Huge heads and welted legs

Hm, yeah, what could that be about?  These two strange sights are common-place this week in San Antonio de Desamparados, as the area celebrates Saint Anthony (San Antonio).  In Desampa (the affectionate name for the town), the whole week is full of parades of people dressed in large fiberglass masks, in the likenesses of such people as politicians, religious figures, folklore characters, devils, and cartoon characters.  Some of these fibreglass masks are mounted on large metal frameworks that the person wears, making the character twice as tall as the person inside.  There are huge smiling women, teeth showing, with their metal frameworks bent in key places to suggest large busts and buttocks.  Ha!  But underneath you see very manly legs, sometimes covered in strange stockings. 

When the music starts (there is an um-pa kind of band that plays, sitting in the back of a covered pick-up truck), all of the characters start dancing, hopping from one foot to the other and spinning in circles.  It`s really one of the most hilarious things I`ve seen.  It`s similar to the Gigantona tradition in Nicaragua, but in those parades there is ever only one Gigantic woman and one Dwarf-man.  Here, the street was FULL of dancing characters.  Remember Beetlejuice?  Yup, he was there, too.  Yoda?  Of course, he wouldn`t miss!  They joined horse-faced women, well-known Catholic priests, Goofy, and several incarnations of the devil in the prancing (there was no Oscar Arias – he`s the president – this time, but he has made appearances, too).

The strangest part, though, is that each character walks around with a stick in his hand, and he goes around smacking all of us that were walking along as part of the procession!  I saw this happening and would look on in awe, and then I felt my own whap on my backside!  Quite a shock!  Haha.  Every now and then there would be a ruckus, and several teenage boys would be running down the street, pursued by a green devil with real cow horns.  Oops, there went a little boy dressed as Bart Simpson, wacking away at his female schoolmates! 

I was trying to imagine what the meaning of all of this could be… If the tradition began with impersonations of politicians, devils, and frightening folkloric characters, it seems to be some kind of satire on the reality that the people have felt beaten down by those personalities.  A kind of retaking of power: “See, we beat ourselves in your name!  Haha, your whippings mean nothing!  It`s all just fun and games for us!”  This goes along with a graffiti my dad and I saw once in San Jose.  It said: “Cooperate with the police: beat yourself.”  Ha!  I don`t think there is too much police violence here in Costa Rica, but it happens everywhere.

Or, I know some of these masked traditions come from a general defiant desire to make fun of authority.  And maybe someone decided to bring a stick one year, and the whapping tradition stuck. 

Whatever the history and meaning, it was a fun afternoon sharing the streets with friends and neighbors in San Antonio, which seems to be the main point, these days. 

What`s next?

Well, I`m getting close to finishing my deaconess internship here in Costa Rica.  Amazing how fast the time goes, and how I feel that I`m just beginning to get my feet wet.

I really am convinced that one year is not nearly enough time to engage a community.  You can probably tell by my limited postings, also, that this has been a year of reflecting, learning, changing, and trying to position myself for the future, professionally, personally, academically.

I have news in those regards!  To the surprise of few, I think, I have decided to stay in Costa Rica for several more years, having taken a job as the assistant director of the Institute for Central American Development Studies (ICADS – www.icads.org).  ICADS is a great study-abroad program that challenges students to really get out of their comfort zones and engage Costa Rican and Nicaraguan culture while they learn Spanish and study environmental and social justice topics and have volunteer or internship opportunities in the community. 

I have spent the last six weeks or so balancing my busy days  between fulfilling church obligations and training with my predecessor at ICADS, learning the logistical ropes and just getting to know the programs, my future colleagues, the students.  It promises to be a rich experience!

One of my (many) interests is study abroad in the sense that I am interested in how people change and grow when they have the opportunity for exposure to something new and different. 

It`s funny how people can open up to different cultures when they travel, and it is seen as an adventure, but often people are very closed to other cultures when those cultures arrive at their doorstep, as happens every day around the world with continued migration of people from one place to another.  I hope we might be able to see all of those interactions as a kind of adventure, even as we struggle to sort out policy implications of cross-cultural interactions. 

