Brigada de Salud

Gripa, tos, fiebre, rasquiña, tapado, brote, pulgante, riñones…

These, among other words for body parts, symptoms and ailments, comprised my vocabulary this past Sunday and Monday. Why? Over the weekend, I served as an interpreter in a free medical brigade as I tagged along with a team from the US.

On Friday, a group of 14 Americans (from Colonial Heights Baptist Church in Mississippi) arrived in Barranquilla to spend a week serving the community through construction, evangelism and medical care. Bernardo (the pastor of my church here) and his wife Mildred host teams like this several times each year. They invited me to spend the weekend with them at the camp in Galapa (a municipality just outside Barranquilla) and to help with interpreting.

I can truthfully say that the weekend was one of my top three highlights of my first two months in Colombia. It was refreshing to get out of the city for a few days and to be in the company of fellow Americans. But more than that, what a fulfilling use of time. Especially amid my recent discouragement with language learning (see the previous entry), it was rewarding to be able to use my Spanish to serve others. God doesn’t require perfection; rather, it is availability and willingness that please Him. I’m realizing that I often cross the fine line between striving for excellence and proud perfectionism.

Also, the campaign displayed the body of Christ at work! Some used a hammer, others a stethoscope and others their mouth, but “each one should used whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms” (1 Peter 4:10).

In our makeshift clinics,


between two doctors we saw about 150 patients per day. The majority complained of gripa (translated as the flu, but really it’s the common cold), but we also saw scabies, skin fungus, acid reflux, arthritis, kidney infections, epilepsy, high blood pressure, yeast infections, malnourishment and parasites. And tons of pregnancies, often with girls as young as 15.

Serving in the brigade brought on mixed emotions. It was a joy to bring this free service to some of the poorest communities in Barranquilla. The people’s faces lit up when we handed them their prescriptions for free meds and vitamins. You could see the weight being lifted as they envisioned the coming relief from their pain.

But the joy was tainted by the reality of how short-lived their reprieve would be. We can give these young moms prenatal vitamins, but we can’t do anything about teenage pregnancy. We can give the kids a parasite pill, but we can’t replace their infested water with safe water. We can give the old ladies medication for their arthritis, but that too will soon run out.

That’s why this medical campaign would be incomplete without also bringing the truth of the gospel. Members of this Mississippi team also shared their own stories of hope with the Colombians they met. Though it may not have been the material desperation we see here, we all were once “sick” and in need of a remedy. Through Christ, we have hope, forgiveness, and a reason to live. In the past few days, dozens of people have received not only relief from physical pain, but have begun a relationship with God, the best Doctor of all.

At the risk of breaching the “too long of an entry” mark, I want to post the lyrics to “Instead of a Show” by Jon Foreman, the lead singer of Switchfoot:

I hate all your show and pretense
The hypocrisy of your praise
The hypocrisy of your festivals
I hate all your show
Away with your noisy worship
Away with your noisy hymns
I stomp on my ears when you're singing 'em
I hate all your show

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show

Your eyes are closed when you're praying
You sing right along with the band
You shine up your shoes for services
There's blood on your hands
You turned your back on the homeless
And the ones that don't fit in your plan
Quit playing religion games
There's blood on your hands

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
I hate all your show

Let's argue this out
If your sins are blood red
Let's argue this out
You'll be one of the clouds
Let's argue this out
Quit fooling around
Give love to the ones who can't love at all
Give hope to the ones who’ve got no hope at all
Stand up for the ones who can't stand at all
I hate all your show

Instead let there be a flood of justice
An endless procession of righteous living, living
Instead let there be a flood of justice
Instead of a show
I hate all your show

I love this song, and I saw it played out through this team. It wasn’t about “religion games,” but rather about giving “hope to the ones who’ve got no hope at all”. Faith without works is dead (James 2:20).

Learning?

I have a confession to make: Lately I’ve been feeling discouraged, disillusioned and jaded by this whole foreign-language thing. Yes, I majored in Spanish as a second language, and yes, I’m teaching English as a foreign language. But I’m discouraged on both fronts.

I have studied Spanish continuously since the age of 14. I took it all through college and aced all my classes. But now, Spanish is no longer a convenient accessory. I eat, sleep and breathe Spanish these days. And I’m surviving. But I wouldn’t say I’m thriving.

It’s extremely frustrating to have thoughts trapped in my head that I can’t verbalize. It’s not like back in the States I say everything that comes to mind—but the point is I could! Here, it’s like the people I meet are only meeting half of me…when I’m asked my opinion, my response is often incomplete. I don’t have a sense of humor in Spanish. I don’t have the capacity for casual banter—if I make the effort to talk, it’s usually for a specific purpose.

Adding to my language frustration is the concern that I’ve plateaued—stagnated—fossilized. Ideally, after a few months here I’ll be “fluent” (which, by the way, I feel is a useless word due to its subjectivity and ambiguity). But I fear that I will never achieve that level.

