The Joys of Jihlava

I'm finally back to blogging! My apologies for my long absence. I've been without a computer for the past week in the village of Jihlava, working with an Athletes in Action sports camp. It's been an incredible week, difficult but rewarding. There's so much I wish I could say about the whole experience, but I'll at least attempt to capture small bits.

Our team was half American, half Dutch....the Americans being myself, Lindsay, Michael, and Will, the Dutch being Annemarie, Kirstie, Joyce, and Chris. We were all instantly thrown into several different types of culture shock:

1) the village of Jihlava. It's utterly different than what we were accustomed to in Prague, just like any small town in the US is different than a big city.

2) the Czech church. The church that hosted us for the week literally had only six members, and very limited ability to communicate with us in English. It was a beautiful experience to sit an a worship service, singing in English, and hearing the same song sung in Dutch and Czech on either side of me. What a taste of the multi-ethnic beauty of heaven.

3) the Czech youth culture. I can't even begin to describe Czech teenagers. Hip-hop culture is very popular in the Czech Republic...so we would have these guys show up to play basketball wearing do-rags and baggy jeans and American jerseys and trying to do crazy street dribbling moves they had seen on MTV. They all love American rap and R&B music. It just made me laugh so hard sometimes....there are virtually no African-Americans here, and these kids have no idea what actual American street culture really is like, yet they all imitate it. When I would tell teenagers that my university is over 50% African American, their mouths would literally drop in shock. They can't even imagine what that's like, but they think it's absolutely amazing.

4) the Czech language. The language barrier was intensified immensely from what it is in Prague. Most Czech children learn English in school, but they are all highly self-conscious and unwilling to practice their English with foreigners. I was so incredibly thankful for my eight brief Czech lessons this past week. I would throw out anything I knew to just try and talk with them, even ridiculous phrases and random words. A lot of the teenagers were very willing to try and work with me, to teach me as I would throw out a verb and start guessing at endings, to teach me new words, to laugh with me when I completely butchered their language, to translate my mixture of sign language and words. They seemed so greatful and excited to even have someone attempt to speak with them, and they were so incredibly complimentary of my limited Czech, even though I know its horrible. I kept telling them their English was much better than my Czech, and they never believed it. I can't tell you how hard it is to want to carry on a conversation with someone and be so completely limited. All we were there to do is build relationships with these kids....and how do you do that when you don't speak the same language?


5) the Dutch. There are no words to even describe the Dutch. All I can say is, I wish I could move to Holland! We absolutely loved our Dutch teammates, and formed a really quick bond across cultural boundaries with them that was such an unexpected blessing. They all had impeccable English, and were so gracious to use it all week with us. Even in one-on-one conversations with each other, they chose to speak in English so that we would never feel isolated. The Americans felt so incredibly humbled by their decision to not use their own language for our sake. Each one of them was so incredibly cheerful and energetic and funny....I think Holland is ranked as one of the happiest countries in the world, and now I understand why! They introduced us to several Dutch desserts (I will never forget the chocolatey goodness of Knoppers) and we introduced the concept of American breakfast to them. We ate a typical Dutch breakfast almost every morning, which consists of bread, butter, cheese, and salami. So to me, it felt strange eating lunch foods in the morning, but they were shocked to hear the sort of things we eat for breakfast in America. After we described typical American breakfast foods like muffins, bacon, eggs, and pancakes, their eyes widened and one of them exclaimed, "Now we know why Americans are so fat!" We explained that we're also an obese nation because we drive our cars everywhere. In Europe, you just walk all the time and use public transportation. The Dutch were also surprised about some other American things....like the fact that we own guns and the fact that we have to pay to go to college.

Another thing I loved about the Dutch was hearing them pray. I never really thought about cultural differences in terms of prayer before. Their prayers almost entirely consisted of questions....it would sound something like this (imagine it in a beautiful Dutch accent): "Lord, do you want to bless us? I want to ask you if you want to give us good weather today? Do you want to help us reach the kids? Lord, I want to ask you if would like to unify our team?" I realized that our American prayers were almost entirely declaratory statements...."Lord, we want you to do this," not "Lord, do you want to do this?" Although there is certainly a place for boldness and authority in prayer, it was refreshing to hear such an attitude of humility in speaking to God.

As for our week....
Things were difficult:

-The Americans spoke very little Czech, and the Dutch spoke none. There were moments when I just got so angry at my inability to communicate the things I wanted to say so desperately.

-Half of our team members got sick and couldn't play sports.

-The weather was cold and rainy most of the week, so it was hard to get kids to come out and "sport with us" (as the Dutch would say). Surprisingly, we got far more teenagers than children.

