I hope this helps you seen "foreign" in a different light; as something that can be celebrated instead of despised; as something beautiful and extraordinary, instead of fearful and wretched; as an opportunity to learn, instead of mocking.
No Longer Foreign
I remember the first
time I saw a globe as child. I spun it around and ran my fingers along the
surface to feel the small bumps and ridges that made up the mountains, valleys
and other details in the different continents. I would play a game with myself,
closing my eyes and seeing where I would land, trying to imagine myself
travelling and visiting all of these places. Most times, I would land in water.
The Pacific Ocean became the most traveled location for my explorative index
finger, and I would spin again until it landed on those ridges and bumps that
were a clue that I had found some exotic place to explore. It was during my
colorful, young excursions that I heard that curious word spoken for the first
time; foreign. All of those impossible places finally had a name, and it filled
me with wonder! I wanted to get out and see it all, experience everything! In
my young mind I could visit Egypt, the Island of Matthew, and Antarctica all in
a day, and then come back home and sleep in my bed. If my finger could do it,
then so could I!
My
father worked in the military, so as I pointed to a place he would tell me
about it. He traveled to these foreign countries, bringing me back trinkets
and coins, little windows into these magically foreign worlds. I saw pictures
of diverse people and places that helped make these countries real. Running my
finger over the globe, I could start to understand what these names meant.
Curacao was where I got that wooden Gecko. That bill of money came from
Thailand.
Growing
up, my understanding of foreign grew up with me. I heard adults speaking openly
-my father especially- about foreign policy. Israel, Kuwait and Mexico; the
names that I had run my fingers across as a child became complex ideas that
confused me. Why were we worried about people crossing the border? Why couldn't
those people share the land instead of fighting over it?
The
foreign countries that I loved started to change. “Made in China,” became
threatening to the economy. That great continent of Africa became frightening
with disease like malaria. There was SARS, the Bird Flu, war over oil and
religion. I started to question my own hopes and dreams. Is it safe to travel
to all of these places? Is it really worth the risk?
Then,
everything changed in an instant.
I
was in the fourth grade. Our teacher was a little late getting to class, so we
started to get a little anxious. Finally, she rushed in and turned on the
television. We had never watched television in our class for anything, so we
got excited. But, that excitement was quickly replaced with confusion and fear.
The images on the television were not the funny cartoons we were all used to,
what she was showing us where the those twin towers of the World Trade Center,
and they were burning.
Over
the next few years, foreign became a dark word as our country tightened its
borders and restricted access. Patriotism was as high as it could go, and
anything that went against it was an enemy. Confused and afraid, I began to
fear the word that had once been my childhood friend.
Even
my little hometown in Illinois was affected. Soon, soldiers were being sent off
to fight a formless enemy. Terror wasn't quite synonymous, but it began to come
closer to describing the fear of foreign lands. Later my father too would be sent
off to fight. Foreign became tangible to me that day, more than it had ever
been through a wooden gecko.
But
high school would help me grasp the concept a little better. In my freshman
year, I got the opportunity to visit Europe with the People to People: Student Ambassador program. We visited six
countries over the course of twenty days, meeting people and seeing things that
were far beyond our young imagination.
Finally, I was
getting the chance to see the places that I had imagined visiting as a child. I
visited the tops of mountains in the Alps, the historic city of Zurich, the Black
Forest of Germany, Paris, Stonehenge, etc. It was a childhood-dream come true! But,
one event would really change the way I looked at the foreign people and
cultures.
We had been pulling
weeds along the river for a couple of hours with the German high school
students, each of us sticking to our friends and language groups. We talked
among ourselves about them and their school, nothing bad, but it made us think
that they too were talking about us. What were they saying? What were they
thinking?
As we wrapped up the
service project, I sat on the edge of a truck to take off the thick rubber
boots and heavy leather overalls that protected my clothing from the mud and
debris. Still nothing, no interaction. I slowly realized that we were the
strange foreigners here, and started to think that this exercise in cross
cultural mingling would be a failure.
Then, someone pulled
out a football (soccer ball in American) and started juggling it with their
feet. I can't remember from which side the ball came, or who started kicking
it. But soon, a small group was circling around to join in. I looked up from
where I was sitting to watch as a few kids from our group started to juggle
with them. Within minutes, everyone from the two groups was crowded around
these five or six boys. The languages and cultures ceased to exist, as we all
laughed and cheered them on and, for a moment, we were all just people. Not a
foreigner among us.
