When I was young, my mother would tell me a certain story over and over. It was always at the dinner table. And it was always when I did not like what was being served. I'm not sure if this is how the story actually when or if this is how it was dramatized in my juvenile brain. She would tell me about an M family that lived somewhere in the depths of Africa. One night they were invited to the tribe chief's house for dinner and they took their small children (of course the same age as me). The family was served an unidentifiable meat. The children of the Ms completely cleared their plates even though they had no idea what they were eating. They had been taught well and ate all of what was served while under the watchful eye of the chief. My mother would finish the story with a comment something along the lines of "If you were in their situation, I can only HOPE that I would have raised you as well as the parents of those children did."
Well guess what Mama, you did as was evidenced tonight.
Tonight my friends and I visited our translator's house for a meal. After a few house of going through old photos and sharing stories, it was time to eat. Our translator has eaten with us on many occasions and knows exactly what we like. So when the time came to eat, our plates were served and the contents were explained. On the plate was a large amount of fishy fun. First was some prawn and cabbage somethingness, second was a ball of fried fish eggs made into a pakora, next were two fish filets with curry followed by some dal and rice and pickled plums to top it all off! To make things even more appetizing, all the dishes were served cold. Don't get me wrong-I'm so thankful for all the hard work she put into the meal and having us over. She's such a huge blessing in my life, but upon hearing what was being served, I immediately thought of this story from my childhood and became determined to prove my mother right.
There were moments that I didn't think I'd be able to stomach. I stopped a few times and chugged some water. There were a few bites that had a fish/plum combo and I wasn't quite sure how I was going to manage finishing the whole plateful, but I did. I put my big girl panties on and ate every last bite all the while with a big ole smile on my face and words of affirmation about how delicious the meal was!
I've learned a lot about accepting the hospitality of another culture. A week ago my friends are I were in our slum and were trapped into drinking a glass of unfiltered, slum water each. We were drinking it with huge smiles on our faces and our contented head-bobble, but the whole time we could not stop thinking about how ill we were going to be later. Sometimes, you have to put aside how you feel about the hospitality and just accept their actions. There's something about entering someone's house and accepting what they have to offer you, whether it's a glass of water with a 2 rupee packet of flavoring, a glass of 7-UP, or a whole meal-it's their best and they're offering it to you and if it's not something you're enjoying, you better fake it well because not only are they watching your every move, but all those surrounding are also. We have an accidental photo from when we were being offered the slum water and there are SIXTEEN people in the photo-watching. Sometimes that's the greatest testimony to them, accepting their culture and what they have to offer-no matter how meager.
Never did I think that story would apply so directly to my life, but it sure did. Hope you're proud Mama!
Well guess what Mama, you did as was evidenced tonight.
Tonight my friends and I visited our translator's house for a meal. After a few house of going through old photos and sharing stories, it was time to eat. Our translator has eaten with us on many occasions and knows exactly what we like. So when the time came to eat, our plates were served and the contents were explained. On the plate was a large amount of fishy fun. First was some prawn and cabbage somethingness, second was a ball of fried fish eggs made into a pakora, next were two fish filets with curry followed by some dal and rice and pickled plums to top it all off! To make things even more appetizing, all the dishes were served cold. Don't get me wrong-I'm so thankful for all the hard work she put into the meal and having us over. She's such a huge blessing in my life, but upon hearing what was being served, I immediately thought of this story from my childhood and became determined to prove my mother right.
There were moments that I didn't think I'd be able to stomach. I stopped a few times and chugged some water. There were a few bites that had a fish/plum combo and I wasn't quite sure how I was going to manage finishing the whole plateful, but I did. I put my big girl panties on and ate every last bite all the while with a big ole smile on my face and words of affirmation about how delicious the meal was!
I've learned a lot about accepting the hospitality of another culture. A week ago my friends are I were in our slum and were trapped into drinking a glass of unfiltered, slum water each. We were drinking it with huge smiles on our faces and our contented head-bobble, but the whole time we could not stop thinking about how ill we were going to be later. Sometimes, you have to put aside how you feel about the hospitality and just accept their actions. There's something about entering someone's house and accepting what they have to offer you, whether it's a glass of water with a 2 rupee packet of flavoring, a glass of 7-UP, or a whole meal-it's their best and they're offering it to you and if it's not something you're enjoying, you better fake it well because not only are they watching your every move, but all those surrounding are also. We have an accidental photo from when we were being offered the slum water and there are SIXTEEN people in the photo-watching. Sometimes that's the greatest testimony to them, accepting their culture and what they have to offer-no matter how meager.
Never did I think that story would apply so directly to my life, but it sure did. Hope you're proud Mama!
