Monday, November 24,
2015
The Wounaan Villages
Waking up in the home of Delacio,
he is the local pastor and has joined with us in part of our journey. We step out of netted bedrolls that were laid
side by side against the long wall of the big room; taking in the sounds of the
morning we step across the small walkway leading into the kitchen and here we
find Delacio’s wife kneeling beside the fire, cutting up plantains, the men
sitting at the wooden table already talking about water lines and
measurements. The kitchen is the smaller
of the two rooms of this home, there is a makeshift counter with room to hold
dishes; if there was running water they would be able to be washed here but as
it is, this is the holding place until they are brought down to the river to be
washed. The food is cooked on a large low open fire pit, with room to kneel and
prepare food and to hold large pots of soup or rice. Today we will be cooking black bean soup for
the noon meal.
We work hard at communicating to
some degree, any degree, with Delacios’ wife, her children and the children who
gathered in her home, curious about us…communication, our biggest frustration,
but still, there were things to be learned and things to be shared. We spent time coloring pages, making paper
airplanes and folding paper games, singing songs, sharing our names… the young
girls writing their names on their arms; gracious Jabiela, sweet Rudi, Lynethe,
Yneth, and Loriwyn, who caught my attention, the oldest of the group... all beautiful.
Jason wanders off with the men,
measuring and Robin is off to the river with the boys, swimming. Marlis, Loralee and I walk over the bridge
and stroll along a wide sidewalk carving a promenade through the jungle, trees lined
up on either side swaying in the breeze.
The skies open and we find ourselves in the rain, pouring, the tap
turned on and we are just as wet as if we had already swam in the river. Still the river beckons us in, an amazing
rush of water, if we had let ourselves go we would have been taken away by its
current, but we could stand, the guys joined us, along with a few boys; throwing
mud balls, throwing each other, laughter, memories; life.
Back at the hut we gather our
things, and say our good byes, sharing hugs, exchanging gifts…loving; new
friends, God’s family. We board our
piragua, setting course for the next village, a much larger population, one
that long ago broke away from Aruza over some distant disagreement. Vista Alegre, this Wounaan village was one of
the checkpoint stops and we would be setting up for night here. We arrived to a meal of chicken soup served
with rice along with bowls of oranges.
On our way in we noticed that this village though bigger was not as
organized, fewer sidewalks, not as square, not as trimmed but there was a store or two, maybe
more. Many of the homes had toilets outside on the decks for all to see, plumbing exposed running down the outside of the walls. There was a town hall lined with freshly painted blue chairs filled with
people watching us waiting for Alan and his water message. It was an honor for these people to be part
of this meeting, that was clear, and it was also clear that Alan was respected;
in turn we were honored to witness these exchanges.
After our meal, Americo, Ricardo
and Obdulio led us to the shops, where we purchased colorful skirt fabrics
called paruma, drinks of Fresca and snacks of vanilla wafers.
Even though it was Monday, the
village church held a special evening service, we were encouraged by their
singing and sharing, we sang too, songs they knew and some they didn’t… Little
Drummer Boy, along with a message from Alan; the giving of gifts...pa rum pum pum pum. We asked if any had prayer requests and
people stepped forward wanting prayer for their youth, for their families to endure
the struggles of this life, to press on…the same prayers we ask for our own
families. Women relayed their struggle
in building the church and asked for help to accomplish it…maybe we can.
Powerful prayer, holding hands,
the laying of hands, tears, listening, learning and loving…one more day of too
much…amazing grace.
I love that.