Anyway, the idea is that I will stay on for several years in this new capacity, while continuing to be involved in the church communities – they really have become my family, here, and I will be sad to have to leave my current apartment, which is only a few blocks away from one church, to move to Curridabat, where the ICADS office and apartment are.  My neighbors, instead of being the nice lady at the corner store and all the surrounding people, will be the big San Jose Indoor Club and EPA, a Home-Depot-type place, haha.  I am hoping to be able to return to this neighborhood frequently to visit friends.  The upside is that I will be in closer proximity to several other friends, as well as the Biblical University, where I like to spend time, and to several other universities and non-profit offices, including such important places as international human rights courts, etc. 

In the meantime, I am seeking out opportunities to get a master`s degree at one of several distance-learning programs offered from US universities in Intercultural Relations or International Education.  I have this desire to continue studying, and of course, to bump up my qualifications for future work.  I also, of course, continue to have many interests and would like to study law or theology (or both!) in the future.  We`ll see where this all leads!  I am becoming confident that it leads somewhere, I just don`t know exactly where, yet. 

But, Costa Rica is not a bad place to be while figuring things out: beaches are good places to reflect on life, as are jungles and volcanoes, and Costa Rica has plenty of those.  I am also in close proximity to one of my favorite places, Nicaragua, and I have the chance to continue to be involved there with our fellow Lutherans at the Nicaraguan Evangelical Lutheran Church, as both of our church bodies seek to grow together. 

And, I live with the joy of knowing that there will never again be such a long stretch of not going home to visit my family and friends!  This 10-month period has been good, but I dearly miss my parents and sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends!  Can´t wait to see you all!  And if I don`t get a chance to this July/August, you should come down and visit me!  A plane ticket costs the same as a ticket from Sioux Falls (SD) to Chicago, and they´re in the same time zone!  Haha.

So, yes, I will be in the States in July and August, to spend time with family and to attend several exciting deaconess events: the World DIAKONIA conference in Atlanta, Georgia, in July (D-people, as we say, will be gathering from all corners of the world; talk about a rich cross-cultural experience!), followed by our national Regular Annual Meeting for the Lutheran Deaconess Conference.  And in August I will be attending my third and last deac-student seminar, preparing myself for my final projects, interview, and eventual consecration as a deaconess! 

Someone at ICADS asked me: “Isn`t that quite a change, going from being a deaconess to being the assistant director, here?”  In fact, that’s exactly the kind of question I love to hear, because being a deaconess does not necessarily mean working in a church.  Our community is proud of the fact that we have sisters who are lawyers, psychologists, professors, and even Congressional investigators at the Library of Congress!  And we love and appreciate those who work in churches, as well, as I have loved and appreciated these last three years in congregations.  Who knows, maybe I`ll end up there, again, yet!  But I see my deaconess consecration as another form of confirmation: a confirmation in my perspective that, somehow, my action in the world (in whatever form), finds its impulse in Something Ultimate.  There are, of course, lots of details that go along with that, but that`s what I will say for now. 

Hm, so, I think that caught you up on the plans.  I will repeat, I love visitors!  We have fun places to visit, here!  Come on down!

an unexpectedly free Saturday

I haven´t written about many concrete things lately, so let´s give it a go.  I was hoping to be able to describe another trip to Nicaragua, but we were unfortunately unable to cross the border yesterday as a strike by truck drivers shut down the border.  They were taking advantage of May 1, the International Labor Day celebrated in every country except the US.  I was bummed to miss the marches and general civic engagement of various movements in San Jose, but we got a taste of the festivities, anyway. 

Yes, said with some irony, because I would have liked to be in Nicaragua, sharing with our brothers and sisters in Somotillo, but, instead, we took a tour of the northern agricultural area of Costa Rica before heading back to San Jose. 

It was striking, actually, rolling land covered with orchards of oranges, cacao (cocoa), fields of pineapple.... leading up to three volcanoes in the distance that we passed as the sun was setting.  A truck passed, full of passionfruit in the trailer part which was basically a flat bed with a wooden skeleton held together by chain-linked fence.  We found some oranges on the side of the road, which we enjoyed in the car, juice running down our arms, the wind in our hair, Diego Torres on the radio and Johann singing along: "Believe that things are possible, want them to be possible.  Paint your face the color of hope, leap into the future with all your heart!"  (rough translation) Hard not to smile at that.  He and I were dancing... !  :)  Haha.

