Another run in with the police and my friend Jedi...

Sunday night I was heading back to the house after driving a couple of guys home who were visiting us over the weekend (more on that in a minute) and I pulled out and passed a motorbike.  Only as I pulled up beside them did I realize they were police officers.

I casually passed them...didn't make eye contact...which is what I do whenever I pass the police...and then prayed (uh...chanted...)...

"Please don't pull me over...please don't pull me over..."

We drove on for a couple of blocks and then they pulled up beside me....and my heart skipped a beat...and then they passed me by to pull over the guy in front of me.  I couldn't believe it.  That NEVER happens.  Usually they see my truck and dollar signs start flashing in their eyes and they can hardly manage to maintain their glee and elation as they wave me to a stop.  But not this time...

I was still revelling in my joy and...well, smugness to be honest, a couple of seconds later when I turned a corner and drove straight into a police checkpoint. 

The timing of it was stunning...

I calmly (on the outside) pulled over and an officer came up to my window.  I greeted him cheerily (on the outside) and he asked for my Driver's License.  I handed him my International License and he just kind of looked blankly at it.  I have a Bolivian License but my card was in my wallet when I lost it last spring (along with my Bolivian Identity Card sadly).  Rather than fight with the transit police to get it replaced, I just got a International License when I was home in Canada.

Without a word, the officer walked over to a parked police truck and soon someone a little higher up the food chain walked back over to my truck.  On the way he checked out my windshield and immediatly asked me where my SOAT sticker was (that's like the registration sticker we put on our license plates back home). 

I pointed to where it was on my window (he hadn't seen it in the dark) and there was a pause and a definite sense of disappointment on his part.  I think he thought he had an easy win. 

He then asked me where the other sticker I was suppose to have was, my "Tercera Placa" (third plate).  It's an ID sticker they came up with a few years ago.  I've never actually gotten it (on the last couple of trucks) and no one has EVER asked for it.  Ironically Yimy and I were just talking about that and he asked me why I didn't have it.  "'Cause no one ever asks for it..." was my reply.

I should learn to keep my big mouth shut.

So I explained that I had just bought the truck (true) and that I'd be sure to get that sticker soon (um...truuue...although "soon" is a kind of a vague word when you think about it.  What's "soon" for me may or may not be "soon" for you).  I went on to explain (and here's where the magic happened) that my friend...dramatic pause...the Director of Interpol in the city (who I do actually know and have his name and number in my phone)...another dramatic pause...would, I was sure, be happy to help me with the process.

My officer friend hesitated and then handed me back my license and said, "That would be best." and then waved me on my way.

It was awesome.  I get so few wins that one needs to savour them...

The two young guys (brothers) I was taking home are two guys we know from the boy's home where I used to work.  I haven't seen them in (we figured out) nearly five years.  That would have made Yeddy around 13 and his brother 10 at the time.  Yeddy was in one of my Bible Study groups and was also one of the guys who I took camping back in the day (when none of the guys had ever seen a tent or cooked hot dogs before). 

We used to call Yeddy, "Jedi" because it's close to how his name sounds in Spanish.  My friend Kara and I used to yell at him during soccer games...

"Use the force Jedi!"  "Jedi!  Use your powers!"

It quite entertained us...

It was interesting to talk to them.  It came out fairly quickly that they're having problems at home living with their mom.  That seems to happen a lot with the guys I talk to.  Most of them didn't spend much time in their houses growing up and are now supposed to have good relationships with whatever parent is around. 

We're going to get together a little later this week to talk some more about what's been happening.  So if you have a moment, please pray for that.  The guys came to our house on Saturday for supper and youth group, and then came back for church on Sunday morning.  I think they were enjoying seeing everyone and hanging out. 

It was great to see them.  Jedi hasn't changed at all really...his "little" brother Denar on the other hand...

That's Jedi on the left...

And that's Denar on the right...

And yea...Jedi and Denar Sunday night...

And there you go...that was my day...

