History in Platanares

 

I sat on the wooden bench, my two year old on my lap.  The rough cement church was packed full, every seat taken, and many standing.  The heat was heavy on us, but the biting flies had mercifully gone elsewhere.

What I was watching was filling my eyes with tears, which I fought back. Three young men stood at the front of the church.  Our friend Einer, a fellow missionary, was calling all the parents to come up, embrace their young adult children, and speak words of affirmation to them.  That in itself is pretty unheard of among the Wounaan, but that touching sight wasn't what caused my tears.

The three young men stood huddled together. No one had come up to claim them, embrace them.  No one had come up because their adoptive father had been killed short months ago in the land conflict their community has been locked in.  Einer put his hand on one of the boy's shoulder, and asked who would come up. Would anyone commit to give these boys a good example?  Would someone tell them they are important, help fill the gap their father had left?

Slowly, three older relatives stepped forward, and embraced the boys.  I couldn't hear their words from where I was sitting, and I could no longer see clearly, as I tried discreetly to wipe away the tears.  I knew I was watching history in the making here.

Wounaan youth seem to stand on dangerous, unsteady ground.  A confusing world of conflicting values surrounds them.  Old cultural traditions seem to be disappearing, old solutions don't seem to be working anymore.  Postive examples seem to be nonexistant for many of them.  The world is a scary place, and they need adults who will stand beside them and show them the way.  I think many of us in that meeting were praying that those parents, uncles, aunts and grandparents would find a way to be that guiding hand.

We spent four days in the community of Platanares for the family camp that our friends Einer and Girlessa were putting on. They were joined by a great missions team from Canada, and Alex and I went along to help.


Alex spent most of his time with the young people, while the girls and I spent lots of time with the kids' activities, helping in the kitchen, and taking breaks to cool off in the stream.  We finished off the weekend with a lovely meal of fried monkey, and left with the midnight high tide, spending the night on the ocean.  Quite the experience.