These last two weeks were hard. I've had to say goodbye before, but this experience has changed me, and it was particularly difficult to leave it behind. I didn't want to say goodbye to those kids at the villa, the children from Barracas who go to apoyo escolar, the youth at Retiro, then the WMF staff, the people who live and serve at the church, and the three incredible females I've been living each moment with since I got here. Thought it's hard to pinpoint everything, I know for sure that I've grown.
I've grown a healthy hatred of poverty. Bit by bit, as I came to truly love those individuals living on the streets, I began to see the ugliness and injustice of their situation more clearly, and it sucks. Contrary to some of the conceptions of 'missions trips' I maybe used to have, I've found that the realities of the poor in Latin America aren't in the least bit romantic, and relationship-based service among those who live in poverty isn't something that makes you feel good. It's unfair, and sad, and I more than ever I want to see things change.
I've grown in my faith. I've been able to talk with other people about some basic questions, and I've been answered with more questions and very few answers. But through it all, my faith has come out more sincere, and I believe with all I've got that in the middle of it all, God is still good and God is still loving.
I've seen change. One of the girls who hardly spoke when we first arrived was laughing, open and talkative by the time we left. Some of the roughest kids from the streets ended up asking to sing songs about hope and justice in an environment where singing just doesn't happen, and hope and justice seem far away. People were interacting in a different way, and spending time together without drugs or alcohol. In only four months, a difference was made.
And now I'm back in the states, with a year of uncertainty up ahead of me and three years of law school after that. I know that I want to live my life loving the people around me with all I have, because I've seen that love makes a difference. (It sounds cheesy, but it's entirely true.) I don't want to leave behind the things I've learned, or forget about the people who still have to sleep outside in constant fear of getting robbed or raped. Much prayer is still needed, and so many things still need to change. But I am fully convinced that as we work towards that change in our own contexts, in big ways and small, things will change. Like a mustard seed, small but mighty.
Thank you all. For reading, for praying, for giving money, for changing lives.
Tina
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Hoping
Recently, I've been able to catch glimpses of hope in the middle of poverty, and they've stuck with me, and I'm grateful. Poverty is misery, but it's not all misery. Homelessness is a malicious form of despair, but it's not all despair.
Last Saturday, I went over to the villa at noon to meet up with Sarah Chang and about 30-odd kids for a children's choir competition. Sarah had recruited me as the pianist, since the usual pianist was having problems with his family and couldn't come. By the time I arrived (late, naturally), most of them were already in position, dressed in white shirts with bright red flowers around their wrists. When I walked through the door, those in the group who were my students enthousiastically shouted 'SEÑO!' and left their places to tackle me with hugs & welcome me in; after wrestling them off, I hurried over to the piano to start practicing, since we were scheduled to leave in about 15 minutes and I'd never played through the songs with them before. The song selection was in two parts--I Love You Lord (obviously in English, which none of the kids really speak, despite our best efforts at teaching), and Sa Rang He Yo (the same song in Korean, which none of the kids speak at all), accompanied by the most precious dance routine you've ever seen. After 10 minutes of practice, we piled into four Remises (similar to taxis, but more like junky cars driven by random people wherever you want them to go, for a small fee) to a Korean church in the area. Speaking as someone who loves experiencing other cultures, this was one of the most intercultural experiences I've ever been a part of. I was loving every minute. As they listened to the church worship band, sat through the pastor's unintelligible mini-sermon (in Korean with certain verses in Spanish), and watched group after group of Korean children sing & dance to trilingual Christian songs, our rag-tag bunch of Peruvian, Paraguayan, Bolivian and Argentine kids were so excited to share their song. And they did such a good job. Up on that stage--compared to Iglesia Esperanza in the villa, that church was a resort--they weren't just 'villeros'. Dominant stereotypes say that as poor immigrant kids, at the bottom of the socioeconomic totem pole, they are destined to drugaddiction and unwanted pregnancies and nothing more. But that Saturday afternoon, they were performers, they radiated beauty and talent, they could be applauded and appreciated. Celebrating music with hundreds of Coreanos and four Gringas. It was a beautiful thing.
This Wednesday, on the plaza outside of Retiro, I was sitting under a mulberry tree on a dirty blanket with a family we've gotten really close to. They have two young girls, and the older of the two has one of the most incredible imaginations I've ever seen. But that day, while the girl was entertaining herself painting with berries, I was talking with her father about what life is like sleeping outside. He's been experiencing it for 25 years now, and had plenty of stories to share about the knife fights and 'quilombos' that go down after 1:30 in the morning, which places to avoid and why, the police who work with narcotraficantes under the radar selling drugs on nearby street corners. He and his family have lived more suffering than I know. They are staying out on the plaza, with their mattresses and garbage bags always by their side, because the villa where they used to live has become too violent and tense for them to stay there, and a decent apartment in Buenos Aires is too expensive when jobs are this scarce. But even in the middle of all that, he is still able to see the good. He told me that of course he would like to live in a hotel someday, feel the protection and security of four walls and a door at night. But he also told me that even here it can be beautiful. Sitting under trees like this, you can here the birds sing in the morning, he said. There's a nest right there, and he pointed it out. Even here, life is growing. Even on the streets, there's beauty.
And these glimpes are too small, too few and too far between, I know that full well. So many more things need to change. But as I'm spending time here, trying to offer myself as a listening ear and a helping hand, I'm coming to the understanding that those beautiful things are invaluable reminders not to give up hoping. Because even in the slums and on the streets, kids are dancing and birds are thriving and people can learn to live a different way. Which is why we absolutely cannot give up loving, not for a minute.
There's so much more I can say, but this post is already epic.
Pray for Cristian--they should be operating on his throat this month if everything goes well, which is huge and really exciting and I hope everything goes well. After the operation, theyll be moving out of the church, getting work, moving ahead from where they're at. So please be praying for everything to go well, if you can.
Pray for this new program we just started at the church, Apoyo Escolar. In the area surrounding the church, there are a lot of really poor families who are living in abandoned buildings and other precarious situations, and the church is offering space and snacks and homework help to neighborhood kids every Monday and Thursday afternoon, from 5-7. I've helped out twice already, and the kids are great. It's a definite need in the community. Pray for enough volunteers to give one-on-one or two-on-one attention to the kids, especially once us NorthAmericans leave.
