No habla Espanol

I had a wonderful weekend of jazz music, Baptist worship and Mexican food, followed by a very unpredictable Labor Day holiday. All 18 RJers met Krista at Union Park sometime after 9:00 a.m. to discuss hospitality. So we did, and then we were to go be hospitable. Sounds easy enough eh? Or not. The default picture of hospitality in my mind is the warm loving care given out from the home of my Uncle Leroy and Aunt Donna. My Aunt Donna is the most hospitable person I know, and while I've hopefully learned a few things from her over the years. However, I was at a loss for how to be hospitable in a city I've only been in for a few weeks when I didn't have a home or means to cook a meal for anyone.





First, Naomi and I decided to learn more about this immigration march we had stumbled upon, and we figured we could look for ways to be hospitable there. We both agreed that what is currently happening surrounding immigration in this country is unfair and needs reform and so we though, why not? we have time to walk. Many people tried to give us fliers and sign petitions about a plethora of socio-political issues, whether they knew much about them or not. Much of the talks and chants before and during the march were in Spanish, and I had to keep asking Naomi what they were saying, what was going on. I felt out of place, like I didn't belong there, even though I knew I was welcome it was as if I wasn't at the same time. I imagine that's how people who don't speak much or any English feel most of the time here in the United States. It gave me an empathy for them. A glimpse of an understanding of what's behind the passion of marches. I don't understand because I've never been in that position, but it helped.





After marching and chanting the best that we could in Spanish, we diverged from the march when we were closer to downtown. We walked a block this way, and a block that way. Then we walked a few more blocks that way. We walked fairly aimlessly in search of hospitality opportunities and a bathroom. Finally we found a Walgreens that was open. After more wandering we found an El stop (elevated train) to get on and we were able to buy a pop from the machine for a young mother and her son who were already on the other side of the fence waiting for the train. Yay! Hospitality: check. However, we didn't feel very accomplished. We got off at a stop, and found a Pita Pit. It was 1:30 by this time and we were hot, tired and very hungry. As were were sitting there enjoying our freshly prepared pita meals and perusing over a paper, it occurred to me how much hospitality can be appreciated, and how well it is sometimes received. I was exhausted, more or less, and I hadn't had anything to eat or drink in a few hours. Even though I did pay a pretty penny for my pita, I was so grateful to the workers who had prepared it for me. This seemingly small act of hospitality was very meaningful to me at this point in time.





So after this unpredictable day lacking labor, I feel that I learned a fair amount about hospitality. I think that hospitality is something that you do, even though I didn't do much myself this particular day. I also think that hospitality is an outlook, a way of living, that encompasses more that just physical acts. Being shown hospitality taught me more than I ever could have thought. I learned that one never really knows how well their hospitality is received. Also, not showing hospitality can have much larger ramifications, that one would originally think. Even social and political ramifications on an international level.





-Becca