Day 7 in Mexico (plus a few days prior)

Today was the first workday here in Tlapa. Prior to today, Esther and Mark have been on a pseudo-vacation. It is not that they haven’t been doing work, they have just been out of their normal routine, and for the past few days we have been doing touristy type stuff. Let me catch you up briefly on the last few days.

On Friday we spent the entire day on the road from Mitla to Tlapa. We arrived in Tlapa at around 10:30. The actual drive time was only about 8 hours, but we spent some time in Mitla running last minute errands and picking up the two other translators, Carol and Lynn, who were riding back to Tlapa with us, so we didn’t actually hit the road until about 12:30. Then figure in stops for lunch, gas, and stretching. 

We stopped for lunch but not for dinner. I mention this because the reason for it is an interesting cultural difference between Mexico and the US. The eating schedule here is off by about 3-4 hours from that of the typical American. Since I arrived, I haven’t eaten lunch before 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and we normally have dinner at around 8:00 PM. I think that once I get used to it I will actually like this schedule better; in the interim I am using apples to get me through to meal times. 

Saturday was relatively uneventful. Mark, Esther, and I had all been burning the candle at both ends for the last several days, so after a good 3-mile run in the morning, we spent the rest of the day unpacking and napping. That evening Mark and I decided to run in a “5K” race. I put 5K in parentheses because, though the ad in the paper said “certified 5K,” Mark and I measured it with Google Earth and by driving the route and found it was actually approx. 9K (5.4 miles). 

Mark, Mauri, and I before the race.

I woke up the morning of the race with what some have called “Montezuma’s revenge.” It is a common ailment caused by exposure to bacteria in the water in Mexico. I will say no more, except that it left me very dehydrated for the race and more than a little sick to my stomach. Still, I couldn’t not run, so I put on a brave face and accompanied Mark and his pastor friend Mauri to the starting line. 

During the race.

I got 7th place! Don’t let that fool you; I really didn’t have that great of the time. Mark and Mauri both finished before me. They are both seasoned runners (they have both run marathons).

After the race.

I was pretty sick by the end of the race, and after a brief shower and breakfast the Weathers and I headed quite tardily for the Me’phaa mission’s church service. We didn’t feel all that bad since Mauri is the pastor and he was also a little bit late. I must admit that I didn’t get much out of the service. I hadn’t expected that I would, because I assumed the service would be in Me’phaa. It turned out that it was conducted in Spanish. Nevertheless, Montezuma wouldn’t allow me to focus much at all. Luckily I was feeling enough better by the end of the service to enjoy an extended visiting time with the congregation. We even ended up giving two families a ride back into town. Unfortunately I forgot my camera, so I have not pictures from church. Next week!

That afternoon we took naps. Another part of the culture here is what is know as “ciesta time.” From about 2-4 in the afternoon, many businesses will close. During this time, the main meal of the day is eaten, and it is often accompanied by a nap. This is one aspect of Mexican culture I could definitely get used to!

In the evening, we pulled out Esther’s omnichord, an electronic musical instrument that is really quite hard to describe. It can simulate many different instrument after a fashion, and it can also function as a small midi keyboard. It has a very unique sound and is easy to play because it automatically forms chords and the keys for the chords are arranged in the circle of fifths. 

The omnichord. This is one funky instrument

We also watched a DVD of a music writing workshop put on by another Wycliffe couple working with a language group farther north. Then we discussed the need for original worship music in Me’phaa and how I might be involved in the process. It is actually much more doable than I anticipated.

Now we come back to today – finally. The translation team came in from surrounding villages in las montañas. I met Elías, Plácido, Benito, and Emy (Benito’s wife). They spent the day working on translations, and I spent the day learning Spanish (see previous post), reading articles on missions, and helping Mark with various computer related needs. 

Some of the translators at work.

Elías eating breakfast with us.

Benito. I will probably go and visit his village in a week or so.

Tomorrow I have a few more projects outlined that involve finding appropriate backup software and installing it on the computers. I think I have found an inexpensive top-of-the-line backup program that will really help simplify some things for Mark and the team. We’ll see.

Hasta mañana or someday soon thereafter.

Learning Spanish

For anyone who is interested, here is the transcription of a conversation I had today in a local store (tienda). I had an mp3 recorder in my pocket, so when I got home, I transcribed the conversation. It was a lot of fun, and I learn so much by going out, talking with natives, and then listening to the recording to catch anything I missed.

