It’s been a long time since I’ve last written and much has happened in the meantime.
I…
– passed through five more countries.
– hitchhiked in a semi-truck halfway across Costa Rica.
– spoke at a missions seminar and staffed a childrens English camp.
– steered a catamaran in the Pacific and spotted dolphins and sea turtles.
– climbed Volcano Baru (highest point in Panama) and saw the Pacific and the Caribbean at the same time. (pretty sure I got hypothermia at one point)
– snorkeled with hundreds of different species of fish and got stung by a jelly.
– helped a German fisherman catch a shark.
– bathed in a mud volcano.
– got a police escort through the San Javier district of Medellin, Colombia which used to be the center of the cocaine trade and had the highest homicide rate in the world.
– walked for 2 days through 40+kms of protests, blockades, and riots with both my packs.
– took care of babies at the Zambiza Daycare Center at the city dump in Quito.
– climbed Volcano Cotopaxi (one of the highest active in the world at 5800m) in Ecuador.
– got my camera stolen. (again)
– took 5 buses over 67 hours from Canoa to Bogota.
– got my Ray Bans stolen.
– slept in a hammock on the Caribbean beach in Tayrona. (crabs EVERYWHERE)
– used fake plane tickets, fake hotel reservations, and bribes to cross into Venezuela. (most difficult passport stamp I’ve ever gotten)
And yet I never felt the urge to write about any of it.
And as much as I’d like to keep the streak going, I felt the need to break it to write about what happened tonight.
We flew into Barcelona from Caracas (first flight since Honduras and the cheapest I’ve ever bought – $12) and took a taxi to Puerto La Cruz. We had just taken an overnight bus, which was more like a moving freezer than a bus, from Maracaibo before the flight so we were pretty swamped, especially since we were investigated by police twice along the way. We took most of the day to rest up a bit.
After dinner, we strolled along the boardwalk til at one end we came to a small fair of sorts with carnival rides. We were walking by bumper cars and Dumbo rides when I saw a group of women and children standing by one of the roller coasters just watching it run around the tracks. They stood out almost as much as I stood out among all the Venezuelans. They werent from the city. They looked of indigenous descent. They were a head shorter than everyone else, most likey due to stunted growth from malnutrition. They had weather-worn faces and hands. They had no shoes. Their clothes and hair were covered in dirt.
But one of the first things that caught my attention was the fact that they weren’t walking around, or eating, or riding any of the attractions. They were standing in the middle of the walkway, watching everyone else ride them.
I stood at a distance and observed them for a while. I thought to myself, that they had come here to the city as a family for a little outing, but they didn’t even have the money to ride anything. And so they watched, only imagining how much fun it might be.
A couple of them approached me and I started talking to them.
In Spanish:
– Where are you from?
– Tucupita, in the mountains. We came by bus, 7 hours.
– What are you doing here?
– To sell our handmade crafts in the street market.
– Why aren’t you riding any of the rides?
– We don’t have money to buy tickets..
– Oh… …Hey. Let’s go buy some tickets. Where’s the rest of your family?
Their eyes widened and stretched smiles across their faces. They started calling out for them and literally from all corners of the park they came running. Within seconds I had 20 of them surrounding me, waiting for a ticket.
– Everyone here is part of your family??
– Yes. We are about 30 in total.
I bought each of the children a ticket and let them choose a ride. All I could provide was a single ride for each of them, but it made them so happy. It made me glad to see them happy. Afterwards, we talked a little more and I told them a little about myself and what I do. I shared with them about Jesus. I tried to convey in my limited Spanish that more than the little I can give them out of my pocket, the Good News is more valuable than anything I could ever give them.
– How long are you here for?
– 3 weeks.
– 3 weeks?? Where do you sleep? A house?
– *pointing outside of town* Over there, no house. On the ground.
I asked them if they could take me there. I had to see it.
I held one of the babies (one of the cutest babies I’ve ever seen) as we walked for 15 min along the coast away from the town lights. We came to an abandoned building with no roof.
– Is this where your family is staying?
– No. Behind it.
We turned the corner of the building and what lay before me is difficult to explain in words, but I will my best to describe it. It looked like a squatter camp. There were 30 people cramped into a small area in the dirt; there was trash everywhere. It was dark with no light. Some were washing themselves out of buckets, others were tying garbage bags to the trees to make shelter from the rain. Children came running out to greet me.
They told me they come once a year for about a month at a time to sell their crafts. Their homes in Tucupita are not much more than a simple roof with dirt floors. They don’t have chicken, beef, or rice; their diet consists of yucca and a vegetable called morocoto, and at times some fruit. They wear the same clothes almost everyday and most don’t have shoes.
I wanted to spend more time with them so I asked if I could come back tomorrow.
On the way back home, one of the kids really wanted to go to on this one particular ride that continuously spins you around and flips you over at the same time so I went with him. Something about cheap carnival rides and how they lack in safety regulations really makes them more exhilarating.
This is their way of life. Sometimes there are ways to help these situations, sometimes there aren’t that are very practical, sometimes you have to realize when they don’t want any help at all. But one thing to remember is that in times when you can help, you can help them all you want – with money, supplies, time, and labor – but if that’s all you offer, in the end, it’s all in vain. If you don’t share with them what is eternal, the good news about the love of Jesus, it is all in vain. And one thing I find more often than not, is though at times they may not be in need of tangible help, they are almost always so hungry and eager to hear of the Gospel.
