Insecto!

On our trip up north I became more than acquainted with too many six legged friends.

My first encounter was at about 4:30 in the morning after getting off an overnight bus ride to Piura. We piled too many people into taxies and were getting all of our luggage situated as we were getting ready to head to the church that was hosting us and fall back asleep. While the taxi was still parked at the curb and my purse was in my lap I felt a slight tickle on my arm, only to look down in the faint light to see a very large bug wandering around. Sarah and I fling the taxi door open and while she it swatting the bug off my purse and amongst our shrieks I’m shouting “INSECTO!” hoping to ease the confusion of the taxi driver. After removing the bug from the car we return to our 4:30am half-awake state as we drive to the church.

During out time in Piura we visited other churches in neighboring cities. I have never seen so many crickets as I have in Sullana. During our two days in that church we attended their prayer meeting. We were asked to introduce ourselves and when I sat back down in my chair Dave turns to me and says, “you just sat on a cricket.” I continually and adamantly tell him that I most certainly did not as I was terribly grossed out by the idea. When I got up for a second time a cricket fell on the floor and I was faced with the reality that I had really sat on the six legged critter. Not knowing what the next step of action should be I asked Dave to just kick the cricket away so I didn’t have to look at this seemingly dead insect for the rest of the service. He kicked it and it slid smoothly across the floor and stayed there until about half way through the meeting where it began to wiggle and then walk away as if nothing had happened.

After we had returned to Piura and the church that was hosting us there, we decided that we should go out for dinner. We found a quaint little open-air BBQ place. After we had been served and were enjoying a meal that looked a little more like home than some of the other foods we had been served, I look down and see something large and black on my pants. A two inch cockroach had landed on my pants. Trying my hardest not to make a scene in the restaurant I calmly stand up and in between repeating “insecto, insecto” I’m begging Otto to knock it off my pants because I’m too afraid to touch it. The bug fell from my thigh and the servers just watched as I’m trying to stay calm.

I Have a Dream

About a week ago we returned home to Lima after adventuring in the North of Peru. We stayed in two main cities and then worked with smaller churches in surrounding villages. We played with children, preformed our drama, shoveled sand, painted, carried bricks and prayed.

The first church that we stayed at was in the city of Trujillo. The city is about the size of Fresno and seemed fairly similar except for the mass amounts of speed bumps. We were welcomed with the normal Peruvian warmth and hospitality. This church is going through change… both positive and negative. As the North American missionaries are preparing to return to Canada, a lot has taken place to place the church entirely into the hands of the Peruvians. They have recently hired their senior pastor and the Sunday that we were there we witnessed the installation of their very first deacons, ushers, and associate pastor. They are also in the midst of building and expanding their beautiful facility. But during this building process someone broke in and stole all of their instruments. For a while they felt as though music had been taken away from them but they are plowing ahead with an acoustic guitar, tambourine, and voices.

But the part of this visit that really touched me was getting to know the pastor, Sergio. He spent our entire visit with us… everything from cleaning to hanging out at the beach. One afternoon we helped him put together bookshelves in what will soon be a seminary in his backyard. There is a beautiful three story building that will soon be an institute of higher learning. He gave us the grand tour of this empty building but as we walked from room to room I saw the light of God in his eyes. I couldn’t help but be reminded what it looks like to dream huge dreams with God. He has a vision of everything that will fill his seminary… as we were about to finish the tour I realized there was one more door that we had not entered, and I figured someone was behind it because most rooms just have doorframes and northing else. When I asked where the door lead, his eyes light up just a little bit brighter as he proceeded to tell me this was his favorite part: the prayer chapel on the room. I walked up another flight of stairs only to see a flat cement roof, but Sergio saw so much more. He described in great detail what everything would be, what it would look like and I couldn’t help but be captured in the beauty of his dream.

This was also the day that, as Sarah says, my Spanish blossomed. All of the conversations that I was having with Sergio were entirely in Spanish. Commonly I didn’t have the words that I wanted but he was patient with my need to play charades for some words and even affirmed me and said that my words were very clear and he could easily understand me. As Sergio and I talked more and more about the seminary and my own schooling, he mentioned that someday I should come back and teach. The idea of moving to another continent and teaching is something that seems beyond me… but most God dreams are.

