Deja Derby

I know, I know, the title of this blog is...lacking, but so is the time it would take for me to come up with something better. I'm open to suggestions.

Ever since moving to Kansas City, Kansas (a specific part of Kansas City, usually referred to as KCK), I can't help but be reminded of the four months I spent in Derby last fall. Some of the reasons for my reminiscence are general, circumstantial, and a little vague: I'm on my own. It's fall. I'm not sure what I'm doing here. I don't know what I'll do when I leave. I'm in a new place (even a new part of that new place). I'm unemployed. I'm continually meeting new people and making a few friends. I'm discovering a city, usually by myself. I'm constantly telling myself that I ought to be in school right now. I'm looking for a job, but don't really know how to do that. And so on and so forth.

Other reasons are more specific and have me wondering if something here is related, if there's actually a significant meaning and purpose for my life (which I doubt more with each passing day but desperately search for nonetheless), or if I'm just trying to make sense of my haphazard existence and missing England in the process.

The biggest thing that constantly takes my thoughts to Derby is my recent experience with Mission Adelante. Mission Adelante is a Christian-run organization that seeks to love and serve the immigrant and refugee community. The organization is about 5 years old and was built around principals of relational and practical ministry, as well as biblical mandates concerning the treatment of aliens and foreigners. Similar to many of the Core Team at International Community Church (ICC) in Derby, the staff of Mission Adelante seek to live in and among the immigrant refugee community. They have moved their families into the neighborhood for the purpose of building relationships, sharing meals, having conversations and living alongside Latino immigrants and Bhutanese refugees. These are the same reasons that the Martin family (with whom I lived when I was in Derby) chose to live on the outskirts of Normanton, the refugee/immigrant neighborhood in Derby.

KCK reminds me so much of Normanton. The local food shops, places of worship, foreign words, diverse groups of people. The people groups are quite different (I've yet to cross paths with a Pakistani mother), but the experience of finding the foreign among the familiar is quite the same. Instead of mango lassis, I indulge in Hispanic paletas and nieva at the paleteria. Instead of the Kurdish cafe, I walk past taquerias. Instead of Arabic, I see signs in Spanish. There's a similar feeling of have a cross-cultural experience while in your "native" environment.

I am once again living in a house occupied by an ever-changing group of individuals. Instead of the attic I am living in the basement/cellar, where I have my own tiny bathroom and small kitchen area. Whereas my room on Swinburne was bright (there probably still aren't shades on the window), finished off (quite nicely), and sometimes a bit cold (oh British heating), my "room" in KCK is relatively dark, dirty and a bit stuffy. I tell myself daily (or at least each time I kill another insect, see another cobweb, or notice the dirt caked on the pipes above my bed) that thousands of people (most of the world, in fact) live in worse conditions. I don't want to forfeit my location, and at the moment I don't really have another option.

In place of Mina (not that anyone could replace her), the Iranian refugee who lived in the house on Swinburne Street, I am housemates with Guadalupe, a Mexican immigrant who has been in the States for the past six years. Her English is bit more advanced than Mina's (and my Spanish is significantly better than my Farsi), but our conversation on the steps the other day reminded me so much of chats with Mina. "Together is better," I found myself saying, which any ICC-er would recognize as a Mina phrase.

While learning where to go to buy groceries and other such things (trial and error being my preferred method of learning) I came upon Aldi. Apparently the chain, which started in Iowa, is somehow based out of Germany, which explains why the stores are so remarkably similar to Lidl, a German-based chain of stores in the UK (among other places), and the place I did my shopping in Derby.

Similar to ICC, Mission Adelante offers ESL classes to community members. I decided to volunteer with the Nepali/Bhutanese refugees (more on their story later) on Tuesday nights. Latino programs take place on Thursday nights. Being in an ESL setting again is great. The first week was unstructured and experimental and everything was up in the air and it was all just so very much like being at the Persian Cultural Association or co-teaching Kurdish women with Rosanna in Derby.

Saturday I attended a Bhutanese event celebrating Teej, a Hindu festival that honors women. I think the actual calendar date of the celebration (which is, of course, based on the Hindu calendar in the first place) was last week, but as the women fast during the seven days of the festival, they post-poned community involvement until there could be food - a very wise decision in my opinion. There were delicious traditional Nepali dishes, kheer, cucumber salads, rice, curried dishes, cake, odd shaped fried substances. There were men and women in traditional dress, brightly colored saris, garlands and jewelry. There was music and dancing, poem recitations and singing. Most of the afternoon I had no idea what was being said because everyone was speaking Nepali. I had forgotten what that is like. The contrast of the dingy walls, florescent lights and linoleum floor of the Catholic Charities fellowship hall with the bright pinks, vibrant oranges, and sparkling greens of the clothing reminded me of the Congolese women's event I attended last November.

I spoke with one of the volunteers about her relationships with the Bhutanese, about being in their homes, interacting with their children, sharing meals and becoming a part of their world. She shared her experiences, relating that after one visit to a Nepali/Bhutanese home you are guest, after three you are a friend, and after four you become family. My heart ached for those relationships and for the immigrants and refugees I left in England. The next day I received an e-mail from Shamim, my Derby neighbor to whom I'd been giving English lessons. In the letter she called me sister, thanked me for not forgetting her family and hoped for my return to England. So did I. As I think on that relationship I am torn between a deep longing to return to Derby and a contrasting hope that I might become a part of the refugee community here in KCK.

I don't know what will come of my ESL experience and connection to Mission Adelante. The only jobs I have found thus far will require a long commute from KCK, and may interfere with my ability to be available. None of them are all that appealing, but as I'm continually changing my mind about what I would like to do anyway, that shouldn't be surprising.