La conversación con Shelly:

Me - Buenos días! ¿Cómo estás?
Shelly – Bien. 
Me – Soy de estados unidos y estoy aprendiendo español poco a poco y quiero aprender más.
Shelly – OK
Me – ¿Cuanto tiempo has trabajado en esta tienda?
Shelly – Un año.
Me - ¿Un año? Muy bien. ¿Cuál es el horario de esta tienda?
Shelly - Nueve de la mañana. Ocho y media de la noche.
Me – ¿Qué es el nombre para esta tienda?
Shelly – Llavandaria cael. ¿Dónde vives?
Me – Vivo en los estados unidos, en dallas, texas. Y en mitla, vivo con los Weathers uno calle atrás (behind).
Shelly – And what are you doing here?
Me – Por un mes, estoy viviendo con los Weathers y aprendiendo español.
Shelly – ¿Solamente aprender español?
Me – No. No solamente, pero aprender español. También estoy trabajando con la traducción de la Biblia en Me’phaa. 
Shelly - ¿Traducciòn? Sí, pero habla bien español.
Me – Sí – poco. Quiero hablar en español, y estoy aprendiendo poco a poco.
Shelly – ¿Se le hace difícil?
Me – Sí.
Shelly - ¿Sí?
Me – ahh…. No sé.
Shelly – Pocito.
Me – Sí, pocito. Gracias. ¿Cómo se llama?
Shelly – Shelly
Me – Me llamo Wes.
Shelly – West?
Me – Wes. Es corto para Wesley. Mucho gusto.
Shelly – Mucho gusto. Cuando usted quiere practicar, usted me enseñe inglés y yo te enseño español. Podemos practicar.
Wes – Sí. ¿Puedo venir aquí y puedo practicar español y tu puedes practicar inglés?
Shelly – Sí.
Wes – Muy bien. Muchas gracias. ¡Adios!

Most of that isn't super complicated, but at the rate that she was speaking, it felt great to be able to understand most of what she said and carry on a productive conversation with her.

Day 3 in Mexico

I wrote this on Thursday but couldn't post it until today:

Today we went on a big outing. It was an all day affair, and along with us came Naomi, Liz, and David Gonzalez. David is one of the cutest 6 year olds I have ever met, and his mother Naomi and her sister Liz were warm-hearted. I enjoyed speaking Spanish with them, and they were very understanding and helpful.

David. He had me wrapped around his little finger.

David with his mother Naomi.

Liz is David's aunt and Naomi's sister.

After picking up the Gonzalez family, we drove up into the mountains until we came to the top of the pass over the mountain range. At about 9,360 ft., we stopped to have a picnic lunch in a meadow that Mark and Esther had been to before. Mark told me a story about the last time they went to this particular meadow with some friends from Mitla. They arrived to have lunch there at about 2:00 PM on a rare clear day during the rainy season. As soon as Mark pulled off the road, he felt his car sink down just a little. A few hours later, when they decided to leave, he got in the car, and as soon as he pressed the gas pedal the car sank in up to its axels. They didn’t get home until 1:00 AM.

Our experience was much more pleasant. I climbed up into a huge cactus plant and had my picture taken. David and I played catch with pine cones, and when he tired of that, Mark and I worked together to rig up a “columpio” out of rope and tow straps that Mark had in the Durango. David got endless enjoyment out of this makeshift swing, and I got endless enjoyment watching him (and pushing him). After a picnic lunch of tuna fish sandwiches, manzanas (apples), and jugo de mango (mango juice), we packed up to go down the other side of the mountain where we visited a trout farm.

I am standing in the middle of a huge cactus plant. What is amazing is that the plant pictured is nowhere near the biggest of these that we saw.

Mark pushing David on his columpio. "Mas alto! Mas!"

The trout have to be imported from a hatchery several hours away, and they are kept in various pools along a hill. There is a makeshift waterfall between each pool, which has something to do with the oxygen levels in the water I think. The restaurant where you can buy cooked trout was closed, and no one in the expedition wanted to carry home raw fish. Nevertheless, we all enjoyed watching David feed the trout.

David crossing the bridge at the trout farm.

We took a different route back down the mountain than we had taken coming up, so we got to go even higher (10,500 ft.) and passed through several small mountain villages. One of the villages was having their annual town fair. We heard several homemade fireworks go off, and we saw the men constructing a huge firework tower for the show later.

The trout farm.

Today was the first day that we used primarily Spanish for the whole day. Since the Gonzalez family didn’t speak English and I am trying to learn Spanish, all our conversation was in Spanish. It was exhilarating for the first few hours, comfortable for the next few, and exhausting towards the end of the day. It requires constant focus and mental processing to trace even the most simple of conversations. Nevertheless, I learned a ton, and I am looking forward to another month of exhilarating, exhausting, informative interaction in a country I am growing to love.

Beautiful pine forests at the top of the mountains.

