Be the Helper

What if you woke up one morning, illiterate? What would the ramifications of that be?

I forgot to say, you’re living in a completely new community.

And one more thing. You’re mute.

So you wake up. You’re hungry and want to eat breakfast. But you have virtually no food in your house. You just moved here, remember?  So maybe you should go to the grocery store and pick something up.

Where is the grocery store?

You’d like to ask someone, but you don’t know who to ask. Plus, you’re unable to speak. You could probably motion with your hands, if you found someone who would have the patience to stand there and try to interpret your gestures.  Maybe you could look it up on the internet. You don’t have the aid of a smartphone, because you need some sort of proof of residence to get a service plan, which you don’t have. You’re not even sure what your address is. Even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to write it, since you’re illiterate. Nor would you be able to tell anyone.  Maybe you could find free wifi somewhere. That is, if you have a wireless device.

Oh wait, how would you look it up, if you don’t know how to write what you’re trying to search?

So you find a friendly looking young mom walking with her kids down the sidewalk. You try to motion with your hands to indicate that you want to find a grocery store. While the kids stare at you, she furrows her brow trying to decipher your sign language. Her toddler starts to fuss, and even a nice lady like her is getting frustrated. She indicates with her own body language that there is a grocery about 10 km away from here, before forcing a smile and moving on.

Now you have a vague idea of where the store is. How will you get there?

If you have a car, you don’t know how to drive it. The rules here are different, perhaps even the cars are different. If you live in a city, maybe you could take a bus. Well, if you could read the bus schedule, or where the bus is going. Which you can’t. And you’re not able to inquire verbally either. Maybe you could walk. But 10 km is a long way, and you’re very hungry. Let’s say you have a car and a driver’s license, so you attempt driving.

After being honked at and nearly hit multiple times as you try and navigate unfamiliar roads, signs that mean nothing to you, and a car that is oriented completely different than what you’re used to, you finally arrive at a grocery store, flustered and scared.

Your experience in the grocery store is not much different. You don’t recognize most of the foods there, and you can’t read the labels to discover what they are, let alone the ingredients. Finally, you settle on some fruit, and go to check out. You’re not sure what the cashier is saying to you. She asks you a question, and so you nod your head. She waits. That must have been the wrong answer.  You shake your head, no. She not-so-discretely rolls her eyes and starts ringing through your order. She points to a total on the screen. You search through your wallet, trying to match the numbers on the foreign looking money to what the number on the screen is displaying. While you try and figure this out, the cashier starts shifting her weight and puts one hand on her hip. She’s not saying anything rude to you, but she doesn’t have to. The line is starting to grow behind you. Finally you just grab a bill you are sure will more than cover it, and hand it to the lady and wait for your change. You take your fruit, head back to your car, and brace yourself for the terrifying ride ahead of you.

While this is a hypothetical situation, it is a reflection of what I have learned recently is a reality for many people. 

I spent about an hour the other day trying to figure out what the buttons on our washing machine meant. With the help of my husband who can speak and even read a bit of Japanese, we were able to Google most of it, and I was successfully able to do a load of laundry.

Justin woke up with a bad cold the other day, and I couldn’t do anything for him. We have no vitamin C tablets, no echinacea tea, no honey, no lemon… I couldn’t even offer him a glass of orange juice. I thought maybe I could run to the store and get something, but the nearest convenience store is a 10 minute drive through mountains roads, and I didn’t know how to drive here. Not to mention, I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for that kind of stuff in a Japanese store, how to read the label, or how to ask for it.

I desperately wanted to find out why there were fireworks randomly going off the other night, but I didn’t know who I could ask, or how I could ask them.

I tried to check out at a store the other day while my husband ran to the car (which he primarily drives until I can get used to the whole other-side-of-the-road thing), and I felt like a 4 year old in a pre-cal class as the lady spoke to me with a plastered-on smile, trying to get me to put my items in the right place and move out of the way for the next customer.

I feel like people are thinking, why doesn’t she just learn Japanese? Or, why does she let her husband do everything for her? Or, doesn’t she care?

It’s going from being an articulate, capable and independent young woman, to a child who needs her hand held everywhere she goes and someone to speak for her.

It’s frustrating, isolating, and humiliating.

And it’s been a blessing.

In a rather down moment, I was expressing my frustration to my husband. I thank God for him, because while he sympathized with me and was very understanding, he didn’t let me stay sitting in my mud puddle of gloom. Instead he wondered:

Imagine how immigrants and refugees who come to Canada feel with no one waiting for them.

I have many people here who have, or have expressed a willingness, to help us. We have been helped with legal paper work, registering our car, getting internet in our house, even with food. Justin himself also helps me on a daily basis; teaching me cultural norms, how to cook new foods, translating and navigating for me. I really have so much to be grateful for. When I thought about the possibility of having no one to help me, it seemed ridiculous to be complaining that I needed the people that do help me.

Some of you have been there. You know what it’s like to immigrate or experience a long-term visit in a country in which you struggle with understanding or independence. Some of you may have had help, and some of you (and I take my hat off to you) may have pushed through on your own, making a new life for yourself.

But here is my challenge to my friends and family out there:

Be the helper.

Find someone in your community, your school, your workplace, even your own family, who is new. Who feels lonely. Who doesn’t know where to take their kid to the dentist. Who would just like someone to invite them over for dinner. Who wants to go to the beach, but doesn’t have a car. Who wants someone to explain to them why the fireworks are going off.

Find that person.

Because I can guarantee you they are there. It’s your job to find them, and be Jesus to them.

They’ll appreciate it more than you can know.

Trust me. 

The best of several poor attempts at a selfie. We need a selfie stick.