New Address
Blogger has gotten frustrating, so I moved my blog to wordpress:
http://irisclement.wordpress.com/
First World Problems
[This is an article I recently wrote for undocumented.tv]......................................
Can’t we all identify? We’re late for work because we can’t settle on an outfit from our jam-packed closet. We’ve already left the drive-thru before we realize they forgot the ketchup packets. Our wallets won’t close neatly because they’re too full of cash and cards. We have “nothing to eat” in our fridge...........................................
“First world problems” are amusing — blogs, tumblrs, and even rap songs are wildly popular. I have to laugh when I catch myself complaining about those trivial annoyances that could only happen in the world’s wealthiest nation. But at the same time, I sense a nagging disappointment in myself—is that selfishness and entitlement really lurking beneath the surface?...................................................
Those mountainous “first world problems” are reduced to molehills when I hear stories of “third world problems” from my immigrant and refugee friends. My Bible study recently welcomed a family of refugees from the Democratic Republic of Congo. Their stories of what they’ve endured are horrific. A father killed in the violence, a mother separated from four of her children. Hiding in the wilderness, their survival depended on drinking urine and scavenging for food. In my ESL class, one of my Syrian students recently broke down in tears, telling me that she had lost her house back home to a bombing. Her brother was held hostage and tortured.......................................
When I hear stories like these, I’m caught between conflicting desires. Part of me wants to bury my head in the sand: I don’t have to deal with those issues here in the U.S., so why should I worry about them? But deeper down, I know ignorance isn’t bliss; a heartfelt burden to help beckons me to do something.............................................
Though I can’t fix the world’s problems, I’ve seen that simply getting to know the foreigners in our communities is a powerful way to experience God’s grace and redemption. Hearing a Congolese refugee praising the Lord for the way he brought her family through those horrors causes my heart to be thankful for God’s provision. In his letter to the church in Corinth, Paul wrote:.............
“We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us again. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us.” (2 Corinthians 1:8-10)................
Exchanging stories of God’s faithfulness in the midst of adversity is a beautiful thing. Paul later urges the Corinthians to “make room for us in your hearts” (2 Corinthians 7:2). As I read those words, my context is vastly different from Paul’s. In my life, “making room in my heart” means listening to and caring about those who have fled hardship in their countries to make a new home here. I pray that God will use the little things, like lending a compassionate ear to a Syrian woman grieving the violence in her country or a Mexican high schooler faced with his father’s impending deportation, to point people to himself, for he is an “ever-present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1).................................
Though I still grumble about having to hunt for my camera charger in my drawerful of electronics or get upset when a visitor parks in my designated spot, I’m becoming more conscious of the heart underneath these “first world problems,” and through relationships with immigrants and refugees, God is working on my heart and correcting my perspective................................
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[I don't know why blogger is removing all the spaces between lines. I'll look into it and reformat soon.]
Abide
The past few weeks have been a season of tiredness and anxiety for me. I don't fully understand the cause, but I've felt buried under work and ministry commitments. My joy has been lacking, and I feel burdened by a sense of duty.
This song by Jenny & Tyler has helped me meditate on Truth.
Abide
You strive, O man, and you strive again/
Your heart too proud to rest/
You labor on singing those songs/
To cover your weakness/
Do you fail to recall who you really are/
And Who caused you to be?/
Return, O man, return and rest/
To a burden light and yoke easy/
Abide in your Savior. Abide in His love/
The labor of God is to trust in the Son/
O you possess, do you forget?/
As if by your own strength/
You earned it? No./
He gave you all, everything you have/
Your righteousness/
Your light, your breath/
Your daily bread and wine/
His blood, His flesh/
His love, His death/
Your faith and endless life/
Abide in your Savior. Abide in His love/
The labor of God is to trust in the Son/
Thankful.
Maybe it’s cliché: the “why I’m thankful” blog entry during Thanksgiving week.
But the whole reason for the holiday is (turkey? Nope. Football? Uh-uh. Shopping? NO.) to intentionally stop and give thanks for all that we have to the One who gives it.
Elisabeth Elliot, one of my all-time favorite authors, has a fitting chapter in her book Keep A Quiet Heart:
Some people are substituting “Turkey Day” for Thanksgiving. I guess it must be because they are not aware that there’s anybody to thank, and they think that the most important thing about the holiday is food. Christians know there is Somebody to thank, but often when we make a list of things to thank Him for we include only things we like. A bride and groom can’t get away with that. They write a note t everybody, not only the rich uncle who gave the couple matching BMWs, but the poor aunt who gave them a crocheted toilet-paper cover. In other words, they have to express thanks for whatever they’ve received.
Wouldn’t that be a good thing for us to do with God? We are meant to give thanks “in everything” even if we’re like the little girl l who said she could think of a lot of things she’d rather have than eternal life. The mature Christian offers not just polite thanks but heartfelt thanks that springs from a far deeper source than his own pleasure. Thanksgiving is a spiritual exercise, necessary to the building of a healthy soul. It takes us out of the stuffiness of ourselves into the fresh breeze and sunlight of the will of God. The simple act of thanking Him is for most of us an abrupt change of activity, a break from work and worry, a move toward re-creation.
And another thought on why we should give thanks even when God doesn’t give us what we ask:
“God never witholds from His child that which His love and wisdom call good. God's refusals are always merciful -- "severe mercies" at times but mercies all the same. God never denies us our hearts desire except to give us something better.” -Elisabeth Elliot
But the whole reason for the holiday is (turkey? Nope. Football? Uh-uh. Shopping? NO.) to intentionally stop and give thanks for all that we have to the One who gives it.
Elisabeth Elliot, one of my all-time favorite authors, has a fitting chapter in her book Keep A Quiet Heart:
Some people are substituting “Turkey Day” for Thanksgiving. I guess it must be because they are not aware that there’s anybody to thank, and they think that the most important thing about the holiday is food. Christians know there is Somebody to thank, but often when we make a list of things to thank Him for we include only things we like. A bride and groom can’t get away with that. They write a note t everybody, not only the rich uncle who gave the couple matching BMWs, but the poor aunt who gave them a crocheted toilet-paper cover. In other words, they have to express thanks for whatever they’ve received.
Wouldn’t that be a good thing for us to do with God? We are meant to give thanks “in everything” even if we’re like the little girl l who said she could think of a lot of things she’d rather have than eternal life. The mature Christian offers not just polite thanks but heartfelt thanks that springs from a far deeper source than his own pleasure. Thanksgiving is a spiritual exercise, necessary to the building of a healthy soul. It takes us out of the stuffiness of ourselves into the fresh breeze and sunlight of the will of God. The simple act of thanking Him is for most of us an abrupt change of activity, a break from work and worry, a move toward re-creation.
And another thought on why we should give thanks even when God doesn’t give us what we ask:
“God never witholds from His child that which His love and wisdom call good. God's refusals are always merciful -- "severe mercies" at times but mercies all the same. God never denies us our hearts desire except to give us something better.” -Elisabeth Elliot
Enseñando y Aprendiendo
“I’m reading a really interesting book and would like to share some of it with you in class today.” I hold up Just Like Us , which tells the story of four Mexican teenagers growing up in America. Faces show interest and curiosity, until the next words leave my mouth: “We’ll also be discussing the topic of illegal immigration and what kind of impact it has.” Now I notice hesitation, averted eyes.
Though all of the students in my adult ESL class are documented, I know this is a delicate subject. Some may have entered the country illegally themselves, but all certainly have loved ones who are living here under the radar. I didn’t plan this lesson to make anyone squirm, though. Just Like Us resonates deeply with me: it not only strikes a chord with my personal experience of having a foot in two cultures, but it brings to mind the numerous immigrants I’ve befriended—some with papers, some without. In her book, Helen Thorpe movingly chronicles the internal and external struggles of four young women as they face the obstacles and tensions brought on by the lack of a green card.
