Of all things to break on this trip, I discovered before I even left the US that my watchband was broken. I knew I was headed to a place where I wouldn't really need to know what time it was every second of the day, but that watch is somewhat of a comfort-object, that common "I feel naked without it" thing.
With my limited ingenuity I held it together with a safety pin until Sunday, when the pin bent to the point of no longer being able to stay clasped. I was visiting with my Ghanian host (Fannie) and the pastor of her church when they noticed me not-so-subtly trying to jerry-rig that watch back together. Without losing track of our conversation, the pastor said, "Fannie will get that fixed for you." I was somewhat dumbfounded at (1) his boldness in volunteering someone else to do something, and (2) adding one more small thing to the list of my diva-esque demands (such as gigantic bottles of water given on a regular basis and precious air conditioning).
The next day when I gave Fannie my broken watch, my North American host saw my facial expression and said, "you're feeling guilty, aren't you?" Yep. I bought that watch at a local big-box store, and it would cost more to fix it than to buy another one. My plan was to limp along with that safety pin then invest another $12 in a cheapo watch that would probably turn my wrist green in a matter of months.
As Fannie looked at the watch, she motioned for another staff member of my host organization to take the watch. He passed it off to someone else. This was at lunchtime -- around 1:30 p.m. I had my watch back, good as new, in less than 3 hours for about 75 cents (which of course they wouldn't let me pay for). Small price to pay for such a big inconvenience, to have 4 people chasing all over town to fix that stupid thing.
As I processed my guilt over being treated like royalty (not just for this, but everything -- I discovered later that the staff had been up since 5:30 in the morning to get the air conditioning fixed in the building where I'd be teaching. They wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been there), I realized how difficult it is for many of us who value our independence and maybe secretly pride ourselves on our self-sufficiency to receive a gift and to welcome hospitality.
There may be no more hospitable culture than the one where I am now. Can't get in the car without someone opening the door for me, can't get out without someone running up to carry my bag for me. But as I think "I can do this, really. I can carry my own bag, get my own water, deal with my own heat exhaustion, make my own copies, etc." I also know that hospitality is SO ingrained in my hosts that my being a burden or inconvenience never crosses their radar screen. Generosity and service are so natural -- not a trace of resentment in them. And they are so reliant on each other that they knew exactly where to take my $12 watch. It was as close to "no trouble" as you can get.
Similarly, when our car broke down on a major motorway Thursday, two phone calls and 30 minutes later we had 8 people on the case to fix the car and bring us safely back to town. After the reflex thought of "I wonder what we interrupted them from", I realized that if this had happened in the US I would call Triple-A. I pay for a service I may not even need because I want to maintain a facade of independence and not inconvenience anyone.
How much money would we save and how much deeper would our relationships be if we relied more on each other in times of trouble? How much more would the spirit of Jesus be in us if we allowed ourselves to be interrupted from our own agenda by those we love?
It is a rare gift to be able to receive. I'm working on that.
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