It was the El Hatico trip, our biggest trip of the month to the place we had been warned not to go, and we were camping there. We left San Juan for El Hatico on Monday morning. We were slated to camp in the small town for two nights with a return on Wednesday morning, but our plans changed and we ended up returning Tuesday night.
The trip started off well, an hour or so ride in a minibus filled to capacity. The rear end popped open twice but none of our bags were damaged and only one water jug sprang a leak, some vehicles aren’t built for pot-holed mountain roads. “It’s gonna happen again,” the driver exclaimed giddily as we approached the next hill. He seemed to enjoy stopping so we could collect our possessions off of the road. Luckily he was wrong and we arrived in El Hatico without any more luggage spillages.
The first thing that struck me about the place was the scenery. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. We had driven across the top of a ridge with amazing views; to the left we saw a valley with larger mountains behind, the view to the right was the same. My one regret of the trip was my decision not to bring my camera, I left it behind for security reasons. It would have been nice to take pictures, but my inability to do so turned my focus internal, allowing me to get an authentic feel of the community.
Our time in the community started out a little rough when we had trouble securing permission to camp on locals’ land. After several conversations with residents, our contact began to get the impression that the community didn’t view the church favorably and had difficulty separating the concept of church as a place from the concept of church as a global community. As missionaries, we were instantly associated with the church building and the individuals who had driven it to failure. As with other communities we had visited, the residents in El Hatico were unable to understand the difference between the physical symbols of Christianity and the greater truths of Christianity. To many, the cross in their house is their god, or the picture of Jesus on their altar is their god, or the abandoned church building is their god. It is a concept that seems could be easily explained, a simple clarification of sorts, but so far this has not been the case. It is difficult (but not impossible) to change century old misconceptions in a community of octogenarians who allow religion to prevent them from the truth.
We began to pray and walk the community and pray and walk some more. We split into four teams and started talking with community members, praying for them and trying learn about them. The community was reserved and clearly not eager about our arrival. It felt like it had a heaviness about it that was hard to explain. At the end of day one, we returned to meet our new temporary home, the abandoned church. This living situation put us missionaries hoping to bring a fresh view to the community at a disadvantage right off the bat. We had hoped for separation, a distinct difference between us and the church building already in the community, but we ended up there and struggled for the rest of the trip to create the distinction the community desperately needed.
To read the rest of the story, continue to Pt. II: http://jeffwickham.theworldrace.org/?filename=el-hatico-pt-ii