My students soon relax as they catch on that my intention is not to judge but to listen. I am floored by their candidness and soon forget that this is a foreign language class; their limited English is no hindrance as they poignantly voice their experiences:
Marta: “The thing is that we do everything for our children. We bring them here so they can have a better future. But then they get big and they ask us, “Why did you bring me here?” when they see how hard it is. They had no choice to come here, and they complain. But for us it hurts because we brought them so their lives could be better.”
Yesenia: “I tell my kids, “You are lucky! When you know another culture, your mind becomes open [her closed fists burst open to demonstrate]. Maybe other kids make fun of you for being different, but we wouldn’t have the rainbow without all the colors. We need everyone: white, black, brown, people with covered heads, everyone—they make life beautiful.”
Luisa: “You know, the quality of life is better there [in Dominican Republic, her native country]. There you have all your family close. And it’s your culture. But there are more opportunities here.”
Oscar: “Which one is wrong, the American government or the illegal immigrant? I can’t say that one is wrong. Do we have to blame someone? Everyone wants the same thing: a chance to work, a better life.”
In ESL class today, I became the student. My carefully crafted lesson plan took the back seat as I listened, engrossed, as these adults opened my eyes to their world, letting me in on some of the internal and external issues they and their children face.
American or Mexican, documented or not, teacher or student, we all agree with Thorpe’s statement in her introduction to Just Like Us: “In the end, though, this is what immigration is like: inherently messy. The issue bleeds. And we are all implicated.”
Though all of the students in my adult ESL class are documented, I know this is a delicate subject. Some may have entered the country illegally themselves, but all certainly have loved ones who are living here under the radar. I didn’t plan this lesson to make anyone squirm, though. Just Like Us resonates deeply with me: it not only strikes a chord with my personal experience of having a foot in two cultures, but it brings to mind the numerous immigrants I’ve befriended—some with papers, some without. In her book, Helen Thorpe movingly chronicles the internal and external struggles of four young women as they face the obstacles and tensions brought on by the lack of a green card.
My students soon relax as they catch on that my intention is not to judge but to listen. I am floored by their candidness and soon forget that this is a foreign language class; their limited English is no hindrance as they poignantly voice their experiences:
Marta: “The thing is that we do everything for our children. We bring them here so they can have a better future. But then they get big and they ask us, “Why did you bring me here?” when they see how hard it is. They had no choice to come here, and they complain. But for us it hurts because we brought them so their lives could be better.”
Yesenia: “I tell my kids, “You are lucky! When you know another culture, your mind becomes open [her closed fists burst open to demonstrate]. Maybe other kids make fun of you for being different, but we wouldn’t have the rainbow without all the colors. We need everyone: white, black, brown, people with covered heads, everyone—they make life beautiful.”
Luisa: “You know, the quality of life is better there [in Dominican Republic, her native country]. There you have all your family close. And it’s your culture. But there are more opportunities here.”
Oscar: “Which one is wrong, the American government or the illegal immigrant? I can’t say that one is wrong. Do we have to blame someone? Everyone wants the same thing: a chance to work, a better life.”
In ESL class today, I became the student. My carefully crafted lesson plan took the back seat as I listened, engrossed, as these adults opened my eyes to their world, letting me in on some of the internal and external issues they and their children face.
American or Mexican, documented or not, teacher or student, we all agree with Thorpe’s statement in her introduction to Just Like Us: “In the end, though, this is what immigration is like: inherently messy. The issue bleeds. And we are all implicated.”
When being captive is a good thing:
"The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds...we take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ." 2 Corinthians 10:4-5
I'm encouraged that winning over my thought life is possible. When those daydreams and distractions--or panic and worry--well up inside, God, teach me to wield these weapons of divine power. Through your strength, I can arrest, detain, and subjugate my wayward thoughts!
I'm encouraged that winning over my thought life is possible. When those daydreams and distractions--or panic and worry--well up inside, God, teach me to wield these weapons of divine power. Through your strength, I can arrest, detain, and subjugate my wayward thoughts!
"Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners. Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever."
-from the Book of Common Prayer, emphasis added.
-from the Book of Common Prayer, emphasis added.
Spare Oom
Honestly, “reverse culture shock” hasn’t hit me too hard. Yet, anyway.
The first couple days, I soaked in the pleasures of Chick-fil-A, air conditioning, and Target.
It didn’t take long to readjust to life here: I remembered that you can flush the toilet paper after just a few times. Driving a car after a year of public transportation wasn’t as strange as I expected. I re-learned the roads fairly quickly. Using a dishwasher and clothes dryer is once again part of my routine. One hour listening to G105, and I’ve caught up on the year’s hits.
And North Carolina is pretty much how I left it.
But…something’s different…
I spent a year in South America. I’m not fully aware of the implications of that, but I know that I’m not the same person I was 12 months ago. Even though I haven’t experienced major re-entry issues, I guess it would be hard to slip effortlessly back into life in the U.S.
As if I’ve re-entered the “Spare Oom” after slipping through the wardrobe into Narnia, it seems hard to believe that I’ve been in another “world” for the past year. I’m sure my absence was felt less here than my presence was there. And though people believe that I was in Colombia, I sympathize with Lucy’s feelings of solitude—loneliness—that result from having no one else with whom to share her experience.
Lucy ran out of the empty room into the passage and found the other three.
“It’s all right,” she repeated, “I’ve come back.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?” asked Susan.
“Why?” said Lucy in amazement. “Haven’t you all been wondering where I was?”
“So you’ve been hiding, have you?” said Peter. “Poor old Lu, hiding and nobody noticed! You’ll have to hide longer than that if you want people to start looking for you.”
“But I’ve been away for hours and hours,” said Lucy.
The others all stared at one another.
“Batty!” said Edmund, tapping his head. “Quite batty.”
“What do you mean, Lu?” asked Peter.
“What I said, answered Lucy. It was just after breakfast when I went into the wardrobe, and I’ve been away for hours and hours, and had tea, and all sorts of things have happened.”
The first couple days, I soaked in the pleasures of Chick-fil-A, air conditioning, and Target.
It didn’t take long to readjust to life here: I remembered that you can flush the toilet paper after just a few times. Driving a car after a year of public transportation wasn’t as strange as I expected. I re-learned the roads fairly quickly. Using a dishwasher and clothes dryer is once again part of my routine. One hour listening to G105, and I’ve caught up on the year’s hits.
And North Carolina is pretty much how I left it.
But…something’s different…
I spent a year in South America. I’m not fully aware of the implications of that, but I know that I’m not the same person I was 12 months ago. Even though I haven’t experienced major re-entry issues, I guess it would be hard to slip effortlessly back into life in the U.S.
As if I’ve re-entered the “Spare Oom” after slipping through the wardrobe into Narnia, it seems hard to believe that I’ve been in another “world” for the past year. I’m sure my absence was felt less here than my presence was there. And though people believe that I was in Colombia, I sympathize with Lucy’s feelings of solitude—loneliness—that result from having no one else with whom to share her experience.
Lucy ran out of the empty room into the passage and found the other three.
“It’s all right,” she repeated, “I’ve come back.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Lucy?” asked Susan.
“Why?” said Lucy in amazement. “Haven’t you all been wondering where I was?”
“So you’ve been hiding, have you?” said Peter. “Poor old Lu, hiding and nobody noticed! You’ll have to hide longer than that if you want people to start looking for you.”
“But I’ve been away for hours and hours,” said Lucy.
The others all stared at one another.
“Batty!” said Edmund, tapping his head. “Quite batty.”
“What do you mean, Lu?” asked Peter.
“What I said, answered Lucy. It was just after breakfast when I went into the wardrobe, and I’ve been away for hours and hours, and had tea, and all sorts of things have happened.”
