March 14, 2006
The Greatest Day EVER
posted by Sharon
Some people have the ability to have a “normal” lifestyle, to carry on throughout a
complete day with their “normal” routines, and be pretty great with it all. But if
by some odd chance something out of the ordinary should happen, this “normal” person
might just not be “pretty great with it all” –This type of person should NOT hang
around me! Ha ha!
Recently, I started taking ballet classes in Cd. Victoria, a city about
45 minutes away. Now, normally my mom drives me; through the ejidos,
over the Sierra Madres, into the city, 3 days a week. But, because of
the crazy amounts of gas and time it takes up, we decided to mix this
normality up a little bit.
A few weeks ago, my sister Marla, Mackenzi Price, and I decided to be
brave and go to Victoria and come back again using only busses, taxis,
no phones, and our oh-so-perfect-Spanish skills. Wonderful, yeah? So
onto the bus the three white girls went.
The ride from Jaumave was uneventful, but when we got to Victoria and it
was time to hail a taxi….it went downhill from there. We walked outside
the bus station and a man asked us if we needed a taxi so, we all
crammed in the back seat, which was only for two people, and tried to
explain the address. Well, that wasn’t working out too well, so I just
told him the name of the street and he went in a round-about way to get
there. In any case, we made it to the school after about 5 minutes. (It
is only a 1 minute drive from the bus station) Normally, the charge for
the trip would be about 20 pesos. We were charged 40! The driver told us that
since his brother worked the next shift, he would have him come and pick us up
at 8:15 and that there was no need to call.
After my class, we waited outside ….until 9:00! And still, no brother!
So, we called another taxi. This driver took us straight to the bus
station and charged us 50 pesos! We were too tired and not fluent enough
to argue with him so we just gave him the money and left.
By the time we made it to the bus station the earlier busses had all
left, so we had to wait for the 9:45 bus, which actually comes at 10:00.
While waiting for the bus, we were all starving so we bought some
delicious looking nachos. I say looking for a reason. When the bus came
we hopped on, happy that our troubles were over, but, no, no, this was
not the end. During the ride home the man who I sat by snored, the
whole, the entire, and the complete way to Jaumave. Ha ha! Anyway, by
the time we drove up, it was about 11:15 P.M. and we were very tired.
We started walking to my house from the bus station (nobody was there to
pick us up) and as we were walking, some acquaintances of ours drove up
behind us and asked if we wanted a ride. How could we refuse? We looked
in the back of their car and their two little girls were sleeping so we
said no, but they woke them up anyways and the 5 of us were all packed
in.
At 11:30 we FINALLY arrived at home all safe and sound. From taking this
lovely trip, we concluded that we are white, we do not speak Spanish,
busses and taxis are just not for us, and that we do not lead the
“normal” lifestyle. The next day we got a good laugh from it all and
thought it would make for a GREAT blog entry!
October 04, 2005
Siberia
posted by Margie
Siberia (pronounced See-veh'-dee-ah) is a small ejido south of Jaumave. It was to say the least, off the beaten path. It was five hours of winding, bumpy, one lane mountain roads before we actually arrived in Siberia. The drive was beautiful but it is easy to see why they don't receive a lot of visitors. It was five hours from a gas station, auto mechanic, hospital, or any other type of civilized establishment.
On the drive, you begin to ask yourself, "why people would live this remote from the rest of the world?" Upon arrival, as the beautiful mountains speckled with small farm shacks greet you, you begin to relax unknowingly as you are swept away by the simplicity and beauty of this existence. There are crops growing, flocks and herds being tended, children running down the path to see what visitors have come. As you step out of the vehicle, you are met with the cool, fragrant air. All the stress of the long, treacherous journey is suddenly snuffed out as every sense is suddenly caught up in delight. It is impossible to be annoyed any longer.
The only common building is the tiny church. It was very sad to see a lock on the door because it is currently not in use. Even with all its beauty, the people of Siberia are unable to keep a pastor or a school teacher.
A meal was prepared for us in the kitchen of a local woman. The men were served first. They would not let me help and wanted me to sit and eat with the men. Sharon and I found something else to do to look busy and waited to eat with the women. It is probably good that I did not help because the meal was prepared on an open fire fueled with small sticks of wood. I might have burned down the kitchen.
After the meal, we had a wonderful service. The little church was bursting. There were 39 children in the service, not including the babies. They were taken outside and taught a scripture and a song that they later presented with great enthusiasm to the rest of us.
The families that work with Joshua Projects (Americans and Mexicans) donated clothes and money for beans and rice. We were able to bless every family in the church with food and clothes. The clothes and shoes were laid out and the women came through very orderly choosing things for her own family as well as offering up items for others when they thought they applied.
