The Chill Sets In

My body is accustomed to 15 mile outdoor workouts in all kinds of weather. As a result, I adapt easily to more moderate variations in temperature. Starting in October, as my wife is getting cold at every chill, she repeats the question, “Aren’t you cold?”

“I don’t believe in cold,” is my October/November reply.

Now Thanksgiving approaches. Awaiting relief from the chill of the street, the corresponding chill lurking unexpectedly inside my house foreshadows the true danger looming in Kabul’s coming winter - the inability to take refuge from the freeze. January temperatures are only slightly below zero, not in itself a colossal disaster, if only it would stay outside. But the houses here are poorly constructed and poorly heated. The electricity comes and goes – and in the frozen, dry winter time (hydroelectric power being an important source) it mostly goes. The chill slowly but steadily mounts, on both sides of the front door. The refrigerator doesn’t work without electricity, but only the freezer is really a loss. Almost anywhere in the house will do to keep something refrigerated. And ice making capability, sans electricity, is only weeks away.

Still in memory are the winter nights spent in sleepless shivering under every blanket and piece of heavy clothing that I own. Still in memory are those winter mornings of bundling up to brave the outdoors, only be pleasantly surprised that the strong desert sun had warmed up the city without warming up inside the house. Even in the dead of winter, I sometimes lack enough faith to be cold.

Walking

Walking is something most people take for granted. In Camden County, NJ (suburbanized in the early 1900’s), there is pavement for pedestrians down almost every street. I used to run from borough to borough in all directions on them. In bordering Gloucester County (suburbanized in the late 1900’s), sidewalks exist only occasionally, to walk within certain neighborhoods. But there are large parks with internal walking trails.

Walking is the first casualty in Kabul when security emergencies arise. “Lockdowns” occur and the streets are cleared, especially of foreigners. The fact that suicide bombers do not generally target pedestrians does not embolden most to ambulate freely around the city. Add to that the threat of kidnapping, and there are many compelling reasons to feel uncomfortable taking constitutionals in Kabul.

Women, in particular, have a hard time getting out and about here. First of all, they need to keep their heads covered at all times when outdoors. That is not comfortable in the summer. Then, staring at women is socially acceptable. Touching and poking at women is not always acceptable; but you have to be (or be with) a stout hearted person to take on the crowd and establish the right to walk without being molested.

Afghans consider it a sin punishable by death that an Afghan woman, who must all by law be Muslim, would marry a non-Muslim (foreigner). Since my wife looks like an Afghan, though she is not, there are those who get more than indignant when they see us together on the street. Going with her to protect her can cause more problems than it solves.

So during Fall Break when, after a personal tragedy (that is another story), my wife was invited back to Dushanbe for a week (trip to be detailed slightly in my snail mail Christmas letter) we accepted the “excuse”. The most powerful immediate blessing of the journey was the freedom to be ordinary pedestrians, walking together, strolling around town, wandering among the restaurants and shops, hiking through what remains of a botanical park the Soviets once planted, hoofing over to friends’ houses. No one was staring at us. No one was looking even remotely interested in inflicting the death penalty on us.

Our love was designed to prevail over whatever. However, short breaks from whatever can be a godsend.

Psalm 119:45 And I will walk at liberty, For I seek your precepts NASV

Psalm 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, You will revive me; You will stretch forth Your hand against the wrath of my enemies, And Your right hand will save me. NASV

Fruit from Playing the Foreigner

I had almost forgotten the heart wrenching price paid to enter the world of Spanish speakers. Remembered were all the successes, but forgotten were the early struggles. How much of a trial it was to “hang in” conversations, how awkward it was to hear people talking and only have clues about what was being said, not really knowing if my friends were really friends. Playing the foreigner is a humbling role.

Fruit is an amazingly engineered substance. Inside you will find mostly energy, stored in the form of carbohydrates. Since the tree, by design, takes in more energy from the sun than it needs for its own growth and development, it stores energy in its fruit (making them sweet). Sugars and so much more - vitamins, minerals, things that a tree has little use for but that are very useful for animals - are deposited there.

Upon returning to the US, I was done with misunderstandings, being able to speak both languages fluently; God had done His work in my soul through the humiliation of playing the foreigner. Or so I thought. Yet the veil of reverse culture shock of return was more impenetrable than that of cross culture shock of being overseas. After eleven years spent there, the world of the suburban Evangelical church in America is still a foggy mystery to me, and I to them. What use were all those years?

Recently scientists discovered anti-oxidants, chemicals that (when dissolved in blood) bind harmful free radicals, eliminating them before they can burn. Anti-oxidants are not much use in a tree, yet they abound in fruits. No doubt we will discover other previously unimagined vital (for animals) chemicals that plants produce and deposit in fruits. What need of a tree is met by producing all these chemicals?

Now, I am called anew into cross cultural situations where both the competency to discern what is going on around me and the ability to distinguish dangerous people and situations from friendly ones are lacking. And the stakes are high. The call comes from on high, day after day, over and over again, to leave my familiar English speaking environment, without any apparent corresponding capacity from on high to understand the new environment. Already having been through this type of humbling, I do not need it again for my own development, do I?

Plants and trees produce what they themselves do not need, but what is designed for consumption by others. So it is with us. We were designed to produce spiritual fruit. God’s first command to men is that we be fruitful. We are to store up and later give what was designed to sustain life in others.