Mission trip to DR part 3

Dominican Republic mission trip, 2010

more from the journal

7-31-2010 – Saturday

So today was the first rehearsal.

They brought the counseling team up the mountain to Eddie's little church to see our “dress rehearsal.” How often do you have a dress rehearsal as your first rehearsal? Molly took most of the load this time, since she remembered the blocking I gave them as well as I did. Um... probably better.

To my shock and delight, it went quite well. There was some confusion as to when to do certain things, before or after a bit of narration, but many of the kids were off book! And wonder of wonders, they spoke loudly and clearly. Our pig farmer dropped out, so we plugged Trevor (one of our own kids) in his place. That inspired us to use some of us Americanos as the pigs. This delighted everyone.

After siesta, we went back to the church to present some gifts to pastor Eddie and his family, and then we all prayed for him – it was very much like the old days back in the 70's, very Jesus-people-ish.

There was no rehearsal for the rest of the day, because we did Vacation Bible School, and my body chose that moment to start warning me that it had to cool off or else – I had been hot for too long, even though this wasn't as long as it had been the day before. But that's the way grace works, you know – you get just what you need when you need it. So I slipped out of the church and sat down under a tree across the street, where there was a nice breeze as well as a good shade. Several older kids, too old for the VBS session inside, said Hi in English, and came over to sit with me and chat among themselves, leaving me alone but staying with me while two of the boys showed off nearby.

After cooling down, I went back inside to help some kids make owls out of old defective CD's. Don't ask.

That evening, the outing was for “exotic salty snacks” and “exotic juices,” which I politely declined because I was really tired, and besides I wanted to catch up on my journal. As it turns out, this was a trip to the mall in downtown Santiago, which was essentially pseudo-America in Santiago, so that those of us who might be experiencing culture shock, or missing home, could feel like they were back in America for an hour or so. It was a perfect night for me to stay in the dorm and rest, because the last thing I wanted was an American mall to walk around in.

8-1- 2010 – Sunday, performance day and so much more

Sunday morning, we went to another church for morning worship. And again, I loved every minute of it, because worship service for these people is actually worship, rather than a structured routine preaching session like we have at home. They provided a translator for our benefit, and they worked him to death. I followed some of the Spanish in the teaching, and I could tell that the poor guy was completely thrown by some of the words used. I had been a little concerned whether it would be OK for us to bring our water bottles to church, since this was a little more formal than what went on up in the mountain, but everyone assured me it would be OK, and it turns out that everyone else brought them too. Good thing, because it got a little warm in the building.

After lunch, and a chance to take a very short nap in the dorm (as well as shower and change clothes), we went back up to the mountain church. The plan was to have one more rehearsal (the real dress rehearsal), break for supper at Eddie's mother's house, and then come back to the church for the play to be presented. I knew that by this time, my job was over. It was their play now, and I was going to stay out of the way and see what they did with it.

On the walk back down the hill, we experienced that rarest of Dominican cultural events, dualing cantinas. Two cantinas, to our left and to our right as we passed between them, were playing music so that unless you were in one or the other, what you heard was a cacophony of clashing notes. It was oddly surreal, and after passing through it... I wondered if maybe they would turn it down by the time the play began. I wondered if we could present the play in the dark, in the event that God had to pull the plug to stop the sound. When we got back to the church... we had no power. But the cantinas did. I wasn't sure how this was going to work out.

People began arriving, some of whom, I suppose, were church members, and some of whom were the parents of the cast of our play. They stayed outside on the lawn and on the street, patiently waiting. I sat down inside, wondering if the power was going to come back on, wondering if the kids were going to remember their lines, wondering if – if there was going to be enough room in the church, because there were an awful lot of people out there!

Some guys started bring in stacks of white plastic lawn chairs, and setting them up as extra seats for each row, then as extra rows. People started coming in. Somebody was outside trying to fix the “inverter,” whatever that is, as that was apparently the problem with our electricity.

