The Aftermath of Culture Shock
June 18, 2009
When I first decided that I was going to fly half way across the world to serve at an orphanage in a third world country- the idea felt somewhat romantic. I’ve always enjoyed traveling and I like kids so I said what the heck- I’ll go! I had no idea what I was in for. My previous travel experiences included destinations like Italy, the Bahamas, Paris…Canada- but never India.
Before I went I knew that this was not a vacation- I was going to serve at an orphanage. Still the idea sounded romantic to me- I’d always felt called to do something like this and I felt it was the right thing for me to do at that point in my life. When we arrived, I felt nauseous as soon as I got of the plane- the smell of the pollution was quite prevalent. Soon thereafter culture shock occurred.
The drive from the airport to the orphanage was totally overwhelming- I wondered if I was even going to make it. I could not believe what my eyes were seeing- all those people amidst a sea of chaos- riding bicycles, horses- motorbikes merging in and out of lanes dodging cows and wild dogs. The streets were lined with beggars and destitute children. As we drove to the orphanage- I thought –“We are not in Kansas anymore Toto.”
The next two weeks were life changing- it was the best experience I’ve ever had. I forgot about myself for two weeks. I forgot about my life in Manhattan- The thing that was most on my mind was how amazing the kids were- so phenomenal. I was so humbled by the kids. I thought I was going to India to give something to them- when they were giving back of themselves tenfold to me. I could see so much redemption in their lives- these children were taken of the streets and given a chance to live fulfilling lives- and they were so grateful despite what little they had. The joy they had in their lives was truly amazing. I remember being surrounded by them on my birthday- I stood there in the middle of a circle of orphans- they all sang Happy Birthday to me. That was truly the happiest of birthdays- and they made me the best cards- although none of them really knew how to spell my name. I never knew that Sam could be spelled so many different ways…Psalm, Shem, Sham…I felt so loved. I thought this was a great idea….then that’s when it happened…
I became very, very, very ill. I spent the next night vomiting and was rushed to the emergency room the next morning. I spent the next 4 days in intensive care in what was thought to be the best hospital in Delhi. I was on my back, I could not stand up- I couldn’t move my eyes- I was on my deathbed in a third world county with an unidentified virus that had made it’s way to my brain. While I laid there waiting and praying for my health to return I felt a peace. I was able to embrace the experience. My entire team was supporting me- I knew the children at the orphanage were thinking of me and praying for me. I was able to bear the unbearable only because of the love I was receiving. I had flown half way across the world only to receive that which I was there to give-love- and there was no way I could return that in the state I was in. The truth is- I’d been in self preservation mode after living in Manhattan for so long- the entire experience was a relief for me. When I arrived at the orphanage from the hospital I was greeted by a sea of smiles and cards prepared by the kids. What I had experienced there in India was so much more than “romantic”- at that moment all I could do was receive love- and embrace my weakness. As I left the orphanage soon thereafter to head to the airport- I remember thinking I’ll never forget the lessons I learned there- and I never will.
Samuel
CHF Team Witness 2009
