So Christmas is now less than a week away. Only by the advent wreath at church could I verify this for you. Sure, there are some shops pushing Christmas supplies, and I'll hear the occasional reggae Christmas tune. But Christmas just isn't Christmas without snow and at least one good "O, Come, O, Come, Emmanuel." :) I've experienced Christmas in a tropical climate before, when I was in Ecuador for Christmas 2004. While snow and Christmas hymns were lacking there, as well, I had the anticipation of at least seeing my parents and one of my sisters over the holiday season. This year, no such luck. Fortunately, the wonders of technology will make "face-to-face" communication feasible.
There was a time when what was important to me at Christmas were the presents. At some point in our lives, most of us experience the desire to get the latest electronic gadget or some necessary (or unnecessary) item that we don't quite feel like purchasing ourselves. But I can remember very specifically the sentiment and very vaguely the details of when that desire got the best of me, and how my attitude toward Christmas has changed.
It was Christmas sometime in the late '90s. I must have been about 13 or 14 years old. I was wanting and expecting some sort of video game system to upgrade from my N64 that was probably all of two or three years old, I think. At that time, as family, we were still opening presents on Christmas morning, rather than on Christmas Eve as we do now. After gifts, we would have been headed to celebrate Christmas with my mom's side of the family.
Whatever it was that I was expecting, I didn't get it and I was not a happy camper. My family will gently remind me that in my teen years, I wasn't always the most pleasant person to be around anyway, but this was pure pissed-offedness. Unfounded. But that was my reality. I'm pretty sure I didn't thank my parents for the presents I did get (and if I did, it was a grumbly thank you), and I spent most of the rest of Christmas day upset over the thing I didn't get.
I'm not going to lie and say I had an epiphany the next day about "the real meaning of Christmas," but I did feel pretty horrible about how I acted. It almost makes me shudder thinking about it now, how wrapped up I had become in the what at Christmas and how little import I was giving to the who and the why.
Since then, and especially over the past several years, I've grown tired of the capitalism of Christmas. I've scoffed at the "Christmas creep"--the way Christmas keeps creeping closer and closer to starting in June. I've enjoyed more and more all the Christmas hymns that are sung only one month a year. I've gotten more and more drawn to just sitting and being with my family and not anticipating the presents I will or will not get. I've gotten to a place where the who and the why really matter more than the what.
That's the real reason why this Christmas will be different from any other I've experienced before. I won't be at home to help pick out the Christmas tree with my dad and sister Sara. I won't be able to help decorate the tree with my mom. I won't be at home to decorate Christmas cookies (or inundate them with sprinkles) with my niece and nephew. I won't be able to compete with my sister Katie to see who does a better rendition of Stephen Colbert's version of The King of Glory. I won't be able to demolish my hip trying to surf down an icy hill in a plastic sled with my cousins. I won't be playing a good game of Garbage with my aunts and uncles.
Point is, Christmas is much more than the gift exchange. I could probably name, I don't know, maybe a dozen gifts I've gotten for Christmas in my lifetime. And I could probably name even fewer of the gifts I've given to other people, as bad as that is. I'm not pretending to be the first to give the message that Christmas isn't about the gifts. But it's not just that it's not about the gifts. It's about being proactive about the flipside, what it is about. It's about spending time with people you care about, if you're fortunate enough to have them in your life. I'ts about recognizing the miracle of God becoming human in order to begin a process that would end in what we celebrate as Easter. It's about the love that should permeate our everyday existence and would go a long way to solving problems if we would cultivate it.
I know it's probably too late to encourage any alteration to Christmas shopping habits for this year, but whatever you've gotten for other people or whatever you get from other people, try to make sure it's more than just a gift exchange. Take some time to be with them and listen to them and share with them. Take some time to appreciate the words of the Christmas hymns you might otherwise sing mindlessly at church. And if it's not too much trouble, find someone you like to spend time with and build a snowman for me.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Sunday, December 13, 2009
"Hey, look - a white guy...
