Observing Daily Life

"I applied my heart to what I observed and learned a lesson from what I saw." 

Proverbs 24:32

How often do you simply observe?  Can you say that in your day, you can remember a specific detail and describe it without placing your natural biases?  What do you do with observations?  

Everyday at Jireh Home is something different.  I know that every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday I will teach an hour of English, either to primary school students or secondary school students.  The rest of my time I originally considered time to support the staff and students with the things I can give.  My observations, however, have been teaching me otherwise.  

In class,  I see smiling faces, blank stares into space, girls, boys, young and old, eager and bored students in both classes.  I hear the calls of "Saya, saya (me, me)" of one student ready to answer, the giggles as I mistakenly switched two boys names for the whole class without knowing it, the constant refrains of various pop songs with not quite perfect lyrics, and excited cries of "Go Fish," one of the kid's favorite games from brother Jacob three years ago.  

I hear the horses who belong to our neighbors, the crickets and frogs in the yard,  the constant Malay around the house that I can almost understand.  I taste rice, sour/spicy mango mix my friend Lebiana made for dinner, chicken cooked with the bones in, small, whole fried fish, lots of Milo, and a little bit of peanut butter as a daily reminder of home.  

I smell the water that builds up in the gutters after the daily rain, the fried eggs we had for dinner last night, the swamp-like puddles in our dirt road driveway as I walk home.  I feel the mud squish under my feet, the hands of the younger girls as we walk around the block before dinner, hugs from the girls, the flower I was given before I went home today, the cool breeze from the fan in the living room and the constant stares from curious people in town.  

And those observations barely scratch the surface.  I also see 31 kids of all ages from incredibly different and likely what we would consider "tough" backgrounds take care of each other.  I watch them work together to ensure the house is clean, sing songs in Chinese, Malay or English for visitors, do each other's hair, race down the street in the neighborhood, find puppies in the field across the street, boss each other around, fight, and share chairs when there are so many available less then ten steps away.  I laugh as the younger girls quickly do as the older ones ask, bringing them their backpacks, pouring their tea for minum patang (afternoon drink), and moving if they occupy a desirable location.   I see the some of the older students in class I (primary school English I teach) sitting at the table with the younger ones, mostly helping them understand.   I watch as the younger girls protectively bonded around one of their roommates who was having a rough week;  as the older girls gathered to talk, debrief, gossip and giggle in rapid Malay during their evening free time.  And I hear so many welcoming and inviting calls of Sister, that sometimes I forget my name is actually Kelly. 

I am included in this community, this place where people take care of each other simply because that is what they do.  The kids offer me their loot from town, chopped mango with some sort of sauce that makes it quite sour or even spicy.  They constantly include me in their games, trying not to laugh too hard as I clumsily jump over a knee high rope they gracefully leap when its higher than their heads.  The girls make my normally boring ponytail into something exciting, and consider it a treat to have me sit at the table with them while they study.  The boys gently kick the soccer ball my way after showing off and are patient enough to explain the basic rules of takraw (volleyball using only your feet  and head).  And the staff spoil me completely, almost always serving me food, constantly checking to see if I am hungry, thirsty or tired, doing my laundry for me during my first week there, and buying me things from favorite places in Tuaran.  In return, I don't laugh with them when they make fun of the habits I didn't know I had - the noises I make when I understand, the face I make when I'm confused, my incredibly short, bitten finger nails, and my constant inability to get out of bed at normal Sabah time (6 am) to go jogging with Pastor Repeih.    

The acceptance, love and care of in this place forms the truest sense of community, a real and unique family.  I have been learning that in community, sometimes it is best to receive rather than give, to do nothing rather than help, and to be taught rather than teach.    

Beauty

"It is sunset now, and there is nothing left in the world but beauty.  I am too small for such beauty.  I only know that I give thanks to the blazing, clouded sky, the tossed up black tropical islands, and the oily, resting seas for existing until I could see them.  There is nothing in me great enough for this, but all of me that is gives thanks"

written about Sabah from Land Below the Wind by Agnes Newton Keith


Last week Sunday, I was the last of our YAGM group to leave STS.  Rommy, the driver here at Jireh Home came to get me and my excessive amount of luggage around 6 and we drove the 45 minutes to Tuaran discussing families, jobs and favorite things using the vocabulary we have in common.  As we approached my new home, the sun was setting, casting vivid colors over the green, lush landscape.  I stared in awe at the beauty of this place that is my home.

