Once upon a time there was a small boy named Ismael (my host father). He grew up in the 1950’s in a small community named Bajo Mosquito (Lower Mosquito) far from any sort of road. He father left them when he was young, and he had to drop out of school when he was only in the third grade to work to support his mother and siblings. Of course then there were no laws about child labor, and he made a mere few cents every day after working from dawn to dusk. One of the teachers at the school took pity on him and helped him further his learning whenever Ismael had some extra free time between working and through these sessions Ismael became the intelligent man he is today even though he only completed the third grade.
At the same time Ismael was growing up, two missionaries from the United States arrived in the community of Chichica on horseback, hours from any sort of civilization. They learned the Ngabere language, made friends with various communities around the area, and begin spreading the word of Christ in a language the people could understand. My host dad was one of the many whom became intrigued by the bible and at the age of 12 became baptized in the nearby river. These two missionaries lived in the area their whole life and to this day numerous people throughout the community talk about what amazing things they brought to the region of Chichica.
At the mere age of 21 Ismael began a church in Bajo Mosquito and became pastor of the newly formed Evangelical Church. In order to be considered a pastor here you only need to have the love for Christ and the willingness to share and dissect the bible. There is no form of schooling at the universities here with the title pastor and in the indigenous communities there is certainly no salary involved. They do not have special robes or clothes, but rather look like any other person that is attending the church. My host dad was pastor at that church for 31 years before he moved his family to where he had purchased land years before, Alto Estrella. Although he had owned the land for years, they had never been able to afford to move and start a life in Alto Estrella until eight years ago. There are two churches in the community of Alto Estrella- Evangelical Church of Peace and Assembly of God. Ismael soon became a sort of co-pastor at the Evangelical Church which they definitely need for their three and a half hour church services on wooden benches with no windows. The first service seemed extremely long to me; however, to my surprise they now go by pretty fast!
My host dad is an older man who looks older than he is and on most days feels much older than he is. He is a short man, skinny as a rail, and converses with few sentences, but always with a point. He is always reading the bible when I wake up in the morning, and I hear him and my host mom saying their prayers every night before I go to bed. Although he is usually reserved once he steps to the pulpit everything changes and the words began to flow. He gets behind there and preaches his heart out, pausing when the rain hits the zinc roof, and resuming once again with the rain stops. I do not have the heart to tell him, but most times I cannot hear him over the babies crying in church, even though for him, he is practically yelling.
It was this particular day when my host dad was preaching, the rain was falling, and babies were crying that gave me a little need hope that will remain with me especially during the next two years, but also forevermore. I happened to be sitting alone at church that day because like usual my family was ready before me and left me behind at the house. There were many people in church, but yet they were all so spread out that I had a wooden bench all to myself. When church was over I talked to a few of the people that I knew and then went to sit by the refreshments (always a good place to be). I was playing peek-a-boo and having staring contests with some of the children, but most of the adults kept to themselves or were having their own conversations. After peek-a-boo ended I was just sitting on the bench, hoping somebody would talk to me. Even though I was surrounded by people I could not help but feel a little bit alone. This was early on in site and people were still a little timid of me, not knowing why I was here or what I was here for. I knew this, but still at this moment could not help but wish they would get over their fear!
All of a sudden this women ended her conversation with the lady at the bench across from me and came over and have me a hand shake as she said ‘Ja twi da’ (goodbye in Ngäbere). As her hand pressed into my hand I felt a piece of paper slip from her palm into mine, and she smiled and walked away. I felt like I was in middle school again passing secret notes around to people. Of course I was curious to know what the note said and so I casually got up and left to return back to the house. As I walked I opened the note and read…
“Hello, welcome to our country and to the Comarca. I would love to get to know to know you. I gift you these beautiful words from God.
Marlenys Cases
“We will see each other the next week. Goodbye and care for yourself. Never feel alone because there is always someone that accompanies you… ‘God’.
God Bless You.
If I was a crying person I probably would have bawled after reading the note because of how I had felt that morning and the timing of her letter, but instead I felt an overwhelming reassurance of peace and hope and purpose. After spending most of the time alone at church that morning it was just what I needed to be reminded- that in reality I was not alone. God was with me, sitting beside me on that uncomfortable wooden bench without a back and playing peek-a-boo with the children. Just as God will be with me during my next two years of good days and bad days, alone times and times full of people, sad times and happy times. He will be there. And do not forget that he will always be with you every step of the way as well. Sometimes all we need is a little reminder!
Caca- poop
Cochino- the name they yell at the kids when they are doing something bad
Pasear- the act of visiting houses, receiving coffee and rice, and trying to make conversation
UPDATES
I am scorpion free! Wahoo! As of now there are no new scorpion injuries or sightings to be reported. Hopefully it remains this way.
I made my first grown up indigenous life purchase. While in America some people are buying cars and sushi, I am now the proud owner of a new machete! I am now armed and ready so be ready!
October 15 was a very important day that I hope you celebrated as well! Global Handwashing Day! On this day I did my first big event in the community, and I went to the school and taught about 130 children from Kindergarten to Sixth grade the how, when, and why of washing hands. We ended the talk with hand painting and races to see who could wash their hands the fastest-with soap of course! The event went wonderful and now I have kids coming up to me all over the community showing me how clean their hands are!