We've Got The County Covered
We've Got The County Covered
Recently a mailing from a Christian mission agency arrived in the mail.
In it was a short article about a large extended family who fled from the Democratic Republic of the Congo and whom the mission agency has helped to resettle on the East Coast.
Their mission caseworker is always ready to help them navigate their way through their new life, from learning their way around town to paying the rent.
Of course the family had a few culture shocks.
One of the young men said, “Everything is attached to a time of day—appointments to see the doctor, the case manager, work—everything happens and ends at an exact minute!”
(Even so, when asked what he misses about their life in Congo, he said emphatically, “Nothing.”)
His observation, and his new life-experience watching the clock, got me thinking how unusual this to-the-minute timing is on the world scene.
For generations or centuries, in few places in the world did anyone try to keep any kind of strict schedule.
Some early timepieces were made in ancient Egypt and ancient China, but most people did not have access to the slowly-evolving timepieces of succeeding centuries.
But we in the USA really, really care what time it is. Hunger pangs and irresistible sleepiness tell us when to eat and sleep, but we want to know more than that.
We have to know when stores and offices open, when Amtrak is due, when the children will be home from school.
We have to know when everything happens. We have to know when “that exact minute” is!
Even picnics and birthday parties start at a set time. (I’ve heard that there is no leeway whatsoever about the time small children must be picked up from birthday parties.)
Not every human group pays this much attention to what time it is.
In parts of the East Coast, a more relaxed view of time leads to many jokes about “Jewish time.” Don’t obsess over being there on time.
Elsewhere, you’ll hear jokes about “black time.” They wonder what is the big deal about getting everywhere at that exact minute.
I’ve heard of “Indian time,” too, and out West here, that means “Native American” time.
In some other cultures, relationships are considered to take precedence over clock promptitude.
Things don’t start till everyone is there and is ready to begin. It would be rude to leave anyone out of the opening minutes of festivities or worship services.
Another view of when to begin would be, “Well, of course they started without me; I was late so it was my own fault.”
Amuor, the young man from Congo, will soon get used to being places on time. In time to come, he may smile to himself when he remembers how strange this seemed when he first arrived here.
He already has a business degree and the family is filled with optimism for the future.
A year from now, he says, “I want a house. I want to own a part of this country. This is now my country, and I want a part of it.” His father adds that he would like some land to farm.
If living with one eye on the clock feels strange, it sounds as if that eye will be filled with the light of discovery, adventure, and joy.