Growing up, I learned
a war story that reminded me of my own cultural experience. It was in the
dirty, dangerous and miserable trench warfare of WWI. The allied forces were
fighting the Germans deep into the cold of December 1914; neither side
advancing across the muddy wasteland.
The Pope, pleading
for peace, urged the warring forces to institute a ceasefire as Christmas
neared, but neither of them were willing to make an official armistice. So, the
troops kept fighting.
Then, on Christmas
Eve, the British forces of Ypres heard singing from the German camp across the
field; Christmas Carols. Touched, they waited until they finished, and sang one
of their own carols back across to them. This continued late into the night
(Harris).
The next morning,
Christmas morning, the British scouts alerted their troops that the Germans
were advancing. They all snapped to attention, readying themselves for
anything.
When they were close
enough to see, the Brits noticed that the Germans appeared unarmed. So, they
sent a group forward to meet them. The Germans greeted them with a hearty
"Merry Christmas," perhaps a few of the only words they could speak
in their broken English. Instead of fighting with guns and grenades, they
exchanged cigars and plum puddings.
This same scene
played out across the continent, some sang carols, and others (much like my
group) played a match of soccer. Everywhere, Christmas won out over war.
"The so-called
Christmas Truce of 1914 came only five months after the outbreak of war in
Europe and was one of the last examples of the outdated notion of chivalry
between enemies in warfare. It was never repeated—future attempts at holiday
ceasefires were quashed by officers’ threats of disciplinary action—but it
served as heartening proof, however brief, that beneath the brutal clash of
weapons, the soldiers’ essential humanity endured" (Christmas)
After High School I
lived in France for a couple of years on a mission trip. "In the
trenches" as one may say, I met with all sorts of people from many
different cultures and backgrounds. I sat and learned from them what they love
and what they worry about. I got to know their families and became their friend.
And I learned something interesting about life. Beneath all of the differences
of culture, language, and government I saw that that the people that I spoke
with were just like me. I realized that they were just as human as me, and that
the concept of foreign was just a silly title that man made up to describe “not
like me.”
In France, the word
for “Foreign” is “Etrange,” which is the same word for strange or weird. In
English, foreign is often taken in this negative connotation as well; foreign
goods, foreign tourists, foreigners.
Even I've been taken
by this subtle falsehood. We're taught by our parents to beware of strangers.
And, while it's true that we all need a certain level of caution, we cannot simply
make generalizations about a people or person due to the common stereotype or
what is depicted in the news.
In France I met a
number of people that wanted to come and visit America. More than a few times I
heard a plan that included renting a car and traveling to every state in a
month. They had a hard time grasping the immense size of the country because
they had never come to visit. Sometimes our ideas on foreign countries and people
are something like this; we can't possibly understand something without firsthand
experience. France was just "foreign" until I lived there and got a
feel for the culture. Now that I've been there, I can't call it foreign
anymore. I've been a part of it, and it a part of me.
Foreign is more than
just alien or different; it means potential; it means a celebration of what
makes each and every one of us unique. This world is full of amazing cultures,
exotic foods, beautiful sites, and fantastic people of every background. To let
yourself be blind to all of this wonderful diversity is to deny yourself the
pure joy of human life.
I like to think that
"Humanity" offers a direct antonym to "Foreign." Humanity
like sharing a moment with a soccer ball when it’s the only form of
communication you have; humanity like the charity of serving others worse off
than you, no matter their background; humanity like that of soldiers that put
aside their differences to celebrate their similarities.
I still love looking at the globe and
imagining visiting those impossible to pronounce foreign countries that
surround it! Today, I do it mostly on Google Maps. I can trace my steps across
it, see the places I've been and the places I that I hope to visit in the
future. Though I'm no longer the naive child with no concept of the world, I've
still made it full circle back to where I started. I still want to visit all of
these foreign lands, but now I want to visit them so that they will no longer
be foreign to me.
Work Cited:
Harris, Bridget “The Chirstmas Truce
of 1914.” www.theepochtimes.com. 25 Dec. 2009.
Web. 22
Jan. 2015.
“Christmas Truce of 1914.”
History.com. A+E Networks. 2009. Web. 16 Jan 2015.
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