Appendectomy

This past Monday night I was scheduled to travel with the other YAVs in Lima to Huancayo, a town in Peru's Andean mountain region for a 5 day retreat. The plan was first for all of us to attend a small party Monday evening at the apartment of another PC(USA) mission co-worker who lives in our site coordinator Debbie's neighborhood. After the party, we would go straight to the bus station to get on an overnight bus to Huancayo. However, we learned Monday afternoon that we would actually be unable to make the trip to Huancayo due to workers protesting and blocking the one highway that runs between Lima and Huancayo.

Regardless, I still went to the party with the other YAVs and Debbie on Monday night. The entire evening, I had been having bad stomach pains. As I was waiting for a bus to take me back to my host family's house after the party, my stomach was hurting worse than it had been all night. Upon seeing how full the busses were and realizing that I would probably have to stand up in a crowded bus for the hour-plus long ride back home, I decided to instead see if I could spend the night in Debbie's apartment instead of going all the way back to Comas.

Debbie and her husband Harry, being wonderful people/an extraordinary YAV site coordinator couple, of course let me spend the night in the guest bedroom of their apartment. We all figured I either had a stomach virus or had eaten something undercooked. Before I went to bed, Debbie off-handedly asked me if I still had my appendix. I said yes, but that I doubted my appendix was causing the problem because the pain was in the center of my stomach and not on the right side, where the appendix is located.

However, when I woke up at 3am, the pain had definitely all moved to my lower right side. Concerned and unable to sleep, I used Debbie's internet to look up signs and symptoms of appendicitis on Web MD. I basically had all of them (chiefly, stomach pain that starts generally in the center abdominal region and then slowly becomes acute and concentrated in the lower right side), and the web site said that appendicitis, if not treated quickly, can cause the appendix to rupture, which is a medical emergency. So I knocked on Debbie and Harry's door at about 3:30am, asking them to take me to the hospital.

The Stella Maris clinic is one of the best hospitals in Lima, and is probably less than 1/2 mile from Debbie and Harry's apartment. After being given a physical examination, blood tests, x-rays and an ultrasound, they confirmed the appendicitis and the need to operate. The laparoscopic operation was performed by a surgeon who also performs organ transplants. The operation was over and I was awake and talking by mid-day Tuesday, and discharged from the hospital at about mid-day Thursday.

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Calling this year of service in Peru a year of "firsts" would be a gross understatement. I had never even had an IV in before this year. Aside from my wisdom teeth being removed, I had never had surgery and had never spent the night in the hospital. This probably explains why I was a lot calmer during the whole ordeal than a lot of people were. (Debbie kept giving me updates about how people here in Peru were reacting when she told them the news. I did get a chance to talk to my mom before the surgery - she seemed a whole lot more nervous than I was, but I had never had surgery in ANY country before, so I didn't know what to be scared of).

At this point, I simply have a lot to thank God for. I could have very easily been on a bus to Huancayo Monday night instead of safe and sound in Debbie and Harry's apartment. Or I could have been at home in Comas, where I would probably have been taken to a much different hospital. And if Debbie hadn't asked me about my appendix that night before I went to bed, I probably wouldn't have even considered appendicitis to be a possibility for the cause of my stomach pain.

I feel very lucky and blessed to have so many visitors in the hospital - the other YAVs, Debbie and Harry (who I'm still staying with for a couple days before I go back to my host family), my host family and a few people from both Santa Isabel and Km 13 churches. The time I've spent in the hospital really is like a perfect snapshot of my mission year as a YAV. Thanks to the wonderful people, family, community, fellow YAVs and churches here in Lima, I've "received" and "been served" so much more than I myself could ever possibly give" or "serve."

I can't sleep, so instead I'll write about distancing myself from postmodern "white" culture, and eventually upset some of my more liberal friends

I really love the website www.stuffwhitepeoplelike.com. I’m sure most of you have probably heard of it. If for some reason you haven’t, it’s a blog that satirizes and pokes fun of “postmodern,” “hipster,” “liberal elitist” culture from an insider perspective. Stuff white people like is so cool because it basically essentializes and stereotypes the type of (mainly) white people who tend to pride themselves on their uniqueness and inability to be stereotyped (like me and probably most people who read my blog). The list of “Stuff white people like” includes things like “non-profit organizations,” “apple products,” “[correcting other people’s] grammar,” “not owning a television,” “arts degrees,” “Honda Prius,” “yoga” and “having multi-lingual children.” Yep, it’s THAT type of white people. Among the commentary I’ve seen about the site is the observation that it could also be called “Cultural Profile of the Emerging Church.”