I recently came across these two quotes:

Learning is like rowing upstream: not to advance is to drop back. ~Chinese Proverb

Learning is not a spectator sport. - D. Blocher

Obviously, the idea is that the learner is responsible for learning. Passivity doesn’t get us anywhere. And I’m certainly tempted to be passive when it comes to communication. If I don’t know how to say it, I don’t bother—or I over-simplify. Instead, I should struggle through it. Look things up, ask questions, circumnavigate.

As I mentioned at the beginning, I’m disillusioned with language as a teacher as well. My students are great, and classes are going well. But as I long for fluency in Spanish, I desire fluency in English for them. And I’m realizing what a challenge it is to be an effective foreign language teacher.

More food for thought:

The mediocre teacher tells. The good teacher explains. The superior teacher demonstrates. The great teacher inspires - William Arthur Ward

The biggest enemy to learning is the talking teacher. - John Holt

I’ve had enough TESOL classes to know that ↓TTT (low teacher talk time) is the goal. But how in the world do I inspire my students to learn English?

And I’ll end the blog with that question, because I certainly don’t have the answer right now.

"I was a stranger and you welcomed me"

To give you a little idea of what Barranquilleros are like, I thought I’d share a few phrases that I hear almost on a daily basis:

“Bienvenida”: (Welcome): Colombians, especially Barranquilleros, are very receptive to foreigners. I can’t avoid getting stares and questions…I stand out just a little [someone explained to me the other day that I’m “blond” even though I have medium-brown hair. Here “blond” is the combination of light skin+blue eyes+ lightish hair]. Anyway, many people have gone out of their way to welcome me to their city and country. On Sunday I spent the afternoon in Soledad, a municipality right outside Barranquilla, visiting a friend who lives there. We ate a pastry in a little bakery, and before I left the young woman behind the counter handed me this:



[Welcome to Soledad! God bless you, and here’s a gigantic hug. From your breadstore, Trigo Pan. Soledad, Atlántico].

“Esta es tu casa”: (This is your home): A variation of “mi casa es su casa,” this offer has been made to me on numerous occasions. Mostly, I’d like to mention my host parents, “mis papás colombianas,” Omar and Gina. I am so blessed by them and the way they’ve taken me under their wing. From the day I arrived in Colombia, they assured me that I was welcome in their home whether temporarily as I looked for housing or long-term as a home-stay arrangement. They explained to me that they have two grown sons who live in the U.S. who have been “adopted” by many kind Americans, and they want to do the same for me, since my family is far away. I’m so thankful to have a comfortable living situation—not only a roof over my head, but an adoptive family for my time here!


Gina and Omar

“Cualquier cosa, a la orden”: (Whatever you need, I’m happy to help.): From the couple beside me on the airplane to families at church to my students, I’m frequently reassured that I have people to turn to. This is really comforting because, as the new girl in town, I’m often clueless. When people say this, I can really sense their genuine willingness to help; it’s not just a meaningless “lemme know if ya need anything.” A quick example is the man on the bus who can tell I don’t know where to get off and asks me where I’m going, then signals the driver to stop so I can get off.

“Mi reina, mi princesa, mi vida, mi corazón, nena, mija”: (my queen, my princess, my life, my heart, honey, my daughter): These are just a few of the pet names that are so common here. I think it’s adorable.

“Te invito”: (I invite you): This is what Colombians say to when they’re picking up the bill. Here, it’s rare to split the bill when you go out (going Dutch, or “a lo Americano” as they say here). Instead, one person pays for everyone—it’s just assumed that things will more or less even out over time. It’s cool that people don’t stress about being equal down to the penny.

“Te acompaño”: (I’ll come with you.): Yet another way that I feel cared for as the foreigner in Barranquilla; people offer to go with me so that I won’t get lost, overcharged by taxi drivers, etc. I really feel fine about getting around by myself, because I can always ask directions or take a taxi as a last resort, but I’m thankful for people who go out of the way to get me where I’m going.

On an unrelated note, here are a couple of other recent pictures:




[I taught my friend Eileen, who, along with her cousin, owns a chocolate/dessert business, how to make an All-American Apple Pie. They were invited later that day to demonstrate the process on a local TV show!]


[Eating lunch with a few of my wonderful students from my English 3 class]


[My “souvenir” from riding a mototaxi. It’s a well-known fact (to everyone but me, that is) that you get down on the left side because the muffler is on the right…]

The Bus Blog

The buses of Barranquilla have caught my attention since the day I arrived. I stared out the taxi window on my way from the airport, amused by the wild colors and blinking lights. I was afraid I would never understand how they work. A month later, I have by no means mastered the bus "system," but I'm slowly but surely trying new routes and learning my way around.

I've been wanting to photo-document these crazy buses for weeks, but whipping out my camera on the street or on the bus would not be the smartest idea. The other day I was determined, though, so I sat on some stairs near my apartment and attempted to, as subtly as possible, snap pictures of all the buses that went by. Here's the result:



















The inside of the buses are the best part, though. Each bus has its own theme, whether Jesus, Junior (the local soccer team), or the driver's significant other. Many have fringed curtains adorning the windows or a gear shift cover that looks something like a shag carpet with a face. Sometimes the decor reminds me of a dilapidated carnival, or the scene from "The Five People You Meet in Heaven"---the chrome has lost its shine and the red fabric looks a little dingy.

