Customs and Culture Shock

A friend recently asked if we can receive letters and packages in the mail in Peru. The answer is yes. We get cards and letters all the time. Receiving packages is also possible, but requires a bit more work. For a package, we need to know ahead of time what is in it and how much the contents are worth (since we have to pay customs/taxes on many items). Also, it is best if letters and packages are sent to my legal name, William Shrader, which is printed on my government ID; rather than Bill--which, in another culture, looks like a different name. These lessons have been learned the hard way; that is, the "culture shock" way. Culture shock is when one experience is interpreted two different ways and both interpretations make sense -- depending on your cultural context. When you live overseas, you stumble onto culture shock experiences without warning. Your success as a missionary greatly depends on your willingness to see the other's perspective and to keep a good sense of humor about it throughout. Here's just one of my "culture shock" experiences and my attempt to laugh at it now. 

Who is Bill Shrader and why do you want his mail?!!!

Twice I've been summoned to customs and interrogated. They didn't put me in a dank room with a single light over my head, but it was still stressful. It was more like a big post office where they held my package hostage--which I'm sure was a very frightening experience for the package. They questioned why I was receiving packages using an alias, rather than my legal name. They insisted that I come clean and confess, demanding "Who is Bill Shrader?!!!" I resisted the urge to say, "Bill Shrader is a sensitive, yet complicated man, who enjoys a night at the ballet even though he's embarrassed by their outfits." Instead, I explained that “Bill” is such a common nickname in the U.S., that all Americans know that Bill and William are the same name. That didn't fly, since (as everyone can see) Bill and William start with different letters. 

They then demanded that I tell them what was in the package to confirm that I was the real recipient. Their logic was that the real recipient would know that the package was coming and what it contained. I knew neither. The package (I later found out) was sent by a church and I had no idea it was coming or what was in it. Their heads exploded. The customs agents could not believe that someone in another country would send something without telling the recipient what it was and that it was coming. I explained that sometimes, even in Peru, friends send a gift without telling you what’s in it. (The problem with that analogy is that, in Peru, nobody uses the mail. They don't trust it. So, while they may give a gift and not tell you what is in it, they really wouldn't "send" it. I knew my argument was weak, but I stuck to it.) I asked them to tell me who sent it and that I would call and find out what was inside. That was not acceptable, because they believed that once I knew who sent it, they could no longer prove that I was NOT Bill Shrader. So, they asked me what it was worth. I explained that not knowing what was in the package made it very hard to determine its value. I advised them to open the package and that we would all discover its contents and value together. This took a lot of convincing, since they still didn't believe that I was Bill Shrader -- which meant, from their perspective, that a stranger was telling them to open somebody else's mail to see if he wanted what was inside. We were at an impasse. I approached it with American logic and they responded with Peruvian logic--both of which makes sense in their own cultural context. Eventually, I won. It helped that I lived at the same address as Bill Shrader and I had the same phone number, too. 

So, what was inside? A bag of coffee and some garage sale items like used children’s books and T-shirts. It was a very thoughtful gift. Finding english children's books in Peru is nearly impossible. So, some good coffee and five Hardy Boys books from a garage sale is a great missionary gift. The problem, then, was the issue of value. What's the value of garage sale items in a country where they've never heard of a garage sale? I explained that the books were not new and that in the US, people sell used things on Saturdays in their front yard and that all their neighbors come looking for a bargain. It was as though I had told the Customs agents that Americans let random neighbors pick through their drawers looking for clean underwear—then they mail it to strangers.

In their defense, there is a lot of drug trafficking in and out of Peru, so they are wary of sneaky looking packages. And, since the concepts of a garage sale and a generous church were foreign to them, their suspicions were not completely ridiculous. But, the Bill vs William issue and their assumptions about sending a package overseas displays the dangers of culture shock. Even though I explained in clear Spanish that American Christians sometimes send missionaries surprise gifts of used items, those concepts were so foreign to the agents that the words lost their meaning. The lessons I learned are that it is best to coordinate shipments with our friends from the states and to always mention that I like french roast.