PS  My one last funny moment...I woke up in the middle of the night and glanced over at my laptop on my desk that was still on.  I freaked out 'cause there were weird, black lines all over the screen.  I jumped up to see what was wrong and realized that I'd been looking at the screen through the metal wire cover of my fan that was six inches from my face....

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"Los Marchistas..."

UPDATE:  There were clashes between the police and the protesters all night last night.  The police were once again firing tear gas into the crowd.  This morning (from what I understand), President Evo backed down and announced that he was suspending construction of the highway. 

He announced something similar once before but construction continued that time.  So I guess we'll see.  Certainly the people have him up against a wall here.  The interesting thing is, this is how Evo came to power in the first place.  He rallied these same people against the sitting president at the time and they blockaded all of La Paz for over a month.  No food or supplies could enter the city, until finally the then president resigned.  Now Evo is in a very similar situation.  It's a bit ironic.  This is the third major demonstration against his policies this year.  Time will tell where this is going. 

But for now, it seems the people are the victors.

On August 15th, a village from northeastern Bolivia began a 600 kilometre march to La Paz, our capital.  Over one thousand men, women and children set out to protest a highway that the Bolivian government was constructing to Brazil, through one of the most ecologically sensitive areas of Bolivia. 

The constitution of Bolivia (written by our current president and his party) guarantees indigenous people groups the right to self determination and the right to decide how their lands should be developed and used.  At the time, this idea was revolutionary in Bolivia where historically these people groups had been largely marginalized and ignored. 

Sadly, that same government has chosen to give those rights with one hand and take them away with the other.  The president and his leadership have decided that this highway is vital to Bolivia (ignoring numerous international ecological groups) and has gone ahead with construction. 

Seeing their rights being violated, this village decided to do something.  They began marching.  What started as a relatively quiet demonstration has electrified the country.  Demonstrations were held in all the major cities of Bolivia in support of these villagers.

Then on September 25th, the government sent 500 police in full riot gear to stop the march.  At dusk, firing tear gas into the midst of the people, the police attempted to haul these peaceful demonstraters away in buses and planes.  As planes attempted to land on a nearby airstrip, other villages came to their support and blocked the planes from landing by occupying the landing area.

Undeterred the march continued, now with even more support.  Food, clothes, tents and other donated supplies began arriving from all over Bolivia.  Members of President Evo's own party resigned and some even joined the march.

Their group, having grown to over 2,000 marchers, arrived yesterday morning in La Paz...where they were met by a crowd of over 500,000 supporters.  Again police tried to stop them from advancing, but were unable to do so.  The currently occupy the plaza in front of the Presidential Palace where they hope to speak to President Evo.  So far he continues to refuse.

I thought I'd add a few pictures to help you understand what's been happening...

The Police...

Continuing to march...

Arrival in La Paz...

It's difficult to know exactly what's going to happen, but there's no doubt of the significance of this moment for Bolivia. It'll be interesting to see what the future holds.  Whether our president will be able to continue undeterred with the construction of this highway, or if he'll respond to the cries of the people who put him in office.

Thanks for your continued prayer for Bolivia.  If you want to read a more detailed (and very interesting) account of what's been happening, take a look at this.

Thanks everyone!

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Life...and it's not that exciting...but there is a picture.

It was an election day here in Bolivia which means they shut the country down.  Until 6 PM you're not allowed to drive anywhere and everything is closed anyhow so even if you could drive there's no where to go.  It's nice actually...it makes for a very relaxing day. 

So...I decided to cook a big roast for Sunday lunch since we were all around.  I went shopping in the market Saturday and found myself a chunck of beef (4 kilos) and some nice big potatoes to cook (the boys always buy these sad, little potatoes.  I'm a Saskatchewan farm boy.  If you're gonna buy a potato...buy a freaking potato.  The ones I bought were huge!  Ten of them filled a shopping bag!  They made me happy.).

Where was I?  Oh yea...the market.  I had a fun time.  It's our big fruit and vegetable market (it's like Walmart for produce).  I don't go there all that often...it's too far away.  But it was fun to check it out and wander around and act like I knew what I was doing (I did actually.  Farm boy...remember?) 

