INK ARIA

CROSSING TIME AND LIFE ZONES

Renee Gehman

The most important single factor that decides the severity of jet lag is the number of time zones crossed." Amid flying through every single time zone, this was not what I wanted to hear. But at that point it was either read my travel safety brochure or continue in conversation with the British diving instructor who reeked of alcohol. (Maybe I should have told him that alcoholic beverages become two to three times more potent when on a plane.)

Of course the latter option grew increasingly more appealing as I read on, learning that nighttime flying, flying east, and being one who normally likes routine and hates change are also factors contributing to jet lag. Given that these were the exact circumstances of my situation, things were looking bleak.

I knew in my head that a year of service with Mennonite Central Committee in Vietnam would involve crossing the globe, but I never really caught that the plan would be executed. I had even less a grasp of the fact that I would actually at some point be here. If that makes any sense. It’s hard for me to tell anymore, considering my life this past week and the unusually large amount of "not making sense" occupying my head.

On the surface, this plan is oozing with logic: I’m here through MCC, and, since I am a Mennonite, we make a compatible team in relation to goals, viewpoints, and so forth. I’ve come as part of the SALT program (Serving and Learning Together), and indeed I am very interested in serving in and learning from another culture. I’m spending the year working at the The Gioi [World, pronounced tay zoi] Publishing House in Hanoi as a manuscript editor in the English department—and in fact my primary career aspiration is to be an editor!

But beyond that, things are about as hazy as the air in this land of humidity, monsoons, and quite a bit of pollution. First of all, I am about as far away from home as I can get without having to arrange something with NASA. In Asia.

Ask anyone who knows me fairly well, and he or she will affirm that there is no place in the world I’d rather pass my days than at home in Pennsylvania, where we eat shoo-fly pie, sing Mennonite hymns, and lament over the worsening ratio of cornfields to housing developments. So for me to end up almost exactly across the world for a year seems a non sequitur.

Second, there is the little matter of my personality. I did warn MCC, noting in my application essays and interview that basically my personality appears to be the exact opposite personality of what they are looking for. SALT calls for people who are people people, who are flexible, who can learn to rely on others, who are good relationship builders. I am an introvert who needs alone time, works by a schedule, prefers to be in control of my life, and craves knowing at all times exactly what is going on.

Even after getting here, I found myself looking over a new orientation packet and reading (in all caps!): EMPHASIZE RELATIONSHIPS WITH PEOPLE RATHER THAN JOB OUTPUT. This statement caused me to wonder why I shouldn’t immediately e-mail someone in charge—in all caps, perhaps even in bold—DO YOU REALIZE I HAD NO SOCIAL LIFE IN COLLEGE BECAUSE I WAS OBSESSED WITH MY ACADEMIC OUTPUT? DO YOU HAVE A PEPPER PROGRAM BETTER SUITED TO ME?

(Un)fortunately, I had also told MCC that I am a person willing and eager to learn, and to change my ways—at least when my predispositions interfere with relating to, understanding, and growing with other people. Then there are the L and T in SALT: "learning together." MCC knows I’m not entirely qualified or prepared for this position yet is willing for us to learn together.

I’m less worried about living up to my own expectations than I am about meeting everyone else’s. The expectations of those who clasped my hands in theirs and asserted that I was a brave soul. Of those who supported me financially, because they believed that they were putting it toward a good cause. Of those who have welcomed me into their lives in Vietnam, who have already offered me so much love and care without even knowing me.

I’m afraid of letting those people down, of not being good enough. What if I can’t find ways to communicate and establish strong relationships with people? What if I don’t learn anything or make a difference to anyone? I’m not expecting to do something huge, but I do want all the support and encouragement I’ve received already to be worth it.

Because lately I find myself staring glaze-eyed at this vast world of opportunity, scared to death that I’ll never know how to do anything with it. And in these moments, it’s difficult to see the logic and reason.

And yet—reason aside—somewhere past all the worries and the fears, in a place much deeper, nearer, and dearer to my core, I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is where I’m supposed to be now. Even when I find it difficult to remember why exactly, I still just know.

I think back on all those factors contributing to my jet lag, and it certainly would have made sense for recovery from the flight to have been a minor disaster. But it wasn’t so bad after all. I’m sleeping through the nights. I feel fine. And I’m trying to apply the experience of flying across continents and oceans to my expectations for what the upcoming year will be—new, scary, and at times daunting—but also holding potential to leave me feeling surprisingly refreshed. Say tuned, say I, not only to readers but also myself.

—Renee Gehman, Hanoi, Vietnam,
is assistant editor, DreamSeeker
Magazine, and an editor at the The Gioi Publishing House as part of a Mennonite Central Committee service assignment.