S/V AMICUS

Part 3--Costa Rica--What We Did for Ourselves

Costa Rica was not all work.  On the side, we did other things for our own edification.  (Lesson no. 6:  Have a long-term local decide what is valuable to see or hear.  Not a single thing we went to felt overrated, expensive, or cheesy.)  We were taken to a “souvenir shop” which included a factory in the back.  Working away was a big water wheel, a completely hydro-powered system for making the ox-cart wheels. The shop in back also featured several artists who were making the exquisite souvenirs being sold out front for incredibly cheap prices.   One of the artists even let me paint!

Another day, we went on a tour of a coffee plantation.  The farmer, though clearly tired after a long day’s work, gave us a full tour, explaining (in Spanish) the plants, the processing, and the economics, of coffee farming.  Wow.  He has revived the farm from almost certain bankruptcy by taking out the middle man and finding roasting sources in the U.S. who sell his coffee at gourmet (fair) prices.  Still, climate change is disrupting his yields and farming patterns, and privately he told Charlie he thinks there is a limited number of years left for his plantation.  The issues were different from ours, but the themes were similar:  Pests.  Seasonal shifts. Rain when it shouldn’t rain and drought when it should.  It sounded a lot like our berry situation, in fact.  You can guess that Al Ringer was all ears and I wished they could have talked separately, without an interpreter (Al is also a farmer and a berry grower).  At the end we all bought coffee, of course.  I was, as I was every day, deeply affected by all I had learned and by the good will and honest nature of everyone around me.

We also went to a huge farmers market.  The colors and delights never ended.  Our mouths watered at the bursting mounds of bright red tomatoes, bright orange fruits, bright green greens....it was painful not to buy much.  We were leaving the country within 48 hours.  (Lesson no 7:  the fruits and vegs in Costa Rica are as good as everyone says). 

Speaking of food, Our meals, served faithfully three times a day, were delightful, mostly—a change, of course, but we just went with it and ate what was available and it nourished us well.  I never felt overly full, was always hungry at mealtimes, and appreciated that options were few but delicious.  As daily bean-and-rice eaters anyway, we had fewer adjustments to make than some others.  There was always meat (from nearby farms) and plentiful cut fresh fruit.  Mangoes, watermelon, pineapple every day, almost every meal.   I am not a big fruit eater, but I became one quickly. Cedar and Lamar were in heaven.  We skipped the white bread and cereal, jam and margarine.

At night, we watched karote class at the Mission, or had a salsa dancing lesson one night, or played soccer ("football").  Twice we played, and I wished we’d tried earlier because we might have done it more.  It was one small way of giving back.  Oscar was always looking for players, and we also paid for the flood lights on the soccer field, it being dark by 6:30 pm. every night.  (Lesson no 8:  countries without excess wealth make a lot smarter choices about energy.  Lights on only when you need them, toilets that flush about a quart of water and ask you to put the paper in a bag, etc.).  

Once the soccer ball was dropped, the Costa Ricans ran circles around us, and both their skill and their joy in playing made it the most exhilarating soccer I have ever played or even witnessed.  We did our best (and the Gabourys, all three generations, are great athletes who give it their all) but we were no match for them.  We learned fast, because they were great passers, even to us.  They would sprint to the ball, execute the perfect handling, and then look up and do a sweet, gentle pass to exactly where I should be in 2 seconds….They delighted in everything, including ridiculous mess-ups.

As someone who has always thrilled in sport and competition, but so rarely sees or experiences it in its purest form, these games were thrilling to participate in—just effort, skill, and pure love of the sport.  No one kept score or time, players walked off to get water, then came back in.  When we all tired out (or rather, the North Americans were barely moving), by consensus we lifted our hands and cheered, to signal game over.  Locals biked around the field, or sat and watched, a much better way to spend the evening than sitting at home on a phone or watching TV, as we are prone to do in our country.  I thought for sure I had pulled a muscle, probably several, because I was so stiff and sore every night.  But the health of the air, the hard word, the delicious fruit, the sound sleeping… just all seemed to lead to fast healing, and by each morning I was pretty much ready to go again.

Our final day was the “day off,” and preparing for it actually proved to be the most difficult part of the trip!    Suddenly we had to decide (because the previously-chosen option closed unexpectedly) what to do, and given the focus on our own pleasure, we turned into regular old human beings with different priorities and concerns.  Some wanted to go to the beach and surf; others very decidedly had no interest in the beach but wanted to go to the rainforest.  No one seemed able to just say, “Whatever we do will be fine,” although most of us felt that way.  Trying to think outside the box, I asked Charlie if we could take two buses, but this option would cost some and we'd been planning as a group.  Feelings got hurt, should we stay together…… eventually Mike our fearless leader decided that we would all go together to the rain forest.  We had a circle-like meeting in the evening to iron it out and went to bed feeling pretty normal (I think). 

