Why won't you talk to me
You never talk to me
What are you thinking
Where do we go from here
It doesn't have to be like this
All we need to do is make sure we keep talking
Keep Talking by Pink Floyd
A couple of years ago I was blessed to go on a trip to Haiti. As often happens on trips there are unexpected surprises - broken down vehicles, people getting sick, fun stuff like that. There are also fantastic opportunities that crop up. A few days into our visit our host informed me that on Sunday afternoon I was going to be the featured guest on the organizations weekly radio program. Note that I was not asked. Is my love of talking really that transparent? It is a sad commentary that even across language and cultural barriers people just know that if you stick a mic in my face I will start jabbering away. Oh well, I could have worse vices. Right?
Sunday afternoon rolled around and our whole group headed to the radio station. It was late June which, in case you are not familiar with the Caribbean, is not exactly cool or comfortable. So, instead of being greeted with a breathtaking blast of air conditioning (which the studio did not have) we walked into a room that had spent the day being conditioned by heat and humidity. No problem, we were not going to be here that long and we were offered cold drinks. As we were sitting in the reception area I could see into the broadcasting booth. There was a large color television in the room showing a soccer match from the European championships. Two men were in the booth doing play-by-play of the game they were watching on TV. No problem, the game was almost over. Except that it wasn't. It went to extra time (another 30 minutes in case you are not familiar with the liturgy of the world's greatest religion) and then penalty kicks.
For a brief few seconds I wondered if they were going to stop broadcasting the game in order to get the program I was supposed to be part of on the air. Look, it was hot. We all have irrational moments when we are hot and tired. If I ever needed a reality check, a reminder of my place in the world, that soccer match provided it. Thanks you, soccer, for that dose of humility.
Almost an hour after our scheduled time the program finally got started. It was at this moment that our guest mentioned to us (there were two high school youth from our group who were also part of the program) that the show was broadcast all over the country. Oh, and that it was a call-in show. OMG.
Things got under way and we had few problems. The kids did great, our host was a good translator, and several people remarked that I had a great voice for radio (and the face as well). Then we got to the calls. I took a deep breath. I was familiar with American call-in programs. Since I did not speak Creole, would I even know when I was being cussed out? Threatened? Verbally abused?
God was, and is gracious. So were those who called in. The program ended and we headed back to our guest house. I have no idea how many people were listening, but I remain grateful for the experience and for the conversations that I had with the host and those who called in.
There are times when I look back on that day and wonder why I treated those who called in so differently than I have people who walk into my office. Rather than dismiss them as a distraction, I longed for people to pick up the phone and call the radio station. I wanted to talk to them and hoped that lots of people in Haiti wanted to talk to me. I respected those callers. Why?
There is such a need in our dismissive culture to be heard. Talk radio in America thrives because there are so many people that want someone, anyone, to listen to them. We want to be validated, acknowledged, noticed. Yet everywhere we turn people dismiss each other. Sadly, this happens a lot even on talk radio, but people still call in because they need to talk. Even negative attention is some attention.
So, where do we go from here? I have some ideas which I will share next time. Till then, keep talking.
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