The Final Countdown
It’s been a month since my last blog entry, and so much has happened. For lack of my own patience and yours, I won’t drone on for pages. But I’m not a quitter, so as I finish up my year abroad I’d like to get another post or two up here.
I was in Costa Rica until June 27th, and I have to say getting to be part of that trip was really a privilege. Not only was I able to visit a couple of countries I’d never been to (we went up to Nicaragua for a couple of days at the end), but I got to enjoy spending time with my professor, my fellow teaching assistants, and the Lee students. On our weekend trips, we participated in such adventures as hiking around an active volcano, bathing in hot springs, and zip-lining 600 feet above the ground.
After my return from Costa Rica, only about 3 weeks remained of my year in Colombia. So far, it has been really strange being back after several weeks in the gringo bubble of the Lee trip. To add to the strangeness, I’m not working, I’m living in a different apartment, and splitting my time between many people and activities. On June 30th, a different group of Lee students arrived to Barranquilla to spend the month of July on a cross-cultural trip here in Colombia. I’ve kept busy orienting the students and helping here and there with trip details. I tagged along with them to Cartagena for a few days and thoroughly enjoyed my last time in the Caribbean Sea for awhile. Now, I have a few more days in Barranquilla before I leave for a conference in Cali, where I’ll be until the day before I leave for the States.
In these whirlwind days, I feel pulled in a thousand directions. I am so excited to be back in the U.S. after a year away, but the thought of leaving Colombia brings tears to my eyes. Oh, to be able to be in two places at once.
I was in Costa Rica until June 27th, and I have to say getting to be part of that trip was really a privilege. Not only was I able to visit a couple of countries I’d never been to (we went up to Nicaragua for a couple of days at the end), but I got to enjoy spending time with my professor, my fellow teaching assistants, and the Lee students. On our weekend trips, we participated in such adventures as hiking around an active volcano, bathing in hot springs, and zip-lining 600 feet above the ground.
After my return from Costa Rica, only about 3 weeks remained of my year in Colombia. So far, it has been really strange being back after several weeks in the gringo bubble of the Lee trip. To add to the strangeness, I’m not working, I’m living in a different apartment, and splitting my time between many people and activities. On June 30th, a different group of Lee students arrived to Barranquilla to spend the month of July on a cross-cultural trip here in Colombia. I’ve kept busy orienting the students and helping here and there with trip details. I tagged along with them to Cartagena for a few days and thoroughly enjoyed my last time in the Caribbean Sea for awhile. Now, I have a few more days in Barranquilla before I leave for a conference in Cali, where I’ll be until the day before I leave for the States.
In these whirlwind days, I feel pulled in a thousand directions. I am so excited to be back in the U.S. after a year away, but the thought of leaving Colombia brings tears to my eyes. Oh, to be able to be in two places at once.
Pura Vida!
…I mean, what else can I title this entry?
I’ve been in Costa Rica for a about 10 days now. One week after finishing classes at Universidad del Atlántico, I jumped on a plane for San Jose, Costa Rica to meet up with a study abroad group from Lee University. For three weeks, I’m one of Dr. Steffanell’s (one of my college Spanish professors and the one who hooked me up with Barranquilla) “esclavitos blancos” (little white slaves), aka, teaching assistants. Along with Michael, Evan and Jacob, classmates of mine from Lee, I’m earning my keep on this trip by teaching some classes, running errands, and making weekend trip arrangements.
Unfortunately for the students, classes are Intensive with a capital “I”. They’re covering two semesters’ worth of material in three weeks. The bright side is that this is their classroom:
Our first weekend away, we went to a little Pacific town called Quepos, known for the nearby national park, Manuel Antonio. There, we stayed at Pura Vida Hostel, had a night of learning some salsa, merengue, and bachata moves, and spent a couple days relaxing on the idyllic beaches.
For the first few days here, I honestly didn’t feel like I was in Costa Rica. Our nice aparthotel could have been anywhere. Well, ok, eating rice and beans at least two meals a day is about as Costa Rican as it gets. But otherwise, I had the sense that Costa Rica is rather bland; standard, indistinctive Spanish; aside from the small historic center, architecture without much character…America’s handprint everywhere (Wal-mart, Subway, Wendy’s, TGI Friday’s, most people speak English to us before even allowing us to try our Spanish). It’s hard to explain but Colombia feels like Colombia, Peru feels like Peru, but Costa Rica is a different story. Well, as I hiked through the rainforest surrounded by monkeys, lizards and sloths, I definitely felt like I was experiencing the Costa Rica that travel guides boast. But I’m left wondering what constitutes the essence of Costa Rica. Its natural beauty is certainly worth being proud of, but has tourism and the influx of foreigners detracted from the local culture? More serious than the fact that study abroad students can get away with speaking very little Spanish and can remain in the comfort zone of their favorite stores and restaurants, I see the illegal drug sales and prostitution staying alive because of foreigners visiting. I’m a huge proponent of international travel and believe strongly in its enriching qualities, but unfortunately every coin has two sides, and sometimes exchanging cultures leaves ugly traces.
My intent here is not to slam Costa Rica by any means. In ten days I know I’ve seen only a tiny fraction of the country, culture and people. It’s just that the physical characteristics of any place are much more apparent than the culture—and in Costa Rica’s case, the stunning natural beauty seems to overshadow that of the people. But that just leaves the challenge of digging a little deeper.
I’ve been in Costa Rica for a about 10 days now. One week after finishing classes at Universidad del Atlántico, I jumped on a plane for San Jose, Costa Rica to meet up with a study abroad group from Lee University. For three weeks, I’m one of Dr. Steffanell’s (one of my college Spanish professors and the one who hooked me up with Barranquilla) “esclavitos blancos” (little white slaves), aka, teaching assistants. Along with Michael, Evan and Jacob, classmates of mine from Lee, I’m earning my keep on this trip by teaching some classes, running errands, and making weekend trip arrangements.
Unfortunately for the students, classes are Intensive with a capital “I”. They’re covering two semesters’ worth of material in three weeks. The bright side is that this is their classroom:
Our first weekend away, we went to a little Pacific town called Quepos, known for the nearby national park, Manuel Antonio. There, we stayed at Pura Vida Hostel, had a night of learning some salsa, merengue, and bachata moves, and spent a couple days relaxing on the idyllic beaches.
For the first few days here, I honestly didn’t feel like I was in Costa Rica. Our nice aparthotel could have been anywhere. Well, ok, eating rice and beans at least two meals a day is about as Costa Rican as it gets. But otherwise, I had the sense that Costa Rica is rather bland; standard, indistinctive Spanish; aside from the small historic center, architecture without much character…America’s handprint everywhere (Wal-mart, Subway, Wendy’s, TGI Friday’s, most people speak English to us before even allowing us to try our Spanish). It’s hard to explain but Colombia feels like Colombia, Peru feels like Peru, but Costa Rica is a different story. Well, as I hiked through the rainforest surrounded by monkeys, lizards and sloths, I definitely felt like I was experiencing the Costa Rica that travel guides boast. But I’m left wondering what constitutes the essence of Costa Rica. Its natural beauty is certainly worth being proud of, but has tourism and the influx of foreigners detracted from the local culture? More serious than the fact that study abroad students can get away with speaking very little Spanish and can remain in the comfort zone of their favorite stores and restaurants, I see the illegal drug sales and prostitution staying alive because of foreigners visiting. I’m a huge proponent of international travel and believe strongly in its enriching qualities, but unfortunately every coin has two sides, and sometimes exchanging cultures leaves ugly traces.
