*This is a prayer I wrote one night in Costa Rica. Seeing so much poverty, suffering, and oppression in the world, and realizing that being a North American automatically made me a rich, powerful oppressor in the world, praying became very difficult. I wrote this to get away from thanking God for my "blessings," asking for more stuff, and focusing on my small, selfish world. I tried to write a prayer that pleads on behalf of people who are really in need like people without food and children fighting without choice, and pleads on my behalf as a rich, powerful world citizen to open my heart to the injustice and inequality in the world.
Tonight I pray for child soldiers,
for people sleeping on empty stomachs,
for people without opportunity, without hope, without a future.
I pray for those oppressed by the desires of a few powerful people.
Send people to bring justice.
Send peace into the hearts of soldiers
and into the hearts of politicians who declare wars.
Send hope to those with nothing else.
Open the eyes of North American Christians with wealth and power.
Open our eyes to the injustice in the world.
Close our hearts to our desires and our lusts to obtain more.
Protect your disciples who are creating justice in the world, for they are few.
In my life, open my eyes to the suffering around me.
Give me strength to act justly and bring justice.
Give me discipline to seek the truth and not simply believe everything I hear.
Give me nothing more than what I need to survive today.
Stretch me.
Challenge me.
I pray that I will not be comfortable with my life as it is now.
Forgive me for not acting justly, for being ignorant and comfortable.
Forgive me for trying to be perfect.
I have sins. Forgive me and teach me to forgive others as freely as You do.
Take my life, my wealth, all that I have, for it is Yours.
I have been an oppressor in the world for a long time without knowing, but that is no excuse. Now, I change sides because You are the God of the oppressed.
You defend the downtrodden,
feed the hungry,
give a voice to the worthless.
I want to join Your side.
Use me to defend the oppressed,
bring food and water to destitute people,
and be a voice for those who have lost theirs.
I don't know the way and am fighting against corporate giants and transnational companies, who steal the lives of people in order to lavish the luxurious lives of the few.
Show me the way.
Friday, December 28, 2007
Faces: A Poem
For my final creative presentation, I wrote a poem in Spanish that was a composition of my experiences. I translated it to English, and although I like it better in Spanish, I want to share it and thus share some of my experiences and new thoughts. Here goes.
I could tell stories of bubbling volcanoes,
of beaches as beautiful as deserted islands,
of rain forests full of monkeys and exotic birds.
But how would you see me?
Would you see me as the same girl who said good-bye 3 months ago?
I am not that girl. I'm a different person.
The volcanoes, the beaches, the rain forests didn't change me.
The faces of the people, that's what changed me.
The face of my Nicaraguan father
working in a pineapple field
for food each day
for his family
for his one-room shack.
Living for today, hoping for a better tomorrow.
He doesn't ask for more.
Don't pity him. Don't just give him money.
Which is better: a life of wealth, loneliness, and sadness
or a life of poverty, love, and happiness?
Learn from him. Give his kids the same opportunities that your kids have.
The face of a prostitute
working with a man between her legs
without value
without love
only thinking about her 5 kids
She doesn't ask for more.
Don't scorn her. Don't tell her she has other options.
Which is worse: sex or hunger?
Value her. Give her other options. Give her hope.
The face of a gay minister
knowing his difference since age 6
wanting to change himself
wanting to change his life
All he asks for is acceptance.
Don't judge him. Don't preach to him.
Which is worse: a gay man who's alive or a dead man?
Listen to his story. Accept him.
The face of a student in the back of the class
writing notes off the board
not knowing what they read
not knowing the alphabet
or one single letter.
All he asks for is a little attention.
Don't just give him the answers. Don't ignore him.
Which is better: an illiterate 3rd grader or a literate 2nd grader?
Be patient. Help him. Teach him.
The face of an 8 year old child
watching the Marines capture her dad
watching the Marines beat her mom
for nationalistic ideas in a country that isn't her own
in a country that's an illegitimate child of the United States.
All she asks is to see her father again.
Don't send the American military. Don't justify war.
Which is worse: democracy at the cost of the wealthy
or socialism at the cost of thousands of lives?
Leave her country. Give her peace. Return her father.
And now, you may see me as radical, liberal, maybe even lost.
All I ask is that you see my face.
Which is worse: knowledge in silence or passion with a voice?
Listen to me. Continue loving me. Look at my face.
*Basically, what I tried to convey in the poem was the ease at making judgments, build walls, and name sins when stories are generalized. When we get to know people, their stories become personal and we discover that some things aren't as clear as black and white. War. Poverty. Homosexuality. Prostitution. It's easy to draw lines and hate, but God calls us above that. God calls us to love and accept all. When we see people's faces behind the statistics, we care a whole lot more about what the statistics talk about.
I could tell stories of bubbling volcanoes,
of beaches as beautiful as deserted islands,
of rain forests full of monkeys and exotic birds.
But how would you see me?
Would you see me as the same girl who said good-bye 3 months ago?
I am not that girl. I'm a different person.
The volcanoes, the beaches, the rain forests didn't change me.
The faces of the people, that's what changed me.
