Learning to appreciate religion

My Mom use to take my sister and I to church every Sunday when we were small. All I remember from those days was the boring music, the hard seats, and the delicious lunches at Pizza Delight afterward. Needless to say, as I became older and gained the responsibility of making my own decisons, practicing Christianity was not a priority. I came to feel as though religion actually caused more problems than it solved, and felt that those who claimed to be religious held a completely different view of the world than I did. Then I went to Zambia. Many Zambians refer to their country as a Christian state. Often times, the 3 questions that you're asked when you meet someone new are: "What's your name? Where are you from? What church do you go to?" I had never before been so blatantly confronted with this pressure to understand and articulate what I believed. Even though I don't follow any organized religion, I had to be cautious with whom I disclosed this information, lest it should result in negative assumptions. I could usually tell within a few minutes of discussion if I could openly talk about my position. Many people would listen intently, but would often look at me as though I were a lost soul. Most were completely good natured, and accepted me for who I was, even if our views differed. Zambia taught me how to appreciate religion and faith. I saw the benefits of organized religion -the support network it created, the unwavering faith that people depended upon to help them through difficult times, this belief that there was something bigger which would never let them fall too far. I used to attend the Brethern in Christ church on Sundays. I found the singing, the drums, the dancing, and the socialzing good for my soul. There's a feeling of belonging that can make you stronger. I saw people living as Christians, not only on Sunday, but every day of the week. I saw this embodiment of the teachings of the faith in both adults and children. I learned about forgiveness and sharing from people who believed in treating others as you want to be treated. It was a beautiful expericence which has pushed me to understand how to incorporate the teachings of different religions into my daily life.

Everyone has a story

How often have you learned where someone works, where they grew up, the type of car they drive, their religious or political views, and decided that they have nothing in common with you, that there's nothing about them that interests you? But how about those times when you did learn something extra about someone, something that completely surprised you and immediately created a bond between you, a common understanding? I truly believe that everyone has a story. People are a mosiac of their experiences.When you fail to take the time to dig a bit deeper, you may miss an opportunity to learn a different perspective, to learn about unimaginable strength or resilience, to learn that intelligence isn't always about the degrees one holds. In Zambia, I was often surprised by people. I learned quickly that making assumptions based on superficial qualities would be to my disadvantage and after some time, I developed this insatiable appetite to hear people's stories. In Zambia, where opportunity is limited, you cannot pass judgement on a person's intellect, ambition, or ingenuity based on their level of education or means of supporting themselves. I met people who were self-taught electricians, community developers, nurses, teachers, counsellors. I met people who had never used a computer or heard of the United Nations, but who were still able to teach me how to live as a better human being. The young man who is more of an engineer that I could ever hope to be, but wasn't able to finish his Grade 12 because his family couldn't afford school fees. The woman who aspires to be a nurse but must sell samosas every day in town because she has to raise money for tuition and to feed her family. Beautiful, inspirational, heartbreaking stories that I never would have discovered if I hadn't taken the time, made the effort, or had the will to learn their story. I'd love to hear from anyone who has a story about someone they met that surprised them. Maybe we could start a book....

Where's the handshake?

One of the most obvious contrasts I experienced upon my return to NB in June was the lack of physical interaction we have with eachother. In Monze, my little town in Zambia, I would walk to work each morning, meeting dozens of people on my way. Most people either walked or biked to and from town, and this environment provided a great opportunity to become familiar with people and interact with them on a daily basis. Handshaking (a lost artform), and friendly greetings would start my day. I felt like I lived in a community. In Sussex, though, I will hop in the car, drive to town, park a few meters away from my destination, become self-absorbed in the store, and leave - potentially only talking to the cashier (and not even that if one chooses to use the automated check-out lines in the grocery stores!!). Driving is such an exclusive activity. Walking on a street, passing people, making eye contact, smiling, creates a sense of energy in a town, as though it's alive. Something I've also noticed upon my return is that when I offer my hand to shake on a first encounter, some people in Sussex are almost caught offguard by this act. Does this happen in other places? Do you shake hands with people? Do you still walk down the street, offer greetings to strangers? Do you feel like you live in a community or a town? Look forward to your comments

New Brunswick and Zambia - not so different after all

After having been home for almost 1 month now, I've had the chance to talk with a lot of people about their perceptions of New Brunswick, where we are, what we need to become self-sufficient, and the challenges our province faces. It appears at first glance that NB is similar to Zambia in a few ways. First, we are both fairly dependent on raw products as a source of provincial income. This means that we don't add a lot of value to our resources. We sell them at a lower cost to others who make more profit by turning them into something more valuable. Secondly, there is a great reliance on an outside source to sustain our economy. In NB's case, it's Ottawa. In Zambia, it's donors like the World Bank, USAID, EU who contribute money toward the country's development. If Ottawa and the international donors pulled their funding from NB and Zambia, respectively, their economies would go into shock. How do economies dependent on raw materials and outside funding sources ever achieve self-sufficiency? How do they maneouver themselves so that they have a voice that is listened to?