The people of Siberia seemed to really love their home. I was asked more than once if I thought it was beautiful there. As we were leaving, a young girl came running after the van with a sack full of fresh-picked apples. We stopped to receive this precious gift from a child. The apples still had their leaves on them. Sharon had never seen a "real" apple before. She was thrilled. I have never seen such a remote place with such a "real" need for ministers. The people of Siberia made this need known to us and our hearts remain heavy with the burden.
July 29, 2005
Miguel Hidalgo Haunted Us Across Mexico
posted by Heather
Whether we were driving in circles in Guanajuato, or finding our way through the busy streets of León, Don Hidalgo was there, painted on a tile placed high in a wall, giving his name to the street on which we wandered.
We left Jaumave on the afternoon of Friday, July 23, driving a white 15 passenger van down to Guanajuato and León to search for product ideas in the markets and talk with leather processing companies. There were five of us; David and Madeleine and baby Jesse, Mackenzi, and myself (Heather).
Our road led us South, through the plains. There cactus grows taller than the few mesquite trees. The sky seems very close to the hard-baked dirt, and oddly-shaped mesas stand up suddenly out of the dust. Little huts made of poles and thatched with dry yucca sit beside the highway; during the day vendors come out from the desert behind to sit in the shade of the huts and sell snake skins, wild birds, or little foxes that turn in tight circles in their tiny pens. We drove on, while the sun set behind the bank of clouds that lay low in the horizon and the plains began to rise into the rolling, mountainous region around Guanajuato.
Plan A had been to stay with a missionary family on the other side of the town. But as 11:00 PM approached, then passed, and we were still driving in circles, we decided to find a hotel instead. Miguel Hidalgo laughed from his perch on the concrete walls. We followed his street down into subterranean tunnels and back out, toward the edge of town then back in. The van complained as we forced it around corners in narrow, cobble-stoned streets. The brakes began to smell as we went down the steep inclines, only to go back up when one-way streets turned us in directions we did not choose.
It was well after midnight when we gave up on our maps and David's keychain compass. Miguel Hidalgo had won. A taxi driver eating a late dinner at a taco stand agreed to lead us to the hotel we had called for reservations – La Casa Mexicana. He took us farther than we expected, out of Guanajuato, leaving us finally at a very nice looking lodge just beyond the edge of town. It was not until after we had paid him, and he had left, that we realized that it was NOT La Casa Mexicana. It was a Bed and Breakfast, and it was closed. Blankly we stared at each other; we were completely lost, it was nearly one o’clock in the morning, and we were no closer to finding our hotel than when we first entered the city nearly three hours before.
But God was faithful. His faithfulness would become a recurring theme during our trip. It took only a few minutes to find a second taxi, who led us back into town, through the same tunnels in which we had wandered, and right to the doors of the Casa Mexicana.
We spent two full days in Guanajuato, visiting the markets that abound in this very pretty city set on the side of a mountain. David was looking for ideas and patterns, crafts that might influence the work that Joshua Projects' El Proyecto del Carpintero will be making. Guanajuato is a very pretty town, with plazas shaded by huge trees, and winding, cobblestone streets running up and down the mountainside. Street vendors stand on the sidewalks by the national theater. The markets are crammed with vendors, selling everything from tomatoes and onions to shoes, underwear, or baskets. A farmer – his skin wrinkled and leathery from the sun – led several donkeys down the street. His ten-year-old son rode the lead donkey. Old women sat on the edge of the concrete stairs, scraping the spines of flat cactuses with huge knives in their tiny, wrinkled hands.
Monday we left Guanajuato behind and drove about an hour to León, the leather capital of Mexico. We forestalled Miguel Hidalgo and found a taxi before we were lost, and followed him to the first leather processing company we would visit, Bengala. The representative met us at the big, steel door to show us around and explain the processes to us. He took us past big drums tossing fresh leather with dye, past a steel table where small hoses spread paint on the leather, passed racks of leather drying, and into his office. There he spent close to an hour answering David's questions, cutting off leather samples, and writing down restaurant recommendations, leather market locations, and the name of a nearby hotel.
Here again we were struck by God's faithfulness, shown to us through the representative. Not content with giving directions to the hotel, he led the way to make sure we arrived.
God went before us the next day, too. When losing our way, or dealing with difficult banks, or the inevitable delays kept us from visiting the third and last leather company until just before it closed, it seemed as if our meeting would be short and ineffective. Instead, we found that the rep was undistracted and able to give us his undivided attention, answering questions and giving us the behind-the-scenes tour.
Miguel Hidalgo continued to follow us as we started home. But we were expecting him now, and he couldn’t catch us quite the way he did that first night in Guanajuato. Safely back in Jaumave, it is clear to see how God blessed us and protected us on this trip through Mexico. Yes, we got lost over and over again, but He always helped us find our way in the end. He protected us in Guanajuato as we wandered through the markets. He gave direction in León as we talked to the leather companies, helping us to gather the information we needed. He got us back home safely.
Miguel Hidalgo might have followed us across Mexico, but God went before us.