Pastor Eddie decided to go ahead and start us singing and praying in the dark, and it was wonderful. The lights came on briefly, and then went out again.

Eventually, well after the planned curtain time, we had to start the program. Somebody drove a motorcycle around to the side of the church and aimed his headlight into the side door, which was also our stage left entrance. The light was perfect, showing us each face, and Jesus and Peter made their entrance for the beginning of the Servant parable.

The king sat proudly on his throne, passing judgment on Servant #1, the debtor, then forgiving him, then jailing him when he saw him trying to collect a much smaller debt from another servant. Servant number one displayed the perfect smugness, and I was so proud of him for it. The play rolled right along, with no flubbed lines or missed entrances. It was wonderful to see, lit from the side, and so there it was, the third miracle.

The nice lady who had originally been in place to direct the thing was there to see it, and we were surprised to discover that she had sent us the three acts for us to choose one of them, not all three. But we had done all three, and a good time was had by all.

8-2-2010 – Monday

Monday was a day at the beach by comparison.

OK, it was literally a day at the beach. This was recuperation day, where we got to relax under a shade tree listening to the surf, and shop for souvenirs. Life is good.

8-3-2010 – Tuesday, time to go home.

We got up early Tuesday morning to be at the airport in time to go through security and catch our flight, which was delayed by an hour because the pilots had to have more rest according to regulations, not their fault.

When we arrived in Miami, we knew it was going to be close, because we had to go collect our baggage from the carousel, then go through customs, then place the bags in an area for re-loading on the next plane.

All but 13 of us had successfully deposited their bags in the designated spot, and suddenly a stern American Airlines employee forbade us to put any more bags there. Never mind that the bags hadn't been taken away yet. Never mind that there wasn't even anyone there to take them away yet. Never mind that there was no possible reason that we couldn't just leave ours with the rest of them, as if we had been at that point maybe two minutes prior instead of at the present moment. Never mind that we still had time to catch our flight if we could just drop those bags off and continue on our way, as we had been instructed to do. No. Her little stop watch said it was time, so she said “This flight is closed. Go to ticket counter.”

“But -”

“No. closed. Go to ticket counter.” Off we obediently went to the ticket counter, which had a line about thirty people long, and which was not moving at all. We wasted about ten minutes trying to call American Airlines for help with this situation. Finally somebody got somebody's attention, and they led us to another ticket counter to arrange some sort of way to get back to Kentucky. While waiting in line there, we heard the PA system announcing the availability of our seats for stand by passengers.

Another miracle. There were thirteen seats available on a flight to Atlanta, where we could then board another flight to Louisville. The pretty lady with perfect posture at the counter began processing the passports and tickets. Slowly. Very slowly. By the time ten of us were ready to go, the other three seats were gone. So our ten began the dash to the next gate, while they figured out something else for the other three.

We were now split three ways, and somebody said this was a record, though two way splits had occurred in the past. So we got to Atlanta, and now we had to change to Delta, which meant that we had to present the tickets from American Airlines to be converted to Delta boarding passes. One by one, we got them done, and I was the last one in line. He said, as he handed me my pass, “OK, you're good to g--- wait a minute.”

A pause. “What? What's wrong?”

“The person at AA didn't put the ticket number on this. I can't let you board.”

I stared at him as if he had crab claws coming out his nose.

I alerted some of the rest of the team, who immediately started praying. Potentially, we could set a record, with a four way split. With me being all alone in the bowels of the airport system.

“Well what do I have to do? I have to get home.”

“I can't let you board.”

The team continued praying. Then the man said, “there's one other thing I can try, but I don't think it's going to work.” He started clicking keys again. It worked. He printed me my boarding pass.

As we boarded, I handed that pass to the Delta ticket taker dude, who said “Enjoy your flight – wait a minute.”

“No, no NO!”

He took my pass and went back to his screen, clicked on the keyboard, and finally said “OK, you're good to go.”

All this because one airline employee was a slave to her stop watch. The name of that airline, again, was American Airlines.