The next morning we were on our way—the drive was 90 minutes on winding roads, never more than 45 mph, but it took us into a whole different part of Costa Rica.  We climbed up through the clouds and through a whole different culture and eco-system.  Suddenly there were small farms, ruminants grazing and everything was green, foggy, and chilly.  Ah yes, the rain forest!  10 people did the zipline which took 1 ½ hours and was reported to be very beautiful and fun, despite the unanticipated fact that it was raining!  I thought they’d come back dripping wet and chilled to the bone, but they were barely wet.  The canopy really does keep the rain off.  I also noticed that the guides didn’t wear any rain gear.

Then, a buffet lunch and then a 1 ½ hr tour through the rain forest, with a focus on hummingbirds, butterflies, flora, and the swinging bridges.  Our guide was passionate and answered dozens of questions beyond the typical tour. He was incredibly personable, proud of his citizenry and of the priorities his country was placing on biodiversity and the preservation of all life.  When asked about the different blooming seasons for different plants (since they have no winter and summer—only dry and wet), he observed, “Well you know, God puts it altogether so perfectly--”--then went on to explain the intricate patterns of bloom throughout the year. We nodded, recognizing and sharing his reverence for our amazing complex planet and its Creator.  Never before have I shared religious values with locals from a foreign country; being on a Mission trip seemed to make it easier.  The basic trust level was higher, somehow.

 

Part 2--Costa Rica--What We Did For Others

We were there for 6 full days.  Having never been on a service trip or a mission trip before, I have nothing to compare it to.  All week I marveled at how well organized it was, in the important ways.  (In unimportant ways, it was not organized at all.  Things cancelled.  Buses were late or broke down.  Meals were whenever we were ready.  Soccer commitments were only required minutes before play time.)  Charlie Strong, founder of the Strong mission, and his staff, have long and deep partnerships throughout the area and so have shovel-ready work projects to direct and supervise, waiting only for the right group of laborers with the right skill set.  It was clear from the start—our daytime purpose was to work.  Breakfast was at 7 and the bus--or whatever transportation was functioning that day--left at 8.

Actually, the first day we worked on the Strong Mission itself.  We either organized all the goods we’d brought (clothes, fabric and patterns, crafts, school supplies, and soccer balls), painted the tires that made up a large homemade playground, or cleared a steep incline and built a tire staircase heading down to the river.  I did the steps, along with Micky and all boys and men.  Our packing list included clothes and shoes to work in.  They provided us gloves and glasses, picks, shovels, machetes, and tires.  Mid-morning we ate watermelon (this would happen every day).  Otherwise, we worked. The wind blew hard and by noon my eyes were watering, even with glasses, and I was coughing up dust.  Jesse and Ethan (13 years old) were great at rolling down the tires and clearing the way from below.  Micky and I shoveled and filled tires with dirt.  The men did the heaviest lifting and pounding the earth, generally, and strategized on the structure.  We didn’t do it exactly right, and in the afternoon had to re-do a bunch of our work.  (Lesson no. 2:  we are going to do the jobs correctly, so that this will last.)

Katya, Tessa, and Oscar

The rest of the days meld together in memory. The main project was working on an elementary school that had come close to closing a few years before.  It was just a 5-min drive away.  It was a great project for us because it was endless.  There was no standing around; skill levels were varied.  Mixing cement became our signature project, and Charlie himself showed us how with the first batch.  (Lesson no. 3:  Teaching with a language barrier can be done well; it involves example, gesture, tone, a few choice words, repetition, and correction.  That last was the hardest for the staff—they were so NICE, courteous, and deferential, yet they had to repeatedly interrupt our work and show us how to do it RIGHT!) 

Charlie led the way with such vigor that we instantly learned that getting the proper cement ratios mixed evenly is an intensely physically demanding job.   2 parts sand, 1 part stone, 1 part cement.  Five shovels working simultaneously in a circle. We mixed volcano style.  I thought my back was going to break, or at least pull a muscle.  “Better do it well—you bought it!” Charlie called out once, and I remembered that our fees for this trip included materials.  We had, literally, paid for that cement.  I was so happy about that!  What a brilliant system:  We provide time, labor, and materials.  They take care of our living needs, provide transportation, find the projects that need doing, and supervise/make it happen.

