Thanksgiving Week News

The Chicken that was Late for Dinner

You have probably been in slow restaurants and joked that the help must have gone out to catch the fish or slaughter the beef…and when we lived in Latin America before and traveled in rural areas, we sometimes suspected that dinner waited while the chicken was caught…
Well, this time it actually happened. We were invited to go Sunday to a small, new church in El Floral, in the foothills between Tolu and Sincelejo and informed that we would be treated to a sancocho after church. Sancocho is a delicious Colombian home-made soup or stew that typically simmers on the stove (or wood fire) all day, beginning with a meat (often chicken) and with other ingredients added in as they are available: corn, potatoes, squash, yuca…the kitchen sink. David preached the morning sermon and we hung around after church for awhile, talking with people. Then we were shown a nearby farm, with an oak tree nursery, papaya trees, plantain trees, and fruits we have never seen before in our lives. Then we were shown another farm. After awhile we arrived at the open thatched roof hut where we would eat lunch, and sat and talked with our hosts, the young pastor and his wife. Periodically, one of them would leave to see “what was taking so long.” Apparently even by Colombian coastal standards, lunch was delayed. Finally with embarrassment and apology they explained to us that “the hen had not wanted to be caught and had had to be chased.” They brought out a hammock and strung it up for David to rest in. Their two little children (ages roughly 3 and 5 years) considered this an invitation to swing David back and forth, and shortly all three were in the hammock involved in a lively game of tickle and dump, resulting in much laughter—reminiscent of when our children were that age. Fortunately there was a lovely breeze and a view of the mountains while we waited.
Finally, the sancocho was brought, steaming, and we did enjoy it. In all honesty I have to say that while tasty, the chicken was a little stringy. All that running no doubt!

Fresh Pork!

One block from our house we saw this sight...a freshly slaughtered pig: ask for the piece you want...they would sell it to you by the kilo!

Becoming Nobody

When a missionary newly arrives in Colombia—and most other Latin American countries—he or she arrives as a tourist, and begins the arduous process of applying for legal residency. This requires endless applications, documents, notarizations, fees…and waiting. Our applications are…in process.
This is all very logical. Colombia can, and should, protect her borders and monitor who lives here. (The process in the U.S. is no less arduous, we would point out.)
But in the meantime…the missionary cannot: open a bank account, obtain a credit card, buy property, rent property…buy a car…or even a cell phone. All of those transactions require a cedula—a legal identity card. So one is without an identity. One is not, to say the least, in a position of power or influence. From the point of view of the government and local populace, one is nobody.
And having money in a bank account in the U.S. does not really help too much: even with money one still cannot buy property, cars, or rent anything: one needs the cedula. And there is a logical limit to how much cash one can take out of an ATM. We have learned the limits—believe me. Not too safe to carry around large amounts of cash, either. So just ask David…he knows where all the ATMs are, and which ones work, with what banks and how well!
Another truth factors in heavily as well: even if we had a cedula, bank accounts and large sums of money, in Colombia (as in most of Latin America) what allows you to get things done is who you know. It helps if you are a friend of the sister of the ex-mayor, for example, or the brother-in-law of the wife of the vice president of the bank…or if you just can mention the name of a well-respected figure in the community, and he or she will speak on your behalf.
After years of taking responsibility for significant decisions in the home office of the Latin America Mission and managing large amounts of money, this is a new and interesting role! It does not matter a whit who we might have been in another life.
Furthermore, when we try to explain “who we are” in terms of why we have come, it is not understandable. Well, “tourist” is understandable, if not common. But that we have come to try to be of assistance to the poor and disadvantaged…well. People smile and nod….and no doubt think, Crazy Gringos...we'll see how long they last!
So how have we obtained cell phones? Car? How do we hope to rent an apartment? Through the patient auspices of the leadership of the A.I.E.C.—the Association of the Churches of the Caribbean that has invited us to work here. These gentle pastors have graciously, repeatedly filled out forms for us, transferred funds for us, signed papers for us, bought a cell phone for us. They are always gracious and willing, but they are busy men with many things to do besides fill out forms for the Befuses! I don’t know if they knew what they were getting into when they invited us—they are far from done!
This is, though, one of the strengths of the LAM placement system: the missionary is sent to work with a Latin American ministry whose responsibility it is to help the missionary obtain legal status in the country.
It is humbling, though, to have come to help—and to keep bothering our national colleagues to help us. It is humbling not to have an identity to point to that is understandable, and I am not talking only about a piece of paper. It is profoundly instructive, at this age, to be nobody. We are not surprised; we knew it would be like this…but it is instructive all the same.
We believe this is temporary. In good time (maybe a good, long time!) we will obtain cedulas, God willing, and bank accounts, and an identity…
In the meantime, the Apostle Paul’s instruction to the Philippian believers takes on new relevance: Have the same attitude as Jesus…who made Himself nothing…of no reputation…
May the reputation we eventually accrue be one that honors Him!