Things in the communities have had that kind of flavor - oranges and volcanoes and hope -- despite the current economic difficulties and people´s struggles to find employment.  We had a national assembly at the beach last weekend, in which we enjoyed the water and sun, some communal cooking and living, a workshop on liturgy, some worship services and decision-making meetings, with plenty of coffee, singing, roasting marshmallows, and listening to the howler monkeys in the distance.  Some even brought home evidence of the good time with peeling skin from too much sun-lovin´!  Don´t worry Dad, I was not included in that number. :)

The ride home from the beach was great, too - most of us took the ferry from the peninsula back the mainland at sunset, and the ferry operators help make it a good time by playing music.  It´s a big ferry, so the several hundred people on board, plus the dozens of cars and trucks (some filled with mangos) made it feel like a party. 

The community-feel continues as the church people put their heads together to confront economic difficulties with an idea to invest together to be able to finance self-employment opportunities in the future.  They all have lots of talents (from working on multi-million dollar construction projects to sofisticated culinary skills, to knowledge of English and Mandarin Chinese), and could really go somewhere with a little commitment and patience.

We are also in the midst of putting together a website, and the church people are busy thinking up possible logos, which is an exciting flury of creative energy around our collective identity.  It´s really a joy to be a part of.  I´ve seen some ideas, and they´re great.  I´ll let you know when the website is up so you can see what I´ve been up to.

The rain hasn´t started, yet, which is also hopeful.  We´re all enjoying the last days of heat and sun before the rain rolls in for its 8-month stay.

Thus far, the news. 

Kairos

This post is dedicated to all those who have supported me financially and spiritually in the past years of my work in Latin American communities, who have invested in me without knowing what fruit might be borne.  Thank you for your partnership, your faith, your patience.

…………………………………………

Have you heard of the difference between the idea of kronos time and kairos time?  kronos time is the chronological, linear way of thinking about time, the way most of us do: first I will do this, which will lead to that, which will change reality in such a way.  It´s the way we experience life: only one thing can happen in a certain place to a certain person at any given moment. 

But there is this other way to think about moments, a kairos way, which is that whatever is happening at this very moment is valid for all eternity, because it is true and it exists.  That whatever happened before or will happen after is also true, but what is happening now has eternal significance.  Kairos being the opportune moment for the right thing to happen.  An example: at a deaconess student retreat, one of my classmates began to cry, inspired and moved by our discussions, saying, “Why did I not do this before with my life?  I have missed out for so long! (she is a mother of two and at least a little older than the undergraduate deaconess students, though by no means the oldest among us).  Our formation director, Diane, comforted her and all of us by responding, “You´re here, now.  This is kairos.  There are no regrets about the past: what you are doing now is what matters.”

I suppose this is kind of like the Alcoholics Anonymous mantra, which is: one day at a time.  Because kairos matters also in the less-than-brilliant moments we have in our lives: each destructive action also shows something eternal about our nature.

It´s kind of like C.S. Lewis´ concept of eternity, that eternity is like a piece of paper.  Our linear understanding of time is like a line on that paper, but the whole is much larger than our little line, and any part of the line is visible at all times from all other places on the paper.  And, the entire paper is effected by whatever marks and splotches and designs are made on it. 

The part I want to say, though, is that there are some moments that can be recognized as the most defining, and I would say these are always the redemptive moments.  This is a Christian thing to say, that the resurrection, while not erasing the dying, has the upper hand.

So, a kairos moment can mean the moment of culmination, of the consummation of perhaps years of actions and events to say something definitive about reality.  This is what Christians think of Holy Week – Jesus living out the consequences of his life and mission in such a way that his actions become the defining story of history. 

I have been feeling the tension between kronos and kairos during this time in Costa Rica, and perhaps throughout my going-on-seven years of experience in international service, beginning with a short-term trip my first year of college.  They have been seven years of feeling basically lost, undoing parts of myself as I go through the strange process of cultural adjustment, finding my own identity apart from any one community in particular.  But especially in Costa Rica, I have felt that up until now I have merely been gathering experiences, learning, soaking in.

We North Americans have a particularly difficult time with this, with the patience required for finally arriving at a kairos moment.  I have found that Latin Americans are much better at waiting, experiencing the moment, not rushing or forcing kairos, but rather awaiting the appropriate time.  Because when that time comes, it will count for everything. 