I took this on the way back down the mountain. David leaned out the window to take everything in almost the whole way.

When we got back to Mitla, we went straight to the Gonzalez’s church for their evening service. It was much harder to understand the Spanish spoken during the sermon than the Spanish we had been using all day. For one thing, my brain was running on reserves. Plus, the pastor was from El Salvador originally and had a strong accent. Also, during the day I could use events and motions to guide me in understanding the conversation; the sermon was given with few useful motions, and my only guide was the fact that I was fairly familiar with the text of 1 Corinthians 11. 

The church we attended was located in this pavilion next to the Gonzalez's house.

At the beginning of the service we sang a few worship songs. I was able to participate pretty well, though I didn’t always know the meaning of the songs, because I could predict the melody pretty well based on the chord patterns and the lyrics of the songs were in the bulletin. When we finished singing, the pastor, Americo, split us into pairs. Each pair was assigned three verses out of 1 Cor. 11 to read and discuss. I was paired with an older lady, and I’m sorry to say we did little discussion. Still, our interaction was cordial, and when I saw her in the market today in Mitla, we exchanged familiar greetings.

The guitar that was used during the service belonged to Liz, so afterwards I asked her if I could play. We ended up singing together and trying to find out which English worship songs had been translated into Spanish. The Gonzalez family came back to our place to eat, and on the way we stopped at “Taco Brown” to get some awesome tacos. After the meal we sang and laughed the night away.
I feel as if I have been here for a month already, but it has actually been just a few days. Tomorrow the rest of my time here will take shape as we return to Tlapa where the Weathers live and work. They will be translating during the day, and I will begin the work the Lord has for me to do here, whatever that may be.

Food from Taco Brown. Good food and great fellowship.

Day 2 in Mexico

I wrote this on Wednesday but couldn't post it until today:

My brain is tired! After only my second day in Mexico, my brain is exhausted from all the learning, but I am having such a blast as I meet new people, experience a new culture, and learn a new language. 

Whenever I see or hear a word that I don’t know, I try to ask Mark what it means as soon as possible, so my vocabulary is gradually expanding. In the next few days I am going to try to get out into the streets and speak with natives as much as possible. Each day I will have several phrases that I will try to use repeatedly, but I think that with the amount I know I can also just have some general conversations with people without too much trouble. People are so friendly, so as long as I say “Soy de Estados Unidos. Quiero aprender Espan~ol” or something similar they are happy to have a conversation with me and try to be cognizant of their rate of speech.

After sleeping only an hour and a half in the Mexico City airport on Monday night and going straight from the airport to visit the ancient ruins at Monte Alban, I crashed yesterday at about 4:30PM. I slept until 9:00AM the next morning, although I was awake for a few hours in the middle of the night. Even after all the sleep, I am ready to crash. Today was a full day.

Mark and I went today to see “hierve el agua,” which literally means “it boils the water.” To get there we had to traverse a 7500 ft. mountain via a dirt road. The views were spectacular; the ride was bumpy. It was well worth the trip. 

One of the sediment waterfalls.

The more impressive "sediment-fall."

For centuries natural mineral springs have been bubbling out of various holes in the side of the mountain. As a result, solid waterfall-like structures have formed from sediment deposits. It was quite a hike. When I get a faster internet connection, I will upload whole albums of this expedition and my trip to Monte Alban yesterday (pictured below).

Some of these structures date back to over 500 years before Christ. These ruins were truly incredible to explore on Tuesday.

We arrived back from hierve el agua at 4:00PM to our house in Mitla, which is known as the Miller House. It is a large house that used to be owned by a family of translators who were some of the first to work among the indigenous population near Mitla. Now the house is owned by SIL and has been divided into three apartments used to house various translators when they are in town. Soon thereafter we left to go and have dinner with Tim and Rebecca. This couple used to live in Tlapa. They work with the Southern Baptist Mission organization. Tim is involved in training church planters to use a method of evangelism that utilizes story telling. They lived in New Orleans for many years, and we had some wonderful jambalaya. 

Tim and Rebecca...sideways.

The whole dinner party!

Car rides seem to be particularly informative for me because I sit in the front with Mark and question him about Spanish and other things for most of the ride. Mark and Esther have forgotten more than I’ll ever know, so I figure if I keep my ears open I will learn a ton.

Well, I am exhausted. I am supposed to jog with Mark tomorrow at 6:45, so I will call it a night. Hasta luego.

First Post from Mexico!

I am sitting in el aeropuerto de la Cuidad de Mexico (The Mexico City airport).  I found some unsecured wireless signal from a local restaurant so I could get online.  It is currently 3:20 AM, and I leave for Oaxaca in about 4 hours.