The face of my Nicaraguan father
working in a pineapple field
for food each day
for his family
for his one-room shack.
Living for today, hoping for a better tomorrow.
He doesn't ask for more.
Don't pity him. Don't just give him money.
Which is better: a life of wealth, loneliness, and sadness
or a life of poverty, love, and happiness?
Learn from him. Give his kids the same opportunities that your kids have.
The face of a prostitute
working with a man between her legs
without value
without love
only thinking about her 5 kids
She doesn't ask for more.
Don't scorn her. Don't tell her she has other options.
Which is worse: sex or hunger?
Value her. Give her other options. Give her hope.
The face of a gay minister
knowing his difference since age 6
wanting to change himself
wanting to change his life
All he asks for is acceptance.
Don't judge him. Don't preach to him.
Which is worse: a gay man who's alive or a dead man?
Listen to his story. Accept him.
The face of a student in the back of the class
writing notes off the board
not knowing what they read
not knowing the alphabet
or one single letter.
All he asks for is a little attention.
Don't just give him the answers. Don't ignore him.
Which is better: an illiterate 3rd grader or a literate 2nd grader?
Be patient. Help him. Teach him.
The face of an 8 year old child
watching the Marines capture her dad
watching the Marines beat her mom
for nationalistic ideas in a country that isn't her own
in a country that's an illegitimate child of the United States.
All she asks is to see her father again.
Don't send the American military. Don't justify war.
Which is worse: democracy at the cost of the wealthy
or socialism at the cost of thousands of lives?
Leave her country. Give her peace. Return her father.
And now, you may see me as radical, liberal, maybe even lost.
All I ask is that you see my face.
Which is worse: knowledge in silence or passion with a voice?
Listen to me. Continue loving me. Look at my face.
*Basically, what I tried to convey in the poem was the ease at making judgments, build walls, and name sins when stories are generalized. When we get to know people, their stories become personal and we discover that some things aren't as clear as black and white. War. Poverty. Homosexuality. Prostitution. It's easy to draw lines and hate, but God calls us above that. God calls us to love and accept all. When we see people's faces behind the statistics, we care a whole lot more about what the statistics talk about.
Panama
Well, I now write this looking back on what happened almost a month ago. It's hard to believe I'm back in the States and that my life in Central America seems like ages ago. I'll catch you up on the rest of my experience in the Latin America Studies Program.
We said good-bye to San Jose December 3 as we flew to Panama City in the morning. We spent the night in a hotel, leaving most of our baggage behind, and leaving the next day for another early morning flight. This time we each had one small backpack and boarded one small jet plane that only fit 20 people. That day was my birthday, and what a birthday it was! Definitely the most unique birthday yet. We woke up at 4:30 to make it to the airport, and they sang to me on the bus, the earliest I've ever been sung to. That was really the only official birthday thing that happened. I didn't tell anyone on the island it was my birthday; I didn't want any special treatment on my birthday because we were already getting special treatment just by visiting them. But what a birthday it was. The plane ride was breath-taking. We took off around sunrise and rode along as the morning colors spanned the horizon. Since the plane was little, we stayed low to the ground and could see all the landscape of Panama. Panama contains the second highest amount of rain forest, second to the Amazon. We flew from the Pacific side to the Caribbean side where the Kunas' land is. They own a stretch of land along the coast and several hundred islands off the coast. It was a beautiful birthday just to experience such new, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.
We landed at the "airport" which consisted of a small shack, a runway surrounded by land and forest, and a port of canoes. We loaded up our backpacks on a canoe and thus began the journey. Our group was split into 2 islands. We arrived to our island first, and we met our families right away. My dad spoke Spanish thankfully; the majority of people only speak Kuna, their native dialect. He walked me to our "house" which consisted of 5 huts: sleeping hut, bread-making hut, cooking hut, shower/bathing hut, and the "bathroom" hut located above the ocean. My family included my dad and mom, both age 28; 3 brothers, ages 2, 4, 5; and grandmother. There were lots of neighbors and other family members who came by to meet the American. It was a long day since it began so early, but such a wonderful day adjusting to everyday life on the islands with the Kunas.
The island was very small. It took a minute to walk the width and 10 minutes to walk the length. Between 1000 and 2000 people live on the island. Life is very laid back and simple. The men go fishing for food and go to the mainland where they cultivate platanos, coconuts, and other fruits and vegetables. Women cook, take care of children, and make molas, their native stitching made into shirts. Recently, tourists have fallen in love with molas, and the making of molas provides a significant income for the Kunas. Money is used on the island, but only to exchange goods. Everyone has what they need on the island because they use what the land gives without exploitation. A beautiful existence. The government of Panama works with the Kuna government to give them their own authority while still being part of Panama. It was great to see that old customs of native peoples still exist in the world.
The people treated us so well on the island. They took us on special trips to another deserted island to swim and their farms on the mainland. We worshiped with them 2 nights and even got to sit in on a governmental meeting. They caught and cooked a lobster and crab dinner for us. Their diet is mainly rice, fish, and platanos. We even got to help prepare, aka slaughter, fish. Not my favorite part. Most of the days were spent relaxing in hammocks, just being with the families. I loved experiencing such unique lifestyle and customs.
