There to Home and Back Again

It is good to be back in Guatemala. You know you love a place when, upon returning from an extended absence, it feels as if you never left. Our day began at an hour we shall forever more refer to as "stupid early," that is, 2:30 a.m. I could not help but notice as we left home at headed to the airport this morning that there were two kinds of people on the road; ourselves, and other people at least as foolish as we were.

Our flights were blessed and we arrived in the capital city a few minutes early. The visual contrast from the air, even at many thousands of feet is astounding. From the air, everything appears to be earth tone with few distinctions between land and buildings. The volcano Pacaya, the one that erupted not so long ago, appears out of the cloud set in bits and pieces giving a full view of itself only briefly as the plane circles the capital to land. Clouds are building from the south and east and low, rain heavy clouds seem to slide down the sides of the volcano's slopes like caramel on an ice cream sundae. It is an outstanding view.

You quickly realize however, as you do when landing in Haitian, Kenya, or any other place we call "developing" that the earth tones are nothing of nature. What appeared to be both tilled an untilled land from higher elevation is actually the appearance of tin and sheet metal roofs in varying states of rust and decay on homes built so closely together as the end of one cannot be distinguished from the beginning of the next. Some 1000 feet or so above the airfield you see the intensity of this place come into full view; more than half of the buildings and homes are in rubble. I imagine it is left over destruction from the 36 year civil war that was fueled by the cold war posturings of the former Soviet Union and the U.S. (a discussion for some other forum I suppose)

There is nothing quite like exiting airports in countries such as this. There are always crowds of people waiting for the loads of people exiting the terminals. For some it is the next best chance to sell bananas or a bag of cool water. Others are offering rides to towns or villages and some are waiting, quite dignified I might add, with hand printed signs that guide the way for tourist to meet with pre-arranged transports and tours.

It is different in this place though. No one is angry, no one is pushing or shoving, threatening or cussing, and all are just waiting quietly, patiently for their moment to arrive. This scene never happens at home. Somebody gets mad because the plane was late, or early, or too small, or the food was no good, or the or that or the other thing. I believe people in these places are used to waiting for things to happen having come to the rational conclusion that man can cause few things to happen on his own.

A good friend of mine, a Nigerian priest, once explained similar reactions in Africa. He said, "You see Dan, in your country, when you hit the light switch you KNOW it is going to cause the light to go on. It always does, that is your reality. So, if the time comes and you hit the switch and nothing happens, you become furious. What you know becomes a lie. In Africa it is different. We know that nothing will happen when we hit the switch because it very rarely does. We accept the reality that we do not control such things. So, when the light actually does come on, we have reason to rejoice." Can you see the dichotomy....one belief leads to pain, another to joy, both focused on the very same reality. I dig my African brothers....but I digress.

We left the hotel and headed to the orphanage to pick up a young woman who has been here for weeks helping Shawn and Damaris. The moment I see Karen, the woman who runs this miracle place, my heart leaps for joy. Of all the human beings I know, she is one who has touched me most profoundly. She believes what can never be and so it becomes. I know God has both hands on her and her work and I am still before her.

We take a few shots of the chicken coop that was built last year. Wow, it’s like a chicken prison. All of the previous chickens were stolen and so we raised a few bucks to rebuild for Karen's kids. General Patton couldn't take these chickens. Concrete walls, iron gated door, metal roof.......I mean the chickens are dancing around in the thing just daring someone to try and get it. Karen shared her happiness that not one bird has died and that the kids are getting eggs. God is so cool!

We load up a van from top to bottom, front to back with enough medicine to open a Walgreens and head to our hotel, the Candalaria. This place is so cool and all the folks I met last year are still here. We all pretend to understand what each other are saying but hey, hugs and handshakes get the job done.

We are going to Santa Domingo Xenecoj (pronounced shen-a- coke) in the morning to establish the medical clinic space, meet some folks and shoot some film. Who knows from there, we are on mission and I am in heaven. I find myself once again sitting here in Antigua although it could be many places, and wondering why the heck I stay where I am at. I love this work and the adventure, the rawness of its fabric, the tangible nature of the humanity. I used to think it was just the novel experience of being abroad in these places that fuels my fancy but I tell you it is not. Life is just more honest here.