Some of the primary school students had a short holiday Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and invited me to go jogging with them Wednesday morning at 6 am.  As we have been constantly encouraged to say yes to every invitation, I set my alarm and got up with Pastor Repeih (the woman I am living with who also works at Jireh Home), and took a leisurely jog/walk to the house to meet the four young girls.  Pastor Repeih pointed to our left and said Kinabalu, and there it was, Mt. Kinabalu, looming in the distance.   Majestic, but hidden during the day.   I stared in awe at the beauty of this place that is my home.

This past Sunday was Malaysia Day.  Pastor Repeih invited me to go to KK for a thing that afternoon.  I was tired, overwhelmed by constant Malay and was hoping to taking the afternoon to myself, alone, likely on the internet.  But I said yes, it was an invitation.  Driving back to KK, I was thrilled to be going somewhere, excited to possibly see other YAGMs, and completely clueless about what was going on.  We sat in the stadium in KK having arrived almost 2 hours early as the sun shone through the clouds a little too much for comfort.  What once was an empty stadium, was suddenly filled with Malaysian Christians, who came to bless the nation in their year of jubilee.  The sun set over the mountains during the presentation of many different types of cultural dances, giving the celebrations a gorgeous background.  Then at exactly 7, they (so so many people) blew the Shofars (ram's horns) to welcome in the Spirit and the worship began.  I was overwhelmed by the commotion, the passionate and joyful worship featuring dancers with flags and tambourines, about 100 Malaysian flags, and at least 100 Sabah Flags.  The mayor of KK lead the blessing of the nation with over 100 of the city's pastors and people flooded the field, united together to pray.  As I watched, I stood in awe at the beauty of this place, the richness of its traditions and faith, the passion and pride of its people.

This is my home.

Exhaustion and Amazement

Sunday morning I stood and sang as the mostly Chinese congregation clapped with seemingly no sense of time in worship.  The music was surprising familiar, a welcomed comfort after two weeks of complete unknown.

It turns out, adjusting is hard.  Adjusting is accepting the insecurity that we know nothing.  Its acknowledging that we have no idea where we are going to eat, how to get around town, what people are saying almost all the time, and that everything we wear and do may be violating so many unwritten, cultural norms.  Its hard not to be paralyzed by this insecurity.  Hard to constantly observe people in a non-creepy way.  Hard to let the observations stay neutral observations while trying to figure out how I fit into this place.  Hard to not be right, or even to not know what is right in most every situation. Its an exhausting process.

Opposing that exhaustion is amazement at so many small surprises.  It's the shock on the local waitress's face as I manage to properly eat a full Chinese meal using chopsticks with my site supervisor; the excitement of the doorwomen as I say a simple, "Terima Kasih, Selemat malam," leaving a restaurant; the laughter of a Malaysian peer at the mall as I ask "Di mana Food Court?" covered in sweat after spending four hours wandering through KK.  I'm amazed at the beauty of the island beaches, towering lush mountains, and the fog and clouds that roll in before a heavy rain.  The teen who translated the entire service for us at a Malay speaking church and then took us to lunch and out for ice cream just because.  I'm amazed by the market vendors who struggled with us in Malay, working together to lean more about each other. The joy of delicious steamed chocolate cake from our incredibly loving language teacher, Ibu Laura, and the constant welcome and blessings from the students at STS, despite the fact we likely did so many things wrong.  And I'm amazed at the seven other young adults willing to be grown, change and molded by this place and the support, guidance and love of Peter, our country coordinator.

And now, I am finally here, at my site.  Despite only spending a full day here, I continue to be amazed.   Amazed by the openness and excitement of the people who were once mystery friends. Amazed by the staff at Jireh Home who encourage me constantly to not be shy, while sharing their lives and daily routine with me, despite desperately missing last year's volunteer.  I am amazed by the 31 students who live there, giving me little hugs each time they pass by and eagerly helping me learn more Malay.

As I reflect on these small surprises, I know God is the source of all of my amazement, the reason I am here.  The constant in my world that is currently very much so upside down and backwards from what it would be if I had simply went straight to graduate school.   So my prayer this morning as I continue the exhausting process of adjustment and observation is Psalm 62:5-6,

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; 

my hope comes from him.

Truly he is my rock and my salvation; 

he is my fortress, I will not be shaken." 

I am praying that as this places completely shakes my world view, I am able to continue to find strength, courage and grounding in God's grace and love.