s the tropical vegetation, colourful
lizards that scurry up and down compound walls, or the ever-present heat that
envelops you like a familiar blanket everywhere you go...
Or perhaps it’s the yellow sky.
I was told about the yellow sky when I arrived in N'Djamena,
and I wasn't really sure how to imagine it. I imagined a sunset - but a sunset
looms over the horizon and casts its rays in a pattern across sky and clouds.
This was more like a warm glow that appeared suddenly throughout the whole sky and
changed the lighting of the entire courtyard, like someone suddenly adjusted
the colour on some grand, celestial set of stage lights. My senses responded
instinctively, ready for the next scene to emerge, for the plot to take its
turn… but my African family took no notice. In fact, they seemed to be as
fascinated with my studying of the sky as I was with the celestial event
itself. Within minutes the yellow shifted across the hazy city, adjusting its
tone slightly from a greenish to golden palate as it settled in the west,
seamlessly shifting once more to fill the sky with a cheerful, red glow as
darkness swept in. I've never experienced a sunset quite like it.
From within
our compound walls, you cannot experience much of the great expanse of sky and so I took in the final reddening glow from my bedroom window. It was here that my adult self started reflecting on the response of my inner child. Context: my window stands about two feet from the tall,
cinder-block wall of our compound, above which the sky is further obstructed by
the pleated metal roof of the neighbour’s home. Essentially I was staring past a rather ugly
facade at a small sliver of what seemed to be the most beautiful and
mesmerizing performance-art I’d ever seen... This struck me as profound. Our experiences are shaped by what we choose to see, and I was so awestruck by the beauty in that sliver of sky that I hardly minded if this great ugly wall stood in my way. Through the eyes of my inner child, I had hardly noticed its presence at all. Now let me be clear: while I may have a natural bias towards optimism, I am not setting up this metaphor to propose that we should be blind to the uncomfortable situations in life. I know well the importance of observing dangers and dilemmas to build street smarts and gain insight towards creating solutions. But that said, what would happen if we also practiced viewing the world with a bias towards beauty, as
though we’d never learned to judge, cast stereotypes or feel entitled? What if
we reacted with the boldness and acceptance of a child when confronted with new
experiences? With those dirty, uncomfortable, challenging, unnecessary, humbling, unfair, desperate, dysfunctional, underdeveloped realities of our world? Today I wonder if a moment of golden light might just be the strength of heart needed to face these realities, and the hope that may inspire everyday designers like us to make this world a little more beautiful.
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