Church Isn't a Building

Somehow, when I wandered into the First Congregational Church of San Jose about 25 years ago, I never imagined it would result in my Excellent Adventures series, chronicling a saga of amazing escapades. From slogging through the mud and mixing concrete in the rain in Tijuana, to hiking the peaks of Desolation Wilderness, to filling water stations in the Arizona desert, and sleeping in a mud hut, I experienced exhilarating moments and saw sights that broke my heart. I don't "go to church" any more, but I hold the community within me.

The PF Easter break mission trip in 2003 was an adventure of the extreme type. Our fearless leader, Wade, figured as long as he needed to be in charge of a gang of high schoolers for a week, why not go somewhere fun and exotic?  It didn't take much to convince the mission trip youth leader that Belize would be an appealing destination.  Of course few had any idea where the country might be, but it certainly sounded interesting. "It's in Africa, right???" Wade had this other creative idea… why not go on ahead of the group, to rest up and make sure all the arrangements are in order? (Read that, "Hey, if I go ahead, I won't have to shepherd all those kids through the flights, and maybe I can get in a few days of partying before they arrive.")

A bit of investigation and a scouting trip found the perfect mission project, an old folks home inland, near the border of Guatemala, in need of a new fence to keep the residents in, and wild animals out. Gulp…What wild animals? Oh well, you know, on the edge of the jungle there are many native species to keep you on your toes. The practical aspects of the location also seemed appealing. The Octavia Waight Centre was selected, partly due to their cool slogan:

"It's Your Turn Tomorrow so Help the Aged Today!"

The Centre provided a home to 24 elderly residents who had no family to care for them. You'd think people in such straits might be bitter or dull, but imagine our surprise to find an enthusiastic dominoes player, an active gardener, and a woman who lectured us on the evils of laziness!

           

The adventurous nature of the trip became apparent immediately upon leaving the church pizza send-off dinner. The vehicles were unable to keep together, but eventually all arrived at the San Francisco airport, with PLENTY of time to spare. Airport boredom spawned desperate activities like jogging backwards on the people mover, or losing one's passport on the tram. Yeah, we're all young ADULTS, aren't we? The airlines must have had an inkling of our nature, as they parked us in the last rows on the plane, in those wonderful seats by the bathroom. You know, the ones that don't recline, and people filling the aisles in line for the potty love to jiggle while they wait? Yeah, that was us. We even added to the frivolity as we neared Belize City, only to have one unfortunate youth discover that turbulence=queasiness, a situation that you need to be prepared for before you actually need it. Yes, the aisle of our plane was duly christened, as the airsickness bags were nowhere to be found at the critical moment. Certain adult leaders were never happier to see Wade than when he met the plane. The reins of responsibility were handed over with great relief.

The sense of adventure truly began when we set eyes on the vehicle that was to be our transportation for the week. The 15-passenger van was specially equipped with no suspension, and a front windshield that was a web of cracks. Our smiling driver, Luis, expressed his gratitude for our visit, and headed on down the road, a 90-minute drive to the Octavia Waight Centre in San Ignacio. We soon discovered why vehicles in Belize have no suspension. The roads are regularly interrupted by something called "pedestrian ramps", major speed bumps sometimes hiding and throwing themselves under our vehicle with little warning. A yellow sign generally preceded the evil speed bumps, with a symbol that looked amazingly like a pair of boobs. This caused regular hilarity in our group.

We lunched on the way, luckily pulling in just before the tour busses, and soon found ourselves arriving at our destination. A quick orientation included an introduction to some native wildlife. Luis kindly showed us how to poke a stick in a hole on the lawn, near where we were to pitch our tents, pour water in, and out comes an annoyed tarantula. Thinking this was an exciting, unusual event, we passed around a jar with the captured spider. Luis claimed he returned it to the wild behind his house. As the week wore on, we discovered that there are actually dozens of these holes around the property, and by mid-week, boys were chasing girls with a tarantula on a stick. By the last day, some had even taken to holding the critters in their gloved hands. Our other wildlife included an enthusiastic greeting committee of giant cockroaches, frequently turning out to cheer us on as we entered the bathroom. Their gecko buddies scampered by from time to time, helping us feel safe from mosquitoes. On a serious note, Luis did caution us to beware of coral snakes, as two "small ones" had recently been killed on the front patio. Repeat after me, "I love a good adventure."