Last night I pulled out our slow cooker to get everything ready, only to discover that somebody broke it.  Insert moment of grumpiness for Ken.  Not all the guys in the house are great with the taking care of things.  Poor Roberto was there with me and had to take the brunt of my unhappiness.  He'll get over it.  At any rate, it meant a quick phone call to mom to find out how one cooks a ten pound roast the old fashioned way.  It's pretty easy as it turns out.  She under estimated the time a little (by an hour and a half...which made for some hungry guys when we eventually did eat), but it was all good.

AND...after all my whining on Facebook last week, tonight I got my Thanksgiving turkey.  My friend Corina's aunt and uncle are here from Canada and they cooked us a big feast.  Seriously...amazing.  I walked into the kitchen and I couldn't believe that there were more than three different things on the counter and non of it had been deep fried. 

My mom'll be happy when she reads this.  The whole family was together on the farm this Thanksgiving (there's a lot of us)...except me.  I made some sad comment about not getting any turkey this year and my sister wrote back, "You just made mom cry."  (I didn't really...).  But she'll be happy for me non-the-less.  She's a good mom and she's happy when her boys get good eats.

The only sad moment today was when I was driving home.  Corina made me a take home pumpkin pie and I had it sitting on the centre console between the seats.  Somehow I thought that was a good idea.  The first corner I went around it slid onto my lap.  Well...it would have if I hadn't caught by pinning it to the console with my elbow.  In the pie. 

On the upside, the pie survived (mostly) and I got to lick my shirt sleeve off all the way home.  So...bonus.

And finally (this is really long for a day when nothing much happened)...the sun came out today.  It's been raining for a week.  Which is weird 'cause this is our dry season.  None of us are complaining mind you.  It's a nice break from the 40 C days of the two weeks before.  I just kept rewashing the clothes in my washing machine every day until the sun came out. 

And that was my day...


The promised picture.

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In response...

I got an interesting comment on my blog last night. It leaned a little towards the snarkier side of things, so I just deleted it. As soon as I did though, I wished that I hadn’t. I wrote a reply there, but as I laid in bed last night, I started thinking more about what the person had written and I decided to respond.

My blog is certainly written for a predominately Christian crowd. Which is fine. But not all my friends are Christians. I’m sure that there are a few people out there who read the blog and just kind of roll their eyes. Which doesn’t really bother me. I get that we come from different places and not everyone is going to agree with or even understand what I write. I’m just throwing my experiences out there for whoever is interested.

What bothered me last night about this person’s comment, wasn’t that it was a bit sarcastic. I’ve written a few sarcastic comments myself. My problem was what this person was implying.

They were commenting on my story of taking my street kid friend to the hospital the other night. Essentially they wrote that maybe I should have shown him a little humanity and not just talked about God. Something along those lines (in all honesty it was late and I don’t really remember their exact words). I suppose it’s because I just dropped him off afterwards and didn’t take him someplace to sleep or whatever and then wrote that only God could change the situation.

Maybe this is partly my fault.  I didn’t provide all the back story about my friendship with this kid. There’s too much there to put into a short blog entry. It would have turned into a novel...even more than normal... =)

I’ve known my friend for about ten years now. I’ve seen him when he’s doing well, and I’ve seen him when he’s a mess. I’ve tried many, many times to help him over the years. I’ve taken him to get help. I’ve rented rooms for him to live in. I’ve given him money...bought him food...been to the doctor with him more times than I can count.

One of the funniest stories was when he contracted an STD (that’s not the funny part). I took him to the AIDS/STD clinic to get him checked out. As I sat there in the waiting room, I looked around and suddenly realized that it was him and me and about forty prostitutes. And everyone was staring at us. And THEN I realized what they were thinking. I probably went ten shades of red and started sweating like I can’t even tell you. I basically announced to everyone and anyone that I was a missionary helping this kid out. It was the first thing out of my mouth every time I had to talk to someone, “Hi, I’m a missionary! And this guy needs some help...”

