Email: Katherine Bryant

Friends,

Mavelikara, India. It is a far cry from the community “where everybody knows your name.” In fact, the cries I hear in these parts echo, “Madama, madama.” I am so often simply known as this: “white woman.” It is a relief when someone actually knows your name. Never before has my identity been so comprehensively defined by my country of origin and the color of my skin.

I hail from the diverse metropolis of Atlanta, Georgia, and have arrived in the small “town” of Kallumala where a foreigner is a rarity and thus an object of jaw-dropping, turn-around, double-take attention. (You can only imagine my stupefied expression when I am asked if “my village in America is similar to my new home here.”) Only a year ago I was walking the sidewalks of Presbyterian College, exchanging smiles, hellos and waves to, well, you know, everyone. Here, I am lucky if I get a honk or shout but often it is just a googly-eyed stare.

At times, I pose like a Disney World character with a stranger’s wife or children. (And God bless modern technology where one can “discreetly” catch a madama on film with a cell phone camera.) It is not an unlikely occurrence to have an auto rickshaw pass me with half a dozen children all squashed together on one seat waving and yelling in a stream of consciousness every English phrase that they have ever learned—phrases tucked away for this very occasion, when a madama would happen to pass by. Wait for it. Yes, and there is the middle-aged driver turning completely around to also wave frantically and yell his own greetings. After all, there is no concern in keeping even one eye on the road in this land where incessant horns and personal whims override traffic laws.

Being in a place where I so often feel like a stranger—or worse, a spectacle—makes it a challenge to feel part of the community. At the same time, it creates an even greater need to seek relationships with others. Simply because of my origins, I wonder if I would ever cease to be a spectacle even if I lived here the rest of my life? This could be an excuse for becoming more introverted and losing myself within my own little world. Instead, I think it is teaching me a lot about grace—the grace to be patient with others and even more, the grace that others offer in befriending me even as I am foreigner.

How many times do I make cultural faux pas, attract unnecessary attention, or simply make a fool of myself? Yet still, I have found people that will not leave my side and sincerely want to be my friend. It is a beautiful lesson on acceptance and love.

Looking at the life of Christ, I see that acceptance is not always part of the deal. As Christians, we will feel alienated from the culture or even community in which we reside simply because the truths in which we put our faith are counter-culture. During his time on earth, Jesus split his time either being mobbed by star-struck crowds, or being hated by the authorities. Perhaps one purpose of this year is to learn how to live in the world humbly and seek authentic relationships with others. Through these transformative lessons I hope to see how to better love and accept others (Romans 10:20): “I have been found by those who did not seek me; I have shown myself to those who did not ask for me.” As disciples of Christ, we have to be willing to seek out others and initiate relationships, and it is because of His love that these relations and our lives can be fruitful.

Katherine Bryant

I post more of my day-to-day reflections at www.birdsflight.blogspot.com