Mexico Here I Am: October 2010

Friday, October 29, 2010

California Dreaming?

1. Barra De La Cruz

2. San Augustin

3. Grass Hut Chruch at San Augustin

4. From inside the church

5. Bayside of San Augustin

Thursday, October 28, 2010

So it has been a few weeks and the last couple blogs have been fairly heavy. There have been so many wonderfully carefree days and delightful fun with kids and staff. It isn't 24/7 drama. Sure sometimes it can be draining, but among whatever it is that may deplete or tire, there is also that which inspires and empowers. There is rest in this place.

The rest has come in days off or time to recover when feeling sick. Even being unexpectedly stranded in the city has broken up the routine. But if there were ever a place to get away from it all and completely relax, that place would be called Huatulco.

For anyone else Huatulco is about a 6 or 7 hours drive south from the mission sitting on the southern Pacific coast of the state. Luckily we had Habacuc who can complete it in a little over 5 hours including a stop for food. An impressive feat on such a winding mountain road in a 4 cylinder 12 passengers van. The man is a machine, using the entire lane and more to hold turns and keep momentum. Drafting close off the bumper of other vehicles, he sets up the pass. We snaked for hours through the southern mountains at double the posted speed limit. Scared at first, I soon gained courage after observing yet another precise and perfectly executed hairpin.

The entire point of the trip was to bring two of the young adults from our church down to help at church in Huatulco for a week or two. Arriving safely in the little beach town we dropped the kids at the church and hung out for the duration of the evening service. Haba talked with the other pastor at length, about what I'm not sure. Then, though late in the evening and dark as it was, we headed for the beach.

Walking across white sand in the heat of the night under moonlight was almost surreal. Not only that but there was an amazingly interesting hippie drum circle in full force. Beats raging complete with strung out, high on life and other things, hippie dancers. Seemed to be an eclectic group of Americans and Europeans. Not a local in the bunch that I could see. After a short walk and some time just gazing out at the watery expanse, we grab our sleeping bags and threw them out on the sand for the night.

Rising early the next morning we headed back to the pastor's house for breakfast. It was fantastic and bellies full we headed to their shed to borrow some surfboards. They had a bunch of old and busted, faded awesome boards. They handed us some of the beginner foam-tops and we were on our way.

We headed to a spot called San Augustin. There is actually a grass hut that serves as the church there on the ocean side of the point. On the cove side there is a string of grass hut restaurants and snorkel shops that are very busy at key points in the year but when we took to the beach there were only four other people. On the ocean side there were about eight or nine-foot waves crashing directly into a 45-degree beach so we took to the cove that was peaceful and quiet.

After taking a swim and then a long nap we ate some seviche and hung out and read for a bit. We were headed for another evening swim when I noticed some small waves were slipping past all the rocks and breaking over the choral in the bay. I grabbed one of the foam-tops and paddled out. A local kid joined me on a boogie board and we chatted and caught small short waves for about an hour. Then, as the tide slowly went out, the waves became a little faster and a little steeper and I went over the nose of the board and cut my hand a bit on the choral below. It was a sharp ending to my surf sesh, but I loved every second of it. We walked back over to the grass hut church and slept on the beach beside it for the night.

The next morning came early as Jeff and I were getting eaten alive by some unknown bug that came out of the sand to make us miserable. Haba opted for a room that some of the church members had offered to us, which was good because he was going to drive us back later. We were about to leave the wonderful San Augustin when some of the church members invited us to have breakfast at their little tienda. It was fresh fried fish with tomatoes and avocados and Coca Cola, of course. The breakfast of champions. We stayed and chatted with them for a while. Habacuc is never at a loss for keeping the conversation rolling. But we eventually left and Haba wanted to take us to a spot he said would be good for surfing. He wasn't kidding around.

We drove for about 45 mins and then it was down another bumpy dirt road to the beach. We had to stop and pay for access and we asked the guy how it was breaking today. "Mas o menos." "More or less," was the reply. I can't imagine what more would look like. We parked and walked past a grungy, skinny, sun beaten rabble hanging out by the lone tienda on the edge of the beach. I immediately felt like an outsider. They looked us up and down, eyebrows raised, and I knew, at least on some level, that I wouldn't be sharing any waves with these guys. I quickly found out why.

A few more steps and we had cleared a sandy knoll to a complete view of the best surf I had ever laid eyes upon. It was shocking. I immediately remembered pictures and footage of Jeffery’s Bay in South Africa and Honalua Bay in Maui. It was truly world class. A perfect right to left point break over a sandy bottom, it pealed beautifully for a few hundred yards into the bottom of the cove. Not only that but it was holding sets that were three and four meters high. A light offshore breeze held the wave for an extra second and the crew that was out caught wave after wave seemingly without effort. Catching the peak, they'd scream down the face and hook a huge bottom turn, powering back up to kick spray off the top. At that point they could make a full turn back into the wave or setup for the barrel only half way through the ride. Their rides were, in fact, so long that many of them rode it all the way into the sand and walked back to the end of the point and paddle in from there.