I once went to a TB clinic with him, thinking we were going to see a doctor. We sat around in a group for an hour playing games with a couple of nurses and then we got a bag of food (rice, pasta...some cooking oil) and then we all went home. I had NO idea what had just happened. I just went with the flow. Turned out he was there for his medication and that was how they got people to show up. Games and food...

So...as I said...I’ve seen this guy through a lot. I’ve watched him play guitar for people (he's a gifted musician) and show compassion to other younger street kids at the home where they were living. I’ve sat with him in hospitals when he was sick and on street corners with him when he was high. I’ve run to the streets in the middle of the night when he’s called and needed help....and I’ve talked and talked and talked to him. About his potential, his future...how destructive this lifestyle is for him...all of it.

And no matter what I do...this young man chooses to return to the streets. No matter how many opportunities he’s given (and he’s been given a lot) he chooses to return to the drugs and the stealing and the hopelessness of the streets. I don’t know why. There have been times when he’s been off the streets for a couple of years or more....clean and healthy. And I’m happy for him. Then I hear that he’s gone back again.

So in the light of all of this...what does it mean to show someone “humanity”? I assume by “humanity” that commenter was meaning compassion and mercy. How do I show compassion and mercy?  How do I show that I care? It’s something I’m confronted with every time I leave the house. Little kids begging on the streets...moms with their babies slung over their backs asking you for a coin...people living under bridges and in sewage canals. I see it every single day.

And I’ve learned that it’s complicated. I give a child a coin and it helps him continue living on the streets for another day where he’ll be drawn deeper and deeper into a lifestyle that will eventually destroy him. But I give him that coin because he’s cute and I feel sorry for him. And maybe I feel better.

I give a young girl a coin because she has a baby in her arms because I feel sorry for her and raising that child by herself must be incredibly difficult. But then when I ask her the name of her baby, she doesn’t know and I realize that it’s not actually hers. It’s been given to her by other adults to help her beg. She’ll never see that coin I just gave her.

My young friend is skinny so I give him money for food...and he buys drugs. So I buy him food and he gets angry when I won’t give him cash. His clothes are dirty so I give him clean clothes and he sells them for drugs. I rent him a room where he can sleep and he just goes back to the streets.

What’s the answer?

I can’t solve all the problems here. I can’t give money to everyone who asks. All that really does is perpetuate the problem. All I do is make it easier for an eight year old to continue to live on the streets or teach a child that begging is the right way to make a living.

As difficult as it is (and it is incredibly difficult) I choose to think long term instead of short term. I volunteer with an organization that is effectively working with street people to provide job training and a support system as they leave their street lives behind. I do what I can to help a couple of children’s homes and a drug rehab home I know of. And I guess the big one would be that I chose to move to South America and open a home for ex-street guys and help them get an education.  =)

All of these organizations are run by Christians, people who believe in the difference God can make.  Interestingly enough, there are very few (if any) non-religious groups here working with street people. It’s predominately an evangelical/Catholic crowd. And believe what you want, I see God moving and working through these groups and individuals. I see God bringing emotional and spiritual healing. I’ve talked to former drug addicts who are now being great dads to their families...former prostitutes who are being great moms to their kids. They’ll attest strongly that it was only with God’s help and God’s strength that they were able to experience that restoration. Every day I see people who’s lives are being transformed.

Okay...so much for this not turning into a novel. Hopefully some of you made it to the end. And I hope that my friend who commented made it to the end of this as well. Hopefully you understand a little more of what went into that story I wrote and that I am trying to show humanity. In the end, though, I believe that God is the ultimate answer. I can provide as much as I can for a person’s physical needs, but if their spiritual needs aren't dealt with, it doesn’t help much.

So I took my young friend to the hospital when he called.  Then I dropped him off on a street corner.  When he calls again, I'll go again.  And someday maybe he'll call and be ready to leave all of this behind.  But that's a choice he needs to make.  I can't make it for him. 

And I continue to pray for him.
 

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The Gringos...