On the plane, I sat next a very nice Irish gentleman.  He lives in Chicago but is traveling to  Mexico City on business.  We talked quite a bit, which was enjoyable.  In the airport I have had several successful exchanges with native speakers in which I understood probably 50% or more of what the other person was saying, which was good enough to get the job done, especially with gestures and body language helping.

At the airport I used my phone card to call Mark Weathers to let him know that I arrived safely.  He told me that some friends of his family were going to visit some famous ruins outside of Oaxaca and that I would be welcome to join them.  I know I will be very tired, but I figure I can sleep anytime; I don't want to miss an opportunity like that!

Well, that's all for now.  I'll write again when I am safely in Oaxaca.

401KOs

I read the sermon on the mount, and I can't help but wonder if a Christian, in general, should have a 401K or other retirment fund.

Christ says things like, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on Earth, where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal. Store up for yourselves treasures in Heaven where moth and rust do not destroy and thieves do not break in and steal."

He also says, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?"

So, how is a retirement fund not storing up treasures on earth because of our worry about our life and body? Well, it is just good stewardship of the funds God has given, and we don't want to be a burden on our children or society.

I think that good stewardship of the funds God has given us would be giving all our excess (and maybe even sacrificing some things) to erradicate world hunger. Good stewardship would be putting our holy boots in AIDS' ass. Good stewardship isn't making sure we can afford an RV and gas when the time comes for us to hang up the overalls or the suit.

Now, the point about being a burden to children is somewhat more valid than the "good stewardship" argument. In the world we live in, retirment funds may be a necessary evil (though not entirely nor to the degree we use them). However, let me take a moment and paint a picture for you.

Imagine a church when every moment from first to final breath was spent in commitment to Christian community. Imagine if we lived as people of equal means no matter our salaries and made sure that no one in our midst was in need (and, in this global society, this may look like trying to ensure that no one in our world is in need). Imagine how freeing this would be. Every person would be about kingdom business his whole life, and would work to support the family as long as he was able. When retirement came (from a career, mind you, not from lay ministry), it would be the natural cycle of things that the community, particularly his loved ones, would provide for him. It would not be a burden; it would be a joy.

What a privilege to help provide necessary things that don't really matter to a person who has provided and continues to provide so many things that really do matter. And there would be no guilt on the part of the elderly, for when they were still working, they too had helped provide to the generation before them.

One final question that will be left unexplored at present, for I must go to bed: Are retirement funds and massive savings accounts an outgrowth of western individualism?

Jealous of the Moon

There is a song that has been stuck in my head all week. I've tried singing other things, but that is just a temporary fix. Some songs speak to the heart. They speak from the heart. They express the inner longings of the soul in ways that I cannot explain. This is the chorus of "Jealous of the Moon" by Nickel Creek:

Staring down the stars,
Jealous of the moon,
You wish you could fly.
But you're staying where you are,
There's nothing you can do,
If you're too scared to try.

There are times when I think I could be great, and at times I see this same greatness in my friends. My generation is full of legacy that is still potential but is longing to be set free, and, although I am generally optimistic, I do, at times, become fearful that we will fall far short of all we could achieve.

I suppose that every generation dreams big when they are this age, but why then do we fail to achieve? If generation after generation has dreamt of a radically different way of doing things, then why is our culture so static. The surface may change, but a millimeter underneath is the same mildew that makes the tapestry stink.

There are two voices that affect our mindset. Our soul speaks in flashing moments of truth when the haze is drawn away, the problems become real, and the solutions become reachable. Opposing this first voice is our mind, like the radio on in the background tuned to the mix station. It is saying, "Sure. Write a new song, and we'll throw it in with the same old mix." It tells us that our originality and daring are only recycling and youth, and it is a tempting lie. If this lie were the truth, as it so often becomes, then we could take a rest. We could settle into comfortable and forget the things we have seen and heard before we went blind and deaf.

The voice of our soul is like a sprint. It gets our blood pumping, our heart racing, and our endorphins kicking. Still we stop before we go around the curve.

The voice of our mind is like a marathon runner. Like the energizer bunny, it keeps going. It looks back at the sprinter stopping to catch his breath and laughs with the knowledge that slow and steady wins the race, or at least it has with few exceptions for the past 10,000 years.

Here then is what we must do: We must discipline our sprinting soul. Slow down without losing the edge and take steps instead of leaps. We must become distance runners for change. If ever we do this, our souls will match stride with our minds, and we will find that the power of the two working in tandem is enough to break the mold. It is enough to churn the pond that has long been stagnant.

If we will discipline the part of us that longs to do great things, the part of us that longs to make things the way we see them on a clear blue day, then we will stop getting winded before we go anywhere.