Two years ago, I uprooted my life and moved to Egypt with the plan of staying for two years. I'm now entering my third year of living in the city that truly never sleeps (I'm sorry, NYC, but I think Cairo has you beat). After two years, I can say that I'm experienced, and indeed it's true that I've been to all the famous tourist sites multiple times, I've learned a bit of Arabic, I can take a taxi, I can sleep through fireworks and cars honking through the night, I know the complexities of the visa application process, I have my favorite fruit stands and small grocery stores, and I know when the price is too high. However, all this experience does not equal belonging. I am and will continue to be a foreigner, someone whose home country is different from those around me. While I may even gain citizenship because I'm marrying an Egyptian, my identity and background is rooted elsewhere.
When one lives in a country that is largely homogenous like Egypt, it often feels as if people are looking at you like an other-worldy creature whose purposes are unknown. Their questions come through their eyes and sometimes through their mouths: Where are you from? Why do you look so different? Why would you come here to our country? Do you like it here? Why does your skin turn red in the sun? Can we take a picture with you? Why do you act different?
Sometimes, the attention makes you feel like a movie star. You're thinking "Wow, I must be gorgeous. I want to stay here forever in this place where suddenly everyone thinks I'm stunning." When you say something in Arabic, and someone responds, "You're amazing! You're so adorable when you speak Arabic," you smile and laugh because you haven't felt cute like this since you were a kid. At some point, though, we all want to be taken seriously and given a chance to blend in to the crowd. We grow weary of the attention; we want to be able to navigate daily life like normal, independent, responsible adults. The frustration of not being able to communicate what you want in a simple situation like buying vegetables or getting a taxi home can wipe away the glamor of expat life in a moment.
Being a foreigner is a bi-polar experience; there are extreme highs and lows. There are days when the adventure of being surrounded by new experiences and sights and sounds is intoxicating. You're taking it all in, enjoying the process of learning, of being absorbed into an environment where nothing is dull or rote. When you start learning, there is an intense feeling of satisfaction when you know how to do something or when you can show someone around your neighborhood with the attitude of a local. And then there are days as a foreigner when you dream of your favorite Mexican restaurant back home. Or you just want to get in your car, crank up the music, and drive to a grocery store where everything is labeled and exactly where you expect it to be. You don't want anyone to look at you, and you imagine yourself not roasting in the 101 degree weather because you're wearing shorts everywhere. You think of gathering around the dinner table with your friends from college and knowing exactly what they will say and when to laugh. Sure, it's predictable, but it's comforting to know you won't blunder through a conversation.
But then, as soon as you are actually back in this comfortable home environment, you miss the complexity of life as a foreigner. You miss discovering. You miss koshari and shawarma and walking to the grocery store. When you fall asleep, the silence has a heaviness and a strangeness you never felt before you got used to sleeping to the lullaby of car horns. When you sit and visit with your friends and family, you sometimes find yourself growing disengaged from the conversation, finding that familiar topics don't relate to you or, if you've been gone for many years, maybe you're shy to admit you have no idea what they are talking about. Something feels off. These are your people. You know you should belong here in this land of quiet streets and dinner at 6 and sparkling grocery stores with a million types of cereal, but now you seem to be looking at your home from the outside. Now, you are beginning to feel like a foreigner in your own home country as well. While I've described my experience as an American expat, I think expats from all countries can relate to these strange homecomings.
This is the true experience of an expat. It's thrilling and lonely and confusing all at the same time. Once you've taken the leap, I think it's impossible to truly feel at home in one particular geographical location again. When I personally start to feel confused by the conflicting emotions and wonder where I belong, I'm most comforted when I think of the life of the Christian and what Scripture says about our true home. Peter calls us as believers "foreigners and exiles." (1 Peter 2:11) As a literal foreigner, living outside of my home country and always being aware that I am different from those around me, this verse holds fresh meaning for me. In this verse, Peter is talking about how we should live differently from unbelievers because we are no longer living according to the desires of our flesh (our natural impulses), but we are living as followers of Christ in pursuit of what he values. As a foreigner, it feels awkward when you do things differently from the culture around you. You want to blend in, but your identity makes you stand out. As believers, we should stand out. Our home country does not exist on this earth. It's in heaven with Jesus. When we do or say something, it's good for people to stare at us and wonder why we do it that way. In the same way Egyptians stare at me for moving my fork from my right to left hand and back again when cutting and eating my food, our simplest actions as believers should incite curiosity. Sometimes, our actions will also incite a mocking laughter or even anger or violence against us, but that reaction should not change the way we live our lives.
One of my friends recently shared her family's decision not to do Santa Clause with her children because they wanted the focus and excitement of Christmas to remain centered on Jesus. I admire her choice so much. I'm not sure I could make the same choice, and I'm not saying this is the only way to honor and focus on Jesus during the Christmas season. But what a counter-cultural choice. She admitted that this decision drew her attention to just how much focus is placed on Santa Clause in the American Christmas tradition. Everywhere she went, her children were peppered with the question, "What do you want from Santa?" And she was trying to gently guide them away from that focus on what am I getting from Santa to considering the rich spiritual roots of Christmas. Here she is in her own native country, and yet her behavior and choices look strange and incite curiosity, maybe even frustration.
This does not mean that we always need to stand out in ways that surprise others or draw attention to ourselves. In the same chapter, Peter encourages us to honor and love all people and respect the government. Somehow, we are to live as respectful foreigners, knowing we are different but caring for all the people we are living amongst. Oh how I relate to these desires as an American expat living in Egypt. In some ways, I know I'm different and I can't completely blend in, but I want to be respectful and to love the people - maybe not every part of their culture - but to see them as people made in God's image just like me and more similar to me than we appear on the surface. Living as a believer on this earth is like living as a respectful expat in another country. We seek understanding; we learn the language; we develop meaningful relationships; we set ourselves at the same level as others. What we don't have to seek, what will always allude us is belonging. Belonging is found in Jesus alone. Just as he was never fully accepted here on earth, we will not be fully accepted by this world. Our beliefs may be applauded for a time; we may have a strong voice for a moment; then, the tides change, and we are on the outskirts again. If our hope is placed in feeling accepted, we will abandon our beliefs before we will allow ourselves to be shuffled into a corner of irrelevance and reproach. But if our belonging is in Jesus, we will give a sigh of understanding as we find ourselves in that corner, rest in Him for a while, pray for wisdom to enter back into the circle of the culture, and then step by step boldly engage again.
This world we are living in is becoming more globalized every day. All of my Egyptian friends are constantly talking about immigrating at some point to other countries, and so many of my American friends have contemplated or made moves abroad. So many of us will have this experience of living as a foreigner, feeling this sense of discomfort, then the slow immersion into the new culture until we have a sense of being home. And yet, the full belonging is not there. May this tension be a picture, a string on our finger, reminding us of our true heritage. May we be wise ambassadors here in our temporary home.