Keep praying for God to do things here, take us by surprise even, change situations of drug addiction and poverty and misery into light and joy and hope.
Thank you for reading, praying, supporting me always. :)
And feel free to write back.
Last Saturday, I went over to the villa at noon to meet up with Sarah Chang and about 30-odd kids for a children's choir competition. Sarah had recruited me as the pianist, since the usual pianist was having problems with his family and couldn't come. By the time I arrived (late, naturally), most of them were already in position, dressed in white shirts with bright red flowers around their wrists. When I walked through the door, those in the group who were my students enthousiastically shouted 'SEÑO!' and left their places to tackle me with hugs & welcome me in; after wrestling them off, I hurried over to the piano to start practicing, since we were scheduled to leave in about 15 minutes and I'd never played through the songs with them before. The song selection was in two parts--I Love You Lord (obviously in English, which none of the kids really speak, despite our best efforts at teaching), and Sa Rang He Yo (the same song in Korean, which none of the kids speak at all), accompanied by the most precious dance routine you've ever seen. After 10 minutes of practice, we piled into four Remises (similar to taxis, but more like junky cars driven by random people wherever you want them to go, for a small fee) to a Korean church in the area. Speaking as someone who loves experiencing other cultures, this was one of the most intercultural experiences I've ever been a part of. I was loving every minute. As they listened to the church worship band, sat through the pastor's unintelligible mini-sermon (in Korean with certain verses in Spanish), and watched group after group of Korean children sing & dance to trilingual Christian songs, our rag-tag bunch of Peruvian, Paraguayan, Bolivian and Argentine kids were so excited to share their song. And they did such a good job. Up on that stage--compared to Iglesia Esperanza in the villa, that church was a resort--they weren't just 'villeros'. Dominant stereotypes say that as poor immigrant kids, at the bottom of the socioeconomic totem pole, they are destined to drugaddiction and unwanted pregnancies and nothing more. But that Saturday afternoon, they were performers, they radiated beauty and talent, they could be applauded and appreciated. Celebrating music with hundreds of Coreanos and four Gringas. It was a beautiful thing.
This Wednesday, on the plaza outside of Retiro, I was sitting under a mulberry tree on a dirty blanket with a family we've gotten really close to. They have two young girls, and the older of the two has one of the most incredible imaginations I've ever seen. But that day, while the girl was entertaining herself painting with berries, I was talking with her father about what life is like sleeping outside. He's been experiencing it for 25 years now, and had plenty of stories to share about the knife fights and 'quilombos' that go down after 1:30 in the morning, which places to avoid and why, the police who work with narcotraficantes under the radar selling drugs on nearby street corners. He and his family have lived more suffering than I know. They are staying out on the plaza, with their mattresses and garbage bags always by their side, because the villa where they used to live has become too violent and tense for them to stay there, and a decent apartment in Buenos Aires is too expensive when jobs are this scarce. But even in the middle of all that, he is still able to see the good. He told me that of course he would like to live in a hotel someday, feel the protection and security of four walls and a door at night. But he also told me that even here it can be beautiful. Sitting under trees like this, you can here the birds sing in the morning, he said. There's a nest right there, and he pointed it out. Even here, life is growing. Even on the streets, there's beauty.
And these glimpes are too small, too few and too far between, I know that full well. So many more things need to change. But as I'm spending time here, trying to offer myself as a listening ear and a helping hand, I'm coming to the understanding that those beautiful things are invaluable reminders not to give up hoping. Because even in the slums and on the streets, kids are dancing and birds are thriving and people can learn to live a different way. Which is why we absolutely cannot give up loving, not for a minute.
There's so much more I can say, but this post is already epic.
Pray for Cristian--they should be operating on his throat this month if everything goes well, which is huge and really exciting and I hope everything goes well. After the operation, theyll be moving out of the church, getting work, moving ahead from where they're at. So please be praying for everything to go well, if you can.
Pray for this new program we just started at the church, Apoyo Escolar. In the area surrounding the church, there are a lot of really poor families who are living in abandoned buildings and other precarious situations, and the church is offering space and snacks and homework help to neighborhood kids every Monday and Thursday afternoon, from 5-7. I've helped out twice already, and the kids are great. It's a definite need in the community. Pray for enough volunteers to give one-on-one or two-on-one attention to the kids, especially once us NorthAmericans leave.
Keep praying for God to do things here, take us by surprise even, change situations of drug addiction and poverty and misery into light and joy and hope.
Thank you for reading, praying, supporting me always. :)
And feel free to write back.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Thoughts and Challenges
These past three weeks have been a roller-coaster. Lots of emotional highs and lows, lots of lessons learned. We've just passed the two-month mark, which is pretty hard to believe, and since I've arrived I've been slowly but surely getting to know what these kids' lives are like. I can't even pretend to understand fully what they're going through. But based on what I do see, it's pretty rough.
A bunch of the kids we know are runaways, escaping harmful or abusive home situations. It's not uncommon for the girls to get pregnant when they're too young to adequately care for a child, and it's not uncommon for them to lose the baby as they mistreat their bodies to escape their reality. There are boys who get hooked on paco as young as 13 or 14, and wreck their brains with the drug until they're grown and it seems too late to change. There are little kids who steal, and baby girls who are insulted instead of encouraged in their identity. It's a miserable situation in a lot of ways, and though I knew it all coming in, but getting to know and genuinely care about the people who are living this life is a different sort of feeling. Last week, I feel like everything really hit home for me. It's gross, it's really uncomfortable, and I know I'm only scraping the surface. I'm barely starting to understand the ugliness of poverty. Hopefully, as my understanding grows, my love can grow too...
And the crazy thing is, even though our lives couldn't be more juxtaposed (I HAVE a loving family, supportive friends, an incredible education, an ocean full of potential in the years to come), we're really not that different. Sometime earlier this month, I was leaving the train station to go back to the church and on my way out I passed by a woman I'd met the week before, who was standing by the ticket window with her baby boy begging change. When she saw me, she asked if I could hold her child while she ran to the bathroom, so I did. Taking her spot by the ticket window, holding this beautiful baby in my arms, I looked around and for about 3 minutes I saw the station from her perspective. As the ticket lines got longer, I saw people look at me and quickly look away; I saw sympathy move across their faces when they noticed the baby in my arms; after buying their train tickets, a couple of men in suits handed me the small bills they got for change. They couldn't see my degree, and had no clue that I was a volunteer and not a homeless single mother.
