This year’s delegation traveled to Guatemala from May 2-11, 2019. Here are reflections from the trip.
Comfortably Uncomfortable by Sarah Jones
A few years ago, I started attending a treadmill class at my gym. Although I had been running for years, this was the first time that I had an instructor who could critique my form and provide guidance for this deceptively complex exercise. One morning, during sprint sets, the instructor came over and increased my machine’s speed saying, “It’s not supposed to be easy; get comfortable being uncomfortable.” That advice taught me that I actually have to push myself to improve my running paces, which had plateaued for quite a while; my body will adapt and I’ll find a new comfort (and discomfort) zone.
Solidarity work, like running, isn’t supposed to be easy. If it is, it’s probably a sign that we’re doing it wrong. Solidarity requires us to prioritize being instead of doing and thus totally contradicts the common model of international mission work. It demands being fully present and taking lead from our partners, which for Americans can be extremely, well, uncomfortable. How will we know our visit was productive? If we don’t complete a task, how will we gain that feeling of accomplishment, of a job well done?
I’m privileged to have lived and worked internationally before, and so I thought that finding my way back into that mode of being would be quick, if not easy. I’m someone who finds a lot of meaning in doing a “good job” in whatever task is set before me, so to not be asked to do work (especially when there is work to be done) is particularly hard for me. I knew that I was going to have to shed some cultural baggage, and that it was probably going to stretch the limits of my emotional and social energy.
Although I expected to be uncomfortable, I didn’t foresee the ways in which that would manifest, the areas in which I’d be stretched. One of the ways I found myself very uncomfortable this time around was carrying on conversations with the adults in Saq Ja’. I have limited Spanish speaking abilities; I can reasonably follow a conversation between two fluent speakers and can get the gist of written Spanish, but verb conjugations fly out of my head when I try to speak it. I take pride in performing any sort of task well, so if I can’t speak correctly, I’d rather not speak at all. I didn’t have trouble speaking to the children — most of them aren’t especially fluent in Spanish (yet) as their native language is K’iche, and many are only just starting primary school. Plus, you don’t really need a lot of vocabulary with kids. My gestures and facial expressions worked just fine, and most of our time was spent playing and not talking.
The adults were a different matter. There were few who really pushed me to speak directly to them instead of through Sharon (our invaluable interpreter). They were patient but relentless in their desire to talk with me. At first, I was surprised by my anxiety and inner resistance. After all, I’ve lived and worked in India and Ethiopia, where English is not the native tongue, and I had gotten by all right. But I realized that, for the first time, I couldn’t fall back on English to communicate. In both India and Ethiopia, English is a priority second language. These are places that had at least a handful of fluent English speakers and in communities where everyone had some English understanding and shared a desire to speak my language better.
In Saq Ja’, no one really cared about speaking English – K’iche and Spanish were enough. I was the one who was going to have to permanently exist outside of my comfort zone, muddling through a language I hadn’t practiced speaking since high school, and make peace with the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to communicate perfectly. My brain had to dust off neurons that hadn’t fired since high school, searching for words and phrases to communicate the most basic ideas, with only a 50% chance of correct (or even passable) pronunciation. It was surprisingly tiring work.
The conversations we had were simple, but extremely fulfilling. I talked with Lorenzo about weaving, with Eusébio about the weather in Chicago, with Julia about one of the dogs running around, and with Germán about musical instruments. The content of our chats may not have been particularly intellectual in nature, but they were intimate conversations that build and strengthen relationship – and that’s really what matters. And while communication was never easy, over the four and a half days in Saq Ja’ I began to get comfortable being uncomfortable and got more energy from the conversations than I lost. The experience also gave me the kick I [desperately] needed to actually start practicing my Spanish again, so that next time I’ll be able to have deeper conversations with everyone. That practice now has the dimension of a spiritual discipline, a way to practice solidarity and accompaniment with our partners from afar.
With Pentecost approaching in less than a month, it’s been a good time to reflect on how we communicate, whose languages we privilege, and how we can engage in conversations that transcend cultural boundaries. These conversations can be, will be, must be, uncomfortable. But, like my running instructor taught me, that’s the only way to grow.
