Foreigner in a foreign land

Consider the reality of being the only American in any number of situations for weeks on end. I can tell you it is sure interesting – I sit on a jeepney, in church, I go shopping at the local market – everywhere I am the one foreigner. Mostly I don’t think a lot about it –but on occasion I have the startling wake up call and I am reminded. One of the most interesting ways I am reminded of my minority status is when I am around children. When I leave the center and walk the ½ mile or so to the road I am often followed by young giggling children. They huddle together staring at me and most often ask what is your name? Or I walk past a group of children and they stop what they are doing and stare at me – I mean real hearty stares – but that is usually followed by me smiling and saying good morning or hello or something – and then they huddle together and giggle more and say hello back in this sing song kind of way. It is actually a lovely little exchange and I find it fun to smile at them and say hello – even knowing the reaction. Perhaps they don’t see many Americans – or foreigners – and I imagine I could find it unsettling or annoying – but mostly these interactions make me smile and feel joyous. I love to take the moment and say hello back and laugh with them – or say my name is Janett – as they huddle and giggle following me down the street.

I am in a small town and there are very few Americans here – maybe a hand full at any given time and most often I can spend a day in town and never see another – so I am quite aware of how much I stick out. I went to a mass today and was aware of the reality that of the hundreds of folks in the church I was the one –foreigner. Of course this ‘otherness’ has meant lots of adjusting to differences for me – and daily reminders of how privileged I am as an American but mostly I feel grateful to be able to witness the lives of these lovely people and to be allowed to be a part of their daily lives.

The other way this plays out is actually also kind of pleasant. I obviously am different – I don’t at all look Filipino – so it’s not like I can hide my American-ness. But total strangers will come up to me and say hello and ask me personal questions. I go to the bakery to get bread and the sweet young woman smiling asks me what I am doing here? Where am I from? – and seems to find great pleasure in the simple story that I am volunteering here for 6 months. This kind of think happens all the time. Like today on the jeepney home a nice older women came across the seat to greet me – she introduced herself and asked me where I was from and then proceeded to share with me her joy at just having been to the wedding yesterday of her oldest son. She held my hand and looked happily into my face and said how nice it was to meet me. And last night on the way home in another jeepney a man asked me where I am from and again I told him as most of the jeepney full of people listened on that I was a Peace Corps volunteer staying at the Drug Rehab program for 6 months. The great part of this and what seems so typical of Filipinos in the pouring rain I couldn’t see out the plastic windows very well – they pull down the sides in the rain- but he made sure the driver knew to stop at my road –and then announced “this is your stop.” He was taking care of me to make sure I got off at the right place. Pretty cool huh?

So being a foreigner in a foreign land is an infinitely humbling experience and in the Philippines it is an especially joy filled one.