When the mom came back, we got to talking. I asked her why she spoke English (she knew a couple of words: Hello, Oh my God, Please Money), and she began to share a little bit of her story. Turns out, both of her parents are doctors, she had an excellent private school education. Turns out it all fell apart in her early teens. I have no clue what changed, why she ended up here, asking for change for her milk and diapers. It's just crazy to think that this woman and I have more in common than I originally thought; fundamentally, we're not that different, her and I.
There are hopeful things here too. At this point, it'd be dishonest of me to idealize the homeless kids or the work here. It's messy and it's hard. But it's also hopeful, and I personally believe that God is still doing beautiful things even here. This Sunday (tomorrow!) is Mother's Day here, and this past week we celebrated with some of the moms who live on the streets. We went to the Plaza General San Martin by the station, sat in the sun and drank mate, made cards with the kids, sculpted with play-doh (even in their 20s, these mommas love playing with kid toys). We'd also brought equipment for pedicures, and all throughout the event, Margi would take the women's feet one by one and wash them. It was really powerful, seeing her look each woman in the eye as she rubbed and rubbed their tired feet, seeing their genuine surprise, their genuine gratitude. Yes, they need jobs, beds, concrete changes in their family situations. But I'm learning that they also need their dignity restored. Which is why washing their feet is more than a waste of water, it's changing the world. (Jesus-style).
For you praying folks...
Exactly 2 Saturdays ago, the guitar I'd been taking to the train station was stolen from me :( The kids at the train station keep asking for it; it's crazy how it really was used to bring light to that train station, and by now it's for sure been sold for drugs somewhere. So I would like to try and find a new one; pray for music during these last 2 months, that despite the setbacks music can be used not just to encourage people there, but to enable them to think differently, hope more, express themselves in a new way.
Classes at the villa are going well. Its a little crazy, because sometimes kids don't show up and then they do, so it's rough. But keep praying for creative ways for me to teach them, not just English, but to encourage them and build them up in a way most of them don't really receive at home.
Keep praying for health, safety, and FOCUS as we approach these last two months.
You guys rock. Thanks for reading.
A bunch of the kids we know are runaways, escaping harmful or abusive home situations. It's not uncommon for the girls to get pregnant when they're too young to adequately care for a child, and it's not uncommon for them to lose the baby as they mistreat their bodies to escape their reality. There are boys who get hooked on paco as young as 13 or 14, and wreck their brains with the drug until they're grown and it seems too late to change. There are little kids who steal, and baby girls who are insulted instead of encouraged in their identity. It's a miserable situation in a lot of ways, and though I knew it all coming in, but getting to know and genuinely care about the people who are living this life is a different sort of feeling. Last week, I feel like everything really hit home for me. It's gross, it's really uncomfortable, and I know I'm only scraping the surface. I'm barely starting to understand the ugliness of poverty. Hopefully, as my understanding grows, my love can grow too...
And the crazy thing is, even though our lives couldn't be more juxtaposed (I HAVE a loving family, supportive friends, an incredible education, an ocean full of potential in the years to come), we're really not that different. Sometime earlier this month, I was leaving the train station to go back to the church and on my way out I passed by a woman I'd met the week before, who was standing by the ticket window with her baby boy begging change. When she saw me, she asked if I could hold her child while she ran to the bathroom, so I did. Taking her spot by the ticket window, holding this beautiful baby in my arms, I looked around and for about 3 minutes I saw the station from her perspective. As the ticket lines got longer, I saw people look at me and quickly look away; I saw sympathy move across their faces when they noticed the baby in my arms; after buying their train tickets, a couple of men in suits handed me the small bills they got for change. They couldn't see my degree, and had no clue that I was a volunteer and not a homeless single mother.
When the mom came back, we got to talking. I asked her why she spoke English (she knew a couple of words: Hello, Oh my God, Please Money), and she began to share a little bit of her story. Turns out, both of her parents are doctors, she had an excellent private school education. Turns out it all fell apart in her early teens. I have no clue what changed, why she ended up here, asking for change for her milk and diapers. It's just crazy to think that this woman and I have more in common than I originally thought; fundamentally, we're not that different, her and I.
There are hopeful things here too. At this point, it'd be dishonest of me to idealize the homeless kids or the work here. It's messy and it's hard. But it's also hopeful, and I personally believe that God is still doing beautiful things even here. This Sunday (tomorrow!) is Mother's Day here, and this past week we celebrated with some of the moms who live on the streets. We went to the Plaza General San Martin by the station, sat in the sun and drank mate, made cards with the kids, sculpted with play-doh (even in their 20s, these mommas love playing with kid toys). We'd also brought equipment for pedicures, and all throughout the event, Margi would take the women's feet one by one and wash them. It was really powerful, seeing her look each woman in the eye as she rubbed and rubbed their tired feet, seeing their genuine surprise, their genuine gratitude. Yes, they need jobs, beds, concrete changes in their family situations. But I'm learning that they also need their dignity restored. Which is why washing their feet is more than a waste of water, it's changing the world. (Jesus-style).
For you praying folks...
Exactly 2 Saturdays ago, the guitar I'd been taking to the train station was stolen from me :( The kids at the train station keep asking for it; it's crazy how it really was used to bring light to that train station, and by now it's for sure been sold for drugs somewhere. So I would like to try and find a new one; pray for music during these last 2 months, that despite the setbacks music can be used not just to encourage people there, but to enable them to think differently, hope more, express themselves in a new way.
Classes at the villa are going well. Its a little crazy, because sometimes kids don't show up and then they do, so it's rough. But keep praying for creative ways for me to teach them, not just English, but to encourage them and build them up in a way most of them don't really receive at home.
Keep praying for health, safety, and FOCUS as we approach these last two months.