Though I first came across the site last year, during my final semester at Trinity and thought it was hilarious and extremely clever, I didn’t REALLY appreciate its brilliance until I left my college environment (where I was totally surrounded by other “white” people) and came to Peru, where I’m now a minority. While you could probably come up with dozens of “grand narratives” (one of the postmodern-est of postmodern terms) to describe what exactly “Stuff White People Like” boils down to, for me it can be summarized by "modestly" and covertly asserting an aura of superiority over other "white people" and other cultural perspectives by demonstrating how varied and unique your tastes are and by how understanding and inclusive you are towards worldviews that are different from your own.

The thing about the YAV program is that it scores HUGE points within the ranking system of self-worth in “white culture”. Think about it: due to our unique, progressive religious/spiritual perspectives, as YAVs we make the decision after graduating college to go to a foreign country where we live and work among “the poor” in a non-judgmental way, meanwhile rejecting the materialism and technological comforts of US culture. While out on our own, we're forced to learn a different language. We get to know people from different cultural perspectives and work to understand and eliminate structures that create economic and social injustice. How sexy is that?! Being a YAV gives me TONS of bragging points.

But like it or not, I’ve learned that (where I’m living and working at least) poverty and foreign cultures aren’t so easily romanticized. I’m not living in a mud hut. Most of my friends and acquaintances have plenty to eat. They don’t feel persecuted. They’re not victims of horrible human rights abuses. Although Peru’s two decade period of terrorism and war ended rather recently (within the past 10 years), and although violence broke out between police and indigenous people in one of Peru’s remote mountainous areas as recently as just last week, the people here in Lima don’t seem to have much more fear of war or terrorism than we do in the US. Some of the church members with whom I worship and even a couple of kids in the compassion program talk about the need to help the poor and hungry – in Africa! “NO!” I think to myself, “YOU’RE THE POOR PEOPLE! YOU’RE THE ONES THAT NEED HELP! THAT’S WHY I’M HERE!” I know I shouldn’t think that way, but I do.

But my cultural “letdown” goes deeper than that. If I were to bring home some of the “traditional” music that I hear here in Peru on a regular basis, it wouldn’t be “El Condor Pasa” or any Quechuan melodies featuring the charango and zampoña. Instead, it would be the urban sounds of reggaetón, cumbia and US pop, hip-hop and R&B songs. The birthday and Christmas gifts I’ve received this year have almost all been clothing items that are “typical” of the culture in which I live and work. No, they’re not the brightly colored sweaters, socks and caps made from manta or alpaca. They’re dark-colored t-shirts and hoodies that say things like “Abercrombie and Fitch” and “Diadora.” When I eat a special meal with my host family, it's not usually Incan pachamanca, but instead we go out to a sit-down chain restaurant to eat pollo a la brasa (rotisserie-style chicken with french fries -- which I unashamedly LOVE), usually with multiple TVs scattered around the eating area.

And let's not forget religious beliefs. Talking about the culture in which I live here in Lima becomes even more difficult when you consider the particular flavor of Christianity practiced by the churches where I work. Ask them if they believe that abortion is definitely murder. Ask them if they believe homosexuals should be ordained. Ask them if they think people who don't believe in Jesus as Lord will go to Hell. Ask them if they believe the Bible doesn't contain a single factual error. I don't think I (or most "white people") would agree with their answers.

So what has been disturbing me most about all these characteristics of the culture in which I've been living for the past 9 months? I've realized that in my mind, the only reason that they're "acceptable" is because the people living within the culture speak Spanish, not English, live in Peru, not the US and are brown, not white. Think about it. Taken together, all of these "tastes" - in music, clothing, food, religion etc. - form a perfect cultural profile of the "wrong type" of white person. Let me explain. For the most part, I've been very accepting of the "foreign culture" that I've been living in for the past 9 months. I'm living on the other side of the world and speaking a new language, so I recognize that I see everything with biased, foreign eyes. I know that I am in no place to judge them or educate them about the social/global implications of their lifestyles. Yet, even though I have never before admitted it, in my mind I am VERY quick to either judge or try to "educate" white North Americans that have the exact same tastes -- listen to "corporate" pop music, wear corporate, name brand clothes, love eating at corporate sit-down restaurants and practice a "closed-minded" form of Christianity. The difference is, I can relate much better to the white North Americans who do it. I assume they either don't understand that choosing to support multi-national corporate clothing/food/music companies contributes to global economic inequality and social hegemony (in which case I attempt to "educate" them) or I assume that they DO understand it but choose to support the corporate entities anyway (in which case I judge them).

When I think about the situation I find myself in, and how I ended up in it, the whole thing is quite absurd. I became a YAV to go searching for a new perspective on life and to be challenged by living in a way that was uncomfortable and different from what I'm used to. What I ended up with was quite possibly the opposite of what I expected and yet exactly fits the description of that objective. (Let me pause for a second to say that I don't want to come off as too "negative" -- there are definitely some unique cultural things I've experienced in Lima that you could hardly ever find anywhere in the US, and I've written about them here, and here and here, and here for example.) In many ways, I've ended up living immersed in culture characteristics that my entire worldview beforehand was predicated on changing or defying.

