In late August I spent quite a bit of time thinking about culture shock as we were approaching our first trip home to the states. How would I feel driving on smooth roads, dining at tasty restaurants-and having hundreds to choose from-and popping my laundry into a machine, walking away, and having it clean and smelling fresh with such little effort?

We’ll, after reflecting on our time in the states, I’ve been surprised about what shocked me. It was eerily familiar to drive a car and race along the freeway. I thoroughly enjoyed eating a variety of foods and indulging my taste buds with specialty coffees, ice cream, and chocolate. (Hummm. Bet you can’t guess what I missed! The number of food choices was a little overwhelming. My first purchase was a subway sandwich and I spent about 5 minutes just trying to pick out the bread.) Both Tim and I rejoiced that we could wash clothes and prepare lunch in under an hour – two tasks that can take all day in Haiti. I found myself extremely grateful for all of the material things I’ve always taken for granted. I don’t think I ever felt guilty for partaking in these little luxuries, only sad that so many people in this world do not have the means or access to enjoy them.

What troubled me the most was commercial advertising and people’s stereotypes about Haitians, two things that didn’t really bother me, or I didn’t notice, before we went to Haiti. When you leave your own culture for an extended period of time – and immerse yourself in another – upon returning, you see your culture through a new set of lenses. After living in rural Haiti, where everyone knows each other, shares with their neighbor, and talks in proverbs like “cooked food has no owner”, American culture screams greed! While in California I must have seen the same Macys commercial about 5 times. The gist of it was, give a little and get a lot. If you donated $5 to a charity you would receive 20% off everything in the store and could shop till your hearts content. Bravo to Macy’s for supporting local charities, but the whole commercial is just weird to me. Since when do we give – a present, a monetary donation, or an hour talking with a friend in crisis – to receive anything in return?

Even more disturbing, though something that I prepared myself for, were the comments people made about Haiti and Haitians. The numerous blanket statements that slipped out of people’s mouths made me shudder as I realized how misunderstood Haiti is. The morning after we arrived in Seattle, I sat in the dentist’s chair, defenseless, as the hygienist purged her impression of Haitians to me. “My friend lives in Miami and one day pointed out a group of Haitians to me. They looked so mean and angry and are often the ones involved in crime and drugs. I hear that they are a tough, hostile people, but I guess I don’t blame them – they are probably reacting to how the rest of the world has treated them for so many years.”

She had one thing right, throughout history Haitians have been treated pretty badly, but in my experience they are some of the most hospitable, welcoming, loving people. Haitians have welcomed me into their homes, given up their bed for me, and shared their food, often eating a smaller portion that might have been their only meal of the day. How did they get such a bad wrap?

Then there were the religious comments, sadly, comments that I have heard many times while mingling in Christian circles. After attending church on Sunday morning we were talking in the foyer with an older gentleman and he said something about how dark Haiti is spiritually, especially with all of that Voodoo. Tim handled the situation very well by saying, “Actually, Haitians are some of the most spiritual people I know. They have taught me a lot about what it means to live out faith in the mist of very difficult circumstances.” The gentleman’s reply, “Well, it must have changed a great deal in the last 20 years,” made us laugh, but in sadness.

We probably heard similar comments at least 3-4 times, especially from people who have been to Haiti on short-term trips, for 2 weeks to 3 months. I always hear this one, “I could just feel the darkness all around me.” I’ve thought about these comments a lot, especially as one who lives in a rural Haitian community, surrounded by those professing Protestant, Catholic, and Voodoo faiths. Never once have I thought of my community as dark or spiritually dead. I feel the darkness of poverty and the vast suffering, but when it comes to religion, I’ve been exposed to a deeper faith. In the mist of difficult, long days my host mother attends church every Sunday and gathers to pray with other community members every Wednesday for 3, sometimes 4 hours. One of the most touching moments was when the prayer group took up a collection of coins, whatever people could give (most of these families live on less than a dollar a day) to help those in the community who were sick and could not afford medication.

My host mother does not practice Voodoo, she is Catholic, but some of the conversations I’ve had with her and her family are very interesting. They all denounce voodoo. For example, my host brother quit playing on the community soccer team because some of the guys asked the ougan, the local Voodoo priest, to make a magic powder so they would win. He wouldn’t have anything to do with that, but at the same time he and the whole family hold beliefs like people can turn into animals in the middle of the night or a spirit can come steal your young baby, views that I believe have there roots in Voodoo. I by no means claim to understand Voodoo or that I have interpreted these situations correctly, but am learning that Voodoo is not only a religion, but also a part of Haitian culture.

A good friend of Beyond Borders, who has been giving cultural/spiritual/historical lectures on Haiti for many years, and practices voodoo himself, has found many similarities between Voodoo and Native American spirituality. In fact, Tim and I recently toured The National Museum of the American Indian in Washington D.C. and could definitely see connections between Haitian culture, Voodoo, and Native American beliefs & practices. In one of the many not-so-Christ-like-times in church history, Native Americans had bibles and Christianity thrown at them. These days we seem to honor and respect their religion and culture and even make efforts, however small they may be, to preserve ancient Indian practices and traditions. Why does it seem like many North Americans cannot do the same for Voodoo? To add to what I asked at the beginning of this post, how did both Haitian people and their religion get such a bad wrap? Is it because it is mystical and different from our beliefs? Is it because we don’t understand it or have never taken the time to learn about it? Is it because of racism?

These sorts of inquiries are a great paradox to me because further understanding is accompanied by surmounting questions and answers that drift farther and farther away. The only clarity I can muster out of my recent experiences is the need for us, humanity, to make better whole-hearted attempts to learn about those who are different from us. Wouldn’t we all – Muslims, Christians, homosexuals, abortion activists, Republicans, Democrats, immigrants, the rich & poor- have our fabricated stereotypes shattered by befriending those of different beliefs, instead of gossiping about them from a distance. I am constantly convicted of my inability to do this. A good friend recently challenged me not blame all of the world’s problems on America. She further commented that the World Bank and the IMF, institutions that I view with a critical eye, are doing some great things. Do I know anyone who works for the World Bank? No. Could I give an in-depth analysis of their programs? No. Needless to say I’ve started doing my own World Bank research and am trying to view my findings with an open mind.

I’ll end this long post with a beautiful example of something my father did to choose understanding over disastrous stereotypes. Many of you know that my sister has a young daughter named Jadrianne, but you may not know that Jade’s full name is Jadrianne Elizabeth Tupaca Robinson. I’m not lying- this is what is printed on her social security card. When I first saw her SS card I was a bit appalled, not understanding why Jade’s father insisted that Tupaca be one of her names, named after Tupac Shakur, the infamous, controversial rapper. To Jade’s father, an African American, Tupac was a loved musical artist and hero, something that is no doubt challenging for upper-white-middle-class folk to comprehend. Instead of sneering at the name, like I did, my father bought a book about Tupac and began to read about his life and music in an attempt to understand how this man could be so important that a father would name his daughter after him.

I recently saw the book lying around my parent’s house. When I first saw it about 2 ½ years ago I thought, how odd, but neat that my father would read about the life of Tupac. When I saw it again this time I thought, if only we all thought this way the world would be a much better place. In fact, next time I am in Seattle I should pick up the book and read it myself.