“Gringas! Gringas! Gringas!”
The call I hear from the other side of the gate when I get up in the morning.
This month I wake up in Barrio San Francisco, otherwise known as the mouth of the lion. Mi ninos press up against the padlocked bars to greet me and tell me their stories. We chat (as much as my broken Spanish allows) until I have to leave or they get distracted and run off.
It’s a simple life here in the slums of Cartagena. We teach English, Sunday school, and mentor the neighborhood kids. Every day includes cooking, cleaning, and time with our host family (who happen to be the best humans by the way). Day in and day out I see them love and serve the community and each other without a moment’s hesitation. They are never discouraged by their circumstances. As Mama Merci (my host mom) says, “Siempre Gloria a Dios,” Always Glory to God. If you’re ever in Cartagena, look up Alex Rocha (my host dad) for a tour and you’ll get much more than statues and tourist traps; you’ll spend time with a man who loves and serves his community and he’ll show you the REAL Cartagena.
My heart and my eyes have been widened to the simultaneous beauty and reality of where I sit. The complete mental exhaustion of trying to learn a new language has given me a new level of compassion for my English language learners back in the States. And further, the kindness and patience extended to me by my host family, Spanish speaking teammates, and the community has expedited the learning process. Then there are the kids, mi ninos. So many bright eyed, barefoot babies that are so excited to have more people to play with.
For example, my 5 year old buddy Alejandro who doesn’t care one bit that we don’t speak the same language; we’ll carry on for hours without missing a beat and if he really wants me to understand, he’ll take my face in his little hands and show me.
Or Charo and Michelle, 7 and 8, who were so excited to give me a piece of the candy Charo’s papa gave her a couple pesos to buy.
And Juankeivis handing me his Adam and Eve coloring page after Sunday school and simply saying, “un regalo,” a gift.
There is so much beauty among so much hardship. Very few kids have shoes and those that do usually have ill-fitting crocs. They are all really skinny and small for their age; the 12 year olds look like an American 7 or 8 old. I am constantly seeing how much I have and how much I really don’t need. Not once have I heard these kids complain about being hungry or hot. But how often do I sit in my air conditioned house, thousands of miles from the equator, with a full refridgerator, and complain about having nothing to eat? Here I live on $4 a day for food (more than these kids even dream of) and I am perfectly content.
I desperately hope and pray that we have blessed them even a fraction of how much they have blessed us. We’ve played barefoot futbol in the streets during a downpour. We’ve braided hair and wiped little faces. We’ve played baseball in a field called el campo right next to the airport landing strips with the next generation of gang members. We’ve learned their favorite things since “Qual es tu _______ favorito?” is one of the only sentences we know. We’ve made friends of all ages and been welcomed with open arms into the community. I’m completely enraptured by the souls in front of me, big and small.
I can only imagine what else God has in store for us. Until then, I’ve settled nicely into my life as “Gringa Cristina”. Please pray for the Alex Rocha Foundation as they seek to rebuild the community of Cartagena.
I’ve been so caught up in making new friends that I have completely failed to take pictures but I’ll get my act together and post some soon! Until then check out the youtube channels of my teammates, Tera Bradham and Sarah Cork, who are currently posting videos of our work and adventures.
