What If They Already Know Something We Don't?

Big up fam! 🙌🏾🌍

There's a dangerous thing that can happen when you've been doing something for twenty years.

You start thinking you're good at it.

😂

I know. Revolutionary observation.

But hear me out.

When you've spent years welcoming people, building community, organising events, introducing strangers and making sure nobody's standing awkwardly by themselves near the door, you develop instincts.

You know when somebody needs introducing.

You know when the room needs loosening up.

You know when the chairs need moving because everybody has somehow created six little islands instead of one gathering.

After twenty years with the Tribe, I've seen enough rooms to recognise those things pretty quickly.

At least...

I thought I had.

Then we crossed into somebody else's village.

And they reminded me that knowing how to welcome people in your community doesn't mean you know how belonging works in theirs.

That one landed.

We Came Carrying Something 

This week's chapter of When the Village Carries Home has been sitting with me.

Because when the Tribe left Leicester, we didn't arrive empty-handed.

We brought experience.

Twenty years of it.

We brought ideas.

Relationships.

Things we've learned from getting it wrong, trying again and occasionally getting something right.

We came prepared to share.

And there's nothing wrong with that.

Communities should share what they know.

That's how culture travels.

That's how knowledge survives.

That's how somebody else's good idea saves you fifteen years of making the same mistake.

The problem comes when you become so focused on what you've brought...

that you don't notice what's already on the table.

And this community already had plenty.

They Didn't Need Us To Teach Them How To Be A Village   

I think that's what surprised me most.

Nobody was waiting for us.

Not in a rude way.

I mean they weren't standing around thinking:

"Thank goodness the Global Village has arrived. Now somebody can explain community to us." 😂

They had their own rhythm before we walked through the door.

Their own relationships.

Their own history.

Their own ways of deciding who does what, who gets heard, how things are shared and what happens when somebody needs help.

And once I stopped looking for where we could contribute...

I started noticing where they were better than us.

That's an uncomfortable sentence when Community Director is written next to your name.

But it's true.

There were things happening naturally between people that we've spent years trying to create deliberately.

Nobody announced them.

Nobody put them in a programme.

People simply knew what responsibility they carried to one another.

And I found myself watching.

Not because something was wrong.

Because something was working.

You Can Learn A Lot From Who Moves The Chairs 

I've always watched rooms.

Can't help myself.

Some people notice the decorations.

I notice the bloke who's been standing by himself for ten minutes pretending he's deeply interested in a leaflet. 😂

I notice who's serving everybody else before they sit down.

I notice when an older person enters and somebody younger moves without being asked.

I notice who remembers the new person's name.

Who explains something without making them feel foolish for not knowing.

Who notices that one person hasn't spoken yet.

Who moves a chair.

Because here's the thing about chairs.

You can say everybody belongs around the table.

Lovely.

Put it on a poster.

But when another person arrives and the table is full...

who actually moves?

That's community.

And in this village, I kept watching people move.

Not because somebody in charge told them to.

Because making room was already part of how they understood themselves.

That taught me something.

Welcome Isn't The Same Everywhere  

I grew up in Highfields.

Community wasn't an abstract idea in my house.

Sometimes it was beautiful.

Sometimes it was messy.

Sometimes it was somebody feeding you.

Sometimes it was somebody telling you exactly what they thought of your behaviour when you had absolutely not requested their opinion.

And sometimes it was half the neighbourhood knowing your business before you'd worked out your business yourself.

That's community too. 😂

But it taught me something early:

people don't all express care in the same way.

The Tribe has developed our own language of welcome over the years.

We greet people.

Introduce them.

Check in.

Make sure somebody knows where they're going.

Try to notice who's sitting outside the conversation.

I'm proud of that.

But travelling into another community reminded me that our way of welcoming people isn't the definition of welcome.

It's one expression of it.

Another village might express belonging through responsibility.

Through food.

Through elders.

Through neighbours.

Through storytelling.

Through allowing somebody to contribute instead of constantly doing things for them.

And if we're going to call ourselves a Global Village...

we'd better be prepared for the world to change our definition of Village.

The Exchange Begins When Both Sides Have Something To Give 

I think we sometimes misunderstand cultural exchange.

We imagine two communities standing opposite one another saying:

"Here's ours."

"Lovely. Here's ours."

Food.

Music.

Stories.

Traditions.

And all of that matters.

But real exchange goes deeper.

Sometimes another community shows you a weakness in your own.

Not deliberately.

They don't need to criticise you.

They simply do something differently...

and suddenly you're thinking:

"Hang on."

"Why don't we do that?"

That's when the journey becomes useful.

Because if every place we visit only confirms that we've already figured everything out...

we haven't travelled very far.

We've just carried Leicester somewhere else.

The Village Has To Be Allowed To Change Us 

This might be the part I'm still working through.

We're very comfortable talking about how the Global Village can make a difference.

I believe we can.

I've watched it happen.

But there's another question we have to keep asking:

Can the Global Village be changed by the people it meets?

Because otherwise...

that's not exchange.

That's outreach.

There's a place for outreach.

But that's not what we're trying to build.

If another community shows us a better way of doing something, we should bring that lesson home.

If somebody challenges one of our assumptions, we should be able to reconsider it.

If a tradition makes us understand hospitality differently, perhaps our own hospitality should change.

If someone we've gone to support becomes the person teaching us...

we shouldn't be embarrassed by that.

We should be grateful we were paying attention.

What Are You Bringing Back?   

That's something I want us to think about inside Tribal Connections.

Whenever we travel, we usually ask:

What are you taking with you?

Passport.

Money.

Phone charger.

Three outfits you won't wear and somehow not the one jacket you actually needed.

😂

But maybe there's another question.

What are you bringing back?

Not souvenirs.

Not photographs.

Not the thing from the airport because you've suddenly remembered you promised somebody a present.

What did another place teach you?

What did another family do differently?

What did you learn sitting at somebody else's table?

What assumption did you arrive with that didn't survive the journey?

Because leaving home doesn't only show you the world.

Sometimes...

it shows you home more clearly.

🤝🏾 Continue the Conversation

Has another community, culture, family or place ever shown you a different way of doing something you thought you already understood?

Maybe it was hospitality.

Family.

Food.

Parenting.

Celebration.

Grief.

Community.

Or simply how people make room for one another.

Come tell us inside the Global Village.

Because the point of meeting another village shouldn't be deciding which one has everything right.

It should be discovering what becomes possible when both are willing to learn from each other.

I thought twenty years of community work had taught me a fair bit about making people feel welcome.

It has.

But twenty years should also teach you something else.

There's always another chair to move.

Another person to listen to.

Another way of doing things you haven't considered yet.

And another village that knows something yours doesn't.

Maybe that's why we travel in the first place.

Not just to see somewhere different.

To come home different.

Hospitably yours,

Kai 🎭🥁🌴