...I think I'll ask him for money!"
I imagine something like that passes through the brains of the men, women and children that take advantage of my passing by to ask for anywhere between "un peso" and "fai dolla'"--between five cents and five dollars, sometimes more.
When the kids do it, they typically go straight to the point - Not "Disculpe (Excuse me...)" or "Buenos Días (Good morning...); Just "Gib me wahn dolla'!" Most likely the only English they know, and it's probably not getting them as far as they thought it might. Kinda rude, right? Well, Brother David, one of the Bishops down here, gave a homily on this topic a while back, and he talked about how he tries to engage people in conversation when they ask him for financial goods. I've taken after this practice and usually respond to the kids by saying, "Buenas tardes, ¿Cómo estás?" Then we talk briefly about how he or she shouldn't demand money from strangers, and then I'm on my way.
Now, there are some adults that use this tactic to get money out of me as well. There are people that beg everyone for money and there are people that will just beg me for money. If you're a begger, you're a begger. I understand that you ask for money, both from me and from anyone else. But if you just walked by dozens of other people or dozens of people walked by you without you saying anything, and now you're gonna stick your hand out to me...? It's both frustrating and humbling at the same time. Frustrating because when they just ask me for money, it's because I'm white, and it shows the view people have of gringos, always having money in surplus. It's also humbling because as "simply" as I'm living down here and as much as I'd like to be able to honestly say that I have little more than they have, I actually have a lot more than most people have. I try not to use the words "No tengo" (I don't have any) in my response, because that's often bs. I have money for food and such at home, even when I'm not carrying money in my pockets, so saying I don't have money isn't really true. So I usually say that I can't and that I'm sorry and that I hope they have a nice day. Which is pretty cold, but I could spend hours of each day talking with all the people that ask for money.
Speaking of all-day conversations, there have been times where the conversation has gotten to be pretty long. There are some people who do indeed take the time to greet me with a "Buenas, amigo" (Hello, friend) and shake my hand. After some small talk about where I'm from and what I do, their financial troubles come up. People explain to me that they were just in the hospital and have to pay the bill and have no money (like this one guy who has shown me the same cut on his leg on four separate occasions over the first few months of being here). Or that they're not from Port and their mother is sick in their village, and this person has no money to get back home to their sick mom. Or some people, like my "good friend" Jonas Benedicto, tell me about how they used to live in the States and have a lot of gringo friends and just need a little money to get back on their feet in order to finish school. Jonas likes to hug, too. But out of concern for my personal safety, handshakes are more appropriate.
Then there's the incredibly awkward situation where it's someone closer to me asking for me to lend them money. My host brothers in Granada, a teacher at Escuela Maureen, one of our neighbors...all have asked me outright if I could lend them considerable amounts of money. This affects my interactions with other people who may or may not be asking for money. Some people have "confided" in me about how much they're struggling at home, how they are scrambling to get food for their family or are concerned about making it until the next paycheck. This is where all the begging affects me. Without asking me straight up if I can lend them money, I get the sense that they're hoping I'll volunteer to support them in some way. And I'm sure some people aren't necessarily looking for me to help them and just consider it a topic of conversation between friends, but the reality is that my experience has conditioned me to think they're asking for money.
Usually people are pretty understanding when I give them the explanation that I'm not allowed to be exchanging money with people. I explain how I'm on a fixed budget and that I can neither earn extra money (i.e. by giving English classes, which would produce a haul) nor can I give money away. I've given this explanation to a number of people that have stopped me in the street, and they express their appreciation for me taking the time to listen to them and to explain to them just why I am not going to give them money. Actually, when those conversations happen, the people walk away in a pretty chipper mood.
I try to be as patient with these interactions as I can. It can be more difficult when I have somewhere to be, but I at least try to take a minute to acknowledge their existence. On rare occasions, people just want to talk to the gringo and say Hi, and those conversations go much more smoothly. I guess it all comes with the privilege of being white.
