Monday, April 9, 2012

New Orleans 2012 Or Bust: Reflections From The Road

By: Tyler Orem
 
Short-term mission work is always for the sake of those going. The travel, work, and cultural engagement that occur lead directly and quite unilaterally to the growth of the individual and group entering into the situation from the outside. For super-short missions, every place and situation encountered in travel takes on special import for the traveler. Details that have no significant benefit for the local community carry great significance for the visiting party. In other words, instances of reliving the 90’s rock canon while flying by countless cars that have slid off the road, listening to New Orlean’s finest WWOZ while driving through the Mississippi’s backwaters, and screaming U2 at the top of our lungs while careening around the streets of New Orleans tend to stick with you.

For me, the sticking points tended to involve bathrooms—Steak ’n Shake restrooms, portable johns, parking lot corners, church lavatories, gas station closets, and concrete outhouses that could be bolted from the outside. One such bathroom encounter occurred on our journey south. The state, city, and specific gas station escape me, but the event stands out in my memory. I walked into the convenience store and made my beeline to the back. There was an unremarkable cast of characters in the store—a cashier glaring at me for my scheme to use the facilities without buying anything, a police officer, a few adults, and a few children. When I got to the inevitably single water closet, though, the population increased dramatically. Upon barging through the unlocked door, I discovered that the single room was filled with children. I leapt back into the hallway to wait my turn. They opened the door and quietly gestured for me to enter. Self conscious of the creep factor, I remained in the hallway. Without making a noise, they kept waving for me to come into the bathroom. I would just shake my head and wait, puzzled but unconcerned.

Eventually, the police officer in the store walked out and a new man entered, making my same beeline to the back. He turned to me and said I could go ahead into the bathroom. I explained the situation, and he smiled and said that the children were with him. Coming from undocumented families, they were afraid of the police officer. Their automatic response was to quietly hide in the bathroom. I was shocked. I had possibly put their safety into jeopardy by standing in the hallway and refusing to see clearly their situation. By waiting to respond to the call of nature, I was proving to the people in the store that the bathroom was strangely occupied.

Unfortunately, their fear of a police officer was probably well founded.

Horrifying laws are being passed in more and more states to systematically oppress certain groups of people and eliminate the necessary vibrancy created by diverse communities. Local police have powers previously exclusive to ICE. There need be no probable cause for investigation and arrest beyond racial profiling. Children feel the need to quietly hide in the bathroom for fear of their own well-being. And one clueless outsider could unwittingly snap the fragile line of safety.

The lesson of this story is not that we should ignore the impulse to avoid creepiness. Rather, it is that when entering new situations we should be aware that our very transient presence has the potential to do harm. At the same time, I have grown personally because of the encounter. I have a richer, more personal understanding of a system that hurts so many and motivation to become involved. So, something good definitely comes from the encounter, but not without potential cost. I challenge you to be aware of all the effects one can have in doing short-term missions. The good. The bad. And the creepy.

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