They tried “door to door” evangelism at Madison’s church. They tried a week of evangelistic meetings. They tried special bazaar’s and picnics and Sunday School events…anything that would lure people from their small community into the church. And none of it worked.
This is the church in the countryside where David and I visited (and David preached) last November—the one (if you were reading our blog then) where the chicken was late for lunch. Ever since then Madison, the pastor, has been trying to help people from his church and community to form a small community bank. David went back for a second meeting (Step #2 in his guided program for community banks) before we went to the States for Christmas, but it took the group forever to follow the guidelines, fill out the forms and decide who could be in the group.
Finally the group was ready, with good business plans and all the papers filled out. They received their loan funds in late March and David was somewhat surprised that only one member of the community bank group is also a member of Madison’s church; all the rest are simply from the community. Many are not believers. This is definitely allowed by the Desarollo Integral program guidelines, and several other community bank groups have members who are not Christians, but Madison’s church is unusual in only having one church member in the group.
Madison is delighted however. “We have tried everything we could think of,” he says, “to bring community members into the church, and nothing worked. But ever since the idea of this community bank took hold, people from the community are coming!”
Can $250 Change Your Life?
Enrique had a small business drying and coloring straw for artisan weavers. He made less than $100 a month, working by himself. He is a member of the Colomboy church and joined the Community Bank there, receiving a loan of $250 for four months. The loan was used to buy a larger inventory of straw and the leaves used for colorants.
Enrique paid back his first loan in full and now has applied for a second (which is allowed when the first loan has been paid in a timely manner, and if the second loan can be shown to be a sound business investment). This is all good.
But the really exciting thing is to listen to Enrique talk enthusiastically about the results of his first loan: his family has enjoyed a higher level of income, he has two new employees, and even after paying the loan back, he has inventories worth more than $250 that he is working with.
Maybe $250 wouldn’t change your life, but a loan of $250, carefully invested in a sound expansion of Enrique’s business, together with mentoring he has received along the way, has definitely changed his life--and has a “trickle down” effect on the lives of his family, employees, and his community as well.
Sounds of Sincelejo
Up in our fifth floor apartment in downtown Sincelejo we are somewhat cushioned from the heat and noise of this small city, but many sounds reach us quite clearly.
At dawn (or just before) we can hear the early crows of nearby roosters—yes, in the city. Soon a dog barks, and we can hear bird song and twittering. Then there’s a sound like a crying puppy, in pain. When we first moved in, we thought it was a crying puppy, but as the weeks went by it was clear that this “puppy” wasn’t getting any older, or any better. David theorized that the sound was made by a bird—perhaps a parrot who had learned how to mimic a crying puppy. Once when the noise was fairly continuous, he heard neighbors talking about the “sick bird,” and we were hopeful that the bird might get better—or else very much worse. A lot worse.
David has commented that he wishes he had a pellet gun… Guess what he would use for target practice? He doesn’t have one, though.
Recently at one of his church meetings out in the country he was able to solve the mystery of what creates that crying puppy sound: a peacock! Here they call it a pavo real—a royal turkey! Beautiful bird—awful sound. We have fond hopes the owners will find some reason to move this lovely bird into the country—way out into the country.
Around 6:00 in the morning the city starts to wake up. The sounds of passing cars, motorcycles and honking horns gradually builds. Vendors walk by, pushing their carts and calling out their wares. I can understand the words of the man selling “yucca, nyame, and bananos.” He makes a kind of pleasant song out of shouting out what he has for sale. Other vendors come by as well, but I cannot understand what they are saying. Some come by and merely ring a bell—presumably other inhabitants know what the bell means; I have not been motivated to go down five flights of stairs to find out.
A neighbor down below and behind our building has started a morning daycare of some kind: from about 7:30 to noon we can hear the sounds of children playing happily—or sometimes not so happily. Fortunately, that only goes a half day.
Occasionally we hear the clip clop of a horse going by, pulling a loaded cart behind, loaded with watermelons, straw, wood, cardboard boxes—whatever the driver has found to transport that day. Recently David heard the lowing of large cattle, possibly a bull. We have encountered a group of Brahmans in our street, about a block away from home, being herded, presumably, out of town. We were in our car at the time, but lamentably sans camera (it would have been a great photo, the white Brahmans against the backdrop of paved street, sidewalks, and four story buildings). In such an encounter what one does (particularly in a car) is sit and wait: up close and personal, Brahman cattle are rather large.
Then there are parties. A party in Colombia almost always means music—and the louder the better, apparently. One birthday party we heard recently might have been for child: the music started at around 6 p.m. and was silent by 9 p.m. Other parties don’t even start until 9 or 10 p.m. and can go on all night. Any Colombian considers himself/herself entitled, if there is a party for whatever reason, to make as much noise as they wish. The sleep needs of nearby neighbors do not seem to be taken into account. (I sometimes wonder if perhaps we are the only neighbors not invited: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em would be an understandable tactic in such a circumstance.)
When a party begins I am always grateful I do not have small children who will be kept awake. We just get out our earplugs. We have lots of them. They don’t actually stop you from hearing the noise, but they make it possible for you to begin to think of anything else, and maybe doze off occasionally.
The sounds of Sincelejo are certainly not “the sounds of silence.” But we have come to enjoy many of them, and to hear them as the pulse of the community around us.
If the “royal turkey” is an endangered species however, I would certainly understand why.
