Pre-Service Blog.
1. Going in to the service learning project, I'm not hoping for too much. On a basic level, I'm hoping that the Burmese family will have at least some grasp of the English language and are comfortable enough in their surroundings and with our company to come out of their shells. I would imagine that being a refugee in another country it would be very easy to remain in a tight knit family group and it may be hard to open that group to some well meaning (but alien nonetheless) students. Longer term I'm hoping to gain a greater understanding of the Burmese culture and how refugees go about integrating themselves into a new environment. I would love to hope that over the course of my service-learning project I can create a bond with the family and make their integration to American culture at least a little easier.
2. My assumptions of the service-learning site are mainly based upon my visit to the world relief centre back in August. I spent 2 hours on a hot summers morning sorting out furniture in the warehouse which would later be taken to the homes for use by refugee families. The furniture was often clearly 3rd or 4th hand and very few of the pieces matched each other. With this in mind I pictured a fairly shabby and eclectic living space. Since arriving in America last August I've only lived in a college dorm and the handful of residential houses I've been luckily enough to visit have been in prosperous neighbourhoods; owned by comfortable American families in the main. Having never been inside an American house in a less favourable neighbourhood and seeing the rejected and donated furniture in the world relief warehouse combined to paint a less than positive assumption of the service-learning site.
2. The family that I've been assigned to are refugees from Burma. Beyond that, I don't know too much. Burmese culture isn't something I'm particularly knowledgable about, I know that Burma has been war torn for many years having frequently seen it on the news in Britain. I know that there is an extremely large refugee population in Burma.
3. To this point in my life the interests/passions that I can relate to the world relief programme are shamefully few. The number of times I've volunteered willingly to help out those less fortunate than myself can be counted on two hands, being somewhat of a introvert, this experience will push me outside my comfort zone. I am looking forward to this venture from my daily routine and I think that being exposed to people of different cultures makes you a much more rounded and complete individual. Despite having travelled decidedly more than most 20 year olds, Burmese culture isn't one that I've ever been exposed to and I'm looking forward to that.
One connection that I can relate with the Burmese family is the fact that America isn't my native culture either, although my own native land shares much more with USA (a language for example) than Burma does, that feeling of displacement and homesickness is definitely one I can relate to.
How does service relate to learning?
Until the fall of last year, and my arrival at Ambrose I would have found this question much more difficult to answer. I saw the two ideas as separate entities; learning was something I could achieve, something insular and personal, while service was something people on the news did. Service was going to a distant land and helping those in severe sickness or poverty. It was something I'd always admired, but never thought related to my own learning. When I arrived at Ambrose, fresh from across the pond, I was informed I would have to partake in a day of community service called "Urban Plunge" at the time it felt like a massive hindrance and learning something from the day seemed like a very unlikely outcome. Our group was assigned to a warehouse in Rock Island belonging to a company called 'World Relief'. Here's how it went.
I have to admit when I first set eyes on the uninspiring brick exterior of the World Relief centre in Rock Island, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy. As we piled off the yellow school bus I’d seen in a hundred hollywood films, I didn’t really know how to feel. “You’ll just be cleaning out an old warehouse” was the only clue I had received about what exactly my Urban Plunge would entail. The smiling face that greeted us inside could not have been more opposed to the bland exterior of the building, she seemed genuinely pleased to see us and was sure we could be a real help. The work wasn’t flattering, moving dusty old furniture from its current jumbled home, out in to the yard and returning it in an organised system so it could be accessed and removed easily. The furniture was to be given to refugee families who were arriving in the States with absolutely nothing. To me it looked like dusty 2nd (or more likely 7th) hand furniture, but to these people it must seem the height of luxury. Before we arrived in Rock Island, I’d felt like a refugee myself. My dorm room on campus 4000 miles from home was a refugee camp in an alien culture; even the aforementioned yellow bus held me in awe. As I perspired in the humidity and the Iowan sun, the blisters started forming on my hands from carrying ancient TV’s, I began to find some perspective. Yes, I’d moved from one culture to its slightly more brash, non-identical twin. But had I fled from terror, through more terror and a language barrier into a world that was completely alien? A world where nobody understood me? A world where I couldn’t FaceTime home, because the family I’d left behind had luxuries like occasionally clean water, not iPhones? When I asked myself these questions, I savoured the sweat, the blisters and the morning of my time, they seemed like easy gifts to give to those less fortunate than myself.
Service itself can be a learning process. It teaches humility and perspective and it teaches us the power of giving up our time. Although we only spent two hours in the warehouse, the 25 of us who pitched in achieved an awful lot. I came to realise that if everyone can do a small service to the people around them every day, the world would become a much more uplifting place.