-Our accomodation was remarkably sketchy. Have you heard of the horror movie "Hostel?" That's basically where we were. We were in a sort of dormitory called an "ubytovna," which we later found out directly translates to "less than a hotel." The first couple of days were nice...we had nice rooms, communal showers and bathrooms, a shared kitchen and living room. Then we got some neighbors. Around Tuesday, a bunch of Slovakian construction workers filled the other rooms on our hall, and that's when things started to get crazy. Apparently in Slovakian construction worker culture, common behaviors include walking around mostly naked, smoking multiple packs and leaving your ashes in other peoples dishes, watching porn in a communal living room, and drinking homemade rum straight from the bottle. It was the weirdest culture shock any of us had ever experienced. There was one night me and my American teammate Michael were fixing some food around midnight in the kitchen, and we see this old Slovakian guy stumble out of his room down the hall, wearing only tight spandex underwear, holding a bottle of rum. He staggers to the bathroom, and proceeds to deliver a drunken sidekick to the bathroom door. All we could do was double over laughing and say, "Where are we?!" Really, it was the most bizzare experience of my life.

Things were also really great:

-I got to lead volleyball. My friends who have seen me play volleyball will understand how hilarious that concept is....but it definitely taught me a lot about humility. The theme of my week was the ability to laugh at myself. I had to make myself comfortable to make the kids feel comfortable around me. I laughed with them at my inability to play sports and my inability to speak Czech, and tried to dive wholeheartedly into both weaknesses.

-I also got to teach street dance. Yes, an English speaking ballet/modern dancer trying to lead non-English speaking teenagers in hip-hop moves. What a ridiculously hilarious experience. Going into the week, I assumed there was going to be a professional street dancer on the team, and I quickly realized that everyone else assumed I was going to be the street dance expert. So my Dutch teammate Joyce and I quickly choreographed an awesome little number to some TobyMac's "No Ordinary Love," and the girls we taught it to seemed to love it. Joyce was so incredibly sweet, and kept telling me that I should star in "Save the Last Dance" (a movie about a ballet dancer who learns all these street moves at an inner city school).

-My heart was broken for Czech young people. I can't even describe how much these kids touched me. They are so unbelievably old at such a young age. There were 12, 13, 14 year olds that would smoke and drink alcohol on the sidelines of the fields as we played with them. A lot of them have this dark, hardened sense about them that you just don't see in mostAmerican teenagers. The girls are incredibly sexualized from a very young age. The first day we were out playing sports, a 12 year old girl showed up with cuts all over her arm. At first I thought they might be accidental, but the closer I looked, I realized the cuts formed a name, and it was obviously self-mutilation. Sometimes I just wanted to break down crying in the middle of a game of vollyball. I realized that our simple gospel presentations through our skits, testimonies, and actions would be the most that many of these kids would ever hear about God's love for them. There's just nothing for them here....there's such hopelessness. I think the concept that Jesus loved them and extended mercy to them was utterly foreign to these teenagers. As the week progressed, the Czech girls with whom I had begun to form friendships would ask me eagerly when we would be performing the drama for the night. I began to realize that some of the teenagers were more excited about seeing our skits than playing sports....some of them would come and sit on the sidelines the whole time, then gather with the other kids to watch our gospel presentation. I could see the longing for hope and truth in their eyes as they carefully watched simple skits that many American teenagers would just laugh at or shrug off. It was beautiful to be able to tell them my testimony through a translator on the last night we were there, speaking words of light into the darkness, proclaiming the love of God in my brokenness against the glorious splendor of the setting sun. I will never forget their faces and my desperate desire to see their lives transformed. We held an outdoor worship service on the Sunday morning after the camp week, and one of the teenagers from the camp who attended asked me if I was coming back next year to their village. I sadly told them that I wasn't, and she said in a sorrowful voice, "I wish you would come back. There is nothing like what you do here. No one tells us the things you have." It made me so sad and angry.....the fields are ripe for the harvest, and who will go? Who will tell that girl again that she is loved and beautiful and precious?

So pray for Jihlava. Pray for the struggling church there. Pray for Jakob, Katka, Tereza, Daniel, Eva, Domenika, Ana, Marketa, Taneka, Libor.....just a few of the kids that touched my heart this week. Pray for all the kids who might never again hear the truth of the gospel.

Alright, my hands and my brain are exhausted from typing. Thanks for allowing me to process my week in words. Now I need to go do some late night packing....yet again. I'm off to Krakow, Poland tomorrow afternoon with my fellow interns for a much-needed spiritual retreat until Monday.