Thursday, November 26
Uh Uh, No Sir!
The excavator came yesterday and
it will be finishing up today, the men have already been up there this morning
watching more brush disappearing, more fruit falling and heavy muddy dirt
moving. Machetes and shovels held are mostly
still as they watch the big machine do its work. I slip into Einer’s villa to find Jason sitting
at the long kitchen table listening to a young man; he is translating to Deanne
and now to me as well. Oberlin has an amazing
story to share, we have heard it, we know it, but now we hear it from his own
words, his friend Efriam is listening too.
As Oberlin tells his story, we
are mesmerized by his voice as he speaks, his face, his eyes, his words… his
hands. I cannot stop looking at his
hands as they move into a fist and then open and roll and point…they also are telling
the story. It is a story of a seemingly
lost soul, sold out to the devil; tormented himself but also tormenting others, including his friends, affecting his school, losing his parents.
The whole of the town fought to find salvation for this trouble, the youth went wild and the
school was shut down. A Catholic priest tried to help, men from the
town, family, still, all seemed lost. But
God was pursuing Oberlin, over time he fled to the church, head down, shoulders
hunched, trying to make himself invisible, he made his way to the front seat
weeping, crying out the Hineni words of God… “Here I am, Here I am, Here I am…”
over and over and over again. My tears overflowed
and rolled down…this is how God pursues.
Oberlin, once a broken young man
but now made whole, restored, and beautiful…his slate wiped clean. He works here now, at this camp for kids, he
is dedicated to discipling children for God and the people here cannot stop
loving him. He offers to share another
gift with us, Jagua painting. He explains
that Jagua is an important fruit in the life of Embera and Waounan people. This hard inedible fruit is grated, mixed with a small amount of water and squeezed in a
cloth to extract a black liquid that is used to paint directly on dry
skin. Geometrical designs wrapped around
upper arms, wrists and in some cases whole lower bodies…like a two-week tattoo. A personal and impressive gift...oh yes, we all got one!
Our time here is nearly at an end,
we have just a few things more to finish, cleaning the showers, bathrooms and
beds; sweeping and washing floors; packing up everything into our suitcases;
saying our farewells to these people we have gotten to know…Americo, Obdulio,
Ricardo, Delacio, Alsiviades, Oberlin, Efriam, Robinson, his wife Ruth, other
women who called this place home, and the children.
Alan gives us a few instructions
about driving through the checkpoints as we leave the Darien and head down to
Torti where we will spend this night….as we listen, we load up Alan’s vehicle and the Prado;
baby stuff, Kalea’s stuff, Alan and Colleen’s stuff, all of our stuff which is
much less than what we came with and the dog Samson…who tried one more time to interrupt
Alan's instructions, who in turn reiterated with a command we became very familiar with…
”Uh, uh, no Sir!
And now, one last four wheel
drive up the new road and back down again…here we go!