You guys rock. Thanks for reading.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Singing on the streets
We must have been quite a spectacle, singing on the subway station floor. There were 5 norteamericanas and maybe 8 street kids, some pregnant teenagers and some toddlers and everybody singing at the top of their lungs. Minutes before, they had been huffing glue, and the smell was still strong. But at least during the songs, they were clapping and belting out lyrics and laughing instead. We played guitar down there for a solid hour or so. Quite a few Argentinean passers-by stopped to ask who we where and what we were doing; a couple stopped and sang with us. And as we sang 'cambiare mi tristeza, cambiare mi verguenza', and as we sang about seeing things change, I knew things were changing. In the middle of alcohol and drugs and dirty skin and clothes, I think God was there, somehow.
God's in the villa, too. After class on Friday, one of my students' mom made us this traditional paraguayan cornbread, and sat and talked with us for a while. She has 6 kids, and has lived in the slum for a while now; she goes to the Esperanza church, sings with the music team, takes English classes with Jeremiah. (The pastor's wife, Sarah Chang, calls him 'misionero Jeremias' and we think it's hilarious, so we all call him that too). She wants so badly for things to change in her villa. It's pretty bad: people from the outside usually never go in because they'll get robbed, kids will sell what they rob for pasta base (this drug that's essentially a cheap and more toxic version of cocaine), addicted to drugs and violence their future looks pretty dim. But talking to her was more hopeful than depressing. She writes theater, and it's theater about living a different way. She shared with us about times when they performed her plays in parks, the emotional reactions that people had. She's got six kids in a slum, and she still believes that creativity can change things. She still takes the time to share her food with us. I may be teaching the kids here action verbs in English, but these families are teaching me what true faith & generosity can look like. I'm humbled, to say the least.
And I'm also learning a lot from my church. The Iglesia Bautista Evangelica de Constitucion (I don't think I've actually told you guys the name of the church! My bad.) is a pretty eye-opening place. I'd say between about 1/4 and about half of the committed members are homeless, or have been homeless in the recent past. We eat together after church every week, and I'm always amazed by how much they know. Most of them are oldish men, and I'm often surprised when they have more insights on American politics than I do; a lot of them are really bright. They've been through a lot more than me, and have a lot to teach. In Sunday morning bible study this week (I used to sleep through them, but apparently since I'm living at the church I have to go. Whoops.), we read in James: "Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him? But you have insulted the poor. Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? Are they not the ones who are slandering the noble name of him to whom you belong?" Laura (who lives in the room below me and who is becoming a wonderful friend to Megan and I) spoke up about what it was like for her to sleep on the streets, and how she could only sleep for an hour or so at a time during the day to make sure she wouldn't get robbed. Everyone then talked about different ways that it can be easy to 'exploit' and show prejudice, and how maybe we can live a different way. The bible talks a LOT about poverty, and it makes so much more sense to read through it with people who have lived that experience.
So basically, I'm learning a lot.
Prayer...
Gratitude because I'm HEALED! I went from vomiting to snotting to coughing, and now my cough is slowly but surely dying away. And gratitude for Nacho Libre--some of you know that it's my favorite movie ever, and we watched a bootleg copy from peru the other day. We only watched the first half because the second part, from the party scene on, kept freezing. Oh well.
Pray for hope. In individuals lives; seeing them huff glue at the train station was hard for me. Pray for us to be able to share what hope we have with them when they don't have any.
One of the families we've gotten really really close to is about to have a baby, this Thursday in fact. Pray for all to go well with that! It'll be the third kid, a baby boy. A whole lot of responsibility. Especially when their job is selling newspapers a voluntad in the train station.
Pray for depth. It's kind of vague I guess, but I feel like I'm experiencing some really amazing community with the staff and volunteers, and I want to grow that community to fully include the kids on the street, and the families at the villa. It's happening already, but prayer doesn't hurt.
Thank all of you for reading this. :) I want to put up pictures, but someone accidentally deleted all the pictures from my camera (everythings in English, and most people here don't speak any), so I'm now starting from scratch. Sorrry...
God's in the villa, too. After class on Friday, one of my students' mom made us this traditional paraguayan cornbread, and sat and talked with us for a while. She has 6 kids, and has lived in the slum for a while now; she goes to the Esperanza church, sings with the music team, takes English classes with Jeremiah. (The pastor's wife, Sarah Chang, calls him 'misionero Jeremias' and we think it's hilarious, so we all call him that too). She wants so badly for things to change in her villa. It's pretty bad: people from the outside usually never go in because they'll get robbed, kids will sell what they rob for pasta base (this drug that's essentially a cheap and more toxic version of cocaine), addicted to drugs and violence their future looks pretty dim. But talking to her was more hopeful than depressing. She writes theater, and it's theater about living a different way. She shared with us about times when they performed her plays in parks, the emotional reactions that people had. She's got six kids in a slum, and she still believes that creativity can change things. She still takes the time to share her food with us. I may be teaching the kids here action verbs in English, but these families are teaching me what true faith & generosity can look like. I'm humbled, to say the least.
And I'm also learning a lot from my church. The Iglesia Bautista Evangelica de Constitucion (I don't think I've actually told you guys the name of the church! My bad.) is a pretty eye-opening place. I'd say between about 1/4 and about half of the committed members are homeless, or have been homeless in the recent past. We eat together after church every week, and I'm always amazed by how much they know. Most of them are oldish men, and I'm often surprised when they have more insights on American politics than I do; a lot of them are really bright. They've been through a lot more than me, and have a lot to teach. In Sunday morning bible study this week (I used to sleep through them, but apparently since I'm living at the church I have to go. Whoops.), we read in James: "Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him? But you have insulted the poor. Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? Are they not the ones who are slandering the noble name of him to whom you belong?" Laura (who lives in the room below me and who is becoming a wonderful friend to Megan and I) spoke up about what it was like for her to sleep on the streets, and how she could only sleep for an hour or so at a time during the day to make sure she wouldn't get robbed. Everyone then talked about different ways that it can be easy to 'exploit' and show prejudice, and how maybe we can live a different way. The bible talks a LOT about poverty, and it makes so much more sense to read through it with people who have lived that experience.
So basically, I'm learning a lot.
Prayer...
