Thursday, July 21, 2005
A horse of a different color
Yesterday was a strange day. It did not have to do with the girls of the home. It did not have to do with travel. Things are simply a little more wild here. Due to our location and the poverty of the area things happen more out in the open. The home is adjacent to the "Levy" an area of squatted land. The girls call it "El Bordo" or the "border". It hinges between those who own land and those who wander. There are gated houses in the neighborhood. There are however no gated communities . It was strange because the latter part of the day was spent trying to help a horse get a cast.
I need to make it clear I was not trying to romantize poverty in the last post. I simply wanted to highlight that it is easy to transfer our cultural ideas on to the cultures that we visit. I certainly lean in the direction of Liberation theology and believe that God can be seen more clearly in poverty due to the lack of obstructions. I don't think God gives preferential treatment to the poor. I believe God can be known by all of us. Wealth is not evil. I do however believe that it quickly becomes idolatrous when we focus on it rather than the relationships that can be formed in "the pueblo". I also believe that we are in danger of loosing community in the United States as we feel more and more threatened by our neighbors. Fear I think is greater than we know and the life of faith often begins with some "angel" announcing "Do not fear." If we lock ourselves away with our stuff it becomes more and more difficult to be approached by "angels" when they come. The opportunity cost may in fact be that we buy out of the very thing that makes life...life. We are losing the public square and even here in Honduras, where every "pueblo" has a physical public square, they too are losing it as they buy into our imported ideal.
Here in "Villa Florencia" it is more difficult to hide away. Many pass by and it is difficult to look the other way. Here the angels are up close. An angel came calling today. He was about 8 and his horse had a broken foot.
About four pm yesterday my son came to the apartment to let me know that Doug needed me. Henny told me, "Doug needs you to help him move the horse." If I had not seen the hurting little colt in the morning my sons statement would of floored me. Although here it is not as shocking to hear such a thing as in the states. We see horses pretty regularly. One evening two came tearing through the street in front of the home. Not far behind were the owners. We see dogs. We see chickens. In Copan we saw cows as we walked into town. Chickens and roosters wander the side streets. I was not surprised though. When we observed the colt in the morning we were visiting with Doug and Christine who live accross the street from the home and Christine's heart went out to the little thing. I knew at that moment that Doug was going to have to do something to help the horse and the boy. Otherwise, there would be no peace.
The boy was no clasic angel. He was grubby. He and his older sister lived in the Levy. They pull trash out of the area for limpera. He also was not that responsible. The colt had been following his mother when the colt "Maya" , was struck by a car. That was five days ago. The boy's family is probably not that great. In the course of the day we found out that the mother did not work and got money by having the children move trash. There is nothing romantic about this. This is hard. We also learned that their neighbors would abuse the horses out of envy. Poverty is not easy. The boy was neither the cherub of Christian greeting cards or the fierce imposing sentinal of the old testament. He was in need. His horse was sick. Christine had been the one to respond.
When I got there to be part of the moving crew the boy and his sister in turns had watched over the colt. We were under the assumption that the Vet was going to show up. A lot can get lost in translation. The vet was only a block and a half. I went over to see what the hold up was. She informed me through her son that she had patients and the horse would have to be brought to her. The colt was about 8o pounds so I asked her advise on how to transport. She gave me a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow would not do. Now, Doug, Henny, and I are as city as it gets. I've never moved a horse and I knew the wheelbarrow would not cut it. Doug began negotiating at the home to use a truck. Thankfully there was one available.
With some pain and whinnies both from the mother and colt we were able to get the horse aboard the pick up. We then set off what was sure to look like the biggest circus in a while. It was certainly the most surreal thing to happen yet. Doug got in the truck with Don Juan the driver. In the pick up was Maya the horse and the boy. Following behind running was me. Henny jogged behind me pushing the wheelbarrow. What made it more commical was that it is a cobblestone road so all I could really hear was the metal wheelbarrow with its wheel bouncing off every stone. Yes, we were a circus.
The block and a half quickly passed. We made it to the vet but we were not done yet. For the next hour and a half the three of us, the driver, the boy, and his sister with the mother horse stood around "Maya". She kicked. She whinied. She almost clocked me in the jaw when she kicked. Eventually however we ended when the cast set. Doug payed the vet and the boy wandered off with his horse.
