Occasional Musings

A hearty thanks to our son, Nathan Gehman, for helping me to become a blogger with my own blogspot, something I never contemplated before. We are currently on a month’s safari to see family. When we return home the end of June I hope to post another article or two.

Until then here are a few more reflections. Yesterday I posted an article on culture shock which we received on returning to the USA. As any bi-cultural person can tell you, when living overseas and immersed in another culture for several decades your worldview changes. Someone has said that a bicultural person is happiest when he is in an airplane traveling from one home to another.

The article on culture shock stressed how Africa had changed me. My values and outlook are no longer purely American but are a combination of American and African. To suggest that I have been transformed into an African in my thinking would be grossly in error. No African could be persuaded of that. The article posted should not mislead anyone to thinking that I am not deeply rooted in American outlook and values. After all, the first thirty years of my life were spent in America and it is impossible, maybe even undesirable, to jettison the many values I imbibed during that time.

For any cross-cultural missionary this is a constant struggle to live in two worlds. One of the most embarrassing experiences of cross-cultural misunderstanding occurred just months before our retirement. It pains me even today. Many of the teachers and students from Scott Theological College in Machakos, Kenya, had traveled some ninety minutes through the rural country side to celebrate with one of our colleagues in his wedding.

On the way back I was driving our car at a moderate speed on a dirt road and entering a market area with a gathering of people. A matatu (taxie) had stopped on the road to pick up passengers. I drove slowly past this van when, suddenly, a man riding his bicycle abruptly appeared before me, driving from the front of the van. I hit the bicycle gently and threw the man to the ground.

In my opinion it was not a serious accident and I was not in the wrong. The man got up and could walk. The bicycle was damaged only slightly. And the blame was clearly on this man who drove out right in front of me. A crowd gathered. Soon other Scott friends from the wedding appeared at the spot and saw my dilemma. They stopped to help me.

Here is where the cultural problem arose. In my thinking this was no big deal. Further, I did not want to bother others with my own problem. I felt I could handle this myself. I did not want to burden them with my dilemma. Here was my American self-reliance rearing its head. But these African friends wanted to help me. When I declined their offer I learned later that they were deeply hurt. As African friends they wanted to come to my aid and assist me in community fashion. As it turned out I could have used their help. But more importantly, I should have welcomed their love and concern and accepted their offers of help. Instead, I relied on myself to deal with the problem. It was African values versus American values.

It would appear that we are vessels in the process of being molded into what we should be. Not only is this true as Christians in our walk with the Lord; it is also true with our learning to relate to others in a cross cultural situation. We can never be too old to keep learning.