Gratitude because I'm HEALED! I went from vomiting to snotting to coughing, and now my cough is slowly but surely dying away. And gratitude for Nacho Libre--some of you know that it's my favorite movie ever, and we watched a bootleg copy from peru the other day. We only watched the first half because the second part, from the party scene on, kept freezing. Oh well.
Pray for hope. In individuals lives; seeing them huff glue at the train station was hard for me. Pray for us to be able to share what hope we have with them when they don't have any.
One of the families we've gotten really really close to is about to have a baby, this Thursday in fact. Pray for all to go well with that! It'll be the third kid, a baby boy. A whole lot of responsibility. Especially when their job is selling newspapers a voluntad in the train station.
Pray for depth. It's kind of vague I guess, but I feel like I'm experiencing some really amazing community with the staff and volunteers, and I want to grow that community to fully include the kids on the street, and the families at the villa. It's happening already, but prayer doesn't hurt.
Thank all of you for reading this. :) I want to put up pictures, but someone accidentally deleted all the pictures from my camera (everythings in English, and most people here don't speak any), so I'm now starting from scratch. Sorrry...
Monday, September 14, 2009
One Month In
During these initial days down here, I think I carried a good amount of naivete and idealism with me. True, loving relationships can break down cultural and socioeceonomic barriers and create reconciliation, and I still think it's true that God helps us do that... but there are a lot of walls that still need to be broken down. Earlier this week, one of the guys was sitting with Megan and Fiorella and I in the church (Fiorella is a Peruvian environmental science student who is also living there with us), and he asked for some music, so we played guitar and sang for a bit. After a couple of songs, the tone switched, and got pretty serious. He started to talk about his strong dislike of everything that was affiliated with the United States, his deep mistrust of Yanquis, his disdain for immigrants and foreigners and anything that wasn't from his own nation, Argentina. He talked about how strange it was for him to get to know us, and to see that our faith was sincere, and how he has slowly come to realize that there are good people who live in the States, and good people from Peru, and good people from Bolivia too. It was an intense conversation, and eye-opening for me to see just how much mistrust and resentment has been built up between nationalites over years of economic exploitation, immigration, and inequality. But it was cool to see how something as simple as friendship and music could begin to break those down.
A lot of conversations I've been having lately have revolved around those issues. Racism is pretty rampant in Buenos Aires, it seems, as those with darker skin claim that white Argentineans are the ones with money, and that the standard of beauty clearly favors white skin over dark skin. Immigration is pretty big as well; 'Boliviano' and 'Peruano' are common insults, and Argentineans will take offense if they're associated with those immigrant communities. Just like any big city, it's a complicated place, and there's a lot of baggage behind relationships here.
Which is why the retreat last weekend was particularly amazing. The theme was social inclusion, and a lot of the people who went weren't necessarily church-going people, so lots of fruitful conversation came out of it. 6 of the people from the streets ended up coming, along with three other guitarists and hundreds of empanadas. We spent the first night watching a movie about an Ethiopian refugee growing up in Jerusalem (the film started at 1am and ended at 3:30, so I was pretty sleepy while I was watching it, but it was really good. In Spanish the title is Ser Digno de Ser, if any of you are interested in checking it out), and spent the next two mornings talking about what a truly inclusive church could look like, and how to affirm self-identity in the middle of marginalization, and how to serve not just through handouts but through genuine relationships. On top of the 'charlas', there was lots of time to just hang out. I was hoping there would be music, and there definitely was. I'm trying to learn Argentinean songs--turns out a lot of them speak about social realities in the country, and abuses under the dictatorship, really deep stuff. One of the songs I brought with me, something I had learned in the Dominican Republic called 'La Niña de Tus Ojos', turned out to be especially well-received. It fit well with the theme of the retreat...the words are pretty simple:
Me viste a mi cuando nadie me vio
Me amaste a mi cuando nadie me amo
Y me diste nombre. Yo soy tu niña, la niña de tus ojos
Porque me amaste a mi...
You saw me when noone saw me
You loved me when noone loved me
And you gave me a name...I am the apple of your eye, because you loved me...
For me, it's a basic concept in my faith: God is love, God loves us, we are valuable. But the people at the retreat, especially the people from the streets, really really loved it. The Retiro kids kept asking me to write the words down for them; one of the guys learned how to play all the chords on the guitar; we even sang it as a group in the trains on the way back to Buenos Aires. It was pretty cool to see music used to encourage and affirm people in that way.
I also brought the guitar to the train station for the first time this week. It went really well. I think I'll be bringing it more often. There seemed to be a lot of younger kids there (10, 12, 13) recently; going to the train station is always a bit of an adventure, since we never know who we're going to see.
And for those of you who like to pray...
Pray for the Encuentro this week. The big slumber party at the Church, from Tuesday night to Wednesday afternoon. It's a pretty nice chance for everyone to hang out in a safe (and drug-free) environment, so pray that it would be good.
Pray for the 'servant team project'. Each volunteer has the chance to develop and express a new idea and make a concrete contribution to the work here during these four months, and the possibilities are wide-open. I think I'm going to be spending more time on it soon; I'm thinking about visiting other organizations in the area that work with poor families and homeless youth, to get a grip on the work that's alread being done among this community and to look at ways that Word Made Flesh could partner more concretely with them. So I'll need a bit of guidance on that :)
Keep praying for the villa! I think I'm getting better at teaching, which is great; the kids are actually retaining information, AND I think they're having fun. Its a really cool thing that they get to participate in something like this, so pray that we can keep doing the best job we possibly can.
And pray for me. Ive been a bit under the weather these past few days, throwing up everything I eat and staying in bed. I'm feeling a lot better today, but I'm definitely not at 100% either, so throw up a few prayers for that.
And hit me back with prayer requests from you! I also care about what's going on in your lives, so email me back :)
TINA
A lot of conversations I've been having lately have revolved around those issues. Racism is pretty rampant in Buenos Aires, it seems, as those with darker skin claim that white Argentineans are the ones with money, and that the standard of beauty clearly favors white skin over dark skin. Immigration is pretty big as well; 'Boliviano' and 'Peruano' are common insults, and Argentineans will take offense if they're associated with those immigrant communities. Just like any big city, it's a complicated place, and there's a lot of baggage behind relationships here.
