Missionary Life in a Pandemic
I never imagined that I’d experience a worldwide pandemic. When the news started trickling in from China about a mysterious disease, I was only curious. Even when the first case appeared in our country, it was still far away from us. Even as China closed its borders, we were unafraid. I never once wondered how it might change our lives. Maybe you thought the same.
Then Covid-19 exploded across the world.
We faced decisions that we’ve never seen before and couldn’t have anticipated. While everyone in the US probably didn’t think about leaving their home, we were given that choice. Our missions organization advised us to either leave quickly or plan to stay for a long time. They anticipated international borders closing without much notice and remaining closed.
My husband and I hardly discussed leaving. We’d just renewed our visa and work permit and the medical facilities and expertise here are some of the best in Asia. I still didn’t feel much of a threat.
I watched as missionary friends had to reroute flights in the middle of travel because their host country closed borders. They had to go back to the US for an indefinite amount of time with only what they’d packed for a week-long conference. I said goodbye to missionaries here who planned to retire later this year, but ended up finding flights back to the US and leaving within the week. Friends coming back from home assignments are still waiting in the US.
Feelings of uncertainty and stress settled in. How long would this last? What regulations would a country that has very different values from American culture put in place? Would our freedoms be different than nationals because we are guests here?
I daily read the news from both our own country and the US. Sometimes several times a day. It changed that frequently.
The first thing mandated was masks. Everyone had to wear a mask outside of their home. I’ve never worn a mask. It felt awkward and I don’t like breathing in it. The hot weather here means you sweat more in a mask. I didn’t dare not to wear one though because I didn’t want featured on someone’s social media. I’ve adapted and I no longer notice the mask as much. I’ll probably continue to wear one on bad pollution days even after all this is over.
Within a few days, the government closed businesses. The bright malls were eerily dark and quiet except for the grocery stores in the basement. We had to get our temperature checked to enter and lines were taped to the floor to show the proper distance to stand waiting for the cashiers. I wondered if people would look at us with suspicion and sometimes even worried we’d get turned away.
On the other hand, I have absolutely enjoyed the handy motorbike delivery service here. Even before the lockdown, you could order food using an app and have it delivered to your front door for approximately 25 cents. It’s actually cheaper than cooking American food at home and I like giving the local economy the business.
The one downside to this is talking on the phone. Adrenaline would shoot through me when I’d hear the phone ring. If I was lucky, I could understand one sentence, “Where exactly do you live?” If I wasn’t lucky, I’d just guess that the person calling was bringing me food. Describing where we live over the phone is incredibly stressful and I will never ever judge someone for having poor phone skills again.
One day, the poor driver was so lost and my directions so confusing, that I ran to find our neighbor. I had tried to describe where we lived with words like “enter at the sign that says…” and “turn right at the second street.” As I hear our neighbor jabber away and give directions I hear things like “Turn at the corner shop” It’s a hole-in-the-wall place that only our neighborhood would know. Then, “turn at the mango tree.” “There’s a drink stand at the corner.” There’s a drink stand at every corner almost and a mango tree in every yard. There was no possible way that I would have described our location like this or been able to follow such directions.
Lord, help me if someone ever tries to give me directions like that! They’ll have to come search for me among the rice paddies for sure! However, the driver showed up not long after looking rather sheepish at not knowing where we lived.
Three weeks in to lockdown, the government warned a 24-hour curfew might be put into effect and I faced a whole new decision: What food does one buy here that has a long shelf life and that I actually know how to cook? What I would buy in the US is harder to find here and definitely more expensive.
More than that, our national friends couldn’t afford to stock up. Would they eat ramen noodles once-a-day until the curfew was loosened? I prepared to stock up for them too. Just another decision I’d never have imagined facing even in my craziest dreams. Thankfully, the curfew was an empty threat and never happened.
When our church had to stop meeting, I also wondered how they would survive. With a culture of popping in and out of each other’s lives almost daily; changing to meeting online looked impossible. They’ve been so adaptable and weekly watch a large church’s service who has the ability to stream online. I still don’t get much out of a service in the local language, so without the relational aspect of a real meeting, it’s not worth joining in.
My husband and I have followed the rules more closely than our national friends. I am a guest of this country. The stakes are higher for me. I want to live respectfully and peacefully here. The police have been enforcing the rules through steep fines and arrests. I have no intention of being one of them.
Our country is cautiously opening. I am relieved. The pain of true poverty is hard to watch. There’s an old man in our neighborhood who walks down our street every morning and picks through the garbage to find things to sell. He has a family and I know that what he finds in the garbage may buy them one meal that day.
As we slowly return to a more normal existence with normal decisions, I am more aware of my own mental health, emotional health and the needs around me. Your perspective changes when you know that giving a bag of rice to your neighbor literally allows them to eat that day. Or, buying a tea from the lady who runs the drink stand at the corner directly contributes towards her meals tomorrow.
I’m also way more aware of my feelings and thoughts during the day too. I’ve tuned in because I know that my emotions and thoughts can go different places under these stresses. When all that is familiar is gone, my mind, body and emotions often return to old habits to find stability. Sometimes, those habits aren’t pretty places and I have to care for emotional scars that are bleeding again. Thankfully, Jesus meets me right there and he is eagerly waiting to meet my neighbor too.