Sincerely nobodies,
David and Connie

November 2 - New Insights

Prince of Peace Church

Yesterday (Sunday) we were invited to the tiny church Principe de Paz in Tolu; David was to give the morning sermon. All we needed to do was get to the other side of this small beach town, so we took a bici-taxi (bicycle taxi), which provided a picturesque view and breeze a good part of the way because our driver/cyclist took us along the beach until he had to turn in to catch the road into the poorer part of town. After awhile the paved road ended, and since it had rained the night before the road, instead of being hard dirt, was mud. Our driver pumped bravely on for awhile, sweating, but finally encountered such sticky mud that he could not go on, and we got off and walked. It was only a couple more blocks to the church.
Small churches like this one start up with a few believers, and whoever is most qualified to lead or teach is named the pastor. In this case it is a brave black woman. The building is made of bamboo walls plastered with what looks suspiciously like the mud we walked through, although there are some partial walls made of cement block. Same with the floor: most of it is hard dirt, but up in front there is a platform made of cement. It is a building “in process,” in which the people add cement blocks to walls, or add cement flooring, as they are able to afford a few more blocks, a little more cement. They have electricity, which is something: wires are strung along the wooden poles that support tin roofing; there is a bare light bulb and the essential overhead fan.
How these people—only some15 adults in all—have managed to produce this small building out of their poverty we do not understand. Their houses are no doubt constructed of the same materials as their church, and they probably live hand to mouth. Some are fishermen, or sell fish or empanadas, have a small soldering business or tiny store.
Although these people have come through the same mud we have (after all, they live in it), they are clean and well dressed. Only one woman comes in with bare, muddy feet, and she is crippled. She is lovingly greeted and carefully helped to a seat.
After some singing (acapella) and testimonies of what people are thankful for, David is “on.” His face perspires and his shirt is wet half-way through the sermon, in which he outlines God’s theology of work, and Jesus’ knowledge of and sensitivity to the common fisherman, shepherd, builder, worker. At the end he explains how the church people, if they want to, can form a community bank and receive a loan to help them start or amplify small businesses. He is thoughtfully provided with small plastic bag of drinking water.
As we leave the pastora says some are interested in the community bank idea, and that they will contact us; we exchange cell phone numbers. Just as we begin to walk away, she offers to pay our bici-taxi fare. We say, “No thank you.”

October 24, 2007

Driving…country and city…

Country
The 45 minute drive from Tolu to Sincelejo is a lovely one, mostly rural—actually beginning by the coast in wide, flat ranch lands, occupied by healthy looking Brahman cattle: huge bulls, large females, and small endearing calves. It is rainy season right now and everything looks lush and green. It is perfect cattle country with miles and miles of rich pasture and huge spreading trees for shade. There are also sheep, and horses. Often of a morning we will see cow boys in the fields or on the road, mounted on horses with whips or lassos, only missing the wide brim hats to be just like their U.S. counterparts.
There are pigs to be seen as well—actually large hogs, and chickens. And I have never seen such beautiful roosters; not that I am an expert, but still….these guys are really big, with plentiful, gorgeous feathers of multiple colors and their top feathers would compete with any woman’s Victorian hat of old. They strut with pride and truly appear to have something to crow about—ha!
As for vehicles…one can see anything… Buses of course: the large streamlined Greyhound type only occasionally, the colorful school-bus type, the smaller van type, and of course, stopped buses at any time and in any place. There are modern cars and SUVs and Jeeps and absolutely ancient cars that we didn’t know even existed any more. Pick-ups and trucks of every kind abound: sleek modern ones, and older ones bordering on antique status. Most interesting are the ones carrying cattle or pigs. We passed a small truck yesterday, with wooden slat sides, that was carrying calves; at that point they were all standing, but if the truck tipped or turned, it certainly looked as if the load would be easily unbalanced.
There are motorcycles and bicycles carrying any and everything…(see our series on “Amazing things on two wheels” in another section of our blog)… We have seen bicycles and motorcycles carrying, so far: stacks of egg cartons (complete with eggs), a mattress, closet doors, piping, and piles of produce. It is tricky to try to photograph these items from a car, but we’ll try to capture on digital camera some of what we see, so you can see it too!
About mid-way to Sincelejo the flatter lands give way to rolling hills and the road starts to climb. At one point we can look down to the west and see, far away, a blue strip of ocean. If one happens to be driving back to Tolu about 5:30 or so, one can catch a spectacular sunset with the sun sinking into the water and the blue haze of evening falling over the green, green hills.

