Peruvian Hospitality9/1/09
My friend, Brittany Graves, whom many of you know, has always given me a hard time because she says I am really hard core about everything until it comes down to drinking or eating something new. Well this is very true; usually I am not one to try new exotic things. Since starting house visits down here though, I have been involuntarily forced to work on this problem that I have. Over this past week I have tried all sorts of random fruits and drinks, from fried platanos (a banana of sorts) to a corn drink that tastes like bubblegum. The one that was the icing on the cake thus far for me though was the drink that I tried this past Sunday.
As I started talking with yet another family in my broken Castellano (Spanish), I thought it would be like any other visit. The father of the house almost immediately asked if I would like some yucca (a kind of root like a potato) juice. In the back of my mind I remembered the other SMs talking about how this type of juice was normally fermented, and sure enough, I picked up the same jist as I talked with the man. I politely declined, and he said perhaps another day, and in order to drop the topic I said maybe. We talked for a few minutes before his wife came out, but as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared back behind her house. Before I knew what was happening, she shoved a large glass of milky looking juice into my hand. Caught off guard, I didn’t know what to do….I knew that the people here didn’t have much and knew how offended these people might be if I rejected their gift of hospitality.
So I took a deep breath and I did what I thought was best…after taking a few sips of the substance, I knew for sure that the juice was something that could possible be sold at any of the local bars. As I continued to talk to the couple, I made little progress on my glass of Peruvian goodness. Then, all of a sudden a miracle happened! One of the pesky flies here, that at times are the bane of my existence, did a wonderful thing and did a nose dive into my drink! The couple, who had perhaps noticed my hesitancy with the drink, or perhaps felt like it wasn’t correct to let their guest continue on with a creature in their drink, took the glass and emptied it out on the ground and didn’t offer a refill. Problem solved! I was ecstatic that I would not have to worry about the parasites most likely living in the drink, or having a hangover for the rest of the day! Hoping that this will possibly be first and last time that I will have to drink alcoholic beverages as a missionary!
Count It All Joy9/1/09
This past week has definitely been an exciting one filled with bucket showers, water shortages, toilets which only consist of a hole, cooking over a camping stove, armies of ants, and sporadic electricity. This is life at our new home located in Kilometer 8.
Needless to say, this recent downgrade in living has defiantly been a challenge for me. Last Friday night after spending just one day in our new house, I was feeling slightly overwhelmed by our primitive lifestyle. The whole day I had made house visits in the blazing sun and was feeling pretty exhausted. I was having feelings of discouragement with my work and was missing my friends and family a lot. As I finished writing a letter, I heard my companions start singing hymns in the room next to me. At first I didn’t want to get up, but then I decided I really needed to spend some time in worship. Another one of the girls was taking a shower outside so I flipped off the light and shut the door, leaving both of our room windows open. After singing a few songs, Melanie, who had been taking a shower, joined us. I didn’t even think about checking with her to see if she had locked everything up. After all, we were just in the next room.
A few minutes later though, someone came up to our fence and started talking to the one of our Bible workers. Quickly we found out that he was letting us know that someone was taking things out of our room. All four of us girls ran into our room to see what had been taken. At first it appeared that only a small toiletry bag had been stolen from one of the other girls, Mindy. I was relieved to see that the bag that contained my money, camera, and zip drive had not been taken, but all too soon I realized that my backpack was no where to be found. Panic set in as I thought about all of the random things I had crammed into my backpack, from all of my medical supplies to my precious duck tape and Set cards. I prayed desperately that the robbers would perhaps take my medicines (which are very expensive here) and then would drop off my backpack and the rest of its contents somewhere close by. Frantically we searched our entirety of our compound, even along the outside of our fence. Nothing was found though besides a pair of hastily forgotten flip-flops outside a hole in our fence.
At first I was very angry and couldn’t understand why God would let something like this happen to me while I was serving him. I already felt like I had given up so much for Him. And I felt a pretty good amount of hatred toward the people here. How could they steal from me when I had devoted a year of my life to work with them? Did I mean nothing more to them than another source of income? Was my work not even appreciated here? It was at this point in time that I really just felt like breaking down into tears. What little stuff I had down here that connected me to my previous life seemed to be quickly dwindling.
For a good hour, I could not see beyond the negative of the situation. Then, as I mediated more on the night’s events, I began to see the positive. For one, I had learned that we needed to be a lot more precautious here. Secondly, I realized that it could have been a lot worse. Things of significantly more importance could have been stolen instead. Thirdly, although someone had stooped as low as to rob us, there was someone who was nice enough to inform us of it happening. There were good people here too and I couldn’t stereotype and put everyone in the same bracket. I also needed to remember that for the people here, taking from others to survive was solely a way of life. Finally, I realized perhaps the most important lesson. Since being here, I decided that my things had subconsciously been more important to me than the people that I was here to witness too. The thought hit me that perhaps my things were coming in-between me and my work, and that maybe God was trying to show me that I could survive without my American treasures and that he could provide any basic needs for me.
As all of these thoughts came together, a verse came to mind. It was James 1:2. It reads “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” Instead of being a disastrous experience, perhaps it was exactly what I needed to get me beyond my own selfish feelings. So whenever I begin to wish that I had certain things which are forever gone in my backpack, I try to remember that for every challenge that occurs in life, God has a purpose.
Plus more pictures!
The pictures above include a normal meal here....and don´t worry it usually tastes better than it looks..
Besides that there is a picture of our new shower and bathroom of sorts.
Next is a picture of two of our hard working guys trying to start up the truck, often it decides to stop for no apparent reason.
Finally is a picture of us girls and and Josh-he got us some flowers as a house warming gift.
Above also a picture of the area I work in, Jordon. Next is some pictures of our new house-our room, the kitchen extra. Also somewhere in there is a picture of Matt and his kids that he teachers. Cute but full of energy!
Finally is a picture of me and a local friend here named Ever. Last Sat night our whole group found a pizza parlor and ate out. It was amazing, or maybe it just tasted really good since it has been such a long time since I have eaten pizza! Other picts are of how bad people trash the place down here and a picture of our whole house. Well thats it for another week!