Which is why the retreat last weekend was particularly amazing. The theme was social inclusion, and a lot of the people who went weren't necessarily church-going people, so lots of fruitful conversation came out of it. 6 of the people from the streets ended up coming, along with three other guitarists and hundreds of empanadas. We spent the first night watching a movie about an Ethiopian refugee growing up in Jerusalem (the film started at 1am and ended at 3:30, so I was pretty sleepy while I was watching it, but it was really good. In Spanish the title is Ser Digno de Ser, if any of you are interested in checking it out), and spent the next two mornings talking about what a truly inclusive church could look like, and how to affirm self-identity in the middle of marginalization, and how to serve not just through handouts but through genuine relationships. On top of the 'charlas', there was lots of time to just hang out. I was hoping there would be music, and there definitely was. I'm trying to learn Argentinean songs--turns out a lot of them speak about social realities in the country, and abuses under the dictatorship, really deep stuff. One of the songs I brought with me, something I had learned in the Dominican Republic called 'La Niña de Tus Ojos', turned out to be especially well-received. It fit well with the theme of the retreat...the words are pretty simple:
Me viste a mi cuando nadie me vio
Me amaste a mi cuando nadie me amo
Y me diste nombre. Yo soy tu niña, la niña de tus ojos
Porque me amaste a mi...
You saw me when noone saw me
You loved me when noone loved me
And you gave me a name...I am the apple of your eye, because you loved me...
For me, it's a basic concept in my faith: God is love, God loves us, we are valuable. But the people at the retreat, especially the people from the streets, really really loved it. The Retiro kids kept asking me to write the words down for them; one of the guys learned how to play all the chords on the guitar; we even sang it as a group in the trains on the way back to Buenos Aires. It was pretty cool to see music used to encourage and affirm people in that way.
I also brought the guitar to the train station for the first time this week. It went really well. I think I'll be bringing it more often. There seemed to be a lot of younger kids there (10, 12, 13) recently; going to the train station is always a bit of an adventure, since we never know who we're going to see.
And for those of you who like to pray...
Pray for the Encuentro this week. The big slumber party at the Church, from Tuesday night to Wednesday afternoon. It's a pretty nice chance for everyone to hang out in a safe (and drug-free) environment, so pray that it would be good.
Pray for the 'servant team project'. Each volunteer has the chance to develop and express a new idea and make a concrete contribution to the work here during these four months, and the possibilities are wide-open. I think I'm going to be spending more time on it soon; I'm thinking about visiting other organizations in the area that work with poor families and homeless youth, to get a grip on the work that's alread being done among this community and to look at ways that Word Made Flesh could partner more concretely with them. So I'll need a bit of guidance on that :)
Keep praying for the villa! I think I'm getting better at teaching, which is great; the kids are actually retaining information, AND I think they're having fun. Its a really cool thing that they get to participate in something like this, so pray that we can keep doing the best job we possibly can.
And pray for me. Ive been a bit under the weather these past few days, throwing up everything I eat and staying in bed. I'm feeling a lot better today, but I'm definitely not at 100% either, so throw up a few prayers for that.
And hit me back with prayer requests from you! I also care about what's going on in your lives, so email me back :)
TINA
Thursday, September 3, 2009
slumber parties and fiestas and lessons learned.
'Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God...But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.'
I had read that passage a bunch of times before. It's part of the Beatitudes according to St. Luke, and the first half is one of Jesus' most famous quotes. But yesterday morning was the first time I've read through those verses with a group of people who live on the street. The words became much more real to me in that particular Bible study. We read 'blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied', and one of the guys commented on being denied bread from a local panaderia time and time again. We read 'bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you' and they reacted with shock, claiming that it doesn't make sense to let people walk all over you if you already feel taken advantage of as it is. I listened as they talked about what it even looks like to treat one another in a different way, 'do to others as you would have them do to you', rich and poor alike. Looking at Christianity and at Jesus' teachings down here, alongside people who aren't able to give their children baths and who work begging change for a living, definitely puts this message in a different light. I'm learning a lot down here so far...for now more questions than answers, but when I have some more words I'll for sure try to share all my thoughts with you all.
Tuesday and Wednesday was the bimonthly 'Encuentro', where Walter picks up a group of people from the train station and brings them to the church, where we eat dinner, watch movies, play games, sleep, and have a group discussion the next morning over yerba mate before lunch. This time, around 13 or so people came, mostly guys and girls in their late teens, with three toddlers in tow. It's so good to be able to get to know them all better. One of the highlights was definitely seeing the little girls take baths, and watching them play without the dirt and muck of the streets. Those kids don't have very much stuff, just one dirty Barbie backpack full of plastic spoons and toy dinnerware between the three of them, but they certainly have plenty of energy...None of them went to bed before 12 or 1am.
The Friday before, the church had a fiesta at Pastor Juan Jose's house, a sort of outreach to prepare for a young adult retreat that's happening this weekend where people can come and get to know each other. Now I've been to church parties in the states--there's some line dancing (if it's southpoint), some talking and laughing, and it's over at 11, at the latest. This party started at 11, and we weren't done until 5:30 in the morning. The people here don't sleep! And they don't stop dancing. Cumbia, salsa, quarteto, I dunno what else they danced but it was a lot. Afterwards, a bunch of us sat in a circle and played guitar, sang, and talked until the pastor went to bed at 5:30. The culture here seems to put a lot of value on conversations and spending time relating to people, talking to one another. I love it.
More tidbits about Argentina... So far I've learned that a lot of young people here really seem to like rock music, and all of their favorite songs sound like stuff from the 80s. I've learned that the Argentinean version of scattergories is the BOMB--it's called TuttiFrutti, and all you need is a pen and paper; I've also learned that they're not as receptive when I aim for 'creativity points' and that I'm much less talented at scattergories in castellano. I've learned that 'piola' means cool, 'laburo' means work (they mix Spanish with Italian a lot), and morocha (which is apparently my name now at the train station) means brown person. I've learned that the police officers don't do much--we went to a cafe for some meat after a morningtime meeting, and we played guitar and sang with a group of about 8 police officers for like 2 hours. I'm including a picture.
