The Repatriation Process for Missionaries by Jill Shaw, 1993
You have been "on the field" for three years and enjoy life in your adopted country. You think in the local language, even shouting in it when you hit your thumb with a hammer! The noise of the donkeys and herd boys on the dusty road outside your house is normal to you. Your daily agenda has become flexible so as to meet needs as they arise. You push aside your projects and paperwork when friends come to ask you to transport their father’s body home for burial.
The dust on the bookshelf is not as important as the grandmothers when they stop by for tea with their friend and teacher. A year ago you used to be irritated by the children staring at you through the barbed wire goat barrier you call a fence. Now you get up and get them some cookies and cold water. They are no longer just children; they are Mrs. Chikhami’s grandchildren and you are glad they are still alive after the terrible drought and famine.
During the drought, you went beyond the point of tears; there was too much work to be done. Waking at 5 A.M. to find 30 people on the verandah asking for food is something you never want to do again. But, it was good that you were there to help. Who ever would have thought 17,000 children a day could be fed for so many months? The cheques you wrote were big and the delivery trucks that came were big. Your God was big too, and is much bigger now than He used to be. It is now time for furlough, time to go home.
Travel by air is amazing. Just yesterday you were 6 hours from traffic robots, soft ice cream and the tall buildings of the capital. Now you are flying from U.K. to the U.S. airport where your family will meet you. London was a bit confusing. When you asked for ice cream, they pointed to a list of 120 flavours. You remember 33 flavours as being impressive, but 120! So many decisions to make! Things will be better in the U.S. where you will feel more at home.
Why do you feel like you are the only one in style? Everyone is dressed so funny. Girls are in mini skirts and boys have strange haircuts. And those ties the men are wearing! Women seem to all shop at the same place and wear the same four colours. And everything is spelled funny here.
Hurrying to disembark, you see a little girl about three-years-old playing with the rope barricade in the airport. The young man coming to take your carry-on looks like your nephew, but much taller than the eight-year-old you left. After a quick hug he calls the little girl over and introduces you to your niece. As the rest of the family comes to greet you, you try to cover your tears and confusion. The tears could not be explained any better then than they can today as you type this.
This is not a false scenario created to facilitate understanding of the shock some expatriates feel when they return to their home country. It is a brief introduction to the thought processes common to many missionaries as they go through another phase in the international cycle. The confusion, frustration and shock continues as they see the many signs in the airport, huge parking lots full of beautiful cars, four lanes of traffic twisting around and layered under or over other highways, rows of restaurants and shopping malls, and new homes and office buildings where corn fields were three years ago.
They think church will be less confusing. God has not changed. True, He has not, but there is a new preacher and the choruses are all foreign. Foreign! The realization finally comes.
You have been "on the field" for three years and enjoy life in your adopted country. You think in the local language, even shouting in it when you hit your thumb with a hammer! The noise of the donkeys and herd boys on the dusty road outside your house is normal to you. Your daily agenda has become flexible so as to meet needs as they arise. You push aside your projects and paperwork when friends come to ask you to transport their father’s body home for burial.
The dust on the bookshelf is not as important as the grandmothers when they stop by for tea with their friend and teacher. A year ago you used to be irritated by the children staring at you through the barbed wire goat barrier you call a fence. Now you get up and get them some cookies and cold water. They are no longer just children; they are Mrs. Chikhami’s grandchildren and you are glad they are still alive after the terrible drought and famine.
During the drought, you went beyond the point of tears; there was too much work to be done. Waking at 5 A.M. to find 30 people on the verandah asking for food is something you never want to do again. But, it was good that you were there to help. Who ever would have thought 17,000 children a day could be fed for so many months? The cheques you wrote were big and the delivery trucks that came were big. Your God was big too, and is much bigger now than He used to be. It is now time for furlough, time to go home.
Travel by air is amazing. Just yesterday you were 6 hours from traffic robots, soft ice cream and the tall buildings of the capital. Now you are flying from U.K. to the U.S. airport where your family will meet you. London was a bit confusing. When you asked for ice cream, they pointed to a list of 120 flavours. You remember 33 flavours as being impressive, but 120! So many decisions to make! Things will be better in the U.S. where you will feel more at home.
Why do you feel like you are the only one in style? Everyone is dressed so funny. Girls are in mini skirts and boys have strange haircuts. And those ties the men are wearing! Women seem to all shop at the same place and wear the same four colours. And everything is spelled funny here.
Hurrying to disembark, you see a little girl about three-years-old playing with the rope barricade in the airport. The young man coming to take your carry-on looks like your nephew, but much taller than the eight-year-old you left. After a quick hug he calls the little girl over and introduces you to your niece. As the rest of the family comes to greet you, you try to cover your tears and confusion. The tears could not be explained any better then than they can today as you type this.
This is not a false scenario created to facilitate understanding of the shock some expatriates feel when they return to their home country. It is a brief introduction to the thought processes common to many missionaries as they go through another phase in the international cycle. The confusion, frustration and shock continues as they see the many signs in the airport, huge parking lots full of beautiful cars, four lanes of traffic twisting around and layered under or over other highways, rows of restaurants and shopping malls, and new homes and office buildings where corn fields were three years ago.
They think church will be less confusing. God has not changed. True, He has not, but there is a new preacher and the choruses are all foreign. Foreign! The realization finally comes.
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