It's difficult to describe my experience because it is so different from our own lifestyles. The biggest adjustment was not doing much of anything and just being. They take care of their immediate needs: food, clothing, shelter; but, there is not a rush and push for new and better, always wanting more, like here in the States. Even here when we get together to hang out, we're always doing something whether we watch a movie, play sports, play games, etc. Their lifestyle consists of sitting, being, and conversing with one another. I loved the simplicity.
We left the islands after 5 nights there. We returned to Panama City and explored historical sites such as the Panama Canal. From Panama we flew to Miami to reunite with the whole group for a re-entry workshop. And December 13, I finally reunited with my family in Memphis, as well as with four friends who made a surprise visit.
So now it's almost been 2 weeks since my time in Latin America. It has been difficult to adjust between cultures and between the extremes I've experienced within the past 4 months. I'm still figuring out a lot of things in my life, especially what to do after graduation. Only time will tell as no answers come easy or without processing. All I can say now is that the past 4 months changed me, changed my life, but only God knows what those changes will produce.Vamos a ver.
We said good-bye to San Jose December 3 as we flew to Panama City in the morning. We spent the night in a hotel, leaving most of our baggage behind, and leaving the next day for another early morning flight. This time we each had one small backpack and boarded one small jet plane that only fit 20 people. That day was my birthday, and what a birthday it was! Definitely the most unique birthday yet. We woke up at 4:30 to make it to the airport, and they sang to me on the bus, the earliest I've ever been sung to. That was really the only official birthday thing that happened. I didn't tell anyone on the island it was my birthday; I didn't want any special treatment on my birthday because we were already getting special treatment just by visiting them. But what a birthday it was. The plane ride was breath-taking. We took off around sunrise and rode along as the morning colors spanned the horizon. Since the plane was little, we stayed low to the ground and could see all the landscape of Panama. Panama contains the second highest amount of rain forest, second to the Amazon. We flew from the Pacific side to the Caribbean side where the Kunas' land is. They own a stretch of land along the coast and several hundred islands off the coast. It was a beautiful birthday just to experience such new, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.
We landed at the "airport" which consisted of a small shack, a runway surrounded by land and forest, and a port of canoes. We loaded up our backpacks on a canoe and thus began the journey. Our group was split into 2 islands. We arrived to our island first, and we met our families right away. My dad spoke Spanish thankfully; the majority of people only speak Kuna, their native dialect. He walked me to our "house" which consisted of 5 huts: sleeping hut, bread-making hut, cooking hut, shower/bathing hut, and the "bathroom" hut located above the ocean. My family included my dad and mom, both age 28; 3 brothers, ages 2, 4, 5; and grandmother. There were lots of neighbors and other family members who came by to meet the American. It was a long day since it began so early, but such a wonderful day adjusting to everyday life on the islands with the Kunas.
The island was very small. It took a minute to walk the width and 10 minutes to walk the length. Between 1000 and 2000 people live on the island. Life is very laid back and simple. The men go fishing for food and go to the mainland where they cultivate platanos, coconuts, and other fruits and vegetables. Women cook, take care of children, and make molas, their native stitching made into shirts. Recently, tourists have fallen in love with molas, and the making of molas provides a significant income for the Kunas. Money is used on the island, but only to exchange goods. Everyone has what they need on the island because they use what the land gives without exploitation. A beautiful existence. The government of Panama works with the Kuna government to give them their own authority while still being part of Panama. It was great to see that old customs of native peoples still exist in the world.
The people treated us so well on the island. They took us on special trips to another deserted island to swim and their farms on the mainland. We worshiped with them 2 nights and even got to sit in on a governmental meeting. They caught and cooked a lobster and crab dinner for us. Their diet is mainly rice, fish, and platanos. We even got to help prepare, aka slaughter, fish. Not my favorite part. Most of the days were spent relaxing in hammocks, just being with the families. I loved experiencing such unique lifestyle and customs.
It's difficult to describe my experience because it is so different from our own lifestyles. The biggest adjustment was not doing much of anything and just being. They take care of their immediate needs: food, clothing, shelter; but, there is not a rush and push for new and better, always wanting more, like here in the States. Even here when we get together to hang out, we're always doing something whether we watch a movie, play sports, play games, etc. Their lifestyle consists of sitting, being, and conversing with one another. I loved the simplicity.
We left the islands after 5 nights there. We returned to Panama City and explored historical sites such as the Panama Canal. From Panama we flew to Miami to reunite with the whole group for a re-entry workshop. And December 13, I finally reunited with my family in Memphis, as well as with four friends who made a surprise visit.
So now it's almost been 2 weeks since my time in Latin America. It has been difficult to adjust between cultures and between the extremes I've experienced within the past 4 months. I'm still figuring out a lot of things in my life, especially what to do after graduation. Only time will tell as no answers come easy or without processing. All I can say now is that the past 4 months changed me, changed my life, but only God knows what those changes will produce.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)