NEIGHBOR

My neighbors live under an umbrella. Literally. There is a little village comprised of makeshift umbrella and plastic homes. I walk by and see them huddled around a small pot cooking their rice. I stop and chat for a few moments when I walk by their little neighborhood. Unlike other neighbors, they don’t invite me in for a cup of chai. How do you invite someone under your umbrella? But, they are quick for a smile and life just keeps on going. There’s no shock here. These are my neighbors these are my friends. I have friends that live under umbrellas. And the world keeps whizzing on by.

The more I learn, the more skeptical I become of globalization. The word tends to bring negative connotations. In kindergarten you take pride in the Pinta, Nina, and Santa Marina, but by high school you are equating Columbus with syphilis. If we journey back through history, we find that many global encounters are the result of treasure-hunting, conquering crusades, wars, and trade. The intentions all revolve around the what can you give me scenario. I am beginning to wonder if a simple longing to know one’s neighbor has ever spawned globalization on. I want to reclaim globalization. I want to make it a positive venture. After all, perhaps my mission is simply to know my neighbors. Jesus asked who are our neighbors? For me, I am spending a year meeting neighbors that are thousands of miles away from my actual home. It’s not uncommon to find physicals fences and walls between neighbors. And sure, there are plenty of walls and fences between me and my neighbors in India. But I cannot let those be barriers to knowing my neighbors.