Challenge #5 Compassion in the Face of Racism

Listen to me read the story here or read it below:

Living in Bavaria, Germany I have learned to let go of the dream of one-stop-shopping. You sometimes have to go far and wide and traverse the wildest terrain just to get all of the contents on your shopping list, and to make the treasure hunt more exciting, all stores close at 8 pm. So not only do you have to research where to get what you want but you better get it before 8 pm workdays and weekends, otherwise you’ll be left empty-handed.

There is one store that comes close to the “efficient” American shopping experience. There is one supermarket where you can go and ease away homesickness by wandering around a store so big you have to take a snack with you in case you get lost and they don’t find you till the next morning.

This particular Saturday morning I had decided to make the long drive and get some of the things I couldn’t get at the more local stores. There’s this superfood mix I love, so I decided to have a treat-yo’-self-moment and make the effort to stock up. A treat-yo’-self-moment, with trail mix? To some that might sound sad but, to give you some context, my dad and I are superfood trail mix connoisseurs. When I visit him in the USA, our idea of bonding time includes a Costco visit where we buy enormous bags of trail mix that we eat from for weeks.

The crux of these big stores is that they usually have long lines. They haven’t quite figured that part out yet; and the cashier doesn’t lend a helpful hand with bagging the groceries. To be fair they did try it once as a way to give high school students jobs. The students obviously weren’t trained. By the time I reached the exit the bottom of my paper bag was wet from the frozen berries he had bagged first, and by the time I reached the car the bag had given out completely. That program didn’t last long.

Having finished my shopping I walked past the long lines, trying to find one that didn’t seem as long or full. My cart was loaded with all of the treats I had been missing out on. Finally, I chose a line that seemed just as long as all of the others and waited patiently.

Behind me was an older man with just a few things and behind him families and individuals with overflowing carts. You could feel the atmosphere change slightly as people saw their day off dwindling away in the supermarket line. To give even more context all stores are closed on Sundays, so if you don’t want to do your shopping during the week, you have to get it all done on Saturday, before 8pm. So we all stood there together, waiting.

Behind me I could hear the old man begin to mumble his dissatisfaction. I turned to observe him. He stood slumped and frowning. His white hair and skin flowed into his all black clothing. I listened to his clouded mumbling as we moved slowly forward, closer to the cashier’s belt.

When the time came I began to load my things on to the conveyor belt. Although we were making progress the older man behind me became increasingly distressed. Suddenly I heard one clear word mumbled amongst indistinct grumbling.

“Blah blah blub N*** bloopity blee blah,” he said.

“WTF?!” I thought. Then that question came that often comes in such moments: “Did he just say what I think he just said?”

I stood there perplexed, wondering where that just came from. I looked at him all bent and watched him whisper his poison. I looked in his hands and looked in mine, then I realized why he was upset.

I turned to him and said in perfect German, “Would you like to jump in front of me? I have so much and you have so little.”

He looked at me startled, almost surprised. He stumbled and stammered, “No, no it’s fine. Go ahead. Go ahead.”

Now I was puzzled. I returned, “Are you sure because it seems to be really important to you.”

“No, thank you!” He smiled.

So I went on putting my food on the conveyor belt. My back was turned but my ears faced him. Like a horse I used my animal instincts to keep an “eye” on my surroundings. His poisonous self-talk suddenly had a warmth and almost cheer to it.

“Was that really all it took?” I thought. “A kind word?” Or maybe it was the fact that I looked him in the eyes and saw him, acknowledged his existence. Or maybe he was embarrassed and knew he was wrong. He looked at my skin and saw a target but his arrow missed, not because of his aim, but because I choose my reality; and, in that moment, I refused to step into the venomous space he obviously occupied.

As I bagged my groceries I listened to him eagerly shoot the breeze with the cashier.

“You’re welcome, Supermarket Cashier!” I thought, knowing they often bear the brunt of people’s impatience and dissatisfaction. “You’re welcome, Munich at-large!” You have one less cranky citizen, at least for the next hour.