On the Inside

It's been about 2 months. 

I don't really know why. 

Partly because the "new" things I am experiencing are more relational than physical if that makes sense. 

It still turns my stomach to go to the butcher, but that's not really new anymore. 

What is more new is the depth of our relationships here in Albania with Albanians. 

With that comes conflict, cultural confusion and constant conversation. 

Some of those things are more difficult to write about and to explain. 

In America culture is glorified. 

People travel the world to experience different cultures. 

People boast (and rightly so) about the culture they come from. 

People find their identity in saying "I love different cultures.'

People talk about how they love a certain culture simply because they have eaten it's food or watched it's traditional dance. 

And none of these things are wrong. 

But it can be a bit short sighted. 

I have even experienced that within myself. 

I LOVE the Albanian culture. 

I love dancing in a circle to the folk music. 

I love that people look like they're angrily fighting when they are actually only conversing about the weather. 

I love that when you visit their home, they serve you and treat you like royalty. 

I love that when they greet each other they kiss each cheek and ask each other how they are and how they've been 16 times.

 And every time the answer is "good." 

No matter what. 

But really, these are all surface things. 

You could observe these things in a day. You could experience these things with a short visit. 

And I think that often times when people talk about culture, this is what they are referring to. 

But what about weeks in, months in, years in? 

What becomes different, or what do you see that you didn't see before? 

And does the beauty of the culture fade? 

In the last 2 months since I've blogged I've experienced more than just the burnt sausage and the nightly xhiro. 

Systems. 

Education, Economy, Medical care. 

Corruption is everywhere, I know. 

But when you have to bribe the doctor for a diagnosis, or the school director for a job, or the border police to let you through with extra goods, everything is a little different. 

It changes the conversations you have. It's one thing to know these things are realities, and its another to watch your friends go through them. 

How do you tell someone not to cheat when they have never heard it's wrong? When it is expected by the teacher that you will cheat? When it is essentially written into the system?

What do you say to someone that won't get a job unless they bribe someone? Even though they tested the highest and should receive the job? 

How do you tell someone that the doctor is cheating them and the diagnosis is wrong? When they are scared for their apparently fatally ill child? 

Friendship. 

I've experienced friendship in a whole new way. 

Here, you talk to your friends multiple times a week. Not just on the phone. But you go out to coffee, you go on a walk, you spend time together. Multiple times a week at the least. 

So, it would follow that you would have fewer friends. That is not easy to maintain, when you are in school or working or have children. 

And so it is here. You have fewer friends but the relationships are more high maintenance. 

I have spent hours in the last few months explaining in my broken Albanian to different girls, that I really do care about them. 

I'm sorry that I don't call them all the time. I'm sorry that we don't spend more time together. 

I really do care about them. And I will work on it. 

I didn't realize that they wanted more of a relationship. I didn't know what it took to maintain that. 

And the way they let you know is to completely shut you out. 

All of a sudden one day I realized that a few of them were mad at me. 

But sometimes being mad is a way of showing you've been hurt. 

Death. 

A boy in our youth group died in a car accident on New Years morning. 

It was tragic and it is difficult to write about. 

I believe it will forever change many of our students and families. 

In Albania, you mourn when someone dies. For days and months.

All the family and friends visit the house of the family and sit in silence while the women in the immediate family weep and wail. 

We do not "mourn" in this sense in America. 

We do not scream and chant and shriek for days as people pour into our home. 

Then the next day everyone walks from the family's house to the cemetery, following behind the casket. 

I walked arm in arm with girls who had been classmates with him for years. He was 19 years old and loved by many. 

The women mourn as the casket is lowered into the ground. People lay flowers on the grave. 

You greet the entire family, and leave. 

I have never experienced anything like that. 

Please pray for the family of this boy. He was the only believer in his family. 

And again I ask: Does the beauty of the culture fade? 

I believe that these "new experiences" have only made me love Albania all the more.

Sympathizing in injustice, fighting for friendship and crying in death, bonds you to people. 

There is something more beautiful than the dancing and the food and the interesting customs. 

There are varying world views, and deep-seated traditions and dissimilar adversities. 

And it is truly a privilege to be allowed in. 

I want desperately to help those who have been cheated by the system or who are hopeless about their future. 

I almost felt glad that they were mad at me. It means I'm not as much on the outside anymore. 

I've always watched the funeral processions from our balcony, but it is entirely different to be a part of one. 

I'm sure in a few months or years, these things will seem so elementary to me. 

So while I love the food and the dancing and the loud talking, I am learning that that is not only what makes Albania, Albania. 

And I am committed to keeping up with this blog more than I have in the last 2 months. 

I don't want to forget these things and I can't wait to look back in 5, 10, and 20 years and realize how little I understood and how little I knew. 

Next time, I will tell you how amazing this winter has been.