My intent here is not to slam Costa Rica by any means. In ten days I know I’ve seen only a tiny fraction of the country, culture and people. It’s just that the physical characteristics of any place are much more apparent than the culture—and in Costa Rica’s case, the stunning natural beauty seems to overshadow that of the people. But that just leaves the challenge of digging a little deeper.
Finals
I just finished grading final exams...and therefore the semester...and my job at the university. That's hard to wrap my mind around. I'm not ready to process the fact that my year in Colombia is coming to an end, so in the meantime here are a few exam comments worth mentioning:
-Did I fail at teaching writing if my third semester students' exam essays are full of "OMG! I wanna...I'm gonna..."?
-This line made my day: "This semester I've studied and learned full." See, "full" (pronounced "fool") has become a normal word in Colombian Spanish vocabulary, but it doesn't must mean the opposite of empty, but rather "a lot".
-In an oral exam, one student said, "This semester I've fallen in love with English." That brings joy to a teacher's heart :)
-Did I fail at teaching writing if my third semester students' exam essays are full of "OMG! I wanna...I'm gonna..."?
-This line made my day: "This semester I've studied and learned full." See, "full" (pronounced "fool") has become a normal word in Colombian Spanish vocabulary, but it doesn't must mean the opposite of empty, but rather "a lot".
-In an oral exam, one student said, "This semester I've fallen in love with English." That brings joy to a teacher's heart :)
"Last one's a rotten egg."
As I opened the egg carton, they all looked the same. Different shades and spots, but nothing suspicious from the outside. They all looked fresh and omelette-ready. As SOON as I cracked open the rotten one, though, there was no doubt. The smell was absolutely repugnant and I couldne´t get the trash out fast enough. Beyond that, I kinda lost my appetite for eggs for a while.
It's not that hard to look like a good Christian on the outside. We can say and do the "right" things on autopilot. But what about when we're cracked open--what's inside? Is it appealing or revolting?
I want to live up to my Grandpa´s words: "You´re a goooooood egg."
It's not that hard to look like a good Christian on the outside. We can say and do the "right" things on autopilot. But what about when we're cracked open--what's inside? Is it appealing or revolting?
I want to live up to my Grandpa´s words: "You´re a goooooood egg."
More than sparrows.
Do you ever have one of those times when God seems to relentlessly confront you with a theme or issue? When your study of the Bible, sermons you hear, and conversations with friends come together in such a way that it leaves you thinking, “OK, I get it. This is something I need to deal with.”
Lately, that theme for me has been
Worry.
James 4. Matthew 6. Luke 12. These passages remind me that worrying is never acceptable. Why? Because God is good and all-knowing. He knows what I need before I ask, and as a loving Father he will provide. Because “running after these things [“stuff,” essentially]” is futile. Because my life is a vapor and I don’t know what tomorrow will hold. Because intimacy with God is much more important than having pleasant circumstances.
God has further reinforced this theme through a book called “Loving God With All Your Mind” by Elizabeth George; there’s a great section called Winning over Worry. In the most recent meeting of the small group I lead at the university, we watched and discussed this video, which is a powerful illustration about our tendency to be discontent. The last line is quite poignant and reminds us to focus on the Giver, not the gift.
So rather than freak out about where I am going to live and how I’m going to get a job, or about how a friend seems to continually make destructive decisions, or about how I’m going to stretch my last paycheck over two unpaid months in Colombia, or really a whole host of “concerns,” that constantly invade my mind-----I’m asking the Lord to help me grow in trusting Him. I haven’t found the “secret” yet, but I do know that it’s a moment-by-moment process of letting go of my worry (and desire to control my life) and resting in God’s leadership and provision.
Lately, that theme for me has been
Worry.
James 4. Matthew 6. Luke 12. These passages remind me that worrying is never acceptable. Why? Because God is good and all-knowing. He knows what I need before I ask, and as a loving Father he will provide. Because “running after these things [“stuff,” essentially]” is futile. Because my life is a vapor and I don’t know what tomorrow will hold. Because intimacy with God is much more important than having pleasant circumstances.
God has further reinforced this theme through a book called “Loving God With All Your Mind” by Elizabeth George; there’s a great section called Winning over Worry. In the most recent meeting of the small group I lead at the university, we watched and discussed this video, which is a powerful illustration about our tendency to be discontent. The last line is quite poignant and reminds us to focus on the Giver, not the gift.
So rather than freak out about where I am going to live and how I’m going to get a job, or about how a friend seems to continually make destructive decisions, or about how I’m going to stretch my last paycheck over two unpaid months in Colombia, or really a whole host of “concerns,” that constantly invade my mind-----I’m asking the Lord to help me grow in trusting Him. I haven’t found the “secret” yet, but I do know that it’s a moment-by-moment process of letting go of my worry (and desire to control my life) and resting in God’s leadership and provision.
Aprendiendo
One of my students has made it her personal mission to get me reading Spanish literature. Each week, she brings me several poems or short stories by Jorge Luis Borges, Julio Cortazar, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, or others. She even gave me a copy of one of her favorite books, “Los Ojos del Perro Siberiano.”
One of my favorite of these pieces of literature is a poem called “Aprendiendo” [It’s attributed to Jorge Luis Borges, but that’s debated]. Here are a few of the best lines:
“Y uno aprende a construer todos sus caminos en el hoy, porque el terreno de mañana es demasiado inseguro para planes, y los futures tienen una forma de caerse en la mitad…
Con el tiempo entiendes que los verdaderos amigos son contados, y que el que no lucha por ellos tarde o temprano se verá rodeado solo de amistades falsas.
Con el tiempo aprendes que las palabras dichas en un momento de ira pueden seguir lastimando a quien heriste, durante toda la vida…
Con el tiempo aprendes que disculpar cualquiera lo hace, pero perdonar es solo de almas grandes.
Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que cada experiencia vivida con cada persona es irrepetible…
Con el tiempo aprendes a construer todos tus caminos en el hoy, porque el terreno del mañana es demasado incierto para hacer planes…
Con el tiempo te das cuanta de que en realidad lo mejor no era el future, sino el momento que estabas viviendo justo en ese instante…
Con el tiempo aprenderás que intentar perdonar o pedir perdón, decir que amas, decir que extrañas, decir que necesitas, decir que quieres ser amigo, ante una tumba, ya no tiene ningún sentido.
Pero desafortunadamente, solo con el tiempo…”
It’s hard to do justice to poems by translating, but this one is about learning important life lessons: fighting for real friendships, expressing our love and need for people, and living each day to the fullest. Essentially, as the last line says, these things are only learned with time…
One of my favorite of these pieces of literature is a poem called “Aprendiendo” [It’s attributed to Jorge Luis Borges, but that’s debated]. Here are a few of the best lines:
“Y uno aprende a construer todos sus caminos en el hoy, porque el terreno de mañana es demasiado inseguro para planes, y los futures tienen una forma de caerse en la mitad…
Con el tiempo entiendes que los verdaderos amigos son contados, y que el que no lucha por ellos tarde o temprano se verá rodeado solo de amistades falsas.
Con el tiempo aprendes que las palabras dichas en un momento de ira pueden seguir lastimando a quien heriste, durante toda la vida…
Con el tiempo aprendes que disculpar cualquiera lo hace, pero perdonar es solo de almas grandes.
Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que cada experiencia vivida con cada persona es irrepetible…
Con el tiempo aprendes a construer todos tus caminos en el hoy, porque el terreno del mañana es demasado incierto para hacer planes…
Con el tiempo te das cuanta de que en realidad lo mejor no era el future, sino el momento que estabas viviendo justo en ese instante…
Con el tiempo aprenderás que intentar perdonar o pedir perdón, decir que amas, decir que extrañas, decir que necesitas, decir que quieres ser amigo, ante una tumba, ya no tiene ningún sentido.