It's a snack cracker

I snapped this picture while driving through Lima. "Kraps" is a snack cracker. I think they were going for something that sounds like "crisp" or "crackle." Even though everyone in the marketing department studied English in High School, no one took a class in street lingo. So, the next time you're on your way to a party and someone says, "I brought the cheese." You can say, "Great, because I got the ..." Well, maybe you should just say, "...snack crackers."

The Essential Guide to Luck

This from Bill:

I put an update on facebook, recently, and wanted to comment on it.

Yesterday at the grocery store, I saw a book entitled “The Essential Guide to Luck.” I feel pretty lucky, I saved $10 by not buying it. I’m beginning to see the potential for a whole series:

·         How to plan for the unforeseeable.

·         Seeing the bright side of fatalism.

·         Denial—How to be unencumbered by Reality.

·         The Lottery—Investment strategies for the Hopeful.

·         How to Gain Weight without even Trying!

So, why did I find this funny? Because, for luck to truly be luck, it must be completely random. Therefore, one cannot write a guide about it. That’s why I suggested the sequel: “How to plan for the unforeseeable.” This made me think, because engineers try to predict the unforeseeable all the time. People who build toaster ovens must ask themselves, “What would happen if someone stuck their tongue in this thing?” Even though it seems obvious to most of us that that would be a bad idea, the engineers must ask the question. That led me to a famous quote by Louis Pasteur. I thought it was “Life favors the prepared mind.” But, that is an evolved (albeit astute) version of the quote. The real quote was “In the fields of observation chance favors only the prepared mind.” It has been shortened to: “Chance favors the prepared mind.” Or, “Fortune favors the prepared mind.”

So, maybe one can write a guide to luck. Unfortunately, the “Guide to Luck” in the grocery store had a bunch of pagan symbols all over the cover. So, I don’t think that book was about preparing the mind. Nonetheless, I can still benefit from the wise insight of Louis Pasteur.

Two other great quotes from Louis Pasteur (the guy who taught us to pasturize milk):

"The more I study nature, the more I stand amazed at the work of the Creator. I pray while I am engaged at my work in the laboratory. "

"Blessed is he who carries within himself a God, an ideal, and who obeys it: ideal of art, ideal of science, ideal of the gospel virtues, therein lie the springs of great thoughts and great actions; they all reflect light from the Infinite."

Talkin' Double

This from Lena:

Do you ever dream of traveling to the French Riviera and rolling out an impressive French accent when you order your grape juice and cheese with a baguette (we are Assemblies, you know!)? How about just being able to converse with the Latino worker who is fixing your driveway?
Being fully bilingual is an awesome thing—and truly, after 3 years of study and practice, I can honestly say that there are STILL moments when I don’t have a clue what is going on around me. The truth is, there is a ton of work that comes after 2 or 3 years of high school Spanish to get you off the ground and conversing. Every day I find challenges to my Spanish mastery. The punchline to the joke gets choked out in the middle of bursts of laughter, and I am lost. The announcements at church are garbled and important location and time info is given, and I have to ask afterwards. The cashier is 17 years old and speaks Spanish like a ventriloquist (did he even move his lips at all when he said that?). I am the gringa, once again.
So for all you who think you would like to some day go for language number 2, I have some reflections that will be helpful down the line. Becoming fully bilingual means….
1. Developing a sense of humor about the fact that sometimes even you don’t know what you just said.
2. Accepting that you are not going to get all the cultural cues is because you didn’t grow up there! (I don’t get all the jokes Americans make, either.)
3. Working hard to convince yourself that the reason you sound like a dolt trying to speak is that you just now are realizing how bad you were speaking before.
4. Getting sneaky about slipping in your new phrase that you picked up from the newspaper so you sound like you’ve been around a while.
5. Avoid using extremely cool words that will make you look ridiculous and makes teenagers laugh so hard that they snort their soft drink.
6. Loving people God loves to the point that you are willing to do what it takes so you can effectively share the gospel with them, or to just even be able to pray for them, so that it touches their heart and they understand-- even if that means you have to spend a lot of time looking foolish and botching it.
And THAT is what it is like to be bilingual… OK, like 85% bilingual.