Wade had warned us several times that we were to be polite and say nothing about the food if we didn't like it. That warning turned out to be unnecessary. Most of us found the diet to be one of plenty, from freshly made tortillas to fried jacks, and nobody went hungry. In spite of a week of work building the fence, it's doubtful that anyone lost weight while at Octavia Waight. Our heroine was Miriam, the cook who could. Nearly every mean included rice and beans… except when we had beans and rice!

We set up our tents on the front lawn, and the group soon found that such close quarters create a certain intimacy with tent-mates' bad habits. In an act of kindness, I gave my earplugs to Patrick, so he could survive his week with Austin, the champion snorer of our group.

We were advised that it would be most comfortable to get to work early each day, to avoid the worst heat of the day. For a brief moment, I feared it would be difficult to awaken teenagers early in the morning. That was before I got into my comfy tent, all tucked in ready for a good night's sleep, only to tune in to the nocturnal symphony of the obviously confused roosters of the neighborhood, in competition with groups of party dogs. The racket spreads like the wave at a football game… first one, then a few more, as you hear it nearing your location. And we're not just talking about a couple of chickens. Every home has a flock. We worked beside "our" chickens every day, getting to know their personalities. We enjoyed the antics of the two roosters near us, with the prize for macho king clearly going to the white one, while the red one persisted in stealth tactics, always chasing the ladies, rarely going un-noticed by the ruler of the roost. At least one of our youth got an education here, too, as he exclaimed, "The red rooster was trying to kill the hen by biting her on the neck while he jumped on her, but the white one saved her by chasing him off!" Uh, young man, let's have a little talk about the birds (chickens?) and the bees. So now EVERYBODY in our group knows how chickens "do it".

The actual work was to build a cinder block fence, 560 feet long, with 1600 blocks. We would have 2 groups of youth, each working 4 days. Our foreman, Nazim, first introduced himself as "Jack", but we quickly engaged him in our cultural experience by asking him to teach us words in Spanish. Amanda's exclamation that things were really "bomb", or "bomba" in Spanish, became the word of the week. We learned to mix concrete and set blocks in perfect alignment, and then filled in the gaps with bucket after bucket of concrete schlop. The work was tiring, and the sweat pouring off our bodies and stinging our eyes required frequent water breaks. On one of many trips up to the Centre to fill the water jug, 93-year-old Sofia was watching and asked what we were doing. I told her about the fence, and she said, "Well, you'd better make it pretty high if you're building it to try to keep me in." I assured her it was to keep animals out, and that we were working very hard out there. She said, "Well, that's relative. My parents didn't approve of lazy people." I certainly didn't feel lazy as I hauled buckets of sand to dump on the sifter. Many buckets of sand were sifted by Kadie & Allison, to be made into concrete. We passed the time by singing adaptations of popular songs like "Macho, Macho Girls". Most of the others just quietly kept on working, like Sarah, Brendan, Kris, and Geri.

It's true that we cut off work each day at lunch. Working hours were generally 6:00AM-12:00PM. Afternoons were reserved for cultural experiences. We enjoyed trips to the Mayan ruins at Xunantunich, a cave canoeing adventure, and a lovely afternoon at the Belize zoo. The cave trip proved to be a little more than we had bargained for, as it began with a white-knuckle ride in two vehicles of questionable safety, and included an overturned canoe with the loss of cameras. But we're a resilient lot, and we were able to put things behind us to forge onward to the next adventure.