Not to say that I’m ready and willing to completely plant myself in Peru for an extended period of time, but I’m definitely not afraid to dream. Sometimes it’s so easy to accept the status quo and forget what it looks like to dream like God dreams for us and I’m glad I got the reminder to constantly seek out dreams that seems bigger than I am.

Culturally Unsensitive

The other day I had quite possibly my most culturally unsensitive moment. We were getting ready to get on a bus to visit the church in Sullana and when the bus driver opens the bottom luggage compartment so that people could get their stuff off a man walks up and grabs four live turkeys off the bottom of the bus... he holds two in each hand, by the feet and carries them off like it´s no big deal. I could help but laugh out loud and openly stare at this spectical... that would never happen at home. But to make matters even funnier this man then proceeded to catch a small motor taxi and shove all four wing flapping birds inside. Honestly, if my camera had been handy, I would have taken a picture. I love Peru.

Bon Appetite!

It seems like so much of culture is tied to food. Since we've gotten here everyone keeps asking us, "have you tried ceviche?" We kept saying no, mostly because we were warned to wait until our stomaches were a bit stronger until we tried it. Ceviche is raw, well sort of raw, fish. It's "cooked" by the acid of lime juice. Last week was the first time all of the girls tried this dish, Dave tried it one time at the beach with some friends. We purposefully found a clean restaurant and gave it a shot. I put a piece on my plate and I had such a huge mental block... I don't eat fish, much less raw fish. My team kept encouraging me but I just needed a moment to think it through. Roxy and I shared a small bite since neither of us were too sure that this would turn out to be an enjoyable experience. We counted to three and stuck the forks in out mouthes, chewed, and swallowed. I'm glad that I tried it but there is definitely something to be said for the texture of raw fish... excuse me, fish cooked by citrus acid.

But there are quite a few "national" foods and drinks and they all seem to come in large portions. Arroz con pollo, ceviche, papas a la huancaina, Inca Kola, Pisco Sours... and the list goes on. People are so proud to feed you the food of their nation. This has really made us all think: what foods are we proud of? What do we prepare when international guests come to visit? We all got stuck on that. When we get homesick we go out for things like pizza and hamburgers but those are just things that we eat at home and not foods from our home. North America is such a conglomeration of ethnicities that we don't have a "national dish". Even when we think of what we cook at home... lasagna is Italian, tacos are Mexican, and chicken is pretty universal. Food is such a big part of culture, even if North America, eating is a social event but we just don't have a national food.

I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet...

Question: What is the quickest way to get five North Americans out of bed in Peru?

Answer: An earthquake.

Saturday morning at ten minutes before 8 we were all rattled out of bed. This was the first earthquake that most of us have felt so we were all a bit startled… especially because that’s what woke us up. There was a low rumbling and our beds were shaking as all five of us are reaching to find our glasses so we can see what is going on. It wasn’t too bad but it was enough to rattle the pots in the kitchen, make the animals go crazy, and get us girls out of bed in record time. When we were trying to figure out what to do, one suggestion was “stand in the doorway”. Now it’s good that we listened to earthquake safety in elementary school but with five girls and one doorway, it just wasn’t going to work. By the time that we fully comprehended what was going on the earthquake had stopped but we still ran into the hallway calling for Jackie, she is the lady on pastoral staff who’s room is right across from ours. She had just gotten out of the shower and was in her towel but she explained to five spooked North American girls that this wasn't bad. She explained that when things shake side to side (like they did) doesn't really cause much, if any damage but it's when it's a rolling earthquake (like last August, up North) is when things get scary.

After all this had happened I couldn’t help but think about Acts 4:25-31, which has been my prayer for this church, lately. We have neighbors who aren’t thrilled that there is a church below them and they are trying to force the church to move. We don’t know what is going to happen yet but in Acts, after Peter and John were released, the believers came together in a time of prayer asking God to consider the threats that were against the early church and bring healing. The passage ends by saying, “After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly.”

