Iraqi Party

On Saturday, I got a chance to help serve at an Iraqi refugee party hosted by Columbia Presbyterian Church. It was well worth the trip in the snowy conditions for the experience it brought.
When we arrived at the church, we were assigned some simple tasks, such as moving some tables, setting up chairs, and wrapping gifts to be handed out. The work seemed mindless, and it was hard to feel like we were really doing an act of service. However, seeing the way that everybody did their part to make the party come to fruition spoke to me about what service truly is. For the guests, it didn't matter what each volunteer did, because the end result was an amazing time for them to be welcomed into their new home. Each volunteer was necessary to making it all happen, and it was a great turnout.

When we were there, we were also able to observe some cultural differences of interest. Going along with the theme of global cultures in this internship, this was a great opportunity to experience that right at home. Seeing the clothing, the interactions, facial expressions, music, and language of the Iraqis really opened my mind to the different ways people live their lives around the world. Though they are now living in America, most of these refugees still follow many of their traditions and customs from their homeland. We were actually given a list of guidelines prior to the event of certain customs/practices to beware of when interacting with the guests. For example, it included things like shaking hands lightly with Iraqi men so they don't feel like you are being dominant/disrespectful, and making sure not to shake hands with women. It also included discussion pointers, such staying away from the war as a discussion, and asking questions about Iraqi history.
The language barrier really stuck out at me also while we were at the party. Most of the people, I couldn't even communicate with. Part of the program was an informational session from a local police officer to explain some of our laws. There was a translator present to help the guests who didn't speak english.

It was easy to pick out many differences, and as I was leaving to go home and sit by the warm fire, I felt as though these guests had come from another world I had never known. But then I noticed a group of the children who were outside throwing snowballs at each other, laughing and playing without a care in the world. Amidst all of our differences, I realized we are still alike in many ways. We are all God's children no matter where we live and what language we speak. We all experience similar joys and struggles. The world started to seem a lot smaller after that.