Crack-Tarts

As of March 7th, I only have three months remaining in Bolivia--I’ve completed over two-thirds of my stay. Looking back, I can’t help but be cliche and remark how fast time has flown by and how much I’ve grown. I know these last three months will go by even quicker (far quicker than I would like) and soon enough, I will be adjusting to life in America again. I have thought a decent amount about this readjustment period, but having the Southern mission trip group come last week made the idea of “re-entry” more tangible for me.

Having the short-term missionaries from Southern come was the best and the most difficult experience at the same time. For one, having twenty extra mouths to feed and bodies to accommodate made things a little tricky. It was also tough coordinating some things with our differing schedules. Of course, I won’t remember any of these minor annoyances, but I will remember how I felt being around typical American college students again. Due to all the responsibilities I’ve taken on, especially that of parenting, I felt somewhat disconnected from my own generation. It was as though I had forgotten how to socialize, and even when I did chat with them, it was usually about my kids--something most college students can’t really relate to. Their visit was just a small taste of what I’m expecting to experience when I return, and it was pretty eye-opening in a worrisome way.

Although having Southern presented some difficulties, they undoubtedly had a huge impact on our campus. Their work-ethic helped us to finish several projects on campus including a car-port, a brick pathway from my house to the dirt road that winds through campus, and the transport of wood from the jungle for a new bridge. They also befriended the kids and helped to show them the love that is so uncommon in many of their homes. I got to make a few new friends (despite my social awkwardness) and, much to my excitement, we even scraped together a couple of flag-football teams one evening for a Southern vs. Familia Feliz showdown. Southern also put on all of our worship programs (Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday nights, Sabbath school, and church), helped teach some classes, and helped out with some kid supervision. This last contribution allowed all of the Familia Feliz volunteers to have a staff party with everyone present--usually impossible due to our supervision responsibilities.

As has been the tradition, I planned the party games and played the role of host. The first order of business was sending a message out to everyone that conversations related to Familia Feliz would be off-limits for the duration of the party--a luxury we rarely get. This party was a little more difficult to plan as all of the volunteers, including both English-only speakers and Spanish-only speakers, would be attending instead of just SM’s. We ended up playing a version of “Balderdash” (also known as the dictionary game) in which we made up fake translations for words instead of fake definitions. We also played “two truths, one lie” which proved fairly easy to translate and enjoy with the language barrier (see below for rules to both games). All fun aside, it was really nice to get away from the kids and bond as a complete team--we owe the group from Southern big-time for that.

I also owe a huge thanks to my physics professor from Southern, Dr. Hansen. On top of helping out in our house quite a bit, he helped me to prepare and present some demonstrations for my physics class. The kids got to see how light reflects and bends by watching a laser beam pass through different materials, and learned why glass disappears when placed in cooking oil (due to a similar index of refraction).

Dr. Hansen is not the only person I owe my thanks to. Another spectacular part of Southern’s visit was being able to receive a care package! Thank you to all who sent letters, specially requested items, and real, American snacks. I’m nearly finished with all my edible goodies, but there was one food item that really stood out. Some blessed soul put in some modern day manna called “Cinnamon-Brown Sugar Pop Tarts BITES”. As one of the guys from the Southern group put it after trying one, “these things are like crack”. (Referring to their addictive nature, I’m fairly certain neither of us knows what crack actually tastes like--I can imagine it’s not all that tasty.) I have since referred to them as “crack-tarts” and put myself on a ration of one package every two weeks. Oddly enough, they’re even better than the full size version which my parents sent to me and which have also been placed on ration. Huge shout-out to the person who discovered that there was such a thing as “Pop Tarts BITES” and sent them to me.

I also owe a shout-out to my cousin (first cousin once-removed to be exact), Kent Stearman, for explaining the meaning of one of my nicknames. Kent found that “masudo” means muscular resulting in the translation Mason “Muscular” Mason (referring to the nickname Mason “Masudo” Mason found in my last post). Still looking for an explanation behind, “Mason ‘Carpa por si Llueve’ Dominguez”.

Rationing food hasn’t been all too hard with the way our bathroom has been smelling recently. No, I don’t have another stomach bug; this time, it’s the shower that’s to blame. It all started halfway through Southern’s visit. Our shower has never drained very well; if all three volunteers in our house shower consecutively, the pipes usually start to back up around the end of the third use. With two extra people from Southern using the shower, it’s fate was accelerated and it backed up completely. It still drained EXTREMELY slowly, but using any other faucets in the house caused backflow that would fill our shower with gray slop and a smell resembling a combination of death, the gates of hell, and tonsil stones (look it up). I wasn’t about to eat my American snacks with that odor floating around our room. Thankfully, shutting the door to the bathroom reduced the smell significantly and allowed us to sleep undisturbed.