The "D" word

I (Bill) just returned from the jungle. For the third time in a row, I've returned with a case of Montazuma's revenge. And this is no small case. It's the kind that leaves you totally drained, feeling like a wrung-out rag. I could have justified not going to church, but had missed the week prior and didn't want to miss two in a row. So, I took some medicine I like to call "Cork-it!" and went to church. I set in the chair without moving during the entire service. I had tried clapping during worship and realized quickly that that was a dangerous activity. After the service the pastor asked if I was unusually tired. I replied that I had a bad case of diarrhea. The pastor's wife explained to me that the word "diarrhea" is not used in polite Spanish, since it is a crude and discourteous word. The correct phrase is "I have a delicate stomach." So I said, "In that case, I have a delicate stomach and I'm going to explode!"

As it turns out, I did not get this illness from the jungle; rather, from the kids' school. Yesterday, we learned that school was cancelled for two days since 30% of the teachers called in sick. At least that many of the students are also sick, including our daughter Hannah.

It's time to send Lena back to the pharmacy. This is a job for "Cork-it Pro!"

(P.S. I usually put pictures in my blog entries. I opted out this time.)

Laughter, Language and Culture shock

Last night I preached at the anniversary celebration of a church in Lima. The Pastor asked me to preach on the family. I opened with a funny story about a wedding in which the Pastor accidentally reads John 4:17-18, "You've had five husbands and the man you are currently with is not your husband." I got no laugh from the congregation. In fact, I got no response at all. I told them that it was a joke and that it failed miserably. Usually, people laugh at that. This crowd just stared at me. Then, I told them the joke, "Why did the chicken cross the road? ... To get to the other side." They burst into uproarious laughter.

You can know the language, but that's not the same thing as understanding the culture. The concept of what is funny is cultural. In Costa Rica, the people do not find fart jokes funny. When we go to the movies, the Peruvians laugh at things that Americans don't think is funny. One thing we have noticed is that they like slapstick humor--people falling down, etc. So, for my next sermon, I'm going to have to fall off the pulpit and get hit in the face with a pie. This falls under the category of doing whatever it takes to preach the Gospel.

What's in a name?

People here have difficulties with my name. Ironically, they prefer William over Bill. There are even Peruvian guys named Willy. But when it comes to Bill, they stumble. I mentioned this to a Peruvian friend and he said, "They don't want to say your name because it means despicable."

"What?"

"In Spanish, when you say Bill, it sounds like Vil, which means despicable or really bad. That's why people stumble. They can't figure out why a missionary would say, 'Hi, my name is despicable,' or 'Hi, I'm really bad.'"

I went home and looked it up. Here's what the dictionary says: From the dictionary:
Vil (adj) vile, despicable; el vil metal filthy lucre. It's obvious now that we can add to the list:
villan
evil
Devil -- which means from or of the vile, despicable.

People have asked me what my name means. Now I'm starting to understand why they're so interested. Ironically, one of the meanings of William is noble. As such, I'm thinking of changing my name to No-Vil.

In the dead fish

On Easter Sunday, we were singing a Spanish hymn (sung to the tune of "From the fount of every blessing). Hannah turned and asked me, "Dad, why are we singing about a dead fish?"

Bill: Where do you see that?

Hannah: Up on the screen. It says, "In the dead fish, I am dead!"

The word for dead fish (i.e., the kind you would buy at the market to eat) is "pescado." The word for sin is "pecado." The way to remember it is that both dead fish and sin are stinky. So we were actually singing, "From now on, regarding the world and sin, I am dead." You've got to give it to those Spanish hymn writers. They're a chipper bunch.

Where's the bath-robe?

I recently wrote a friend the following: The move to Peru has been a tearing down of identities. I was once a man with a large vocabulary. Now, I am a man who says, “Where is the bath-robe?”

They say, “What?”

And I say, “You know, the habitation of the urn!”

