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Call > A Missionary Experience in Canada
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Missionary Experience in Canada |
James Owolagba "You do not know Canada until you have spent a winter there". This was what one author said about this most beloved and peaceful country. This saying is more true if you lived in Saskatchewan, which is my province. All my life I have never watched my dog run away from home for two days and still be in sight. This is the most notable prairie experience and not even in the wide Sahara desert of Africa is this awesome experience conceivable.
It is the reality of experiences such as these that make life as an immigrant interesting and shocking, depending upon what angle one's periscope views. Every immigrant, especially those from the tropical countries, struggle with cultural adaptations. For some, it was a short transition and for the majority of others, it was and remains a daily struggle. To live happily and successfully in this country, every immigrant must make cultural adjustments.
There is no way to explain what it is like at -40 C to a Nigerian who experiences an average daily temperature of +28 C all year round. Neither would such an African understand shoveling snow or plugging-in cars or windy and blizzarding conditions. These were some of the realities I had to get used to when I first arrived Canada.
The Church experience is also different. Here, Mass times and homilies are short, sometimes homilies last just five minutes. The African Church liturgies are usually long and there is much drumming and dancing especially during the offertory processions. Sundays are still traditionally 'the Lord's day'- Malls remain closed and the whole day is dedicated to church matters such as meetings and celebrations. One would need some form of dispensation to go to work on Sunday.
Some weeks ago I visited a priest friend of mine and we joked about asking the church
hierarchy to create the ministries of Porter and Janitor for seminarians in training. The churches I knew in Africa were never under lock and key. There are usually some activities going on round the clock. Individuals came in to pray and some pious groups hold vigil services lasting all night. Here, I have my set of church keys and I religiously observe my routine of opening and locking our two churches.
In my early days in Canada, the youth of my Parish had invited me to a marshmallow roast. My parish priest had a hard time explaining what marsh mellows were. He gave up when I couldn't figure it out. Needless to say that my experience at that evening's campfire party was even more confounding. I watched with amazement as these youths happily ate the roasted white stuff. I joined in the fun in no time and today, I am usually the first to point out that there are marsh mellows in a cake if it tasted so.
I also remember an encounter with grade six students. One of the kids had mentioned how she hated the vegetable, broccoli. I thought the name sounded like a beautiful person's name and I said, "God wants us to love everyone and to see the other as our brother or sister, so try love Broccoli. They laughed and still today, they jokingly call me "Fr. Broccoli.
Cultural relativism makes culture comparison useless. I wholly subscribe to the truth that no culture is better than the other. Like Schefflen and Schefflen rightly pointed out in their book, Eternity of Gestures, "when two people meet, they adjust their hand shakes according to their cultures". We all must make cultural adjustments. Most Canadians tell me I speak English with an accent but they forget that I also have to listen doubly hard to understand when they speak English. They also speak with an accent!
The communitarian life style of Africans poses the greatest challenge for us in understanding the ways of the North Americans. An African child was raised not only by his parents but also by the whole community. The child has a right to enjoy savoring the wisdom and guidance of the elders in the community and the elders in turn have an obligation and duty to see to the child's integral growth and development. I need not phone ahead to set up an appointment to visit your house. It is an honour to me if you visited my house, even when not invited.
Canada is a very advanced country and the society is very highly organized but it is complex! One can not but cherish the ingenuity of all the people working to make its increasing complexity into increasing consciousness of a very just and democratic society. Perhaps this is what most other countries lack especially when one sees the effects of the upheavals in which they languish.
As an immigrant, there are three questions people ask me the most, "Where are you from?" "Do you like it here?" "When are you going back?" Often my connection with people depends on how well they thought I answered these tough questions.
I can only plead for patience and understanding with an immigrant who is making a conscious effort at acclimatizing. I speak from experience here. As an immigrant from a hitherto British colony, I was used to prizing high, my Queen's English and polished English vocabulary until I was corrected by a well wisher, that, "in North America, "Madam" was not a polite and respectable way of addressing a woman"! Do you see what I mean? The immigrant must be allowed the time and opportunity to learn and unlearn, to get inculturated and enculturated and also to grow in the new culture that he/she strives to embrace. It calls for a dual reciprocity and this can only be achieved by a disposition of fraternal charity- the newcomer and the host.
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