Singin' in the Dust

In the last couple of days I have had a couple of reminders of the things in this culture that make this the beautiful and special place that it is.
Walking on the street yesterday evening, in the throws of a teeth grinding dust shower, I passed a man singing. He was not singing under his breath or loudly, he was just singing, walking down the street, in the dust. He managed to fit a Salaam right in with the rest of as we passed. There was no shame, no embarresment, absolutely nothing odd in the fact that he was walking down the street singing. It is quite common to hear this in this city, but I have not been on the street much lately so this was a reminder. Poetry and song are such a part of these people here. It was a wonderful reminder of the pieces of Gods personality that have been placed in the hearts of these people and their culture.
The second reminder came today. I was visiting a friend, who is a local carpet seller, about selling some of his things in the café. We sat and drank tea and talked for about an hour discussing business and life, as I left I made sure that he had the things he needed to get a free gift as a part of the promotion he have going right now. He said he did, but that he would not bring them, it would shame him. He was afraid I would think he was coming only for the free gift, not because we are friends. With most people here, I would think this only a nice gesture, or flattery, with this friend however, it was that, but genuine. Which is a beautiful thing. As with most aspects of a culture that are annoying or bad, there is a root to them that is wonderful. At this moment, I was seeing the root. Honor in relationships is supposed to important here, often though, it is only used as a front to deceive, the root has been greatly distorted. He wanted me to know that we are friends, because we are friends, not only because it is of mutual benefit, which is normally the case. Looking for mutual benefit, flattery, using relationships in business, are all a part of this culture, and at times a very dangerous part, very much for appearances only, filled with deception and lies, but with this friend, I get a rare glimpse into the heart of this culture, not seeing only the twisted outcome. This is a wonderful and beautiful thing.
As the dust settles I get to see through the haze and past the tarnished front that often hides the heart of God already resting in this place. God is not trying to get into this culture, I am not trying to find a hole to slide him into. He is already at the heart of it, a heart that has been torn, broken, trampled, suppressed, desecrated and rejected, but still beats.