I don't like videocalls. They make me feel nervous and uncomfortable. Conversations feel stilted, interrupted by the video itself. I dunno, maybe it's just my age. It's funny, when we were young (or rather when I was young), the idea of a videocall was alluring science fiction. It did not necessarily seem that it would actually be a real thing. It was for secret agents and spacemen. Now that it is here, many of us avoid it. I avoid videocalls. At the very suggestion, I change the subject.
For young people, it is the norm. Of course we're doing a videocall. What other kind is there?
Texting. In fact, I prefer texting.
Nonetheless, a certain young woman in Sumatera, Jesika by name, from the city of Riau, requested a videocall so persistently that finally I ran out of excuses and relented.
She wants to practice at speaking English conversationally, in real time, you see? And I must admit, she has a point. Texting allows too much time to think, to edit what you're saying, to consult a translator app. On the videocall, you must communicate on the instant. For me, that's just another nerve wracking element of the whole deal. For her it is an exciting opportunity to employ a foreign language. And let's face it, in real world interactions, you don't have time to stand around texting your part of the conversation.
Yes, the little whippersnapper has a point.
Anyway, we did the call and I found it surprisingly pleasant. She's a delightful girl, almost 22, of a serious bent of mind, cute little face, big black glasses. For the most part, she spoke English and I spoke Indonesian, which was useful and educational for both of us at the same time. In addition, I got to meet her big brother, her little brother, her cousin, her mother and her uncle. They all gather, she told me, at the uncle's house on Wednesdays to hold school for the children (given that Indonesian schools are cancelled for at least the next three months due to coronavirus).
What stuck me most about this young woman was how childlike she is in comparison to a 22 year old American woman, which indeed is further accentuated by her small village upbringing (a kampung girl, as they say here). Friendly, direct, open, unsophisticated. She is Christian as well, as is her large family, and this is unusual especially on the island of Sumatera. In fact, one will often hear of church closings, lockdowns, and building permit denials in Sumatera. I mentioned this, but she seemed unbothered. We just have church in our houses, she said.
Well amen, sister. Church is not a building, it is a gathering of believers, ecclesia, the called out. Close as many churches as you want to, forbid the stones and the steeples, but the spirit is like the wind. It blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born in the spirit (John 3:8).
For young people, it is the norm. Of course we're doing a videocall. What other kind is there?
Texting. In fact, I prefer texting.
Nonetheless, a certain young woman in Sumatera, Jesika by name, from the city of Riau, requested a videocall so persistently that finally I ran out of excuses and relented.
She wants to practice at speaking English conversationally, in real time, you see? And I must admit, she has a point. Texting allows too much time to think, to edit what you're saying, to consult a translator app. On the videocall, you must communicate on the instant. For me, that's just another nerve wracking element of the whole deal. For her it is an exciting opportunity to employ a foreign language. And let's face it, in real world interactions, you don't have time to stand around texting your part of the conversation.
Yes, the little whippersnapper has a point.
Anyway, we did the call and I found it surprisingly pleasant. She's a delightful girl, almost 22, of a serious bent of mind, cute little face, big black glasses. For the most part, she spoke English and I spoke Indonesian, which was useful and educational for both of us at the same time. In addition, I got to meet her big brother, her little brother, her cousin, her mother and her uncle. They all gather, she told me, at the uncle's house on Wednesdays to hold school for the children (given that Indonesian schools are cancelled for at least the next three months due to coronavirus).
What stuck me most about this young woman was how childlike she is in comparison to a 22 year old American woman, which indeed is further accentuated by her small village upbringing (a kampung girl, as they say here). Friendly, direct, open, unsophisticated. She is Christian as well, as is her large family, and this is unusual especially on the island of Sumatera. In fact, one will often hear of church closings, lockdowns, and building permit denials in Sumatera. I mentioned this, but she seemed unbothered. We just have church in our houses, she said.
Well amen, sister. Church is not a building, it is a gathering of believers, ecclesia, the called out. Close as many churches as you want to, forbid the stones and the steeples, but the spirit is like the wind. It blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born in the spirit (John 3:8).
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