Moments
to Laugh
Bethany Seipp
The
abrupt immersion into Costa Rican culture has presented
us with a multitude of comical experiences. The language
barrier presents frequent misunderstandings for both students
and their families. Most, if not all, turn into funny stories
that we can share with families and friends.
Blaire Knighton, for example, spent her first weekend trying
to communicate that she was embarrassed by her lack of understanding
of the language. She found out later that ¨Estoy embarasada¨
actually means ¨I’m pregnant.¨ Maybe that
is why they kept feeding her so much.
Julie Pinkowski wanted to communicate to her family her
feelings of optimism about her new experiences in Costa
Rica. She repeated a few times that everything was so new
and exciting. The word she accidentally used for “excited”
is solely related to sexual activity. Oops.
Adam Farmer’s moments usually occur on the city buses,
which we all ride to the majority of activities. He boarded
a bus that looked “likely” to be his and rode
for an hour, the typical length of the ride home. Just when
he realized he was the only person on the bus, it stopped
on a road in between two giant coffee fields. The bus driver
said something in Spanish and motioned to Adam to get off.
Not knowing how to tell the driver that he was lost, Adam
stepped off the bus. He realized that the goat standing
nearby was his only companion. Luckily, he found his way
back home by walking the direction from which the bus had
come and later hailing a taxi.
Needless to say, these experiences are humbling but they
also help us build relationship with our families. Embarrassment
presents the opportunity for fabulous bonding.
Living
it up in Limón
Laura Mann
Our group of 47 students and four teachers piled into two
tourist buses, and headed off in the direction of the port
city and province of Limón. Along the way we paused
to visit a coffee plantation, and a little further along we
stopped at a banana plantation as well. By the time we arrived
at our hotel in the center of Limón, the evidence of
“tourist” freely displayed itself, for we strongly
stood out in the midst of Afro-Costa Ricans. We found ourselves
stepping into a culture set apart, with Jamaican influences
visible around us. Many students were relieved to hear English
spoken by most of the inhabitants.
We were let loose for the evening to explore, make friends,
and find dinner. There are many stories to tell. The next
day we were taken to the reservation for one of many indigenous
populations to learn about their history and their struggles
to preserve land. We are finding that there are many different
types of Costa Ricans. Later we found ourselves at a beach
in Cahuete, along the Caribbean. The rich sand and tantalizing
waves beckoned to us, and we were soon enjoying both. The
sunburn and tans can speak for themselves.
Tired, sand-dusted, hungry and yet satisfied, we made our
way back to the hotel. We had time for a shower, a cold one
except for a blessed few, and went together to a nearby building
where we were greeted by a delicious dinner of coconut beans,
rice, and chicken. Before long a wonderfully friendly group
of young people from the nearby First Baptist Church joined
us. Their welcoming hearts were a blessing, and they graciously
attempted to teach us some dancing of the Caribbean Islands.
It was a group effort.
The next morning dawned and we eventually found ourselves
at the English speaking First Baptist Church, once again in
the midst of these loving and beautiful people. After the
church and Sunday school services, we were divided up into
small groups to join families for lunch. This gave us more
of an inside perspective into the workings of Limón.
Later that afternoon, we made our way back to the buses, and
clamored in to find a seat for the trip home. For many it
was hard to leave the province, for its people and culture
had some how taken hold of our hearts, threatening to never
let go.
Welcome
to Complexity in a Pretty Package:
A Reflection on a Semester Spent in Latin America
By Amy Foster
Bewildered and teary-eyed, fifty students exhaustedly dragged
their heavy suitcases to the small rooms they would share
with strangers during their first night in Central America.
From all over the US, they had packed up their lives, left
behind their families and friends, and had walked with uncertain
hope onto the plane that would take them into an unfamiliar
and distant world. Welcoming them to Costa Rica were angry
street protests swarming with loud horns, makeshift roadblocks,
frustrated teenagers, and fear. Into what reality had they
just stepped?
Long “conferencias,” in-depth “investigaciones,”
challenging conversations, and late-night homework. None of
us expected to change the ways that we embrace almost every
aspect of life after living in Central America for three months.
But then again, we had no idea how narrow our views of the
world were, and how much of the “rest of the story”
we had yet to learn. Our passionate teachers and guest lecturers
patiently poured out to us as much of their knowledge as we
were willing to absorb and consider. Frequently we balked
at some of the questions their words threw in front of us,
and we often wanted to shrivel up inside our small but familiar
“truths.” However, the realities we were exposed
to from our readings, teachers, guest speakers, group projects,
and trips to Nicaragua, Cuba, and Guatemala, abruptly opened
our eyes to a much larger, complex, and inter-dependent world.