As much as I wanted to try my hand at perfection, I was truly out classed. Even if I had the skill and mustered enough courage to join the guild, I didn't have the proper stick. The beginner foam-tops we had wouldn't be able to hold a rail or carry enough speed to keep me in the blue on a wave like that. It would be like entering your broken down riding-lawnmower at the brickyard. We took some pictures, saw some iguanas and then headed for the car and home.

The last two days have been like many that have come to pass at the Casa Hogar. I woke early to drive kids to school and then returned to do some dishes. Jeff and I were again unsure as to what we would be doing but we were quickly given jobs about the grounds or going to town to run errands or sorting veggies. It was good to be back. The three of us had a ton of fun and now Haba is taking a group of kids to do worship music at the church down there and hang at the beach for a couple days. I know they will have a lot of fun. We are planning to go again around Christmas with some of the kids. Hopefully some day I'll be able to return to that perfect spot.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Visitation

By now there has been an overall shift from general impressions to relationships. The subtlies of eighty some people's emotions mingle and colide in the prisom of the Casa Hogar. This space that is your home, your work place, and house of worship. There is little room to linger between professionalisms and personalities, an idea that kids don't understand and the staff have most likely forgotten. And if only that were all one had to worry about harmony could prevail but forces from outside easily upset all that is worked for in a monthly prescribe disaster we call visitation.

My relationship with the younger boys remains the same as it was when I first arived. I am a true to life, walking, talking jungle gym. We have a lot of fun in the yard just in front of our rooms. Before meals we'll often begin a game of soccer which soon deteriorates into chasing, tackling, and throwing until I literally couldn't lift the smallest of them anymore.

The older boys are great. I love our house. Its amazing to get to know their personalities and interests. We'll play soccer into the night with the older kids. They'll bring out lights and extension chords. Its pretty competitive. I usually get stuck at gollie because I'm not very good. We'll play music in the chapel. I'll drive them to school or town. We'll work on projects around the grounds and always eat as a family in the comador.

Its amazing to know the staff better and understand on some level. They only thing I could say about them all is that they are characters. Among the most captivating is Edgar the pastor. He is a jolly middle aged man that will do anything at any time for anyone if they ask. They only thing more interesting that being around him is other poeple telling stories of his many exploits. As the saying goes, "its not the year, its the mileage." Edgar has lived. Growing up in a gang and all that means, he has reformed to minister to the mountain poeple of the area. The violence didn't end with his gang membership. He has been threatend with a pointed gun, drawn knife and fists and other weapons. But if God be for him who can be against him. Those that hated his ministry in the mountains would lament that he would not die. Triggers have been pulled without firing, threats have been made but his family is safe and together and vibrant. I ate dinner with them tonight.

I work with Habacuc as I've mentioned who is the young new pastor of the church. Him and his wife Dennis live at the Casa Hogar with their daughter and they are the sweetest family. He's a busy boy. He's on the leadership team and supervises the university students as well as his pastoral duties. Even still they will invite me and Jeff over for dinner and bring us food and drink while we work at the church. His abilities are astounding. On top of being a studied and well spoken minister, he is an incredible musician. Drums, bass, guitar, even cello, he can play them all and very very well; technically and with style. At the construction of the new church, he welds and wires. When the welding machine broke he pulled it apart and fixed it. We make due with the materials we have. Its going to be an impressive building.

The wemon of the mission are equally impressive. Some are in the middle of the heart renching adoption process. Some fell into responsibilities without yet mastering the language. Others are the reason the mission exists in the first place. Niche has been caring for some of these kids before Foundation for His Ministry began funding her. She has seen them grown and come and go. I do not envey the bredth of human experience she has wittnessed and lived. Maybe standing 5ft off the ground she has been provider, protector and love for these kids. And even in such small stature she is the last stop on the discipline heirarchy. "Do we need to talk to Niche about this?" If that doesn't work, whatever she says to them does.

Even so, not all the care and best efforts of these remarkable people can erase the reason the kids are here in the first place. The staff wait in silent aprehension for the coming monthly reminder of this fact. Parent visitation happens once a month. Kids wait to see their parents. Some reunions are good and testify to reform, change or blessing that are happening in the lives of the parent and flood over into the life of the child. But many are disapointed when parents do not come. Some know that no one is on their way to visit, but the others that do arrive remind them of that. And even those whose parents come, they can't stay and the parent leaves once again. The cluster of emotional baggages spills over the afternoon. Its not uncommen to have kids acting out and differently around this percarious day.

Its tough for the staff to watch the kids they care for to be hurt by people that in some cases have never cared or come and go from there lives on no particular basis. If not for this mysterious biological connection it seems some kids would be better off. I've been told that some of the kids that never knew their parents are the most well-adjusted kids at the mission.

Of course it would be best for the parents to achieve a place where they could once again or for the first time provide a healthy and loving place for the child to be with them. But until that happens, the best place for them to be is here with these people I've mentioned and so many more. Its a privilage and an education to be here with them.