Just sayin. :)

We got back to Louisville at more or less the same time, that is on the same evening. It was one of the most wonderful weeks of my life. I wouldn't trade a moment of it, not one hot sweltering moment.

Mission trip to DR part 2

Dominican Republic mission trip, 2010

...more from the journal

7-29-2010 – Thursday

Today we started actual classes for the drama effort in the Iglesia Cristiana up on the mountain. We used my water bottle for a prop, asking the kids to use it in a way that they normally would not. We got results such as keys, a phone, a microphone, and a hair dryer, all creative ideas. We broke for siesta and walked past the first of two cantinas and up the road to pastor Eddie's mother's house. She fixed a massive meal of delicious chicken, rice, beans, shredded cabbage, avocado, eggplant and a fruit mix with mango, pineapple and some things I'm not entirely sure how to identify, but which tasted wonderful. Later, we walked further up the hill to Eddie's uncle's house. He invited us in through his house to see the view from the backyard, where we could see Moca in one direction and Santiago in the other. He has a parrot, too, which is trained to laugh, and which is delightful in spite of the fact that he bites. You just have to keep clear is all.

For the afternoon session, I had the kids read some lines, and made them say “Rejoice with me” as if they meant it – you know, acting. They all did, until the last guy in the line, and he delivered it perfectly deadpan. I tried him a few more times, encouraging him to say it as he normally would to his friends, and he was still deadpan. His friends assured me that that was indeed the way he would say it to them. That's OK – we had some non-speaking roles. I really love these people.

On the way back, in the van, (big) Bobby began playing with David, and we all laughed so hard on the rest of the trip that my eyes still burn from the tears. David is a wonderful fellow who smiles with his whole face, and who does some wonderful Laurel and Hardy impressions, my personal favorite. It's so beautiful to see him with his sister Jessica, to see the love their family shares.

Tonight is ice cream night, so I look forward to the evening outing, to see what flavors we can buy from the ice cream shop. But first we have dinner in a few minutes, so the journal gets stored away for the time being.

7-30-2010 – Friday

Ice cream night was excellent. We went to Bon, which is supposed to have some character above the O so that we pronounce it boan, but I don't remember what it was. No matter, the ice cream was good. They did not list the flavors on the wall anywhere, so you just had to sort of know what they had, except that our escort knew and confirmed my hopes that they served rum raisin. You see, that is my favorite flavor of ice cream, and while it's really good in the USA, you go anywhere in the hispanic world, and you will taste the most wonderful ice cream in the world if you think to ask for rum raisin.

Anyway, today we blocked the play. I will be honest and tell you that this was easily the hardest day I had while in the DR, because we used the siesta time after eating to have the casting committee meet (Dawn, Sarah, Molly and yours truly, plus Wendi because she speaks English and knows who the kids are), and we spent the entire time getting it done, with no real chance to wind down. We filled the most difficult, least flexible roles first, then plugged in the ones that could, in some alternate universe, have been female - because, predictably, we had more female actors than male, and who knows? Maybe the King's personal finance officer could have been a girl.

Amazingly, we matched each of the 24 kids to a role in the play (with nobody being relegated to third shepherd from the left, you understand) though not all had speaking roles. Each person was at the very least a non-speaking accountant who flipped a page and had to actually “act.” None of the kids had to take dual roles. It was perfect. There's your first miracle.

About halfway through the first act, I realized that it was going to take a second miracle to get the blocking done by 4:30, so we could finish up and get down the mountain, so that the kids could go home and study their lines and commit to memory what they were supposed to do. We were rotating them through, so that while Molly and I (Molly is awesome, translating my confused direction into Spanish) were working on one act, the kids in the other two acts were in the back of the room working on costumes, while others on the team were outside creating scene panels to serve as our set. Dawn was working the costume department. Molly and I were sort of double teaming them – I would give some direction, and she would translate, and then when the kids had questions, she would translate that back for me. It was order within chaos, with chaos being the more visible. We finished blocking Act I, sent our actors away to take their turns with costumes, and gathered our actors for Act II – and discovered that a couple or so had disappeared for whatever reason. One couldn't be there Sunday, another couldn't for some other reason. After crossing them off the cast list, and considering who to load down with a dual role, they came back, upset that they couldn't have a role, so we re-instated them. As I said before, we had exactly one role for each kid, a miracle.