Since I'm probably not going to risk taking pictures on the bus, I'll have to leave it up to your imagination. Or you'll have to come visit...

There's an internal conflict going on.

No, I’m not talking about the Colombian government vs. the FARC.

The conflict I’m referring to is the war between my sinful human nature and the new life I have in Christ:

“For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.” (Romans 7:18-19)

Sometimes the desires of the flesh are subtle. Is it wrong that I long for comfort and familiarity, to feel “settled” here in Colombia, to find contentment in a routine of teaching at the university, attending a church, hanging out with friends, serving in the community? Is it sin to desire to travel, learn to salsa dance, and enjoy this cross-cultural experience to the fullest?

I don’t think so.

God has given me this opportunity to live abroad for a year, and I’m sure it brings him joy to see me delight in the richness of a culture he created. I’m slowly adjusting to the routine of life in Barranquilla, and I plan to see, hear, and taste as much of Colombia as I can over the year.

However, spirit wages against flesh as I cling for a sense of stability when everything is new and unfamiliar to me, when I’m stretched far beyond my comfort zone every day.

Do I find strength in myself, in my ability to cope and adapt? Do I find comfort in routine and familiarity? Do I find fulfillment in new experiences?

Or do I depend on God for strength, comfort and fulfillment?

Some verses I’ve been reading recently encourage me to do so:
“I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer;my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.” (Psalm 18:1-2)

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life” (Psalm 119:50)

“You are my portion, O Lord.” (Psalm 119: 57)

“I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you.” (Psalm 63: 4-5)

Cross-cultural experiences are great, and I’m enjoying my time here in many ways. But I’m realizing how crucial it is to be aware of this struggle going on, because the only real, lasting fulfillment I will find is in knowing Christ.

Just another day at UniAtlántico...

[Wednesday August 18th]

6:00 Catch the bus to campus

6:30-9:30: Spanish Phonetics and Phonology: I foolishly thought this would be an easy class since I’ve studied Linguistics…today I realized what a challenge it will be, but I’m ready to take it on!

10:30-12:30: Elementary English class: The most challenging aspect of teaching this course is the great range of the students’ abilities. A handful speak only a few words and hardly dare to whisper an answer in class; others speak confidently and with relative fluency. Today we did an extended partner activity which enabled me to walk around and work with each pair for a few minutes. I’m looking for ways to meet the needs of each student and give enough attention to those who are further behind.

*Our class was disrupted by the sound of loud chanting coming from the plaza below the classroom. I stepped outside to see students marching, chanting and carrying a banner. A professor informed me that it was no big deal, just students expressing their opinion about the upcoming vote for a new rector.

12:30-2:30: As I headed for the cafeteria, an infamous Barranquilla downpour began. I spent my two-hour break semi-shielded from the rain (the cafeteria is basically a glorified gazebo), chatting with students. I ran into Luis (a new friend through VPU, a student group associated with Campus Crusade) and we had an interesting discussion about religion with the guy sitting next to us. That stretched my Spanish communication skills for sure.

2:30-4:30: Advanced English class: Great conversations including a discussion about “respectable” vs. “stigmatized” occupations, and a fun lesson on idioms.

At 5:30 I arrived home, changed clothes, attended the performance of a friend’s acapella group, returned home, chatted on Skype with my community group (yay!), graded assignments, planned lessons, and finally crashed!

Fritos and Frutas

In Barranquilla, you never run the risk of going hungry. Restaurants and snack stands are never more than ten feet away. You’re likely to see a restaurant on every corner advertising the daily corriente, a filling meal of soup, meat, rice, plantains, salad and a drink that goes for about $2.50.

Also readily available is a wide selection of fritos, not as in The Frito Bandito, but a variety of fried victuals including empanadas, arepas, and deditos. Arepas are an essential part of the Colombian diet, and they come in many varieties. Here on the coast, the preferred arepa has egg inside.



My favorite item on the Colombian menu, however, is the jugo—juice. Jugos are a blend of fresh tropical fruta, water or milk, and a generous dose of sugar. One of my goals for my year here is to sample as many types of jugo as possible. Here’s my list so far:

• Lulo (a fruit native only to Colombia—I don’t know if it has an English name)
• Mango
• Fresa (strawberry)
• Mora (blackberry)
• Feijoa (I don’t know the English term for this one either)
• Maracuyá (passionfruit)
• Piña (pineapple)
• Papaya
• Guanabana (don’t know the translation)
• Tomate de árbol (translated as tree tomato, but it tastes nothing like tomato)
• Guayaba (guava)
• Tamarindo (tamarind)
• Maíz (corn)



Not too shabby for just two weeks into my trip. But that’s not even scratching the surface…