Foreign Smells... Familiar Places...

Ali and I went on a bike ride yesterday afternoon around Keller Park. We are trying to immerse ourself in this culture as quickly as possible and one of the best ways seems to go on walks or bike rides around the neighborhood. We are trying to take advantage of the nice weather while it lasts because everyone is outside right now (this is one of the bonuses of not having a beautiful house to plant yourself in and check your email and watch cable tv). Some days I try to read a book out on my porch to be available to my neighbors. This has been easier to find the time at my house because I have no distractions of internet or tv. It can be quite interesting some of the things you see, hear, and smell while reading a book on Rose Street. I already have more stories than I can share.

So back to what I was saying about my bike ride with Ali yesterday. We saw some kids out playing ball in the street so, naturally, I decided to showcase my skills (they are already declining rather rapidly). I played one of the kids, Dakota, one-on-one first. He is a junior in high school that just got out (4 weeks ago) of a juvenile delinquent center after being there for 5 years. He actually remembered me from when the Bethel basketball team visited 2 years ago. I then played with two little tikes, James and Jermeal, and felt like I was right back in the Dominican Republic. These shirtless kids were laughing hysterically as I backed both of them down into the low post with my big caboose. Needless to say, I won... again. It's amazing to see how sports break down so many color barriers and cultural differences. It's also amazing to see the respect level people give you once they actually find out you can "hoop."

The most interesting thing about our time with the kids playing basketball in the street was not the teenage girls cursing at some white lady on the porch. It was not the fact that I met a kid who had spent a third of his life locked up. It was not that I felt like I was in the DR with James and Jermeal while knowing I was only a block away from my house. It was the smell. The smell took me back to every place of poverty I have ever been: Ecuador, Brazil, Peru, Mexico, Dominican Republic, Vanuatu, etc. It reminded me again that I was on a mission field. It reminded me again that I living in it. This reminder... reminded me this is right where I want to be.

-Kory