Pero desafortunadamente, solo con el tiempo…”
It’s hard to do justice to poems by translating, but this one is about learning important life lessons: fighting for real friendships, expressing our love and need for people, and living each day to the fullest. Essentially, as the last line says, these things are only learned with time…
A Dream Come True!
Machu Picchu!
This adventure began right on the tail of the last one (Ecuador). After returning to my home in Barranquilla at 1:30 a.m. on April 16th, I headed back to the airport at 9:00 a.m. to fly back over Ecuador to Lima. There, after meeting up with my friend Andrea and her mom, cousin, and aunt, and a brief (3 hour) night in Lima, we made the short flight to Cusco. At about 14,000 feet above sea level, it’s generally recommended to spend two to three days acclimating to the altitude before embarking on the demanding trek to Machu Picchu. Since we only had about 18 hours, we drank our share of coca leaf tea to ward off adverse effects. The following morning “las chicas” (our team of 5 girls) and our guide Felipe set out for our “Inka Jungle Trek.” Day 1 involved driving through a few villages and higher up into the Andes mountains. There, in the blustery cold and rain, we took off on mountain bikes down a curvy highway. As we descended, the weather improved drastically: the rain let up, the sun came out, and the clouds cleared away. After a descent of 50 kilometers, we took another short van ride to the town of Santa Maria. After a dinner of delicious lomo saltado (sautéed beef strips with rice) we settled into our hostel for the night. On Day 2, we hiked the equivalent of a half marathon. We finished the 10-hour hiking day with tired legs and blistered feet, but the trip was beautiful. Part of it was along a historic Inka trail, which went up and down alongside the Urubamba river. Throughout the course of the day, we saw banana trees, coffee plants, pineapple bushes; we ate bananas picked right off the tree and tasted cuy (roasted guinea pig). Day 3 involved a great adventure: zip-lining 500 feet above the ground! Securely harnessed in, of course, we stepped off the cliff a total of 6 times, flying over the valley and river at a thrilling 65 (can’t remember if it was miles or kilometers!) per hour. Afterwards, on our way to our lunch spot, we encountered a derrumbe (landslide) and had to wait about half an hour for a path to be cleared. As we climbed over the rocky makeshift path, it was a good idea to look neither up (crossing our fingers that no more rocks would come tumbling down) nor down (to the steep drop-off immediately to our left). After lunch, our group divided in half (some took the train to Aguas Calientes, the next village, and the rest of us walked). In Aguas Calientes (literally “hot water” where, to our relief, they have hot showers), we made preparations for the following day (bought bus and entrance tickets to Machu Picchu, etc.). At 4 a.m. on Day 4, we waited in line for the bus, since only the first 400 people to enter the Machu Picchu park would be granted a pass to climb Waynapicchu, the highest peak. At 6:15 we arrived at Machu Picchu and succeeded in receiving the pass. At this point, the mountain on which we stood was covered by clouds; we could only see a few yards ahead of us, and the picture-perfect view was completely obscured. Felipe, our guide, gave us an orientation of Machu Picchu—explaining the history, pointing out the important buildings and recounting their purposes. After a challenging hour-long climb, we reached the peak of Waynapicchu. Though the view was still rather cloudy, it was an amazing feeling to be so high, surrounded by stunning mountains. Finally, by about 11 a.m., the clouds cleared, revealing the stunning beauty of Machu Picchu. Pictures may be impressive, but there are really no words or pictures to describe the breathtaking beauty of this site. For as long as I can remember (or at least since I’ve studied Spanish/Latin America), visiting Machu Picchu has been a dream of mine. I’m so thankful to have had the opportunity to see it come true!
(Las Chicas biking down the Andes mountainside)
(Coca leaves--NOT cocaine. Yuck.)
The following day, in Cusco once again, Andrea and I explored the city (“the belly button of the world,” as the Inkas called it). We wandered up and down the streets, where colonial Spanish buildings are added onto Inka stone foundations. Being Good Friday, we encountered a procession taking place in the plaza.
That night, we boarded a bus for Puno, a city in southern Peru that lies on the shores of Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world, shared by Peru and Bolivia). Arriving at 4:30 a.m., we crashed at a hostel for a few hours before venturing out into the city. We joined a tour group to visit some pre-Inka ruins called Sillustani, a group of stone burial towers overlooking a beautiful lagoon. The following day, we went down to the dock where we paid for a day tour of Lake Titicaca’s islands. Rather than going through a tour agency, we bought the passage on a local boat. There were a few other gringos on the boat, but most passengers were Quechua-speaking inhabitants of Taquile island, returning home with heavy sacks of food and pockets, skirts, and hats full of coca leaves (they chewed the stuff as if it were candy)! We first stopped to see the Uros islands, which are floating reed islands inhabited by Aymara people. A couple hours later we arrived at Taquile, which is a steep, hilly island with houses and farms scattered across it. At the top of the hill were a plaza and some restaurants (where we were served fresh trout caught right from the lake). It was Easter Sunday, and we arrived in time to see the locals leaving the Catholic chapel, crossing the plaza, and performing a thanksgiving ceremony to Pachamama, or Mother Earth. It was interesting to see the incorporation of indigenous beliefs with the Catholic religion—to the community, participating in both didn’t seem to be a conflict.
(Umayo lagoon from the Sillustani ruins)
(an Aymara woman on the Uros reed island)
(From Taquile Island in Lake Titicaca)
After another night bus ride, a long layover in Lima, and a night in the Bogota airport, I arrived in Barranquilla, rather tired to be starting the work week—but the price was certainly worth it for such an unforgettable adventure!
This adventure began right on the tail of the last one (Ecuador). After returning to my home in Barranquilla at 1:30 a.m. on April 16th, I headed back to the airport at 9:00 a.m. to fly back over Ecuador to Lima. There, after meeting up with my friend Andrea and her mom, cousin, and aunt, and a brief (3 hour) night in Lima, we made the short flight to Cusco. At about 14,000 feet above sea level, it’s generally recommended to spend two to three days acclimating to the altitude before embarking on the demanding trek to Machu Picchu. Since we only had about 18 hours, we drank our share of coca leaf tea to ward off adverse effects. The following morning “las chicas” (our team of 5 girls) and our guide Felipe set out for our “Inka Jungle Trek.” Day 1 involved driving through a few villages and higher up into the Andes mountains. There, in the blustery cold and rain, we took off on mountain bikes down a curvy highway. As we descended, the weather improved drastically: the rain let up, the sun came out, and the clouds cleared away. After a descent of 50 kilometers, we took another short van ride to the town of Santa Maria. After a dinner of delicious lomo saltado (sautéed beef strips with rice) we settled into our hostel for the night. On Day 2, we hiked the equivalent of a half marathon. We finished the 10-hour hiking day with tired legs and blistered feet, but the trip was beautiful. Part of it was along a historic Inka trail, which went up and down alongside the Urubamba river. Throughout the course of the day, we saw banana trees, coffee plants, pineapple bushes; we ate bananas picked right off the tree and tasted cuy (roasted guinea pig). Day 3 involved a great adventure: zip-lining 500 feet above the ground! Securely harnessed in, of course, we stepped off the cliff a total of 6 times, flying over the valley and river at a thrilling 65 (can’t remember if it was miles or kilometers!) per hour. Afterwards, on our way to our lunch spot, we encountered a derrumbe (landslide) and had to wait about half an hour for a path to be cleared. As we climbed over the rocky makeshift path, it was a good idea to look neither up (crossing our fingers that no more rocks would come tumbling down) nor down (to the steep drop-off immediately to our left). After lunch, our group divided in half (some took the train to Aguas Calientes, the next village, and the rest of us walked). In Aguas Calientes (literally “hot water” where, to our relief, they have hot showers), we made preparations for the following day (bought bus and entrance tickets to Machu Picchu, etc.). At 4 a.m. on Day 4, we waited in line for the bus, since only the first 400 people to enter the Machu Picchu park would be granted a pass to climb Waynapicchu, the highest peak. At 6:15 we arrived at Machu Picchu and succeeded in receiving the pass. At this point, the mountain on which we stood was covered by clouds; we could only see a few yards ahead of us, and the picture-perfect view was completely obscured. Felipe, our guide, gave us an orientation of Machu Picchu—explaining the history, pointing out the important buildings and recounting their purposes. After a challenging hour-long climb, we reached the peak of Waynapicchu. Though the view was still rather cloudy, it was an amazing feeling to be so high, surrounded by stunning mountains. Finally, by about 11 a.m., the clouds cleared, revealing the stunning beauty of Machu Picchu. Pictures may be impressive, but there are really no words or pictures to describe the breathtaking beauty of this site. For as long as I can remember (or at least since I’ve studied Spanish/Latin America), visiting Machu Picchu has been a dream of mine. I’m so thankful to have had the opportunity to see it come true!
