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Hitchhiking Adventures – Part 9

Being a guest in a different world

Somewhere in Canada, outside in the rain, and a little bit hungry.

I was hitchhiking west on small country roads. In the afternoon, it started to rain badly. I got into each car that stopped by, just hoping the driver would invite me to their home. But it didn’t work and not many people would stop their car for a wet stranger. In moments like these, you really don’t want to be a hitchhiker. Finally, I gave up.

Content

I saw two men, next to their farmhouse, an old wooden building, dark red in colour. I walked up to them and asked for a place to stay for the night. One of them said: "Our neighbour has a phone. I can go and ask him to call a taxi for you. The taxi can take you to a hotel in the next town."

I answered: "Well, I don’t have money for a hotel, and I just need a dry place to stay. Maybe I can stay in your barn." They looked at each other and one of them said after a short while: "We’re just simple people, but if it’s fine with you, you can stay with us. We do have an extra room and an extra bed. But it’s not very comfortable. We’re simple people." I was so happy and a few minutes later I was sitting with the family in their old kitchen and we were having dinner together. Homemade bread, homemade honey, homemade everything, and fresh milk. It was fantastic and we started talking. They were Mennonites, Christians. The name derives from the theologian Menno Simons (1496–1561), who was born in Friesland in the Netherlands. As Anabaptists, the Mennonites are historically closely connected to the Hutterites and Amish who are a bit more famous. Persecution and legal restrictions in Europe led to the emigration of Mennonites and other Anabaptists to Eastern Europe and also North America, especially between 1715 and 1815. Today Mennonites are spread all over the world and some of them were sitting with me at the table. I was talking in German again, after a long time. That’s because this family, like most Mennonites, preserved their German language. They also didn’t speak English with each other. From their dialect I understood that their ancestors came from southern Germany. They were strong believers and part of their beliefs was to refuse modern things, modern technology. That was why my host offered to go to his neighbour to ask him to call a taxi. They didn’t have their own telephones. Also, no car, no radio, no TV, no big machines for the daily work on the farm. Everything was done by their own hands and with the help of their horses.

When I was standing at the road a few hours before, I had already seen some black horse-drawn carriages pass by. This is the way the traditional Mennonites travel. Also, my host family for the night had no car, but a horse carriage. I asked them why and expected them to say: “Because nothing is written in the Bible about cars.” But their answer was much smarter. They said: “Modern people are always in a rush. They always go somewhere to enjoy something, to do something. They’re so busy. In a car it’s so easy to go everywhere. If you go by horse, you’re very slow. Now if you really think, does it makes sense for you to go to that place or is it better to stay at home, to be close to your family and neighbours.” Wow, so many people are saying: “We need to slow down, otherwise we’ll go nuts.” The Mennonites have already known it for a long time.

Some old neighbours came over to meet me, the German from the country of their ancestors, somebody from the land of their ancestors. We had a wonderful evening together. When it got late, the old men started to get ready to leave. But something was still on their mind. Something was holding them back. They became shy and finally one of them asked me for a favour: "Can we ask you for something, but just if you feel like it?" I said: “Sure, if it’s within my reach, it would be my pleasure." They handed me over an old German Bible. They said, that they would love to hear Psalm 23 in the real German language, not in the dialect the pastor speaks on Sunday in church.

Imagine, me in this old kitchen, with four or five, I don’t remember, old men, hardworking people, strong Christian believers, wonderful people. Me, a 24-year-old, reading to them from the Bible. They became so calm and concentrated when I started. I did my best to read it as nicely and respectfully as it was possible for me.

The LORD Is My Shepherd

A psalm of David. 23

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Good Night.

The next morning, I had a fantastic breakfast. And then it was time to say good bye. The last minutes to enjoy this peaceful home. While we were saying good bye to each other in front of the farmhouse, I asked them if they would allow me to take a photo of them. But it wasn’t possible. They answered in the friendliest way they could that this didn’t fit in with their beliefs.

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