City driving
Monteria is not so bad… It is a large city of over 500,000 people, but it is flat and well organized. We are accustomed to driving in Latin America with the cavalier attitudes towards stoplights, stop signs and traffic laws in general, and the tendency for any other vehicle to occupy, or pass through, any space available, regardless of what the rules might be, or regardless of the intentions of any other driver.
But Sincelejo is another story. All of the above is true, of course. But add in the fact that Sincelejo is built on numerous rolling hills, and that none of the streets are flat, or straight. Add in also, the fact that Sincelejo, by admission of the local populace, not only has more than enough vehicles, but is overrun by motorcycles. There must be ten motos per every one vehicle of any other kind. And if your average driver is cavalier about transit rules, moto drivers absolutely jeer at them. Many of these are moto-taxis. They speed around any vehicle, on any side, with little regard for anything else going on, and don’t mind stopping right in front of you to pick up a passenger, either. Then, of course, there are people in the street, or crossing the street, and dogs and vendors as well. It is safe to say that driving in Sincelejo is an experience in stimulus overload.
I have been amazed that David not only survives this, but is learning his way around in a context with no map (we have asked for one…repeatedly, but no one seems to know where they can be found…), very few signs or directional indicators of any kind, and streets that curve in any direction and suddenly dead-end without warning. One of these days I will take my courage in both hands and drive, too, but as yet I am in no hurry. If I need to go somewhere in Sincelejo, a taxi fare sounds like a good investment in sanity.

Barefoot missionary
We heartily recommend a shoe shine… Colombian men with enough money to have real shoes—i.e, leather shoes, not sandals or sneakers—keep them shined, and they do not do this themselves. Thus in any central park in Latin America there are men and boys occupied in the legitimate and somewhat respectable business of shining shoes. They often have wooden chairs or stools for their clients, sometimes portable, and their own little wooden trunk of supplies. These micro-businesses have some charming names: the Shoe Clinic, Shoe Paradise, Jimmy’s Shoe Box, etc.
David was badly in need of a shoe shine recently, his good leather shoes not having had a shine since one of his trips to Ecuador, so he sat down in the chair of a shoe-shine man while we waited for it to be the “right time” to arrive at an appointment. The man was appalled at the state of David’s shoes and said that he needed to do a complete overhaul, and so asked for David’s shoes, which he duly took off. David had already asked the price and been benignly reassured that it would be barrato (cheap). The man started applying various chemicals and it became clear that #1 he was doing a very good job and #2 that this was going to take awhile. We insisted that we had an appointment we needed to get to, and David again tried to ascertain the price. Smiling generously we were assured again and again that it would be barrato, and when we were insistent about our time-line he benevolently informed us that being in a hurry is not good for one.
We know, we know…but even in Latin America, there are limits to how late one should be for an appointment…especially a business appointment early in the day. But…David had no shoes on, and no spare pair along! It was either go to the appointment barefoot…or wait for his shoes! At this point we were highly amused, and joking with each other about “barefoot missionaries” and the discalced priests of old…
Finally, with a little more kindly pressure, David got the man to give back his shoes, even though this shoe professional was mildly offended, because the shoes were not quite as dry or shiny as his standards demand. David finally got the price worked out, too, by surveying other nearby shoe shiners to ascertain whether the price was fair or not.
We got to our appointment fine, and the shoes actually look new, but David has a “credit” owed him of a longer and better shine on those shoes. And he will never allow his shoes off his feet again unless he has a lot of time and clearer concept of “product.”

What Can Be Carried on Two Wheels