(Las Chicas biking down the Andes mountainside)
(Coca leaves--NOT cocaine. Yuck.)
The following day, in Cusco once again, Andrea and I explored the city (“the belly button of the world,” as the Inkas called it). We wandered up and down the streets, where colonial Spanish buildings are added onto Inka stone foundations. Being Good Friday, we encountered a procession taking place in the plaza.
That night, we boarded a bus for Puno, a city in southern Peru that lies on the shores of Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world, shared by Peru and Bolivia). Arriving at 4:30 a.m., we crashed at a hostel for a few hours before venturing out into the city. We joined a tour group to visit some pre-Inka ruins called Sillustani, a group of stone burial towers overlooking a beautiful lagoon. The following day, we went down to the dock where we paid for a day tour of Lake Titicaca’s islands. Rather than going through a tour agency, we bought the passage on a local boat. There were a few other gringos on the boat, but most passengers were Quechua-speaking inhabitants of Taquile island, returning home with heavy sacks of food and pockets, skirts, and hats full of coca leaves (they chewed the stuff as if it were candy)! We first stopped to see the Uros islands, which are floating reed islands inhabited by Aymara people. A couple hours later we arrived at Taquile, which is a steep, hilly island with houses and farms scattered across it. At the top of the hill were a plaza and some restaurants (where we were served fresh trout caught right from the lake). It was Easter Sunday, and we arrived in time to see the locals leaving the Catholic chapel, crossing the plaza, and performing a thanksgiving ceremony to Pachamama, or Mother Earth. It was interesting to see the incorporation of indigenous beliefs with the Catholic religion—to the community, participating in both didn’t seem to be a conflict.
(Umayo lagoon from the Sillustani ruins)
(an Aymara woman on the Uros reed island)
(From Taquile Island in Lake Titicaca)
After another night bus ride, a long layover in Lima, and a night in the Bogota airport, I arrived in Barranquilla, rather tired to be starting the work week—but the price was certainly worth it for such an unforgettable adventure!
Ecuador Encantador
Sitting in the Quito airport, I'm preparing to return to Barranquilla for approximately 12 hours before heading to Peru tomorrow. Today concluded the “mid-year” enrichment seminar for Fulbright ETAs (English Teaching Assistants) of the Andean Region (Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador and Peru). The first half of the conference, packed with seminars, took place in Quito; the second half, at a little tropical resort called Arashá, was a little more relaxing.
Overall, the trip was fabulous. The staff at the Fulbright Commission in Quito were on top of their game and planned an excellent week: they rolled out the red carpet for us and programmed relevant, interesting seminars. My only complaint is that they overdid it on feeding us! With buffet gourmet meals three times a day, I think most of us experienced that post-Thanksgiving dinner uncomfortably full sensation a few too many times!
Other highlights of the week:
•Speaking English! But with people who, like me, are “losing” their English fluency and inserting English-ized Spanish words (like “manifestation” instead of “protest” and “invert” instead of “invest”) as well as useful Spanish words that just don’t have a satisfactory counterpart (like pendiente, juicioso…)
•One night in Quito, we went to a dance performance called Humanizarte that gave us a taste of some of the styles of indigenous music and dance from around Ecuador. The dancers were so animated and you could tell they were enjoying themselves. To top it off, at the end the pulled us all out of our seats to join them!
•Having HOT SHOWERS! It doesn’t matter that Barranquilla is hot all year round—a cold shower is still unpleasant.
•Seeing two friends in Quito: one, a guy named Christian who is part of Campus Crusade in Ecuador and who I met when he was visiting Colombia when I arrived last July. My first weekend in Barranquilla, I traveled to Cartagena with him and Ginette. I also saw my friend María, an Ecuadorian co-worker from summer 2008 when I worked on the Santa Cruz boardwalk. Those are the kind of people that you never really know if you’ll see again, so it was neat to be able to re-connect—this time in their hometown.
•Sharing stories with the other Fulbrighters. Many of them I hadn’t seen since our orientation seminar last August, since we are spread all over Colombia. It was also great to meet the ETAs who are living in Venezuela (they have some crazy stories!), Ecuador and Peru (who have only been in-country three weeks!). Our Colombia crew is by far the biggest (16 of the 29 total ETAs) and we are also the farthest along in our grant periods (only about 6 weeks left!). One afternoon we had a time to present our side projects, or what we’ve dedicated ourselves to aside from teaching. It’s amazing the diversity of projects: from working with HIV patients to researching river preservation to teaching IDPs (internally displaced people) to designing promotional materials for a museum to creating a project to turn plastic bags yarn for knitting…the creativity is astounding.
•During our stay at the resort in Arashá, we spent a morning teaching English at two local schools. Though I doubt the kids really learned much English from a one-hour drop-in, I think they enjoyed the fact that it was something different. Not knowing the exact age we’d be with or their English level, my group planned a fairly flexible lesson on parts of the body (Simon says, Head & Shoulders, Knees and Toes). We were surprised by how basic their level actually was, but eventually they caught on!
•I know I’ve said so already, but the sessions were EXCELLENT! The director of the Fulbright Commission in Ecuador, Susana Cabeza de Vaca, taught about culture in the most brilliant, concise, enlightening presentation I’ve ever heard. She talked about the “polychromic” mindset of Latinos and how, when juxtaposed with the U.S. American “monochromic” way of thinking, clashes occur. She put into words exactly what we’ve all lived throughout these past eight months. We also had the U.S. State department RELO (Regional English Language Officer) of the Andes and the Ecuador ELF (English Language Fellow) teach us about EFL methodologies. It left me thinking “I want to start over!” Seeing how I only have four weeks left of class this semester, there are a few things I can still implement, but others will have to wait for a future semester.
•I checked another item off my bucket list…standing on the equator! OK, it turns out the huge “Mitad del Mundo (Middle of the World) monument outside of Quito is actually off by several meters, but we’ll call that close enough :)
My concluding thought about Ecuador is that it is a BEAUTIFUL country and I hope to go back someday. I’m thankful to have been able to visit (especially on Fulbright’s tab) but nice hotels, tour buses, and fancy restaurants aren’t my preferred way to travel. I would love to be able to interact more with the people and culture and get a more “authentic” glimpse of Ecuador. I have high hopes that will happen someday in the future.
[The internet here at the airport is slower than a Galapagos giant turtle, so I'll go back and post more pics later!]
Overall, the trip was fabulous. The staff at the Fulbright Commission in Quito were on top of their game and planned an excellent week: they rolled out the red carpet for us and programmed relevant, interesting seminars. My only complaint is that they overdid it on feeding us! With buffet gourmet meals three times a day, I think most of us experienced that post-Thanksgiving dinner uncomfortably full sensation a few too many times!
