"Como niños" in Argentina
How many times in life have I been truly vulnerable?
Today marks about two and a half weeks since our cohort arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Upon arrival, we were tired but filled with excitement for what lay in store for us. We had finally made it to the country we had been preparing for and praying about for the past 4 months!
While getting accustomed to life in this new setting, our cohort began to comment about some of the little mistakes/ faux paus we had made. Mine include, but are certainly not limited to: (1) buying a charger that was not equipped to handle the voltage here, plugging it in, and subsequently having it give off the dreaded "pop" of death, (2) banging into the "pull" door at the bakery because I translated the sign as "push", (3) forgetting that people in the Misiones province give a kiss on each cheek to greet one another, not a single kiss like in Buenos Aires, and clumsily bumping noses with one of my new congregation members.
As I write this entry, I realize how minor and trivial these mistakes were. They were probably forgotten within minutes by the Argentines around me. However, it became easy for me to dwell on how embarrassing and uncomfortable these instances were. They are a reminder of how vulnerable I am- how much I still have to learn.
This vulnerability doesn't have to be a point of shame. Paulo, a pastor who is part of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Brazil, shared with us how he had been adapting to life in Buenos Aires and speaking Spanish instead of Portuguese. He emphasized that we are "como niños" (like children) in this country. We talk like children and we walk like children because we are in a new context- the language is not our dominant one and the spoken/unspoken cultural expectations are not ingrained in us. Paulo also underlined that the worst thing we could do, however, would be to close ourselves off from chances to learn out of fear of making mistakes.
The thing that makes all this vulnerability so much easier is the community that has surrounded and guided me since my arrival. The bus system, doing laundry, grocery shopping, and attending the annual Immigrant Festival have all been made possible for me through the gift of others' time and energy. I find myself in awe that people have been so generous to me, someone they just met. The community we share in Christ is certainly amazing!
Over the next month, I'll continue to settle in and seek out opportunities to learn about my new context. I've been getting a glimpse into the different ministries that the IELU (United Evangelical Lutheran Church in Argentina/Uruguay) supports here in the Misiones province. Soon, I'll find my "lugarcito" (small spot) in the mission of the church here. I pray that God makes this spot one of fruitful and life-giving accompaniment.
Chaucito,
Ann Emilie
Today marks about two and a half weeks since our cohort arrived in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Upon arrival, we were tired but filled with excitement for what lay in store for us. We had finally made it to the country we had been preparing for and praying about for the past 4 months!
While getting accustomed to life in this new setting, our cohort began to comment about some of the little mistakes/ faux paus we had made. Mine include, but are certainly not limited to: (1) buying a charger that was not equipped to handle the voltage here, plugging it in, and subsequently having it give off the dreaded "pop" of death, (2) banging into the "pull" door at the bakery because I translated the sign as "push", (3) forgetting that people in the Misiones province give a kiss on each cheek to greet one another, not a single kiss like in Buenos Aires, and clumsily bumping noses with one of my new congregation members.
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| My first encounter with instant coffee in a tea bag, plus my new favorite breakfast: medialunas ("half moons"/croissants) |
As I write this entry, I realize how minor and trivial these mistakes were. They were probably forgotten within minutes by the Argentines around me. However, it became easy for me to dwell on how embarrassing and uncomfortable these instances were. They are a reminder of how vulnerable I am- how much I still have to learn.
This vulnerability doesn't have to be a point of shame. Paulo, a pastor who is part of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Brazil, shared with us how he had been adapting to life in Buenos Aires and speaking Spanish instead of Portuguese. He emphasized that we are "como niños" (like children) in this country. We talk like children and we walk like children because we are in a new context- the language is not our dominant one and the spoken/unspoken cultural expectations are not ingrained in us. Paulo also underlined that the worst thing we could do, however, would be to close ourselves off from chances to learn out of fear of making mistakes.
The thing that makes all this vulnerability so much easier is the community that has surrounded and guided me since my arrival. The bus system, doing laundry, grocery shopping, and attending the annual Immigrant Festival have all been made possible for me through the gift of others' time and energy. I find myself in awe that people have been so generous to me, someone they just met. The community we share in Christ is certainly amazing!
 |
| Some members of the Paraguay collective during the opening parade of the "Fiesta de los Inmigrantes" |
Chaucito,
Ann Emilie
😘❤
ReplyDeleteWe are so blessed by your willingness to share your love for Christ with those who hunger for his peace. Wishing you safety and many blessings as you learn and integrate into your new community. Deborah & Bill Mitchell, Peace Lutheran Church
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for keeping me in your prayers!
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