Cinco de Mayo

The fifth of May was our last day at the refugee camp, and it was a celebration. Every day was different and unique, each with its own challenges, surprises, and unexpected blessings. Jay and I led the "advanced" English sessions and today's lesson was primarily focused on idioms. We dove right in, cut loose, helped everyone get their heads around the ideas, stepped up our game, and went the extra mile to be sure no one bit off more than they could chew.

Throughout the week many of our assumptions heading into the trip were quickly proven wrong. Most of the refugees are not from Syria. Young women teaching men is not some huge taboo. The men were more excited to draw and color than the children and their mothers. Travel-weary, war-hardened, middle-eastern men will cry when you leave. But one assumption held true all the way up until the final day -- women don't participate in education. Days 1 through 3 featured a steady stream of motivated, hopeful, engaged learners -- all male. Women only came to check on children, never once approaching the table to learn. However, today a lone Pakistani young lady stepped forward to bravely and openly participate in our class. 

One of the most diligent students all week, this courageous woman made my own anxiety and fear of offending or upsetting those we came to serve seem petty and silly. She didn't care if she upset the Afghani, Pakistani, Syrian nor Somalian men at our table. She wanted to "make good use of her time here".  She was "tired of wasting her time doing nothing." At the end of the day she was more upset than anyone else that our classes were not continuing.

The last hour of our time together was spent singing, dancing (or, I should say,  watching the Pakistanis dance) and sharing joy together. After a week of pouring his heart into lessons and relationships, Blake had built genuine trust and admiration among his students. To the point where when he prayed for them (after boldly sharing how our faith and love of Jesus is why we came) they proceeded to mimic his hands throughout the prayer. Surprisingly, Blake's eyes started watering a bit, and as he ended he wiped his face. A handful of the men copied their "teacher's" movements as closely as they could, including wiping their faces as well. It was a precious example of how intently and carefully we, too, were being studied.

Many of the students have never interacted with an American before. Many have only experienced American military. The prejudices and assumptions are deep and strong. But Hope overcame.

We weren't perfect. I'm sure we offended and annoyed and upset many. I'm sure there were times we came across as ignorant and over-privledged. I'm sure some didn't particularly appreciate that we were there. But I'm certain He shined through. Multiple times, from a number of different students, I was specifically told how much they appreciated the opportunity to learn and the hope our simple English classes provided. As much as I'd like to say it was our incredible teaching skills, I'm also certain none of us will be changing careers any time soon. 

More than anything else, we just showed up. We tried our best, we were genuine, we smiled, we cared — and Hope took over.

- Ken "INTJ" Ramirez