Before we left, a person who had experience in living overseas told us that if we were going with a Saviour complex, that we would fail at our goals.

That was made clear this week. We have run into a couple of situations where the response has been “screw the gringo.” We’re well aware of the gringo rate, we pay it (usually) happily because there’s no way around it. And let’s be honest, we make more money than most people here. It’s ok to pay a little more when the services cost less than they would if everyone made decent money here.

But these situations are different. I won’t go into details because they are irrelevant, but Frank and I have started praying that God would protect our hearts from feeling:

• Like we’ll never make a difference here.
• That everyone is out to screw us over.
• That we’ll never be able to find people who are genuine.

Our pastor is adamant about discipleship being successful (especially when compared to evangelism), but only if you equip nationals to do the work. Because we are not from this culture, we will never 100% understand it. So we keep praying and hoping that God will provide.

—

A funny story from yesterday. Just about everything is cash here, so every week or so we have to go to the ATM, withdraw the cash in dollars, go three stores down to the cash exchange (the only one that has a great rate and gives you a receipt), exchange it while trying to block the view of the very nosy people in line, and then walk home with it zipped up in various pockets. It took me a couple times to get used to it, but I’m adjusting. I’,m not acting like a crack fiend with a rock (Frank’s comparison, not mine) when I have cash, well not all the time.

However, yesterday I had to go alone because I was running some errands and needed cash. The cash exchange is in a school supply business, so it’s a great place to buy crafts for the children’s literacy program I’m now in charge of (it sounds fancy but it’s really just a reading hour with a little song and craft). I walked up to the counter and got really excited because no one was in line. Only to see the door to the office close behind the lady as she took a bathroom break. I waited, and 30 seconds before she came back a little man with a pot belly came up behind me to wait. I typically have Frank with me, which gives me a little personal space buffer. Not so much this time. He was all up in my grill. Looking at my cash, asking me where the lady was, and when she came back, looking at my money as she counted it out. Keep in mind that all this time I’m doing the following:

• Shuffling from side to side to block his view.
• Staring him down.
• Acting like I can’t understand him.
• Getting nervous because now he knows (to the penny, he was close enough to read the mini receipt they give you) the amount of cash I have on me.

By the time I got the cash and walked off, I was so nervous. I was mentally berating myself for going to do this while Frank was out. I called him, knowing I had to take a taxi home now. I’m giving him the rundown on the phone when our roommate taps me on my shoulder. I almost give her a hug, I’m so relieved. We decide to take a taxi together. We hop in the taxi, and who do we pick up at the next corner but the creepy pot belly guy. Thank God our roommate was with me, or he would have know where we lived without knowing there were multiple people living in the house. I’m hoping that he doesn’t try to come by the house. I’ve been hearing story after story of people who climb over the walls and break into houses. We keep our room locked up, but you never know.

Another day, another dollar!