What is going on here?

Several interesting, frustrating, surprising cultural experiences in the the last couple of days.

A good friend stops by my house in the morning, and I invite him in for tea. In seconds, he has grabbed a loaf of bread, cut himself two massive slices, polished off my peanut butter, and used a massive amount of jam in making himself a sandwich. Never did I indicate that I would feed him, nor did he ask - it was simply the obvious thing. It doesn't occur to someone here that I might want to save those things for later, or for another use, or to actually use some of them myself. It seems that in this culture, it wouldn't make sense for someone to have a use for something that would trump supplying a friend while he was over. Therefore, why would someone even need to ask? Also, the idea of saving for later isn't very strong in this culture, for a number of valid reasons, so it doesn't occur to someone that I might be trying to stretch this peanut butter over a couple months rather then weeks. This sort of thing is difficult as an American, and challenges me not to view everything through a narrow cultural lens and to be humble, open to other ways of thinking and understanding.

In meeting with the local chairman to report a recent break-in and theft in one of the houses, he began talking about the string of incidents at my house over the last few months, the have involved children coming in in-between the bars on my windows. The identity of one of the children has become clear, and unfortunately he is a good friend of mine. However, is discussing this, the official would never actually use his name. He said things like, "Your friend," or "That neighbor." At one point he even looked at me uncomfortably and said, "Sorry, I don't want to name him." Social harmony is of utmost importance here, and accusing someone of something, even if they are clearly guilty, is offensive and apparently unacceptable. This sentiment is so strong that, even in a conversation with me, away from those involved, an official can imply the identity of a boy who has stolen from me, but can't actually use his name.

I came across an acquaintance who was cutting lumber from tree he had felled, and he began telling me about the construction project he was using the lumber for. He had paid someone for lumber, but they refused to give it to him, keeping his money and the lumber. My response was to say that they had stolen his money. He replied that he had tried to get the lumber from them, but they had refused again, so he said, "So I avoided a quarrel, and decided to harvest my own lumber." Never mind that they took his money and didn't provide that which he paid them for - he avoided a quarrel. That was the important part. This was shocking to me. Most of you probably know me well enough that I definitely like to avoid conflict, but this passivity in the face of blatant dishonesty and theft still seems incredibly foreign to me. But I suppose that we all see things through the filter of our own culture - for him, the theft was not the most important thing, rather, maintaining social harmony, not making enemies, and not engaging in conflict was the highest priority.

These sort of encounters, along with many others that stuck out a little less in my mind, all of them occurring in 24 hours, are the sort of things that can make my head spin. Make me feel like I just don't understand people here, and give life a continuous background of stress. But they also challenge me, stretch me, force me to think about things in new ways, shed light on many of my presuppositions, and reveal my idols of control and respect. Cross-cultural living is wonderful and terrible, fun and frustrating, exciting and maddening.