We are just finishing up the second month of the World Race in Nicaragua. We have a layover this weekend through Atlanta and Los Angeles, then for the next month our team will be working with homeless children in Manilla, the Philippines. We have yet to find out more details than that! On the World Race, we typically don’t find out what we are doing until a few days before we are actually doing them.
When I started this whole process I wanted to be very intentional about giving an honest account of this trip. There is a lot I have experienced and seen that was never mentioned to me beforehand, and I was not expecting me to react the way I have been. On the outside, typically calm, cool, and collected. Internal turmoil and conflict within.
People, children, adults, all have a sinful nature. We on the Race, and those we are seeing in other countries. Constantly men cat-call the girls, earlier this week even reaching out and touching the chest of one of the girls on our team. I was right next to her and livid. People who are given hand-outs quickly develop an entitlement to it and demand it. There isn’t any respect.
People don’t need hand outs, they need a hand up.
This won’t be a blog that is passed around or spread like wild fire through the internet and social media. The homeless men and women on the streets always are demanding money from us, because we are Americans. They come into the places we are eating, or just even if we are running errands will follow us and consistently beg. It’s really hard because we cannot help them. We are told not to give out money, most of the money if handed out will go to buying substances which they abuse (the local missionaries have seen it time and time again, I also have seen it in my home city a lot).
In Denton, TX I was walking home from the bar with my roommate. A man in need was asking for money, I offered to buy him food, and he declined. My roommate at the time gave him money. We walked by him an hour later and he had bought several beers with the money, and was asking us again for more money. This isn’t always the case, but man… it stinks. The truth of the matter is, people need hands up. Not just money given out. Jesus didn’t heal everyone. We can’t give money to everyone that is asking. . . we are missionaries and have limited resources. It’s hard.
There was a homeless man on the steps of the Ice Cream shop we were working with a few nights ago who wouldn’t leave. And was demanding we feed him. Calling us to be better Christians and feed him. Which is manipulation. We absolutely want to help people and feed people, but we were at a place of business and that business wasn’t a food shelter nor did we have money or the resources with us to help him buy food. Its difficult because I want to help, we want to help, but there’s only so much we can do.
The owner of the hostel were staying at knew we were having a late night helping baby sit some of the local missionaries’ kids, so they could have a night out. We came back to the hostel around midnight and were locked outside of the hostel. Me with two beautiful American girls, and men outside of the hostel walking around (one with a machete)… and a white van circling around. In a country known for trafficking. It was not wise on our part to come back that late, but through a series of circumstances that came to be (not of our own doing or intention, it just happened that way) and the hostel care-giver was literally just asleep on the couch despite knowing we were coming at that time, reminded a few minutes before hand even. While we were trapped outside on the street for fifteen minutes with sketchy men near us. There was a lot of concern and steps taken to not repeat that scenario.
Vendors will mark up the prices, or change the prices to what they told us before and after we have food from their food-stand. Anytime we have a travel day, it is wild with people screaming in their local language at us to take their transportation. Yesterday we rode from Matagalpa to Leon. The bus was supposed to leave at 9am, it didn’t even arrive til 1030am, and didn’t even depart til noon. Then whenever we arrived we paid the man what the price we agreed on was. Got all of our bags and were stormed with locals seeing us as money trying to get us to get in their cabs, and when we finally chose one the original bus driver came to us demanding we pay more money for our bags. Which wasn’t established before hand and was, I am confident, absolutely a form of prejudice to get more money from us. I knew what was up, but there were 20 of them and 7 of us. Them yelling, growing angry, us quiet and growing anxious. We paid them the extra 100 cordova and went on our way.
It just seems that people here, locals especially, are always trying to take advantage of us. Many people on our squad have had their belongings, phones, sunglasses, watches, purses, stolen. Even whenever they were securely in the bags.
And it is so frustrating for me. It hurts me. Hurts my heart.
There aren’t any homeless girls. They are usually trafficked and sold in Managua. Human trafficking here burns bright and the law enforcement turns a blind eye. We met one homeless girl who cuts her hair as a boy would, and wears boys clothes to not be noticed.
People constantly treat the Earth like trash and just liter all.the.time. Children fight one another for spots in lines. Use their cuteness to beg for money, then spend it on glue or candy (which I have seen first hand). Local missionaries were telling me about when they went with food trucks to feed the homeless in Granada and as soon as the food ran out the homeless started rioting, hitting the trucks, climbing atop of them, trying to knock them over.
People are born with a sinful nature. All have fallen. All are depraved.
Americans are wicked as well, it’s just not as wild and free. There are laws. Enforced laws. I never realized how lucky we were to be born in the United States and live there until the last two months. I don’t have an uplifting ending to this. Frustration overwhelms me. There is so much hate and selfishness in the world.
People here, with the Race, and local missionaries just shrug and say that is the way it is. We have to get used to people treating us like meat and trying to use us. Easier said than done. Nor is it something I feel like I should get used to. That’s horrible logic. You’re being taken advantage of constantly? Get used to it. It makes me not want to travel to third world countries after this. They say these two months have been a walk in the park compared to the brokenness and lawlessness in Asia.
There are local missionaries here who are investing in the communities and doing great jobs and seeing fruit. They love people well and see change happening. My friend Reed asked me today how it feels changing the world, and I laughed. I don’t feel like I am changing the world, I feel like my world view has been completely shattered and is reforming and I’m realizing what a fool I was for under-appreciating what we are blessed with. Some folk have amazing races and their entire lives are radically transformed, I feel like it’s still a struggle getting through each week. This isn’t what people want to hear, it isn’t what I want to write. I want to write about how this has been amazing and I’m having the most wild time ever, and there are awesome moments, but it has been a very challenging experience.
I really want to end this on a catchy note. On a trendy and clever phrase like, “Hope guides me!” Or “There is still hope despite bla bla bla” but I really have nothing that comes to mind and I’m just wrestling through this right now.
Here’s to total transparency,
-J
EDIT: I talked to Jason on my team about it. It’s easy to get caught up in how people treat people. I realize that there are two sides to every story, nothing is black and white. These people are trying to do the best they can and get the help they need to support themselves or their families in the only way they know how. Despite this understand, it is still difficult to be an object within that culture (whether for women to be sex objects, or Americans to be money objects). Jason said to not “just get used to it” because once I do, then my heart has become calloused and hard. So. This is just something I will have to wrestle through, and I’m not sure if I’ll get over it I may just have to endure and try to struggle well, as they say.
