It is an unnerving experience to arrive by train in a new city in India. Coolies hustle and bustle to and fro with cases, boxes and bags on their heads. Sellers of tea, fruit and sweets shout their wares as travellers pass. A teeming mass of people ebbs and flows all around.
The ever alert taxi drivers zoom in. You are bombarded with questions and offers, “Where do you want to go?” “My taxi is just here,” “Let me take your bag.” I developed a system during my study year in India of patiently but firmly demanding my own space from them.
I would then approach two or three drivers separately and ask their fare to my destination. When I found a couple agreeing on a price I would select one and jump in. Once established in the city I avoided hassle over fares by travelling by bus.
The Lesson
One evening, while in Bangalore, I needed to get quickly to a meeting across the city. I had no idea what bus to take. Just then I spotted an auto rickshaw approaching and, knowing that they had meters, I hailed it. An auto rickshaw has a sheet-metal body resting on three wheels, a canvas roof with drop-down sides, a small cabin in the front of the vehicle for the driver and seating space for up to three passengers in the back. I got in behind the driver and announced my destination.
I noticed that he hadn’t turned on the meter so I politely requested him to do so. He waved his hand as if this was of no concern. I again asked him more insistently to switch on the meter. He half turned and with another wave of his hand said, “It’s O.K. Don’t worry about the meter!”
I was really annoyed now that he refused twice to switch on the rickshaw meter. I figured that he was trying to make a killing. “Well, he will have one angry Irishman to deal with,” I thought. “I’ll give him half of what he asks for.” When we arrived at my destination I got off and strode forward to face him.
“Well!” I said, aggression written all over my face and posture, “How much?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied smiling, “I was coming this way anyway.”
I couldn’t believe it! I was seriously deflated. Having worked myself up for a big fight because of my suspicions that he would try to cheat me I now felt deeply ashamed of myself. It was as though an area of darkness within was suddenly revealed.
I didn’t like what I saw. I had thought that I was open to people of other cultures and that I was a fair person. Now, I saw that I had seriously misjudged a person’s motives simply because he did not do what I expected. I felt depressed.
I prayed about the experience. It slowly dawned on me that this revelation was a grace for me and allowed me to admit to a previously unconscious attitude. God was calling me to repentance.
The Learning
About a year later, now back in Fiji, I spent Christmas in a Fijian village. A house was provided for visiting priests and an outside shower surrounded by a concrete wall. I enjoyed having my shower before breakfast every morning.
One morning, when I was running late and heading for the shower, I heard splashing coming from inside. “That is surely some woman washing clothes,” I thought, “and she hasn’t even bothered to ask my permission!” But then the memory of the rickshaw incident in Bangalore came to my mind. So I said to myself, “Take it easy. Have patience. Let’s see what is happening.”
A few minutes later a man emerged from the shower holding up a scrubbing brush in his hand. “Father, I’ve just cleaned your shower for you,” he announced, with a smile.
Was I ever thankful that I had held my peace!
Crossing over to another culture leaves us vulnerable. New situations have to be negotiated. Our own routine patterns are disturbed. Expectations go awry. Implicit meanings and understandings are no longer shared. Efforts at communication fail. And so, deeply hidden fears and reactions emerge which don’t sit easily with our self-image. We come face to face with our shadow side.
But the good news is that we can sometimes learn from these difficult experiences.
Columban Fr Francis Hoare first went to Fiji in 1973.
Read more from The Far East, June 2014