The time here is definitely full of more than just parties, though. Teaching English is going really well; a lot of the kids at the villa are very smart, and are picking up the language a lot quicker than I'd expected. Meeting with Nico, Margi and my tutor, is also pretty amazing--he's a graduate student in theology, but he knows everything there is to know about latin american history, and he's got us reading and discussing a good 50-odd pages in Spanish every week, about poverty and the church and the nation. It's making me use my brain, and it feels like school again, which is great because I really do love homework. Megan and I are now officially taking cooking lessons from Christian (who still works selling diarios at Retiro but also lives at the church) in exchange for one-on-one English tutoring. I now know how to make 'fideo con tuco' (read: spaghetti with sauce, haha), and he now knows how to say 'I like to cook with Tina'. Among other things.
For those of you who are praying:
Pray for the church retreat this weekend. A few of the kids from the train station are going to be there, and the theme is on Inclusion. Pray that we can build some solid relationships there, be a support to the people leading the retreat, and that people can really contribute to what is said and what we learn. Most of the people going never go to church, so pray also that we can learn from them, and that the church can be practicing what it's preaching and helping people move from feeling marginalized to being included.
Pray for opportunities to use music! I've started bringing my guitar around sometimes, and everywhere I've went it's turned into a jam session. At the villa and the train station so far, I've just been getting to know people so I haven't brough it, but I might start soon. I think good things can come from it, so pray for that por favor.
Christian is going to get an operation sometime soon on his throat--He almost drowned a few months ago, and has this tube in his throat that they're going to take out I'm not sure when, but he's pretty nervous about it, so pray in advance that it goes well.
For open eyes, and humbleness always.
THANKS for reading :) I'mma try to put some pictures now...
ciao
I had read that passage a bunch of times before. It's part of the Beatitudes according to St. Luke, and the first half is one of Jesus' most famous quotes. But yesterday morning was the first time I've read through those verses with a group of people who live on the street. The words became much more real to me in that particular Bible study. We read 'blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied', and one of the guys commented on being denied bread from a local panaderia time and time again. We read 'bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you' and they reacted with shock, claiming that it doesn't make sense to let people walk all over you if you already feel taken advantage of as it is. I listened as they talked about what it even looks like to treat one another in a different way, 'do to others as you would have them do to you', rich and poor alike. Looking at Christianity and at Jesus' teachings down here, alongside people who aren't able to give their children baths and who work begging change for a living, definitely puts this message in a different light. I'm learning a lot down here so far...for now more questions than answers, but when I have some more words I'll for sure try to share all my thoughts with you all.
Tuesday and Wednesday was the bimonthly 'Encuentro', where Walter picks up a group of people from the train station and brings them to the church, where we eat dinner, watch movies, play games, sleep, and have a group discussion the next morning over yerba mate before lunch. This time, around 13 or so people came, mostly guys and girls in their late teens, with three toddlers in tow. It's so good to be able to get to know them all better. One of the highlights was definitely seeing the little girls take baths, and watching them play without the dirt and muck of the streets. Those kids don't have very much stuff, just one dirty Barbie backpack full of plastic spoons and toy dinnerware between the three of them, but they certainly have plenty of energy...None of them went to bed before 12 or 1am.
The Friday before, the church had a fiesta at Pastor Juan Jose's house, a sort of outreach to prepare for a young adult retreat that's happening this weekend where people can come and get to know each other. Now I've been to church parties in the states--there's some line dancing (if it's southpoint), some talking and laughing, and it's over at 11, at the latest. This party started at 11, and we weren't done until 5:30 in the morning. The people here don't sleep! And they don't stop dancing. Cumbia, salsa, quarteto, I dunno what else they danced but it was a lot. Afterwards, a bunch of us sat in a circle and played guitar, sang, and talked until the pastor went to bed at 5:30. The culture here seems to put a lot of value on conversations and spending time relating to people, talking to one another. I love it.
More tidbits about Argentina... So far I've learned that a lot of young people here really seem to like rock music, and all of their favorite songs sound like stuff from the 80s. I've learned that the Argentinean version of scattergories is the BOMB--it's called TuttiFrutti, and all you need is a pen and paper; I've also learned that they're not as receptive when I aim for 'creativity points' and that I'm much less talented at scattergories in castellano. I've learned that 'piola' means cool, 'laburo' means work (they mix Spanish with Italian a lot), and morocha (which is apparently my name now at the train station) means brown person. I've learned that the police officers don't do much--we went to a cafe for some meat after a morningtime meeting, and we played guitar and sang with a group of about 8 police officers for like 2 hours. I'm including a picture.
The time here is definitely full of more than just parties, though. Teaching English is going really well; a lot of the kids at the villa are very smart, and are picking up the language a lot quicker than I'd expected. Meeting with Nico, Margi and my tutor, is also pretty amazing--he's a graduate student in theology, but he knows everything there is to know about latin american history, and he's got us reading and discussing a good 50-odd pages in Spanish every week, about poverty and the church and the nation. It's making me use my brain, and it feels like school again, which is great because I really do love homework. Megan and I are now officially taking cooking lessons from Christian (who still works selling diarios at Retiro but also lives at the church) in exchange for one-on-one English tutoring. I now know how to make 'fideo con tuco' (read: spaghetti with sauce, haha), and he now knows how to say 'I like to cook with Tina'. Among other things.
For those of you who are praying:
Pray for the church retreat this weekend. A few of the kids from the train station are going to be there, and the theme is on Inclusion. Pray that we can build some solid relationships there, be a support to the people leading the retreat, and that people can really contribute to what is said and what we learn. Most of the people going never go to church, so pray also that we can learn from them, and that the church can be practicing what it's preaching and helping people move from feeling marginalized to being included.
Pray for opportunities to use music! I've started bringing my guitar around sometimes, and everywhere I've went it's turned into a jam session. At the villa and the train station so far, I've just been getting to know people so I haven't brough it, but I might start soon. I think good things can come from it, so pray for that por favor.
Christian is going to get an operation sometime soon on his throat--He almost drowned a few months ago, and has this tube in his throat that they're going to take out I'm not sure when, but he's pretty nervous about it, so pray in advance that it goes well.
For open eyes, and humbleness always.
