The Power of Culture

One hot Saturday mid-morning, my wife and I, drove with our girls to Whimpy (a fast food restaurant) for some ice-cream. That loud monkey, he had told everybody in Kitwe to go there; the place was packed. The music was loud, everybody was talking, the waiters were busybodies, phones were sounding all kinds of ringtones, and the children’s play pan was totally animated. Though everybody seemed neither uncomfortable nor bothered with the semi-commotion, I noticed a teenager struggling as though he had done something wrong or there was something wrong around him. I got interested in him and quickly turned my FBI/CIA/KGB/CID antennas on just in case he pulled a surprise or a stunt.
 

We entered, greeted a few acquaintances, and quickly found a good spot for us to sit. In a moment a waiter sashes by and hands us the menu. In no time our orders were done. While waiting for the ice-cream, we quickly got engaged in a family chat, and from time to time we read a few facebook posts and made some comments. However, in the midst of all this my mind was preoccupied with the uncomfortable teenager. I them noticed that the fair colored elderly man seated opposite the teenager had an open Bible besides him. After a second and third look at him, I remembered who he was; a missionary pastor I got to meet some years back.

As usual, the girls became impatient as the ice-cream was taking a little longer. To keep them busy my wife allowed them to go to the play pan. You should have seen their smiles stretch from end to end in appreciation: “thanks mum!” they shouted in unison like a choir as they scampered. Like a curious cat, I quickly recollected mind to my preoccupation and zoomed in to try and catch the conversation. My wife wondered where my concentration had been channeled, but she said no word. As I persisted, I learnt that they were having a “one on one discipleship ministry.” Instantly, my antennas went down in encouragement.

The ice-cream was served and my wife called the girls. They came running, panting, sweating and salivating to do injustice to the poor ice-cream; the liking was fired. Across the tables, the two already had their meal and where focused on the Bible. With enthusiastic dedication the pastor had taken part of his time and money to spend on the teenager. This was exceptionally exemplary; creating time for young people to point them to Christ.

As the girls raced each other to the bottom of the Kilimanjaro of ice-creams, a cultural thought hit my mind. As much as I admired this dear brother and his effort in his discipleship ministry, I realized he had overlooked something very cardinal which was a great hindrance to his efforts. I guess the lesson was good, no question about that. Their relationship seemed great as well. It was a cultural obstacle that the missionary pastor had no idea of. Several times the teenager would shake in discomfort, go out of focus a couple of times, and would appear too conscious of the people at Whimpy. The missionary pastor tried several times to redirect his attention but to no avail.

Whimpy is a great place, my kids love it and majority of Kitwe residents. The food is wonderful and ever delicious. Am sure the teenager must have enjoyed his meal. However, the Zambian culture around eating places is very different from what is in the West. In the West, people mind their own business; nobody seems to care about people on the other table. Making it very easy for a discipleship session to take place at eating places. But not so with Zambians, everybody takes notice of everybody and somehow expresses interest in who is in the place and many other details. As a result, two things worked against the teenager: The place was socially ahead of him, and he was captivated with the thought that everybody was watching him.

In a moment or so, my girls were done, our time was out, the bill was paid and we were out of the semi-commotion. I drove away happy and challenged with the efforts of this missionary pastor. His courage and manner to disciple the young man was admirable. But I also drove away sorry for the teenager as the place really worked against him. I know God is able and even in that situation He surely did get to his heart. On the contrary, there was also a great cultural lesson.

A pastor who knew the culture would have easily understood the cultural challenges that a socially challenged Zambian teenager would face in a place like Whimpy for discipleship. Am sure a place of a little lower stand would have been more accommodating for the teenager. Better still, after the meal, departure to a secluded place for the Bible Study time would have been ideal.

Food for thought. Never overlook the role culture plays in an individual’s life, ministry or church. You can take me out of my village to another environment for discipleship, but you can never take the village culture that has nurtured me out of me. Especially if am an African; culture has power.