Much of our free time was spent hanging around the Centre, visiting with the residents or playing games and seeking out adventure. Our group provided countless hours of entertainment for the old folks who generally spend their days sitting on the front veranda. One regular event was wheelchair races & games, where the kids would race back and forth, and have wheelie contests. Alan and Sam even went to a meal in the wheelie position. The antics brought many a sparkle to eyes of the elderly observing the activity and energy suddenly thrust upon them. They've never before had a gang of young people as overnight guests. Just having 14 new people greeting them throughout each day was pretty exciting, but we also connected with the residents in other ways. We regularly directed Pedro to his room. He's a blind guy with a habit of going into the wrong room. Although he didn't speak much, Gabriel so enjoyed his games of dominoes with Amanda. And who would have thought that a group of high school students would adopt Scrabble as their game of choice? Wade was addicted and exceptionally competitive, and insisted that he be allowed to play in every game. So the rest lined up to have their turns. It had to be some kind of record that two games resulted in words that used all tiles, resulting in a bazillion points each. Blowfish and jesters. There were also some hot and heavy games of 13 and Go Fish going on most evenings. Kadie and Allison are real brutes when it comes to card games, and they always included me since I make such a great designated loser. Kyle provided entertainment by sitting in a wheelchair, playing an incredibly out of tune piano on the front porch.

Some of the residents cried when it came time for us to leave. Just by being there we had brought a richness to their lives. And by accepting our gang of wild California kids, they enriched and touched our lives in ways we are still processing. Wade asked if there was a special need at the Centre that could be filled by a donation from our group. Although it was outside our budget, we found out that the Centre didn't have a working refrigerator. Wade and Miriam went shopping and selected one. Wade doesn't worry about a little thing like money. He figured he'd pass the hat amongst the kids, then maybe at the thank you luncheon. ("Thanks for your support, how 'bout a little more?") The refrigerator was delivered as a surprise, and Luis was beside himself with gratitude.

 

We headed out to await the arrival of the other group, at the water taxi building, where we hitched a ride to an island (Caye Caulker) for a weekend of fun in the sun. After a 45 minute boat ride, we found ourselves in a quaint, laid-back island culture where the meaning of "Belizian time" became clear. We soon learned to allow plenty of time when ordering a meal. Saturday's adventure was a snorkeling tour that took us to another island for lunch. We saw incredible rays, a few sharks, and plenty of beautiful tropical fish. On Caye Caulker, we stayed at Tina's Backpacker Hostel, a run-down bunkhouse with almost enough beds for 

everyone in our party. Several slept in hammocks and tents, so you know the place was bursting at the seams with our crowd. Wade led an oceanside Easter morning service where communion was served using grape Nehi soda. Yeah, life is tough on an island paradise.

Alas, the time had come to head back for the US. We made it home safely, but it was touch & go there for awhile. Miss Amanda fell victim to "tourista," and got progressively worse until it became apparent that she was dehydrated beyond a simple "drink some water" fix. During affirmations at the airport, she felt the need to lie down, and slept the entire time until take-off, on the floor. She nearly collapsed walking between planes in San Salvador, and the flight attendant called for a doctor before they'd let us take off. They wanted to know if the whole group would be staying, or the rest would go on without her while she was hospitalized. I told them that her parents would not authorize her to be put into a hospital in El Salvador. It ended up that the doctor gave her an anti-nausea shot, and tablets to take every 2 hours. Kris kept his arm around her, and basically held her down while she sobbed through the shot (she hates shots). He didn't move the entire flight, just monitored meds every 2 hours. She ran back to the bathroom and threw up one more time (for about the 7th time of the day), as we were taxi-ing for takeoff.  The doctor didn't speak English, but we agreed, through the flight attendant's interpretation, that the shot would be OK. It really helped. What a nightmare. Luckily she recovered in a day, with the skilled nursing of her mom.  So, OK, yeah, we had fun that day.

We arrived home after 1:00 in the morning, and re-entered our traditional (and privileged) lives. Everyone on the trip will carry a memory from their Octavia Waight adventure in their hearts forever.