Report #3 - July 5, 2009 - A Reflection

Report #3 - July 5, 2009 - A Reflection

A Quiet Moment

by Will Alexander

 

Today for the first time I understood it.  In the past, I started to understand it, or thought I understood it, but today, for the first time I really understood what he meant.

 

In 2006, I traveled to Chaquarilla, high in the Andes Mts. of Peru with Hunter Farrell, and several members of BSPC Peru Crew IV.  We visited the rural school where children learned in their native tongue of Quechua, some understood a bit of Spanish, and all were timid upon our arrival.  The children learned farming techniques to provide means for their families as they grew up.  Shana Vernon asked, ¨Why are they so shy?¨  And the reason, the last time there were people there who looked like us, they were killing people, during the terrorism of the Shining Path.

 

Throughout the day, poco a poca, we broke down the pre conceived illusions of a white face.  We laughed, we sang, we held hands, played soccer, and we prayed.  The connection was raw, it was real.  And I was high.

 

And then.... it was time to leave.  Just like that.  More work to be done and more places to visit.  But what had we really done?  What of any substance, of tangibility could be taken from this moment?  I boarded the bus, and looked back upon both happy and sad faces of the children.  Happy because of the new friends they had made, and sad, because alas their new friends had to leave.  I knew I would likely never, ever see them again.  So what the hell had I just done?  What was the point?  Strip yourself of all emotion, expose yourself, and become truly enriched with companionship of another culture, and then leave, never to see the faces again?

 

At 22 years old, 6´4´´ tall, 200 pounds, I lost it.  I wept like a baby.  Uncontrollable.  Jenny, Diane and Barb´s steady hand offered encouragement, and Hunter spoke of the act of bearing witness.

But I didn't get it.  He told us that our travels validated their causes, and to bear witness to their struggle was in itself a tangible win of such a visit.  Eventually, I was calmed, but I didn't really truly, outright, get it.

 

Today, I got it.  Today I finally understood.  It happened in a quiet moment.

Today, with Peru Crew V we arrived again high in the Andes of Peru not far from HVCA.  The name of the pueblito was Ojo Tuna, a site of some of our construction here this week.  Feeling somewhat frustrated to not have broken ground yet on our construction projects I was anxious, and frankly hoping for a quick meet and greet, some smiles, and then straight to the digging.

 

But then, it happened.

 

Three young girls were encouraged to sing by volunteer women to the area who teach the women how to better assert themselves in an at times trying culture in which they live. They offered two songs to us, one in Spanish, the other in their native Quechua.  Majestic.

 

Our BSPC crew followed suit by singing Amazing Grace, and our Call to worship.  At which point more than one person wiped a tear from their eye.

 

And then it happened.

 

The three young girls followed with one more song, which they themselves had written.  It ended, naturally, with our gracious applause, and at that very moment it happened.  The youngest girl looked up at her fellow singers with a timid eye, and presented a supremely peaceful, satisfied, humble yet proud smile.  Only for a second.  She shared this with her two friends the fellow singers, and in a moment it was over.

 

The girls hugged, giggled and scurried away together amidst applause.  No curtain call necessary, the girls had done it all.

 

And in that moment of brief happiness displayed by this sweet little cariña, I finally understood it.  Our presence, our being there, meant something.  And it was something very important, very tangible, and very real.  Something that those girls may remember a long time, and something I will remember forever.  Presence has its power it those quite moments.

 

And finally, I understand. 

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