I´m not saying I´ve gotten there.  I still feel I´m on the verge of something – the verge of being able to explain myself, the verge of finding some kind of vocation.  But even when I´m not there, yet, there are moments.  Like Easter evening at the beach, with the hot red sun setting behind layers of grey clouds, lighting up the overhead clouds with a pink immobility that seemed impossible, each second the light changing the colors of the water, the palm trees and mango trees, the boats in the harbour; and those boats slowly becoming illuminated, one light at a time, until they glowed from within in the darkness.

Since life doesn´t read like an epic novel, most of us will not have one definitive moment in our lives, and even if we do, it might be that no one congratulates us or even notices.  But we might have several small definitive moments, moments where our lives are patterned after the Story we are remembering this week: something dies, never to be seen again, and, unexpectedly, new life springs up from where there was none, before. 

The moment of death will probably be a genuinely frightening one, a moment which seems impossible to pass through: the real end of a relationship, confronting an unjust employer and getting fired, not taking that drink today, telling a difficult truth to our family, daring to let go of our most trusted security lies.  

I guess my point is that the life part is always there, too.  That´s the point of Easter: the most definitive of stories has spoken -  in the face of death, life is a possibility.  Have you ever seen a forest not regenerate itself after a fire?  You know those flowers that die and leave their seeds (ahem, all of them)?  Maybe not the way we expect, but life comes back.    

of bed-bugs, peribueys, and cell phones

The heat is finally sneaking up and over the hills, and down into the Central Valley, making San Jose feel like a genuine US late-June summertime.  The humidity hasn´t hit, and the sun warms skin and spirit and makes me feel like a whole new person.  I admit that I am a bit nostalgic for a Midwest spring, where the departing winter leaves a sweet sharpness on the edges of anticipation of picnics, swimming pools, and backyard barbeques. 

But, San Jose is a happy place this time of year, too.  I just got back from a 2-week medical service trip with some good old Valparaiso people.  It´s satisfying but almost strange how I can recognize a family-feel with people I have never met – they just have to be wearing an Alumni 5 West shirt, or make a comment about Grinder´s, and I immediately feel at home.  What fun! 

And they were sharp – bringing up all of the important issues and questions that one has when one meets the Central American (or any) poor: Who really has it better off – those with more access to laboratories and medical machines, or those who live always in the nucleus of one loving family and community?  And for those Central American urban poor (who, like US urban poor, may not live in such an idyllic community as the rural poor), what is it that holds people together when they are surrounded by drugs, violence, and grinding poverty?  What is my obligation on behalf of the poor, now having coming face to face with them?  Is there any?  What is my obligation to myself, my family?  How can I take on new challenges, be open to new ideas, while also coming to terms with my own life?  How do I not succumb to some kind of feeling of guilt or need to bring solutions, but rather act out of brother/sister-hood with the poor? 

We had a bit of that kind of experience in one very isolated rural community on the island of Ometepe, where the group is really building great relationships with the people.  We received an invitation to stay in people´s homes, the next time, and despite a little squeamishness on the part of some, I think we´ll do it.  It´ll be a challenge – there is no electricity in the town, no telephone lines, no cell phone signal.  But there is lots of goodwill from the people, and we´ll go away with only a few bed bug bites, if I can make predictions. 

I predict thusly because, after working with the group, we Costa Rican church people visited some Nicaraguan church people out in one of the communities, north of Managua, 30 minutes down a dusty dusty road off the highway.  They do have electricity and running water, but no indoor toilets.  The most ironic thing for me was waking up in the middle of the night in the bed I was loaned, in the same room with all the kids in the house, and seeing one brother holding out a bowl for another brother to urinate into, while holding an open cell phone for light!  Cell phones, but no indoor toilets! 

Though I went away marked by the bedbugs, the whole weekend there was really great: we had profound and fun theological conversation, the community killed a goat-like animal called a peribuey for us to eat fiesta-style, and the people shared their enthusiasm for life and relationships in a way only Central American campesinos can: songs, prayers, hugs, and lots of smiles and laughter.  ¡Gracias, Dulce Nombre!

And so, back again in San Jose, enjoying some down-time after weeks and months of groups.  Summer-time activities are in full swing, and even as churches remain in the Lenten season of self-reflection, the country is gearing up for Semana Santa, Holy Week, the biggest national holiday and time when everyone heads to the beach.  Happily, the rainclouds are a distant memory, now, my landlady just laid a new concrete driveway and parking area in my apartment complex, and the fruit stands are bursting with ripe mangos! 

Come visit anytime!

Miss and love

Kat