Respect

Respect

With my 56^th birthday today, it makes me the oldest worker on campus.  I don’t feel like that I’m the oldest here, although I’ve noticed in subtle ways that I am sometimes treated as such.  I’m not real sure how that makes me feel.

I first noticed this trend a number of weeks ago while the rubble crew was installing the first septic field.  It was an above grade mound system that requires many layers of material put on a level plane covering a large surface area.  Each layer was roughed in by the excavator and then raked in by hand.  I was shooting grade and helping to rake and shovel each of the layers of sand, rock and dirt.  After a couple of days doing this I began to notice the nationals putting the surveying stick in my hands more and more, and taking my rake out of my hands more and more.  I felt like they thought I was doing their job by raking and shoveling so much so I didn’t think too much of it.  So I ended up shooting grade a lot.

A couple of weeks later we were installing another mound system for the expansion project.  I had been on the loader most of the day moving material around with the fork attachments and also carting stone when needed for the laterals.  On one occasion I put a little too much stone in the ditch.  I popped out of the loader and grabbed a rake to level it out when Francois and Jules came up and took my rake.  I asked what they were doing and Francois, in his broken English, stuttered something about my heart.  I was a little taken aback as I never thought of my labor in the heat and humidity being an issue with that.  But they encouraged me to get back on the loader and bring them some more stone; they would level the area just dumped. 

On Thursday the crew was leveling out an area behind the offices for the erection of a new medical tent.  I found a rake to level out some dirt but Andre and Betta took it from me and proceeded to do the work.  This time they would not give it back to me.

Last week Robert, James, Francois and I took the truck into Port au Prince to look at a church site for removal.  As we got ready to leave I got into the back seat; James, our interpreter, was just getting into the other side.  He said that I had to get out and move to the front seat.  I nonchalantly said that I was going to let Francois sit up there.  He looked at me and replied, ‘no’, you have to sit up front.  I looked back and said, ‘why’? He said, ‘it’s a place of respect.  You are the oldest member here and it is a place of respect for you to sit in the front seat and be driven to Port au Prince.  I kind of shrugged it off but then he again said, ‘no, I’m serious.  You move to the front’.  So I did.

On another occasion the crew was traveling to a nearby jobsite.  I came up last to the truck and started to hop in the truck bed because the cab was full.  Before I could even lift my leg over the bed channel, the two rear doors flew open and two of the nationals said, ‘no, no, you ride in truck’.  I said, ‘no, I’ll ride in back; it’s ok’.  But that was unacceptable.  Junior jumped in the back before I knew it and I was, once again, ushered into the front seat.

I’m working with other men in the age bracket of the early twenties to the early forties.  Yes, I am older and it is tough for me to acquiesce because I enjoy working hard and working up a sweat.  I feel like a contributor in that respect.  But I’m finding that younger men also want to contribute and one way of doing that is to be able to express respect to the older men by letting them work the ‘easier’ jobs or by letting them sit in the front seat where they can be chauffeured to the work site.  In one respect, it is quite difficult to do that because I feel it makes me look ‘better’ than the younger men.  On the other hand, it makes me feel somewhat honored that they want to protect me from the labors that tend to  come easier to them because of their age. 

I am grateful for this ‘custom’ that they have.  Not because I get to drive in the front seat all the time, but because it shows me that someone, somewhere took the time to ingrain in their children that with age comes a level of respect.

I guess now I have to learn that it is gracious to also receive it.

I won’t tell them I made a telescoping rake that fits into my pant leg.  Think they’ll find out?