So for several different 1/2 day sections we spackled wall cracks, mixed and poured cement, set up frames for the electricity and the ceiling inside the classrooms, and plastered on stucco walls.  This was for a new special-ed building behind the main school. 

We worked on this school the majority of our time.  Smaller projects included sewing with a group of local women (we offered fabric, patterns, and company.  And quilting demos.  they paid back with enthusiasm, creative sewing projects, and great fun.)  Twice we hosted crafting parties with local kids.  We were prepared and had arrived with 3 different crafts.  The language barrier meant little when a table of beautiful white paper (thanks Renee!!!) and watercolors awaits with fresh paintbrushes.  The kids needed no explanations.  The reindeer-making, which Jan headed up, was more difficult, but she’d trained in several others and many kids walked away with a bamboo reindeer.  Tessa did the coffee-filter butterfly-making, which was a huge hit, especially when the kids figured out that they could use the pipe cleaners any way they wanted, including to dress the bamboo reindeer.

Meanwhile, mamas sat nearby and socialized.  I held a 2-month old baby and managed to discuss breastfeeding and a post-tube-tied pregnancy with one mama.  Stephanie, our bi-lingual staff, tirelessly translated.  And several parents knew passable English.  We were chagrined that we knew so little Spanish. (Lesson no. 4:  it’s never too late to learn a language.  I absolutely loved working on it, even though, inexplicably, I kept speaking in French!  Very low pressure but high return, talking to kids.) We took pictures only with express purpose from the mamas, so you won't see a lot of photos here.

These were all in poor neighborhoods but the kids looked happy—a lot happier than many North American kids, to be honest. Ethan, Jesse, and Brett caught their attention early with the universal language of tag, and it went from there.  The children were great at maintaining rhythms of play:  running around, sitting down to craft, checking in with mama, running around.  The lack of structure or overt "shoulds" for kids or mamas fit with their culture--and with my values as well.  Few things gave me greater satisfaction than watching the long table of quiet absorption as kids painted for as long, or as short, as their focus lasted. With no screens in sight, their focus lasted a lot longer than I've seen at home.  They appeared well-dressed and well-kept.  And their mamas were beautiful too.  Why, I wonder, are we compelled to wear such dull colors?  We compound the colorlessness of our winter with gray, white, black, brown, clothing.  Surrounded by a colorful country, brimming with flours and fruit, clothing in Costa Rica is loud and cheerful.

One morning we went to a Precario (ghetto/squatter neighborhood).  Just getting there was precarious!  Hugging the busy road, you could look down on three layers of shacks shoved close together leading down to the riverbed.  Only the roofs were visible.  Charlie had asked the families who lived there (apparently close to 400 people!) what they needed, and one thing that stood out was a safe, secure staircase, particularly for the elderly who were immobilized without a way out. 

So, we built the staircase.  The sand/rock was poured just inches from the busy road above. The bucket brigade brought it to the 1^st level where the cement was mixed.  The tires below were uprooted, the area cleared, and the wooden frame built for a cement staircase. (Lesson no. 5:  You can’t be serious about projects unless you have the right tools and materials.  Which they did)  And, the “bathroom” was right through a shack, right through someone’s home!  I wasn’t sure if we couldn’t pee in the brush because they didn’t want us to, or because they thought we needed a toilet at all costs.  Peeing outside would have been much more comfortable.

One final word about serving:  Much as I loved serving, being useful, doing God's work--however you want to put it--I never once felt like we were giving as much as we were receiving.  The privilege of being there, and the relationships built with the people there, and the way we were so warmly cared for, was the essence of the trip--far more than some notion of labor or sacrifice.  The very best of all was the Costa Ricans themselves.   I never connected to Charlie himself--he was here one minute, gone the next--but his staff, oh yes.  Oscar, the heart and soul of the Strong Mission, accompanied us everywhere and even slept there. (Before security cameras, he even guarded the Mission all night.)  Wilbur did the carpentry work with Mark and others and was a great soccer player.  Stephanie told us her life story on the last day while most people were zip-lining.  Warner spoke zero English but gave me a couple thumbs-up on my spackled walls after multiple do-overs, filling my heart with pride.  These people are currently able to work only when a group is at the Mission, so in a very real way, our presence was benefitting them.  The kitchen staff were unfailingly good-humored and I wish we could have interacted with them more. 

Stay tuned to read about the rest of What We Did!