THANKS for reading :) I'mma try to put some pictures now...
ciao
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Semana numero One
I am learning so much down here. On Monday, we went to Retiro (the train station) for the first time. Immediately my attention went to a little boy who was dragging himself along the train station floor. He was a beautiful kid, about a year old, but he was totally filthy. He was covered in dirt, and it was a heartbreaking introduction to the situation of the people living there. His mother greeted all of us with a kiss, and we sat down on the floor with her and her family, and another woman. I was expecting awkwardness, mistrust; suprisingly, there was none of that. We talked for a while, a couple more people came along to join us, we played cards for a while (Egyptian Ratscrew! Thanks Sarita for teaching me that game). A couple of little kids were running around, climbing all over us and coloring on some paper that we brought.
One of the women we were with was filling out a word search (they seem to love word searches). She seemed older, in her early 20s maybe, and she was asking for our help filling them out. Soon enough we found out she couldnt read, and didn't know her letters, and had no clue where to circle. That was heartbreaking too.
Leaving was hard. I kept thinking of efficiency--what they need is a bath, education, housing, a stable job. It was discouraging to think that my presence there couldn't mean much, that I could only be a witness to their suffering. They DO need these concrete things, and if I were to give each one of them a house there would be thousands more who needed one as well; it's overwhelming. But the more I think about it, the more humbled I am. In a sense, it matters that we were sitting there on the floor with them. One thing I think I take for granted is that I always have people reminding me that I'm worthwhile, that I matter, that I have value and dignity. The people begging at Retiro and the little kids playing on the floor probably don't hear that very often. They spend their day being ignored by thousands of passersby. And to have a group of people stop, sit, and value their time might seem small, but for those who never hear that they matter, it's necessary. Its how God works, I think. Starting small (he came as a baby, after all). Love can come in tiny packages, and my prayer for now is that he can take our tiny love and make it something deeper.
Tuesday was our first visit to the villas. We went to Villa Flores 1-11-14, where a tiny church (Iglesia Esperanza) has been reaching out to one of the most violent slums in the city for 19 years. We met with the pastors (Pablo and Sarah Chang) before going into the villa--they moved from Korea to Argentina, learned Spanish from scratch, and are now raising three little girls in the slums in spite of Sarah's battle with cancer and the risk of a crime-ridden and drug-infested environment. Their lives are so selfless, and their faith is really big.
In the villas, the 'mini-Europe' I'd heard so much about disappeared. None of the streets were paved, about 95% of the people have darker skin and are from other countries, and all of the buildings are made with red bricks and mortar. But in the church, when we started our English classes, the rooms filled up with kids who were so eager to learn. They took notes, responded enthousiastically to every word. They were such good kids, and it's crazy thinking that they've probably been through a lot more than I know. Afterwards, two older women (one from Peru and one from Bolivia) gave us homemade bread pudding and milanesas (steak and bread). They showed a hospitality that put mine to shame. The neighborhood might be run by druglords and full of poverty, but God is there too. For sure.
Please pray for:
-One of the babies on the street who has seizures.
-The families on the street, there are so many kids who sniff glue and spend their days high. Please pray that they can understand how valuable they are.
-Our lessons at the villas- pray for relationships to be built, and for something positive to come out of it all.
-Our conversations from the book studies and reading assignments; there's a lot we can learn and grow from there, but it takes clarity. Pray for ideas from our end--since this is a new field, there are so many ways that the outreaches can grow, so pray that we can put our intellect and gifts and creativity to use in a sustainable way.
Pictures will come soon! Im working on it. Thank you guys for reading and for praying.
One of the women we were with was filling out a word search (they seem to love word searches). She seemed older, in her early 20s maybe, and she was asking for our help filling them out. Soon enough we found out she couldnt read, and didn't know her letters, and had no clue where to circle. That was heartbreaking too.
Leaving was hard. I kept thinking of efficiency--what they need is a bath, education, housing, a stable job. It was discouraging to think that my presence there couldn't mean much, that I could only be a witness to their suffering. They DO need these concrete things, and if I were to give each one of them a house there would be thousands more who needed one as well; it's overwhelming. But the more I think about it, the more humbled I am. In a sense, it matters that we were sitting there on the floor with them. One thing I think I take for granted is that I always have people reminding me that I'm worthwhile, that I matter, that I have value and dignity. The people begging at Retiro and the little kids playing on the floor probably don't hear that very often. They spend their day being ignored by thousands of passersby. And to have a group of people stop, sit, and value their time might seem small, but for those who never hear that they matter, it's necessary. Its how God works, I think. Starting small (he came as a baby, after all). Love can come in tiny packages, and my prayer for now is that he can take our tiny love and make it something deeper.
Tuesday was our first visit to the villas. We went to Villa Flores 1-11-14, where a tiny church (Iglesia Esperanza) has been reaching out to one of the most violent slums in the city for 19 years. We met with the pastors (Pablo and Sarah Chang) before going into the villa--they moved from Korea to Argentina, learned Spanish from scratch, and are now raising three little girls in the slums in spite of Sarah's battle with cancer and the risk of a crime-ridden and drug-infested environment. Their lives are so selfless, and their faith is really big.
In the villas, the 'mini-Europe' I'd heard so much about disappeared. None of the streets were paved, about 95% of the people have darker skin and are from other countries, and all of the buildings are made with red bricks and mortar. But in the church, when we started our English classes, the rooms filled up with kids who were so eager to learn. They took notes, responded enthousiastically to every word. They were such good kids, and it's crazy thinking that they've probably been through a lot more than I know. Afterwards, two older women (one from Peru and one from Bolivia) gave us homemade bread pudding and milanesas (steak and bread). They showed a hospitality that put mine to shame. The neighborhood might be run by druglords and full of poverty, but God is there too. For sure.
Please pray for:
-One of the babies on the street who has seizures.
-The families on the street, there are so many kids who sniff glue and spend their days high. Please pray that they can understand how valuable they are.
-Our lessons at the villas- pray for relationships to be built, and for something positive to come out of it all.
-Our conversations from the book studies and reading assignments; there's a lot we can learn and grow from there, but it takes clarity. Pray for ideas from our end--since this is a new field, there are so many ways that the outreaches can grow, so pray that we can put our intellect and gifts and creativity to use in a sustainable way.
Pictures will come soon! Im working on it. Thank you guys for reading and for praying.
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