I imagine something like that passes through the brains of the men, women and children that take advantage of my passing by to ask for anywhere between "un peso" and "fai dolla'"--between five cents and five dollars, sometimes more.
When the kids do it, they typically go straight to the point - Not "Disculpe (Excuse me...)" or "Buenos Días (Good morning...); Just "Gib me wahn dolla'!" Most likely the only English they know, and it's probably not getting them as far as they thought it might. Kinda rude, right? Well, Brother David, one of the Bishops down here, gave a homily on this topic a while back, and he talked about how he tries to engage people in conversation when they ask him for financial goods. I've taken after this practice and usually respond to the kids by saying, "Buenas tardes, ¿Cómo estás?" Then we talk briefly about how he or she shouldn't demand money from strangers, and then I'm on my way.
Now, there are some adults that use this tactic to get money out of me as well. There are people that beg everyone for money and there are people that will just beg me for money. If you're a begger, you're a begger. I understand that you ask for money, both from me and from anyone else. But if you just walked by dozens of other people or dozens of people walked by you without you saying anything, and now you're gonna stick your hand out to me...? It's both frustrating and humbling at the same time. Frustrating because when they just ask me for money, it's because I'm white, and it shows the view people have of gringos, always having money in surplus. It's also humbling because as "simply" as I'm living down here and as much as I'd like to be able to honestly say that I have little more than they have, I actually have a lot more than most people have. I try not to use the words "No tengo" (I don't have any) in my response, because that's often bs. I have money for food and such at home, even when I'm not carrying money in my pockets, so saying I don't have money isn't really true. So I usually say that I can't and that I'm sorry and that I hope they have a nice day. Which is pretty cold, but I could spend hours of each day talking with all the people that ask for money.
Speaking of all-day conversations, there have been times where the conversation has gotten to be pretty long. There are some people who do indeed take the time to greet me with a "Buenas, amigo" (Hello, friend) and shake my hand. After some small talk about where I'm from and what I do, their financial troubles come up. People explain to me that they were just in the hospital and have to pay the bill and have no money (like this one guy who has shown me the same cut on his leg on four separate occasions over the first few months of being here). Or that they're not from Port and their mother is sick in their village, and this person has no money to get back home to their sick mom. Or some people, like my "good friend" Jonas Benedicto, tell me about how they used to live in the States and have a lot of gringo friends and just need a little money to get back on their feet in order to finish school. Jonas likes to hug, too. But out of concern for my personal safety, handshakes are more appropriate.
Then there's the incredibly awkward situation where it's someone closer to me asking for me to lend them money. My host brothers in Granada, a teacher at Escuela Maureen, one of our neighbors...all have asked me outright if I could lend them considerable amounts of money. This affects my interactions with other people who may or may not be asking for money. Some people have "confided" in me about how much they're struggling at home, how they are scrambling to get food for their family or are concerned about making it until the next paycheck. This is where all the begging affects me. Without asking me straight up if I can lend them money, I get the sense that they're hoping I'll volunteer to support them in some way. And I'm sure some people aren't necessarily looking for me to help them and just consider it a topic of conversation between friends, but the reality is that my experience has conditioned me to think they're asking for money.
Usually people are pretty understanding when I give them the explanation that I'm not allowed to be exchanging money with people. I explain how I'm on a fixed budget and that I can neither earn extra money (i.e. by giving English classes, which would produce a haul) nor can I give money away. I've given this explanation to a number of people that have stopped me in the street, and they express their appreciation for me taking the time to listen to them and to explain to them just why I am not going to give them money. Actually, when those conversations happen, the people walk away in a pretty chipper mood.
I try to be as patient with these interactions as I can. It can be more difficult when I have somewhere to be, but I at least try to take a minute to acknowledge their existence. On rare occasions, people just want to talk to the gringo and say Hi, and those conversations go much more smoothly. I guess it all comes with the privilege of being white.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)