Back in August I got an e-mail from some random guy who said he was with a mission organization called "The World Race" and he was wondering if he could place a team with us for a month.  I was a little wary.  A month can be a long time with a team.  Especially if they're lame.  Not to mention that I'd never heard of this guy or group.  I asked him for a bit more info and he sent me a list of the groups and missionaries they would be working with in Bolivia.  Yea, just about everyone I knew was on that list.  So I wrote him and said sure, why not.

I made a couple of arrangements and then I promptly forgot about it.  Which is, you know...what I do... 

Fast forward a couple of months. 

I'm headed for a little hotel in the city and feeling very excited about taking a couple of much needed days off.  It's been a rough few weeks.  I have visions of laying by a pool and thinking of nothing but what I'm going to eat for supper and how nice the air conditioning in my room is going to feel like. 

Then my cell rang.  Turns out the team would be arriving the next day. 

Well, isn't that just the best timing ever.  In my head I was sort of like, "God...if you wanted to send them somewhere else that'd be okay with me.  Maybe there's another missionary who really, really wants them." 

I waited a moment but my phone didn't ring, so I set my alarm to get up the next morning to head to the bus terminal to pick them up.  Everything was mostly in place for them...I just wasn't very excited for the work involved getting them orientated when I was supposed to be relaxing and reading a book by a pool.

TWR people...if you're reading this...hang in there.  It get's better...

I called my friend who they'd be also working with to let her know the team was arriving the next day.  She knew I had been planning some time off and being the great friend she is, quickly offered to take over with them the next morning.  The plan was for them to work with her that day anyhow, so that was all fine.  I was back to enjoying my day off.  I headed for the bus terminal feeling a little bit better.

And then their bus didn't arrive when it was supposed to.  So I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Did I mention it was hot out?  Like 38 C hot?  All I could think of was my deck chair, surrounded by palm trees...the sun glistening off the water in the pool...

Finally I got a call that they had arrived.  As I wandered around the terminal looking for them, I wondered how their trip had been.  They had just bused it from somewhere in Peru.  Which is pretty impressive if you know anything about South American buses.  I figured they'd be tired and hungry and probably a little grumpy.  I would be.

I finally found them surrounded by backpacks, sitting on the sidewalk in another part of the terminal.  I walked up to them and they greeted me with...

Big smiles and hugs.  Seriously.  I had just waited a couple of hours in my happy and comfortable truck...and I was kind of grumpy.  These people had just ridden HOURS on a bus and were all smiles and hugs.

And it just got better from there.  They won me over pretty quick.  In the end, they were probably one of my favourite groups ever.  Seriously...they were awesome! 

See TWR people...I told you...

They were funny...they worked hard...they never complained...they smiled all the time...they never complained.  Yea, I know I said that last one twice, but I live with twelve guys who never seem to stop complaining.  So...it was nice.

Anyhow...a few pictures of that great group of gringos...

Working at El Jordan's new work site...

Ruth painting...

Josh sanding up high...

Ruth and Molly with the kids at El Jordan...

Kursti and Ruth and un-named baby having an after lunch nap...

The girls making us pizza for lunch...

The daily foosball turnament...

A little cliff diving...

A little more cliff jumping...

The team...

Josh and Kristen...

Praying with a young street kid who had come off the streets and

had gone with the team to YWAM's transition home...

Hanging out with that same young guy a week later at a TB hospital. 

He was in much better shape...

Ice cream in the plaza...

They were a photogenic group...

Kristen's hypnotic gaze...

Packed up and ready to go...

One last trip in the back of the truck...

Like I said, these guys were a lot of fun and a huge blessing to us.  I can't say enough good about them.  This was month three for them, of an eleven month, around the world missions trip.  As I write this, they are on their way to Albania and a month later from there, Romania.  They'll spend a couple of months in Africa and then onto Asia and then on their way home eight month from now.

Hey guys...thanks!  You were amazing!  Come back any time...
   
PS...We were hanging out in the plaza one night and the team decided to show us some good ol' American dance moves...




Always entertaining...

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Divergent Paths...