But the thing is, many of the people here in Lima that subscribe to these cultural characteristics are my friends. I've gotten to know them. They are wonderful people. In this sense, the YAV program has succeeded beautifully. The reason I haven't judged (until now, I guess) or criticized the culture of the people I work and live with is because I didn't immediately apply the cultural, political and religious "litmus tests" that I now realize I'm guilty of applying to people in the US.

So where do I go from here? How do I reconcile not wanting to judge or try to change the characteristics of a "foreign culture" with the fact that all of my understanding points to these characteristics as being potentially hegemonic and damaging if they continue? The way I see it, there are basically two options (once you read them, that statement in itself actually gives you a pretty huge clue as to which one I'll pick).

1.) I could use the fact that my friends in Lima are good, loving children of God to rationalize the idea that their views and lifestyle choices are okay. But in the process, I would basically sacrifice my own ideals about the way I believe God wants us to live by implying that they are negotiable and need not apply to everyone.

OR

2.) I could assert that my views on the way we should live (in terms of religious inclusion/open-mindedness and responsible consumer habits) really aren't negotiable; they're important and they can only be effective if as many people as possible subscribe to them. But in the process, I would be implying that my enlightened, educated lifestyle is "better" than the lifestyle habits of my friends in Peru, meaning that I think they should change their lives. This sacrifices my postmodern ideal of not believing one way of life is superior to another.

The oft-noted paradox of post-modernism is that declaring that there is no objective "truth" or "grand-narrative" is in itself an assertion of truth and a grand-narrative. Stuff White People Like and much of what I wrote during the first part of this blog entry proves that even though we don't want to, we white postmoderns do in fact see the world more in "black and white" and "good and evil" than we let on. If we declare that we want to be able to understand everyone's perspective under the premise that "everything is relative" and "truth depends on your worldview," then we are fundamentally at odds with people who believe that truth is concrete/objective/absolute. "Everything is relative" is an absolute statement.

The whole conundrum makes me think of something I've said before and believe in very strongly about faith. The presence of faith implies doubt. Without doubt, what you have isn't faith, but knowledge. Faith can't be proven. Knowledge can. My views concerning Christianity, economics, lifestyle habits etc haven't been proven to be any better than those of my friends and partners in mission in Lima, or anyone elses for that matter. Based on what I've learned through my own life experiences, I BELIEVE they are the best way to live, but I don't KNOW that. One of the first people to make this observation about the relationship between faith and doubt was Soren Kierkegaard, who postmoderns happen to LOVE -- he is sometimes seen as a kind of "forefather" of postmodern theology. But there is a major difference between Kierkegaard's perspective and a true postmodern one. Both perspectives put heavy importance on the presence of doubt/uncertainty. But while a real postmodern loves just mulling over and exploring all of the doubt and trying on all of the different perspectives, Kierkegaard asserts that we have to pick a perspective and stick with it. It's an either/or choice. True postmoderns relish doubt and use it to keep from having to take a definite position. Kierkegaard, on the other hand insists that we have to take a "leap of faith" and make our stand IN SPITE of there being doubt. Once you choose, you don't go back. Although it's risky and has led the church and Christendom to commit many egregious errors and injustices in the past, I believe this is what God demands Christians to do.

In conclusion, don't worry, I'm not going to go on a tirade against materialism, consumerism, corporations and ultra-conservative theology to my friends here in Lima. I will continue to love them and continue to struggle with the implications of the "superiority complex" I've realized that I have. Believe it or not "white culture" is gaining awareness here too. It is not totally culturally insensitive to advocate for my dearly held ideals of supporting local businesses and exploring non-traditional interpretations of scripture. Let me know if you have any questions or suggestions, or if I've said anything terribly offensive (I'm sure I have). I do believe that in general, the postmodern perspective is a valid, important one, and it continues to inform my beliefs. However, I've stopped lying to myself and finally admitted that I really do think the world would be better off if everybody thought like me... which, come to think of it, is probably something so basic and intuitive that it goes without saying for most level-headed people. So maybe I've been writing for 4 hours for nothing. Oh well.

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Disclaimer: This last paragraph is probably unnecessary, and shouldn't be taken too seriously.

Ironically enough, by self-righteously deciding to expose the hypocrisy of white culture -- its tendencies toward conformity and self-righteousness/superiority while being entirely predicated on non conformity, uncertainty and humility -- I've thus basically declared myself as superior to it and tried really hard to be a true non-conformist. In glorious postmodern fashion, I have adopted a new worldview that is truly "unique." I've withdrawn from the unspoken contest to see who's the best at using an anti-racist, anti-corporate, anti-materialistic lifestyle to show it's wrong to think that your culture is the best. And by doing so, I've won.