just a thought

Who am I that You are mindful of me?

Who am I that I'm not mindful of You?

no frills

This morning, I sat down with Joyce and had a heart-to-heart.

Me: "I am so grateful for the gift you gave me. You said such beautiful things, and the gift is even more meaningful because of what you said."

Joyce: "Yes, Mama."

Me: "I love and appreciate you, Joyce. I value your friendship. You are like a sister to me."

Joyce: "Yes, we are sisters."

Me: "Joyce, as sisters, I want to share my heart with you. Is that ok?"

Joyce: "Yes. Sisters are honest with each other."

Me: "When I look at the gift, it means a lot to me because I know it came from your heart. It shows me that you care about me, and that is what makes it so special. But in my culture, this type of thing, with so much frills and lace, is not something we normally do. White men feel like it's 'too much' to have something so girly like this in their bathroom. So I know that Niel does not enjoy having it in here."

Joyce: "Ooohh... Basotho men, they do not mind. But I can see that white men will mind..."

Me: "Yes. So I'd like to ask you if this will fit in your bathroom. If it will, then I would like to give it to you for your house. I will feel good knowing that you are able to use it and enjoy it."

Joyce: "Yes, it fits in my bathroom. I will take it today, and I will let you know when I have it set up in my bathroom so you can come by to see it."

Me: "I would love to! Thank you so much, Joyce. I appreciate you very much!"

Joyce (with a laugh): "I know, Mama, I know. It's okay. It's okay..."

We ended with much hugging, and everything truly is okay! Joyce wasn't offended at all, and she joyfully took down the items and packed them up to bring to her house.

And my bathroom is much happier being back to normal... as are Niel and I!

In case you're wondering, I decided to handle it this way because I figured that honesty truly is the best policy. If it was "accidentally" torched, destroyed by children, or ravaged by my bird, Joyce would still not know that we didn't like it, and would most likely end up replacing it for Chrirstmas or my next birthday. I'd rather not relive this experience again if I can avoid it.

Indirect communication is key in Basotho culture. They don't directly express their own opinion or preference. I figured I'd go that route by blaming it on the fact that men in my culture don't like that sort of thing. Thanks, Hon, for taking one for the team...

I also told Joyce early in the day, giving me the rest of the day to make sure that she was really okay. She was completely fine, making her usual jokes and small talk with me and Niel. It feels so great to know that I didn't offend her or hurt her feelings in this whole thing...

Thanks everyone for weighing in and sharing your thoughts on this one! Many a laugh has been had, and I will be remembering this for a very long time...

catch-22

I need some cultural advice. Joyce (my Mosotho house helper) gave me a gift for my birthday. While it was the most meaningful gift I received, it's also the gift I like the least. Maybe that's putting it too mildly. I really dislike it. (I'm trying not to use the word "hate", but I think you get the idea.)

When Joyce gave me the gift, she also said that since she didn't get a chance to buy a card, she'd just tell me what she would have written. "You have always given me so much, and I could never repay you. I don't even have enough words to say how much you mean to me. You are my family, my only family."

Joyce shared that her daughter recently asked her, "Why do you say, 'Hello, Mama' when you talk to Mme Alece on the phone?" Joyce said her reply was, "Because she is like a mother to me. She is my mother."

It was so special. You can't put a price tag on that kind of a gift. Joyce spoke from her heart, and it meant the world to me. That is what makes her gift so meaningful.

What makes it something I strongly dislike is... well, it's what the gift itself actually is. I cringed (only on the inside) when Joyce unpacked it (opening the gift for me, in typical African style). "A toilet set!" she proclaimed excitedly.

"Wow, Joyce!"

"Here, let me show you..." and she immediately started putting each piece in its proper place in my bathroom. There's a toilet seat cover, a toilet tank cover, a toilet paper roll holder, and a curtain. And they were suddenly all on display. In all their frillyness, gaudiness, and tackiness. It was almost overwhelming.

"Wow, Joyce! It's so fancy!"

"No, it's not!" And I'm sure she's thinking that it's not fancy because practically every home in Intabazwe has a set like this. So in her mind, it's commonplace, not fancy.

"Joyce, it was so thoughtful of you. Thank you so much!"

After we hugged and talked a bit more, Joyce left and I stood in my bathroom a while. Contemplating. The question going around my head was: How do I get out of this? Joyce works in my home, so I can't simply just not use the gift... So how do I get out of this?

"Aww, come on!" you're thinking. It can't be that bad! Oh really?! This is what my bathroom looks like at the moment:

So, I need some advice. Remember that I'm feeling the tension between how strongly I dislike the state my bathroom is currently in and the fact that I love Joyce, value her friendship, and desire to be culturally sensitive.

What should I do?

**UPDATED** Make sure you read part two!

brutal honesty

There are some days -- some moments -- when I just hate being a missionary. Maybe it's not so much that I hate being a missionary, but that I hate the occupational hazards that come along with it. Like living so far from friends and family.

I heard from a dear friend today whom I hadn't heard from in a while. And she's going through a rough time. I long to be able to have the types of friendships where I can respond to things like that in ways other than just sending an email or saying a prayer. I want to be able to do something. I am a do-er. It eats me up inside that my hands are tied because of an ocean between us.

So, my friend, even though I can't, please know that I wish I could see you. Hug you. Listen to you. Stay up all night talking. And hopefully end up cracking each other up.

Since I can't, my prayer is that someone else will be there for you in that way today...

mr. personality

Let me introduce you to Starbucks. He's my (roughly) 3-year old African Grey. I've grown up with birds as pets, and didn't realize that many people find this odd. I think the assumption is that a bird has no personality and doesn't really interact at all. While maybe this is true of some birds, Starbucks is certainly full of personality.

He says,"Morning!" when I uncover his cage each morning and, "Hello?!" when a phone rings. He shouts, "Come in!" when there's a knock on the door and, "Go back!" when he starts to walk down the leg of his own cage.

He laughs, coughs, and sneezes.

He mimics cell phone noises, can do the Good, Bad, and the Ugly whistle, and loves doing a Cat Call.

His vocabulary also includes:

• Hello
• Bu-bye
• OK
• Starbucks
• Kisses (followed by kiss noises)
• Hello Beautiful
• Hey Babes!
• Joyce (my wonderful friend and house-help)
• Scoop (when he wants me to rub under his beak)
• Come
• Wanna Come?
• Come on! (in a sassy, annoyed tone)
• Hey buddy!
• Snack
• That's a good boy!
• Poophead (I like teaching him to talk trash)

And my all-time favorite:

• Chalupa! (when he does his business!)