I was sitting in bed at the end of a great day hanging out
with the new neighbors in our world (read: at the local refugee center),
dreaming up the title for this blog post.
First I thought: “Good Sam
visits Antwerp”, or “Hula Hoops and the Good Sam”. But in the end, I had to choose Lost in Translation! Working in several different languages
throughout life, I have learned that often things get lost in translation,
(which is one of the reasons why I love medical care here in Belgium and the
fact that I can speak English….most of the doctors here can speak English, and
when you’re talking about my brain or my heart, I prefer to have that
conversation in English!) In our
weekly women’s clubs, we start our instructions in English, then there is
always the Dutch translation (an important part of our helping these new
friends learn to integrate via their language skills), French translation
(depending how many African women are in the group) and almost always either
Russian or Arabic or another Slavic language thrown in just for fun.
 |
| Our welcome banner ~ and our artists! |
 |
| Our amazing volunteers....we had so much fun... |
But today’s story is about preschoolers and school age
children, most of whom did not speak a common language that we were using as we
played together. God was good in
providing a volunteer in our midst who spoke the first language of most of the
children who were there, and we had great fun telling the story of Ralph, who
was a small Belgian boy living in Ekeren who wanted to ride his bike down to
visit his grandma in Antwerp. On
his way to Antwerp, he got beat up by a bunch of teenagers in Luchtbal, and
they broke his bike and stole his iPhone.
As he lay on the ground, crying out for help, a police officer came by,
looked right at him and continued on his way. The director of his school walked by, busy with her family
who was on their way to the movie theater right down the street. They had no time to help: after all, the movie had a definite
start time! Then came a man who
was working for the city, cleaning up the streets. He stopped to help, took the boy home, picked up his broken
bike, and gave him his own iPhone and promised to buy a new phone for the boy.
The question at the end of the story was: who was the real helper? We figured that, with the ages of the children, and the language challenges that were there with us that afternoon, we wouldn't get much more information out of the kids than who was the real helper....
But the most beautiful thing happened as we gave the kids
the chance to play out the story:
There was Ralph on his bike, and his “bike” was actually two hula
hoops. So, when the kids are
telling the story, it’s Ralph and the two kids who are “the bike” with
him that all fall to the ground when Ralph gets beat up by the teenagers. Okay, that in itself is funny
enough. Lots of little kids now on
the ground, showing how “beat up” they are! Then, when the man comes and picks up Ralph and helps him,
he also gives Ralph a big hug. And
then he goes and picks up the two hula hoops/”I represent a bike in this skit”
kids as well. And gives them a
hug.
We walked away from the experience so blessed by the
understanding of the smallest among us…..that it’s not just the one you see
before you in need who needs a hug and to be encouraged, but also the others in
your midst.
Many things can get lost in translation, but love doesn’t
need to be translated.
 |
| Budding artists in our midst |
 |
| Just in case you wondered if I was working or just playing.... |
