Lots of North Americans pride themselves on their hospitality.  Whole regions of the US compete to be the most hospitable, I'm told.  I know making people welcome -- in my home, in my workplace, in my community, in my country -- is something I value highly.  I have always intentionally devoted considerable time and financial resources to making others welcome.   Tonight, however, I wonder if we've missed the boat somewhere along the way.

Today was Valbona's birthday.  She's 15; she's been in Canada for four months, in her own home in Ottawa for less than one month.  We showered her with gifts -- stuff for her nails and clothes, mostly.  She immediately took them away and put them in her room.  Culture shock number one.

Then, we insisted they cut the cake we'd brought.  We insisted on a knife, and plates.  Valbona had obviously not cut a cake before, but we left her with no choice.  Cake was passed, along with non-caffienated beverages of all sorts.  But there was to be no singing, and no fuss made over the birthday girl.   Culture shock number two.

Then, as we enjoyed our cake, I noticed the women covering the existing table cloth with the "family" one (ironically a  Winnie-the-Pooh one, and I'm willing to bet they have no idea who Winnie is).  Then plates with food started to appear.  We assumed and hoped that this was for the cousins, who had taken the bus across town to be present, and might not have had dinner first.  But then it became clear they intended to feed us, as well.

The food smelled fabulous.  The welcome, the warmth was palpable. But, we had all already eaten, and we were all hyper-sensitive to the budgetary restraints they were facing as a family of four trying to live on Ontario's welfare income level.  (The support to refugees comes from the federal, not the provincial, government, but to avoid conflict between newcomers and the resident poor, the refugees cannot receive more than the poorest of the  Canadian-born in any province.)   So, we hastened away, thanking them.

But, said Bashkim (the one who speaks the most English), you just came.  You come.  You go.  You never stay.  Culture shock number three.  I'd heard recently of a doctor whose Somali patients were talking about returning home because Canadians didn't spend time with others; there was never time to visit.  No-one ate meals with others.  In some important ways, this is not true, although it appears to refugees to be true.  But in a more meaningful sense, it is true.  As one of our sponsor group said to  Bashkim, to stop his protestations: "Welcome to North America."

I was saddened by the confusion, the misunderstanding. I'm still giggling to realize that this family undoubtedly thinks Canadians are very odd to eat birthday cake before dinner.  I'm wishing that we had more time, that we were able to communicate more clearly so that there would not have been this disappointment.  And mostly, I'm wishing that we just had less busy lives, and more time to just be with others, including this family we're sponsoring. 

Let there be more time for what matters.  Let the administrivia of life be banned to the bottom of the 'to do' lists. Let us care for one another.  Let us make time for hospitality.  Let us learn from the newcomers.

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