consciously Choosing Revelry over Resignation

I am living in a nation of extroverts. Alongside our normal schedule of meetings and visitations, Christine and I have spent the last few days navigating the bustling social scene of Presbyterian ¨Jovenes¨ in Barranquilla. While ¨Jovenes¨ is often translated as youth, I´d say it more accurately, culturally applies to young adults. The IPC is a young church, bursting with the idealism and energy of young activists. The young adults we have found ourselves classified with range in age from 17 (just starting at the University, the youngest) to around 27 or 28. I´m finding myself on the older end, but just by a bit, while Christine (at 48 today) has been pretending to be much younger and enjoying every minute of it. ¨Jovenes,¨ here, has essentially been expanded to include all those who are old enough to make their own decision and take care of themselves (a capability that comes much younger here), but have not yet settled down into taking care of a family. There is a constant flux of activity.

In the last few days, we´ve been bowling at the local alley, visited the zoo with a student from the University, joined the party of a friend of a friend who came visiting from Venezuela for the meeting of the Latin American Council of Reformed Churches (AIPRAL), and had a day long series of birthday celebrations for Christine which are still just warming up. After two and a half weeks, I already feel as if I have become one of the regulars, which is a welcome feeling.

For me, this celebration serves as a release. In this same period I have, we have born witness to situations I know in the core of my being are not as they should be. Yesterday morning, we visited a displaced community on a small island, not 3 miles from the university, in the middle of the river and a 100 meter boat ride from the many of the city government offices. And yet, even at the heart of the city, la Isla was cut off from water, power, gas and access to necessary resources. Getting out of the boat, it felt as if we´d been plopped in an isolated rural community, yet the city skyline was always in sight. A group of staff from the local children´s library took us with them. The cross the river twice a week in order to bring educational programming to the community. They have one teacher for the community, who works off a cement landing covered by a tarp, and teaches first through third grade. Fourth, fifth, and sixth grades are sent to the school in another displaced community, to which they travel each morning in boats that appear as if they may disintegrate at any moment. The majority of the people support themselves through small farms on the island, where they raises green onions, coconuts, cilantro, and build makeshift pools to breed fish. However, there is no running water to provide irrigation, no power to assist in maintenance, and no manner of water filtration in order to make it drinkable, which prohibits their productivity. One of the local community leaders led us on a trek across the ¨Isla,¨ a sort of sight seeing tour of rural poverty in the middle of the city. He told us of his frustrations with the assistance they did get, and their lack of support from official organizations outside their perimeter. He recounted how a local organization had fundraised and gathered shoes for all the children on the island, and yet the day after their supposed arrival, all the children were barefoot because the shoes had been ¨lost along the way,¨ a casualty of government corruption. That anecdote, on its own, captures the depravity of the situation in Colombia….

Today we also attended a meeting of leaders in the displaced communities, as they educated themselves about potential amidst the development programs that already exist, and strategized to achieve the reparation they desire. It was another of those meetings in which I feel hopelessly lost, but know that they are only asking me for my presence.

Tonight, we continue the revelry with Christine´s birthday party. We will kick up our heels, and laugh about the depths we see each day. And so we continue…