El Campo

Well, this weekend we came back from a 4 day visit to the rural community of La Avispa in Olancho. Ben and I stayed in the house of Jesus (I think my favorite part of this name was being able to say “ya viene Jesus” every time he was walking toward us) and Erika, a three room house with no electricity or windows, but with running water and a pretty nice wood stove. To be honest, the “rustic” setting that we were in didn´t really phase me that much. I expected things to be rustic, and after spending a week in La Moskitia, our living conditions were not that shocking to me. That being said, by the end of the week, I was getting quite dirty and smelly, and I think it would have been a challenge for me to maintain myself in a cleanly state over the course of a month.

I loved the chance to share in the activities and the lifestyle of the community. Jesus was sick while we were there, so we had the chance to chapear his field for him with machetes. And while the cow is probably in disagreement, I enjoyed the chance to try to ordeñar (to milk), although, as Jesus explained to everyone, we have machines to milk in the states, that´s why I was so bad at it. We also surprised them when we told them that not only did we eat tortillas (they were convinced we would only eat sliced bread), we wanted to eat the same food as them and share in there normal diet. I also had the chance to spend the evenings playing futbol with all the young men of the community, and through a couple of lucky breaks I was able to make a name for myself as a “goleador.” This was especially fun because it meant that every time I passed a house with kids in it that watched us play, they would always shout “Jacobo!” and ask me if I was going to play again that night. I would also run in the mornings right after waking up, which was not early enough to keep the community from talking about the crazy Jacobo that ran all the way to Buquerrón and back.

The thing that was most incredible though was the acceptance that came amidst it all. There we were, a group of 20 foreigners with almost can´t function without our computers, let alone know how to do any piece of what life in the campo entails, and yet we were treated with care and patience amidst it all. The culture in the campo was another beautiful thing. While each and every person in that community knew what it meant to work hard and well- (like Elvin, a 16 year old who woke up at 5 to walk an hour to his family´s field and spent a good 6 hours clearing the field with a machete), there was also a relaxed nature about everything. If I was walking up the hill to visit one family, chances are I would stop at at least two houses that would invite me in and give me their chair so that I could sit and talk to them. The best part about this acceptance and laid back nature is that it wasn´t hollow at all, but came from the genuine desire to get to know us, to make us feel comfortable, and to show us love.

It´s not as if the culture of La Avispa was perfect, either. Sometimes when we would talk, I would see glimpses of a strong pride and a lack of humility. The cultural response to someone being emotional is to laugh, a little with them, a little at them, and the mentally handicapped in the community were not treated with full respect (though they were still definitely loved). However, as I was leaving the community on Wednesday, I realized that despite these things, I still was able to love there culture as a whole. Yes, it did have it´s shortcomings, but at the same time there were many positive and exemplary pieces of the culture that were direct results of the desire to show love. Maybe this is a part of what John was talking about when he said that love covers a multitude of sins. While we are all screwed up, both culturally and individually, love has the ability to permeate through that brokenness, and the light of Christ can still shine through a marred lamp.

This week in rural Honduras gave me a new idea of what it means to be Christ to others. Everyone in La Avispa was well aware that the gringos were the rich ones, and that the campesinos were the poor. And yet when we showed up on Tuesday morning, we really were the poor. We had no food to eat, and Erika served us a chicken dinner that she had fretted for days over, worrying about whether or not we were going to like it. Whichever house we went to, we were always invited to a cup of coffee in case we were thirsty. We had no place to sleep, and we were invited warmly into the homes and households of La Avispa. In the short time that we were there, the people of La Avispa wholeheartedly took the opportunity to treat us with the love and care with which Christ calls us to treat the “least of these.” I am still contemplating and wondering at the encouragement and challenge to go and do likewise that I was shown this week. I sure hope that it finds its way into my actions.