I got a call Monday night from an old friend.  He was the first guy I got to know at the boy's home where I volunteered back in 2001.  One night, while I was there, I had to go into the city (a couple of hours away) to get some gear.  My friend came with me to help me get back.  He later told me that he was planning on going back to the streets that night.  But then he looked at me and knew that if he left I'd never find my way home.  =)  So he stayed.

Since those early years he's been on and off the streets many times.  This time though, it's been a couple of years since he last left.  He's in his mid twenties and with each year it get's harder to imagine him leaving.

When I heard his voice I figured something was wrong.  I hadn't heard from him for awhile.  He told me he was sick and needed to go to a hospital.  He'd been vomiting for a couple of days and his whole body hurt.  I made arrangements to meet him in a nearby park and then called Jimmy (who was nearby) to come help us.

Jimmy and I waited for a half hour or so, before my friend showed up.  When I saw him I hardly recognized him.  I've seen him skinny before (he's never been very big), but nothing like that night.  I'm not sure I'd have known it was him if I'd just seen him passing by. 

I knew right away that he was back on drugs.  Sometimes when I've seen him over the years, he's looked okay.  Relatively clean and healthy.  But other times I could immediately see what's going on.  That the drugs have taken over again.

We headed over to the hospital downtown that's near the plaza.  It's a "free" hospital so you don't pay for your consultation.  I say "free" because if you need any medication or anything really (a bandaid) you have to go buy that yourself. 

That hospital has a bit of a warzone fee to it.  Because it's free, it's where everyone goes who can't afford anything better.  It gets a bit over run, especially at night.  As a result, the staff aren't very patient or compassionate.  It all combines to make the place feel very discouraging and desolate.  There was just a thin, eight foot high wooden wall separating us from the people in the emergency rooms.  The entire time we were there we could hear people wailing and crying.  One fellow especially seemed like he was suffering.  I'm sure he was coming off of something, but the whole time he was moaning and crying out for help. 

There's a serious flu epidemic right now in the city (the universities have been shut down for the past week and everyone is wearing face masks) and because my friend was symptomatic of that flu, he was rushed right in. 

Jimmy and I were then given the list of what we needed to buy (IV bags, tubes, needles, medicine, etc...), so we went hunting for a pharmacy.  The hospital pharmacy was closed so we walked down the street a bit.  Since people have to buy their own medical supplies there are lots of pharmacies around every hospital and clinic.  Not to mention coffin stores...but that's another topic. 

We found what we needed, gave it to the doctor on duty and settled in to wait.  It ended up being five hours.  Fortunately I had a book and Jimmy had lots of games on his phone (okay...my phone).  Eventually our name was called and we went and got our friend and walked him out to the truck. 

He looked much better which was great.  He was more relaxed and himself.  I felt releaved for that.  But then I asked him where he wanted to go and he asked me to drop him off downtown near the plaza.  So at midnight we stopped on a corner and he hopped out of the truck, said goodbye and left.  My heart felt very heavy.

I imagine some of you are asking why we didn't take him home or find some place for him to sleep.  Well, we've been down that road before.  This young guy has been given opportunity after opportunity to leave the streets and every time he chooses to go back.  Until he decides he wants to leave, there's not much we can do.

As I drove home, I thought about everything that had happened.  I thought about the difference between that hospital we were just at and the hospital I usually go to.  How the hospital I go to is clean and efficient and everyone smiles at you.  I wondered what it would be like to not have health insurance or the money to go someplace you trusted. 

I thought about what a gifted guy my friend was.  His leadership skills....his musical ability.  How sad it was that he was wasting so much potential.

And finally, I thought about the contrast between my friend and the guys I work with.  All of them were friends for years at the boy's home...like brothers.  But they chose very different paths. 

I thought about where some of our guys might be if they didn't have our house and the support they've been given.  Some would be okay I'm sure, but I have no doubt that others would find themselves just where my young friend is.

It was a sobering thought and a good reminder why I'm here.  And it made me glad that God has provided this place for us. 

Please pray for my friend.  It's certainly not over for him, but his choices are pulling him deeper and deeper into an incredibly destructive lifestyle.  At this point t's going to take a miracle from God for him to be free.
  

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