We were forced to recognize that people affect one another
– directly and indirectly - in how they live and spend
their time and money; injustices exist, continue, and the
victims have faces; and that Christians have a responsibility
to care about others with their thoughts, words, and actions.
Gallo pinto, constant background noise, warm hospitality,
and miscommunication. Living with host families in Costa Rica,
and also during our trips to Nicaragua and Cuba, we got a
crash course in Latin Living 101. The impacts that having
long talks with family members, enjoying delicious meals together,
watching soccer games late into the night, and learning about
their family dynamics had on us were immeasurable and will
be continually realized for the rest of our lives. We were
privileged to hear their stories, feel some of their pain,
participate in important family occasions, and be touched
by their unselfish love.
However, these blessings also came with the challenges of
living in a very different culture. The sometimes-unavoidable
frustration that came with miscommunication, differing interpersonal
relational patterns, and clashing ideas of “common courtesies”
occasionally led to tears, homesickness, and feelings of alienation.
It was amazing to watch how small moments of awkwardness could
often demand patience and deepen an appreciation for our homes
and families in the US! Yet, these small issues also frequently
surfaced the amazing compassion that our host families had
for us.
How can anyone condense a semester of unanticipated challenges,
unforeseen adventures, unanswered questions, and unforgettable
life lessons into words? Would one talk about the afternoon
rain showers that came consistently for months on end, the
manipulative taxi drivers, insulting and unnerving “cat
calls,” and the eternal bus rides? How could one forget
the spontaneous trips to the beach with friends, the exotic
flowers, invaluable travel experiences, and breathtaking landscapes?
Can one ever forget laughing about the linguistic blunders
that brought funny looks to many faces or the tears shed in
the face of undeniable hopelessness and poverty? The weather,
food, music, landscapes, clothing, religion, government, history
– the cultural flavor of Latin America is one that is
unarmingly picante and sweet – tempting one to try it
over and again, each time discovering something unique that
contradicts and yet perfectly complements the other pieces.
Guatemala
By Anne Marie Hardy
By the time I got to the last segment of our semester, Guatemala,
I already had a lot of questions. Questions about life, God,
unjustness, suffering, and hope. Instead of being able to
escape those questions in Guatemala, my experiences forced
me to face them head on and continue to struggle. The very
first night of the trip, as I watched the movie Hija de la
Puma about Rigoberta Menchu and saw innocent indigenous villages
being wiped out brutally and completely unjustly, I could
do nothing but cry and question why. How is it that the world
ever came to be such an unjust place? How is it possible that
humans treat fellow humans with such brutality and cruelty?
On Tuesday, when we started our service projects, my senses
and mind were overwhelmed as I walked for hours through the
Guatemala City Dump with Andrea, Jonathon and Ryan, the other
students in my group. We looked around us, talked to our brother
and sister human beings and simply could not understand. How
is it possible that the 15-day-old baby I held in my arms
was born in the dump and will most likely live in the dump
all her life while I was born in comfort and ease in the United
States with all the opportunities I could possibly ask for?
How is it possible that over 10,000 people, real living people,
wake up everyday of their lives and go into the dump to scavenge
through other people’s waste to find a few plastic bottles
or cardboard boxes to sell to recycling companies in hopes
of earning enough money to feed their families? How is it
possible that 10-year-old Angelica has absolutely no hopes
or dreams for her life? I asked her what she wants to be when
she grows up, a scientist, or maybe a teacher? Like a deer
in headlights, she looked blankly at me and shook her head
no. “Nada” is her response. At just 10 years of
age, her life of hardship has stripped her of all dreams and
hopes. I heard the song “Great is Thy Faithfulness”
on the radio the next morning…and I didn’t understand.
Has God just chosen to be faithful to me while ignoring so
many, so many people in the world who are suffering beyond
all reason?
I realize that God is way beyond my comprehension, I realize
that life does not make sense and I realize that I have no
choice but to keep on struggling with my questions. I simply
cannot ignore what I saw and choose to settle back into my
comfortable routine in the US and remain unchanged. So, as
so many other LASP students have also decided for themselves,
I must keep questioning, searching for answers, and living
out the love of God in real ways, addressing the real root
issues behind the huge problems we see. Maybe, if we all did
this, there would come a day when children like Angelica would
not be condemned to a life in the dump. Maybe we could give
people a concrete reason to hope and believe that there really
is a God out there who really does love them just as much
as he loves you and me. |
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