You never know when angels will appear. Hopefully this one heard the message and will keep the colt off the street for three weeks. We'll see.
I need to make it clear I was not trying to romantize poverty in the last post. I simply wanted to highlight that it is easy to transfer our cultural ideas on to the cultures that we visit. I certainly lean in the direction of Liberation theology and believe that God can be seen more clearly in poverty due to the lack of obstructions. I don't think God gives preferential treatment to the poor. I believe God can be known by all of us. Wealth is not evil. I do however believe that it quickly becomes idolatrous when we focus on it rather than the relationships that can be formed in "the pueblo". I also believe that we are in danger of loosing community in the United States as we feel more and more threatened by our neighbors. Fear I think is greater than we know and the life of faith often begins with some "angel" announcing "Do not fear." If we lock ourselves away with our stuff it becomes more and more difficult to be approached by "angels" when they come. The opportunity cost may in fact be that we buy out of the very thing that makes life...life. We are losing the public square and even here in Honduras, where every "pueblo" has a physical public square, they too are losing it as they buy into our imported ideal.
Here in "Villa Florencia" it is more difficult to hide away. Many pass by and it is difficult to look the other way. Here the angels are up close. An angel came calling today. He was about 8 and his horse had a broken foot.
About four pm yesterday my son came to the apartment to let me know that Doug needed me. Henny told me, "Doug needs you to help him move the horse." If I had not seen the hurting little colt in the morning my sons statement would of floored me. Although here it is not as shocking to hear such a thing as in the states. We see horses pretty regularly. One evening two came tearing through the street in front of the home. Not far behind were the owners. We see dogs. We see chickens. In Copan we saw cows as we walked into town. Chickens and roosters wander the side streets. I was not surprised though. When we observed the colt in the morning we were visiting with Doug and Christine who live accross the street from the home and Christine's heart went out to the little thing. I knew at that moment that Doug was going to have to do something to help the horse and the boy. Otherwise, there would be no peace.
The boy was no clasic angel. He was grubby. He and his older sister lived in the Levy. They pull trash out of the area for limpera. He also was not that responsible. The colt had been following his mother when the colt "Maya" , was struck by a car. That was five days ago. The boy's family is probably not that great. In the course of the day we found out that the mother did not work and got money by having the children move trash. There is nothing romantic about this. This is hard. We also learned that their neighbors would abuse the horses out of envy. Poverty is not easy. The boy was neither the cherub of Christian greeting cards or the fierce imposing sentinal of the old testament. He was in need. His horse was sick. Christine had been the one to respond.
When I got there to be part of the moving crew the boy and his sister in turns had watched over the colt. We were under the assumption that the Vet was going to show up. A lot can get lost in translation. The vet was only a block and a half. I went over to see what the hold up was. She informed me through her son that she had patients and the horse would have to be brought to her. The colt was about 8o pounds so I asked her advise on how to transport. She gave me a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow would not do. Now, Doug, Henny, and I are as city as it gets. I've never moved a horse and I knew the wheelbarrow would not cut it. Doug began negotiating at the home to use a truck. Thankfully there was one available.
With some pain and whinnies both from the mother and colt we were able to get the horse aboard the pick up. We then set off what was sure to look like the biggest circus in a while. It was certainly the most surreal thing to happen yet. Doug got in the truck with Don Juan the driver. In the pick up was Maya the horse and the boy. Following behind running was me. Henny jogged behind me pushing the wheelbarrow. What made it more commical was that it is a cobblestone road so all I could really hear was the metal wheelbarrow with its wheel bouncing off every stone. Yes, we were a circus.
The block and a half quickly passed. We made it to the vet but we were not done yet. For the next hour and a half the three of us, the driver, the boy, and his sister with the mother horse stood around "Maya". She kicked. She whinied. She almost clocked me in the jaw when she kicked. Eventually however we ended when the cast set. Doug payed the vet and the boy wandered off with his horse.
You never know when angels will appear. Hopefully this one heard the message and will keep the colt off the street for three weeks. We'll see.