Kids Will Be Kids

We were walking down a street that I had never been down before… now that’s no feat since we’ve only been here three weeks and Lima is a city of 9 million people. I’m looking for the amazing pink house that Sarah told me to look for on the way and I don’t see it. The neighborhood is a little more run down than ours, but not by much. It’s a little bit busier too: there are more cars and more people walking. Just as I’m wondering how much longer we’ll be walking, we pass a half open garage door and inside are some women shuffling through what looks like empty soda bottles and other recyclables. Lidia rings the doorbell, we’re here. Bre, Lisa, and I are all trailing behind Lidia and Lucha because we have no idea what to expect. We walk into the courtyard and there is a handful of little boys playing what looked like a Peruvian game of cowboys and Indians: their hands make pretend guns and they shout “pew, pew” as the pretend bullets fly and children duck behind furniture. Then the question is whispered, “do all these kids have AIDS too?”

Last Wednesday some of us went with Lidia and Lucha to a home for women and children with AIDS. There were definitely points where it was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that these women and children were sick. A lot of them just had tons of life in them. These women were such proud mothers and wanted us to know which beautiful child was theirs… some of these women didn’t look any older than I am. Some of the kids were more timid and stuck near their moms in the knitting room and others were in and out dragging in all sorts of toys. There was one little boy who’s mom died of AIDS a couple years ago and now his aunt and grandma take turns living with him at this home because if they don’t he will be taken to an orphanage. This little boy stuck close to his grandma while we were there. His legs were so tiny and his ribcage stuck out, Lidia later told me that he is commonly in and out of the hospital… he couldn’t have been older than six. There are a couple ladies who are pregnant and a couple newborn infants at the home. One of the ladies explained to us that they’re planning to so a c-section, that way there is a chance that her baby won’t contract HIV. After singing, knitting, and doing a devotional, it was time to go. Lidia pulls candy out of her pockets and offers it to the children who were still in the room on our way out the door.

I feel like my head is still spinning a bit from that visit. I have so many questions and I can’t find anyone with the answers. How big is the AIDS problem in Peru? Do all the children there have HIV? What kind of social assistance is in place for these people? How do they pay their medical bills? Do the older kids go to school and will the younger ones go eventually? I kept asking questions and all I got was, “that would be an interesting thing to research.”

Retreat!

The past 48 hours was a youth retreat. Since this is a small church without a youth budget (like so many of the churches that we’re used to at home) the youth retreat was at the church. It was like a big sleep over, girls in one room and boys in the courtyard. Pretty much the only thing that was asked of my team was that we build relationships with the youth. Most of the youth here (and youth is a loose term, ranging from 16 to however old) are pretty leary of taking a major step in their faith. They don’t want to be baptized, they don’t want to join a discipleship class, and they don’t want to be viewed differently than their peers.

We were all a bit skeptical about how much fun this youth retreat was going to be, but it was great. Yesterday Bre and I had a full conversation without using any English. Some of our Spanish was pretty broken but we got our point across. We ate together, sang together, prayed together, and played together the whole two days.

Dancing is a big part of the culture here. Last night some of the girls put on some salsa and were dancing before we started watching a movie. Jano, the pastor, lined us the girls on my team and some girls from the church and we mimicked their dancing. There was a lot of laughter and I’m not always sure if it was at us or with us. One of the girls could really move her hips so I asked her if she would teach me and she did. I apparently caught on decently well because Jano gave me a high five and then Italo did too. I was so embarrassed when I realized that everyone was watching me that I blushed and dashed into the kitchen. Italo told me that I danced like a Peruvian girl, I’ll take that as a compliment. But all through the evening I was told that I could dance well and that I had rhythm, who knew?

Today we spent the day at the beach. We had to leave Lima so we could get to a beach where it was clean enough to swim. I am proud to announce that I am, once again, the least sunburnt of all the girls! But as soon as we were laying our towel down we noticed some people our age that were also speaking English. It feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve heard an American accent that isn’t on our team. I think they noticed us right away, too. We got to talking and they were from all over the states and studying abroad in Ecuador. It was pretty refreshing to be able to explain who I am and not have to ask “como se dice se?”