Fixing our shower was a typical long and drawn-out Bolivian maintenance experience. A snake wire was purchased and used to no avail. The next step consisted of borrowing a pump from a student’s father. We then realized that we needed a longer hose to assure that the gray water got pumped far away enough from the house. After a hose was purchased a few days later, we were finally able to pump the tank out. This fixed things for a day and then it reverted to the same state. I finally found a solution that consisted of shoving a 40 foot steel cable down the drain and doing the hokey-pokey until I felt something break loose. I followed this up with a baking soda, salt, and boiling water mix that really seemed to do the trick. After a week of using the boys’ bathroom (an endeavor in and of itself) we got our own back, and I could finally pig out on some American snacks.

The latest issues haven’t been just with the plumbing. That’s right, you guessed it, another run-in with “Merrick”. This instance was probably the worst of all. One day I returned from work and had to prepare for my last class of the day. As I passed the soccer field, I noticed Merrick playing and called for him to come to the house; he had been serving a punishment that grounded him from playing soccer for that day. He followed me to my room, and seemed pretty settled in as I prepared to leave.

When I got up to go, I asked him to leave the room so I could lock the door, to which he refused. The stand-off continued until I felt I had no choice but to force him out of the room so I could run to class on time and make sure my students were supervised. I pulled my best wrestling moves and got him out the door, shut it, and locked it. Furious with me, Merrick grabbed me by the shirt collar and threatened to hit me as per usual. In this instance, I didn’t have time to calm him down and make an escape. I used the back of my hand to hit the soft underside of his arm causing him to let go and step back in surprise. Freed from his grasp, I took off to my class.

The last thing I wanted to do was get physical with Merrick, but in this situation, I felt I had no choice. I’m not sure what his background is, or whether or not it includes physical abuse. With the way he acts, it wouldn’t surprise me if he has been physically abused before--the exact reason why I didn’t want to use physical force. After talking with the director, I was reassured that what I did was completely acceptable in the situation. Because Merrick will be leaving soon, he doesn’t care about breaking the rules anymore. With this in mind, the director gave me permission to do whatever necessary to protect myself and other kids from Merrick if he snaps. Thankfully, he’s been less combative but no less difficult as of late; I haven’t had to use physical force since.

Being here in Bolivia has allowed me to mature quite a bit. So much so, that sometimes I see the kids doing things that I used to do and think, “Wow, how silly is that. Are they really so childish that they still do such a thing?” I usually stop myself before going any further to remind myself that I used do the very same things, sometimes at an age older than they. It’s all a matter of perspective, which makes me wonder how often my attitude resembles that of Merrick. Sometimes, Merrick’s immaturity blows me away, but I have to remember that in God’s eyes, we are the same: sinners. Surely there have been times when I have surpassed Merrick’s level of immaturity in God’s eyes. God only wants what’s best for me, but how many times have I resisted and immaturely acted in my own interest? Thankfully there’s this thing called forgiveness. Matthew 6:14 says, “For if you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you”. God is willing to forgive us when we act immaturely and choose ourselves over Him. We just need to be willing to forgive in the same way. For me, that starts with Merrick.

TL;DR

Two-thirds done and time is still flying. Southern’s UQuest mission group brought me a bitter taste of re-entry and the sweet taste of crack-tarts… Just kidding. They did a whole lot more than just bring me food--sidewalk construction, lumber transport, kid care, class assistance, and worships to name a few things. Shout-out to Dr. Hansen for his help in my physics class, to my cousin, Kent Stearman, for explaining one of my nicknames, and to whoever sent me those beautiful packages of saturated fat known as “Pop Tarts BITES”. When it comes to clogged shower drains, the “Hokey-Pokey” is really what it’s all about. Had another physical confrontation with Merrick which led me to realize that we have more in common than I thought. I rival his immaturity when it comes to choosing God’s will or my own way--thankfully, there is a concept called “forgiveness”.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------Game Rules----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Balderdash (Translation version)

Choose several very obscure words in both languages before-hand. Write them down with their translation.
Give each person a piece of paper
Choose three participants and show them a word. Allow them to create fake translations of the word (works best if they are writing the translation in their own language, meaning the original word is from the language they are less familiar with), make sure they do not see the real translation.
Have them write down their fake translations on a slip of paper (not the original paper they were given) and collect the slips.
Use a whiteboard, or piece of paper, etc. to write down the four translation possibilities (three fake ones and the real one) for all the players to see.
Have all the players write down their choice for what they think is the true translation. The three original participants cannot vote for a translation for that round.
Reveal which translation was the true one and who made each fake translations, and have the players write the name of the person whose translation they picked (or just a check mark if they guessed the true definition).
Go back to step “c” with three new players for the next round, continue until all the players have had a chance to create a fake translation.
“Grade” each paper giving a point for guessing the correct translation, and for fooling others to choose the translation that player made up during his or her turn to write a fake one. Player with the most points wins.

Two truths, one lie

One person comes up with two true statements about his or herself, and one lie about his or herself.
Other players try to guess which statement is the lie.
Play for fun or for points, giving a point to each person who guesses the lie correctly.

P.S. I have been receiving requests for a post that details my weekly schedule for this semester. I will try to fit that in next week if I’m short on material.

P.P.S. Pictures of the boys in my house coming soon. Also, completely forgot to take pictures of the group from Southern and the staff party. Enjoy this random collection of photos instead!