Other highlights of the week:
•Speaking English! But with people who, like me, are “losing” their English fluency and inserting English-ized Spanish words (like “manifestation” instead of “protest” and “invert” instead of “invest”) as well as useful Spanish words that just don’t have a satisfactory counterpart (like pendiente, juicioso…)
•One night in Quito, we went to a dance performance called Humanizarte that gave us a taste of some of the styles of indigenous music and dance from around Ecuador. The dancers were so animated and you could tell they were enjoying themselves. To top it off, at the end the pulled us all out of our seats to join them!
•Having HOT SHOWERS! It doesn’t matter that Barranquilla is hot all year round—a cold shower is still unpleasant.
•Seeing two friends in Quito: one, a guy named Christian who is part of Campus Crusade in Ecuador and who I met when he was visiting Colombia when I arrived last July. My first weekend in Barranquilla, I traveled to Cartagena with him and Ginette. I also saw my friend María, an Ecuadorian co-worker from summer 2008 when I worked on the Santa Cruz boardwalk. Those are the kind of people that you never really know if you’ll see again, so it was neat to be able to re-connect—this time in their hometown.
•Sharing stories with the other Fulbrighters. Many of them I hadn’t seen since our orientation seminar last August, since we are spread all over Colombia. It was also great to meet the ETAs who are living in Venezuela (they have some crazy stories!), Ecuador and Peru (who have only been in-country three weeks!). Our Colombia crew is by far the biggest (16 of the 29 total ETAs) and we are also the farthest along in our grant periods (only about 6 weeks left!). One afternoon we had a time to present our side projects, or what we’ve dedicated ourselves to aside from teaching. It’s amazing the diversity of projects: from working with HIV patients to researching river preservation to teaching IDPs (internally displaced people) to designing promotional materials for a museum to creating a project to turn plastic bags yarn for knitting…the creativity is astounding.
•During our stay at the resort in Arashá, we spent a morning teaching English at two local schools. Though I doubt the kids really learned much English from a one-hour drop-in, I think they enjoyed the fact that it was something different. Not knowing the exact age we’d be with or their English level, my group planned a fairly flexible lesson on parts of the body (Simon says, Head & Shoulders, Knees and Toes). We were surprised by how basic their level actually was, but eventually they caught on!
•I know I’ve said so already, but the sessions were EXCELLENT! The director of the Fulbright Commission in Ecuador, Susana Cabeza de Vaca, taught about culture in the most brilliant, concise, enlightening presentation I’ve ever heard. She talked about the “polychromic” mindset of Latinos and how, when juxtaposed with the U.S. American “monochromic” way of thinking, clashes occur. She put into words exactly what we’ve all lived throughout these past eight months. We also had the U.S. State department RELO (Regional English Language Officer) of the Andes and the Ecuador ELF (English Language Fellow) teach us about EFL methodologies. It left me thinking “I want to start over!” Seeing how I only have four weeks left of class this semester, there are a few things I can still implement, but others will have to wait for a future semester.
•I checked another item off my bucket list…standing on the equator! OK, it turns out the huge “Mitad del Mundo (Middle of the World) monument outside of Quito is actually off by several meters, but we’ll call that close enough :)
My concluding thought about Ecuador is that it is a BEAUTIFUL country and I hope to go back someday. I’m thankful to have been able to visit (especially on Fulbright’s tab) but nice hotels, tour buses, and fancy restaurants aren’t my preferred way to travel. I would love to be able to interact more with the people and culture and get a more “authentic” glimpse of Ecuador. I have high hopes that will happen someday in the future.
[The internet here at the airport is slower than a Galapagos giant turtle, so I'll go back and post more pics later!]
Protests and Potatoes
“Being young and not being a revolutionary is a contradiction.”
This phrase, scrawled on the wall of a classroom where I teach, is just one of the expressions of thousands of university students in Colombia as they protest the education Law 30. On March 31st and April 7th, Universidad del Atlántico was shut down for several hours as over 2,000 students blocked the entrance and the highway: rallying, chanting—even stripping—to expose the issue. This law, which would allow private investment in the public university system, could have dramatic consequences for a vast majority of UA (and other public university) students. Public education, which has very low costs, allows students from the lowest estratos (economic sectors) to have access to a bachelor’s degree, and therefore climb out of poverty. The fear is that private investment (though it would likely lead to improved programs and resources) would raise the tuition costs above what most students can afford.
Last Thursday, I arrived to the university at 6:30 a.m. to find swarms of students blocking the walkway and the entrance closed. I spent a couple hours at the bakery across the street waiting to see if things would end before my next class, but the protest only grew, police arrived, the buses began turning around half a mile down the road—and I decided I should be a responsible Fulbrighter and get away rather than watching the action.
This past Thursday, I was inside the university when the protest broke out. Since students weren’t able to enter campus, I began class with the handful who were already there. This time things got a little rowdier—papas (“potatoes”—small homemade explosives), rocks, and burning tires. Rather than leaving though that mess, I stayed on campus until everyone had left.
Relatively speaking, these demonstrations (which have been taking place at a national level) have been peaceful, although one student in the Nariño region died as a result of the protests at her university.
Unfortunately, this is far from being resolved. It’s a complicated issue, and though these protests are not my preferred way of handling it, I can’t help but seeing things from my students’ point of view. Most of my students and friends from the university are from the lowest social stratus, but they pour everything into their studies so as to improve their way of life.
You can read more about the issue here:
http://colombiareports.com/colombia-news/news/15456-protests-against-education-reform-erupt-across-colombia.html
This phrase, scrawled on the wall of a classroom where I teach, is just one of the expressions of thousands of university students in Colombia as they protest the education Law 30. On March 31st and April 7th, Universidad del Atlántico was shut down for several hours as over 2,000 students blocked the entrance and the highway: rallying, chanting—even stripping—to expose the issue. This law, which would allow private investment in the public university system, could have dramatic consequences for a vast majority of UA (and other public university) students. Public education, which has very low costs, allows students from the lowest estratos (economic sectors) to have access to a bachelor’s degree, and therefore climb out of poverty. The fear is that private investment (though it would likely lead to improved programs and resources) would raise the tuition costs above what most students can afford.
Last Thursday, I arrived to the university at 6:30 a.m. to find swarms of students blocking the walkway and the entrance closed. I spent a couple hours at the bakery across the street waiting to see if things would end before my next class, but the protest only grew, police arrived, the buses began turning around half a mile down the road—and I decided I should be a responsible Fulbrighter and get away rather than watching the action.
This past Thursday, I was inside the university when the protest broke out. Since students weren’t able to enter campus, I began class with the handful who were already there. This time things got a little rowdier—papas (“potatoes”—small homemade explosives), rocks, and burning tires. Rather than leaving though that mess, I stayed on campus until everyone had left.
Relatively speaking, these demonstrations (which have been taking place at a national level) have been peaceful, although one student in the Nariño region died as a result of the protests at her university.
Unfortunately, this is far from being resolved. It’s a complicated issue, and though these protests are not my preferred way of handling it, I can’t help but seeing things from my students’ point of view. Most of my students and friends from the university are from the lowest social stratus, but they pour everything into their studies so as to improve their way of life.
You can read more about the issue here:
http://colombiareports.com/colombia-news/news/15456-protests-against-education-reform-erupt-across-colombia.html
My Reading List
Dug Down Deep by Joshua Harris
"Theology matters because if we get it wrong, our whole life is wrong." "We're all theologians. The question is whether what we know about God is true."
Joshua Harris' latest book is more than "Theology for Dummies," but it does have a simple, relevant style that gave me not only a better intellectual grasp on the pillars of my faith, but engaged my heart in the beauty of the Good News.
I'm Not Hanging Noodles On Your Ears
by Jag Bhalla
…which is the Russian version of “I’m not pulling your leg.” This book of idioms from around the world is highly entertaining, even for more than language nerds like me.