-----

In Spanish, one of the words for toilet is inodoro. If you look closely, you can see what it is saying; i.e. without odor. This is clearly a symbol of a Don Quixote type of hopefulness, in spite of reality, which is found throughout Latin culture.

-----

The picture is of Lena, Hannah, Colton and I. It was taken in a hotel parking lot in San Diego, following a missions trip to Mexico back in 2000.

Wash your hands!

Last Sunday night two people got saved. (Praise the Lord!) I preached a message and then asked for those who want to give their lives to the Lord to signify it, "All you have to do," I said, "is lift your hands!" But I didn't say "lift," I said, "Wash!"

They stared at me, so I repeated myself, "If you want to live with the Lord forever and received forgiveness of your sins, then WASH YOU HANDS and let me see it!"

O well, they eventually figured it out.

Bothered

You know how some actors are really good at playing the bad guy (i.e., James Woods). We might say something like, "They picked that actor because he likes playing the bad guy." That's the kind of conversation we had recently. Except, when you speak two languages it's easy to get your languages confused. The word "moleste" in Spanish, means "bothered" or "bugged" in English. So, even though it sounds just like "molested," it is not what it sounds like. Recently, we were all watching T.V. and there was a girl on the screen who looked bothered--a little bit angry. Consequently, Colton said something like, "Boy, they must have picked her because she likes looking molested."

There was a moment of silence, then I said, "I think you mean she likes looking bothered."

Ah, we make those kind of mistakes in Spanish every day!

Pay the duck!

In Spanish, they say "pagar el pato," which means "Pay the Duck!" It's an idiom for "to take responsibility." The closest English idiom is "pay the piper." Another friend suggested the phrase, "bite the bullet." Either way, the phrase is very funny and has become one of my favorites. So, don't be surprised if you hear me say, "It's time to pay the duck!"

The picture above was taken by Donncha O Caoimh, a photographer in Chicago. I found it on Google. I don't know him, but his blog has some impressive pictures. You can find them here: http://inphotos.org/index.php?tag=chicago

Like the dickens!

I recently received an email from an old friend. He wrote, "Love ya like the dickens!" When I first read it, I thought he wrote, "Love ya like the chickens." This is the kind of misunderstanding I have about 100 times per day, while trying to speak Spanish. The conversation goes like this:

Bill: You love chickens?

Spanish Speaker #1 (SS1): Not chickens, dickens!

Bill: Charles Dickens? I think the Muppet's version of a Christmas Carol is one of their best movies. Having Rizo the Rat as one of the narrators is really funny.

SS1: No, no, no! It doesn't have anything to do with Charles Dickens. "Like the dickens" is a phrase meaning "a lot!"

Bill: A parking lot?

SS1: No, a lot is a reference to quantity. Like the dickens means "a bunch" or "much."

Later that day:

Spanish Speaker #2: How much cream do you take in your coffee?

Bill: Dickens, Gracias!

Es Verde! (part 2)

Shortly after my "Es Verde!" article, Lena and I attended a Spanish chapel service. One of the songs was lovely and we had the following conversation:

Bill: That was a lovely song, but I had a hard time figuring out what it was about.

Lena: It was lovely. I think I got the translation.

Bill: Really? What were we singing?

Lena: "Without you, Lord, I would be like a boiled Parrot lying dead on the street."

Es Verde!

After one month in Costa Rica, I'm trying hard to win the award for using the smallest vocabulary with the greatest gusto. Everyday, I find that I've been saying something completely wrong. Originally, the cab drivers just smiled and nodded when I made incomrehendable sounds that I thought were words. Now, the cab drivers are starting to correct me. Often, two words sound so similar, it's hard to keep them straight. For example, the word for green (verde) is really close to the word for true (verdad). When you want to say, "That's right!" in Spanish, one way is to say "Es verdad!"... unless you're me. I've made the mistake of saying "Es verde!" on a few occasions. As such, I'm turning it into a trademark. The secret is to say it with a big smile, a lot of gusto and holding one thumb up. If you're in complete agreement, then let everyone know it by saying, "It's green!"