Loving God With All Your Mind by Elizabeth George
I'm only about a fourth of the way through this one, but what I've read has been transformational. According to George, it really is possible--and a command--to take control of our thoughts such that they honor God. More than that, our mind is one of the primary means of conveying our love for God (through obedience). The parts I've read, entitled "Training Your Thoughts" and "Winning Over Worry" are saturated with excellent content.
El Retrato de Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
The movie poster for "The Portrait of Dorian Gray" caught my attention when I was in Buenos Aires, and then it came and went from theaters in Barranquilla before I had the chance to see it. I'd never read the classic, so a friend from church lent me her copy. It's been a couple years since I've read literature in Spanish, so this is a good mind-stretcher.
Just Do Something
By Kevin DeYoung
I just started this book but I can't recommend it enough. If you've ever been stumped by the question "What's God's will for my life?", this book is liberating. According to DeYoung, we Christians need to stop overspiritualizing every decision and just do something! Following God's will isn't some mystic process; it's walking in wisdom.
"Theology matters because if we get it wrong, our whole life is wrong." "We're all theologians. The question is whether what we know about God is true."
Joshua Harris' latest book is more than "Theology for Dummies," but it does have a simple, relevant style that gave me not only a better intellectual grasp on the pillars of my faith, but engaged my heart in the beauty of the Good News.
I'm Not Hanging Noodles On Your Ears
by Jag Bhalla
…which is the Russian version of “I’m not pulling your leg.” This book of idioms from around the world is highly entertaining, even for more than language nerds like me.
Loving God With All Your Mind by Elizabeth George
I'm only about a fourth of the way through this one, but what I've read has been transformational. According to George, it really is possible--and a command--to take control of our thoughts such that they honor God. More than that, our mind is one of the primary means of conveying our love for God (through obedience). The parts I've read, entitled "Training Your Thoughts" and "Winning Over Worry" are saturated with excellent content.
El Retrato de Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
The movie poster for "The Portrait of Dorian Gray" caught my attention when I was in Buenos Aires, and then it came and went from theaters in Barranquilla before I had the chance to see it. I'd never read the classic, so a friend from church lent me her copy. It's been a couple years since I've read literature in Spanish, so this is a good mind-stretcher.
Just Do Something
By Kevin DeYoung
I just started this book but I can't recommend it enough. If you've ever been stumped by the question "What's God's will for my life?", this book is liberating. According to DeYoung, we Christians need to stop overspiritualizing every decision and just do something! Following God's will isn't some mystic process; it's walking in wisdom.
Que onda...
I’m such a sporadic blogger. The novelty has worn off for me, and possibly for my readers. I don’t know who my readers are, nor what they’re interested in. I try to avoid recounting the minutiae of my daily life, but maybe my posts about toilets and buses are lame, too. Regardless, it’s been a while since I’ve written an update about life in Barranquilla, so I’ll attempt to catch you all up.
Classes have been rolling along quite well. I feel like I’m teaching a lot more smoothly than last semester. Planning and administering lessons is noticeably easier—and more enjoyable—not that I’ve had a bit of experience
This afternoon we had our fifth meeting of the NLG (New Life Group) that I’m leading through VPU (Vida Para la Universidad, Colombia’s branch of Campus Crusade for Christ). I’m so thankful to God for the great leadership team he’s given me and for the students who have attended the group. Today our topic was loving others—especially the seemingly “unlovable” people (EGRs—Extra Grace Required people—in the words of Rick Warren). The other VPU leaders have gotten their groups underway as well, and this semester we’ve opened groups on two other campuses in Barranquilla. Now we’re looking ahead to Campus Mission 2011, the national conference in Cali in July!
In February I finally visited Parque Tayrona, a gorgeous national park near Santa Marta, a couple hours west of us on the coast. Honestly, it has the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever been to. On the 90-minute hike to the beach, palm trees of all heights and shapes usher you along the path. Arriving at the beach of El Cabo, your eyes are almost overstimulated by the rich blues of the water and greens of the mountains.
A now for the highlight of the semester thus far: Miriam came to visit me! I can’t even describe how refreshing that week was. Though in many ways I feel in my element (in my “salsa” as they say in Spanish) here in Barranquilla, what I miss the most is connecting at a deeper level, not inhibited by language and cultural differences. Spending a week with my best friend was exactly what I needed!
On March 5-8th Barranquilla’s biggest event of the year took place: Carnaval! Second in size and fame only to the one in Rio de Janeiro, Barranquilla’s Carnaval is four days of recocha (partying, disorder, crazyness). Though it has historical and cultural significance, it’s also an excuse to party, drink, take time off work, and in general live it up. Actually, among Christians, Carnaval is a really controversial subject, because of the “vices” associated with it. After hearing Barranquilleros proudly talking about this celebration all year, I definitely wanted to check it out. Knowing that there are unsavory aspects, I see Carnaval as an important part of the culture I’m living in and worth experiencing. So Miriam and I attended the parade of the opening day, called Batalla de Flores (Battle of Flowers). Elaborate floats, traditional costumed characters, and just plain weirdos walked, ran, rolled, and danced down Via 40. And from all sides we got sprayed with foam and cold water—that’s just part of the deal. I’m not sure I agree with Celia Cruz—that “la vida es un carnaval”—but Barranquilla’s Carnaval is certainly an experience like no other!
Classes have been rolling along quite well. I feel like I’m teaching a lot more smoothly than last semester. Planning and administering lessons is noticeably easier—and more enjoyable—not that I’ve had a bit of experience
This afternoon we had our fifth meeting of the NLG (New Life Group) that I’m leading through VPU (Vida Para la Universidad, Colombia’s branch of Campus Crusade for Christ). I’m so thankful to God for the great leadership team he’s given me and for the students who have attended the group. Today our topic was loving others—especially the seemingly “unlovable” people (EGRs—Extra Grace Required people—in the words of Rick Warren). The other VPU leaders have gotten their groups underway as well, and this semester we’ve opened groups on two other campuses in Barranquilla. Now we’re looking ahead to Campus Mission 2011, the national conference in Cali in July!
In February I finally visited Parque Tayrona, a gorgeous national park near Santa Marta, a couple hours west of us on the coast. Honestly, it has the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever been to. On the 90-minute hike to the beach, palm trees of all heights and shapes usher you along the path. Arriving at the beach of El Cabo, your eyes are almost overstimulated by the rich blues of the water and greens of the mountains.
A now for the highlight of the semester thus far: Miriam came to visit me! I can’t even describe how refreshing that week was. Though in many ways I feel in my element (in my “salsa” as they say in Spanish) here in Barranquilla, what I miss the most is connecting at a deeper level, not inhibited by language and cultural differences. Spending a week with my best friend was exactly what I needed!
On March 5-8th Barranquilla’s biggest event of the year took place: Carnaval! Second in size and fame only to the one in Rio de Janeiro, Barranquilla’s Carnaval is four days of recocha (partying, disorder, crazyness). Though it has historical and cultural significance, it’s also an excuse to party, drink, take time off work, and in general live it up. Actually, among Christians, Carnaval is a really controversial subject, because of the “vices” associated with it. After hearing Barranquilleros proudly talking about this celebration all year, I definitely wanted to check it out. Knowing that there are unsavory aspects, I see Carnaval as an important part of the culture I’m living in and worth experiencing. So Miriam and I attended the parade of the opening day, called Batalla de Flores (Battle of Flowers). Elaborate floats, traditional costumed characters, and just plain weirdos walked, ran, rolled, and danced down Via 40. And from all sides we got sprayed with foam and cold water—that’s just part of the deal. I’m not sure I agree with Celia Cruz—that “la vida es un carnaval”—but Barranquilla’s Carnaval is certainly an experience like no other!
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