So, by the third act, Molly and I were getting seriously tired. I was trying to follow her Spanish (and that of the kids) and not doing too badly, considering the noise coming from the costume department on the other end of the room. We were getting the idea across to them pretty well, and the kids were doing their best, and I didn't even take time to check my watch.

And we made it to the end of the Prodigal Son parable, which was Act III, at 4:32. I was astounded, pronounced it an official miracle, and went outside to get some fresh air, and maybe, just maybe, some shade. I did not collapse, and neither did Molly, and so I told the kids to review their scripts, lines and blocking before they went to bed – and I had no idea if they would really do it.

Empanadas and “the monument” were the outing for the evening. I looked forward to them both, as I had used the monument as a starting point when searching for geocaches, hoping to score yet another country for my profile. There are no caches in the area, however, so I left my GPS unit home. At the monument, we had an impromptu talent show, some very silly but harmless stuff such as backward flips and funny impressions.

The empanada stand is run by one little old man, who could not be expected to handle the rush of business that we would represent with our rather large group. So by prior arrangement, two of our drivers/escorts got behind the counter, took our orders, and later our money. He had us adopt creative fake names for this exercise. Ginger became Spice Girl, I was el Jipo, Caleb was the Mad Raccoon. Fun stuff. This made it easier for them to keep track of us.

Then back to the dorm for “devo,” the name for “devotion time,” which I personally loved, with praise and worship singing, courtesy of Patrick and his magic guitar.

Mission trip to DR part 1

Dominican Republic mission trip, 2010

I recently had the exciting privilege of working with a missions team in the Dominican Republic, helping to establish a drama ministry for a tiny church up in the mountains. What follows are excerpts from my journal while there, in three parts.

7-28-2010 - Wednesday

Today we visited “the Hole.” The island here is volcanic in origin, and there is an extinct caldera within the city of Santiago. It was used as a garbage dump for years, and still is, though no longer with government approval. But you know how it is, when people get into a habit – garbage still finds its way into the caldera, in significant quantities, regardless of how many people currently live there, and regardless of a general disapproval. About 800 families live in the hole, with an average size of five, so about 4,000 people manage a life among open sewers, with garbage floating merrily in the creek/river that flows through it. The de facto government of the Hole is one or more drug dealers, and that gives you an idea of the main source of employment in such a situation. The drug dealer who rules the area approves of what is done for the children by GO ministries, and "has their back," so to speak. And before you react with horror that a drug dealer is a governing body, consider that in many countries around the world, corrupt governments actually interfere with charity efforts, and steal goods before they can make it to the intended recipients. I'm not saying that the government of the Dominican Republic is such a government – obviously they are not. But many in Africa are, so keep perspective.

GO ministries has built a small (by our standards) church, actually a two-story building with a chapel upstairs and a feeding center downstairs. Six days a week, they feed the children who live in the Hole – the day we visited, they feasted on rice with a spoonful of beans on the top and a small piece of chicken on the side. That's actually a nutritious, generous meal, and in my opinion, a good tasting one. These children ate joyfully and gratefully, and we were allowed to bring the color-coded bowls of food to them. Different colored bowls signified the size of portions, slightly more for the older, larger children, and the kids know which color to accept.

After lunch, as we took a tour of the area, children asked to be picked up, hugged, smiled at, and generally – well, loved. That's kind of what we all want, isn't it? We were more than glad to do that; they are beautiful children, with alert, shiny eyes and huge smiles.

Supplies for building the chapel/feeding center had to be brought down into the caldera by wheelbarrow – just what was needed for one day, because it would disappear overnight otherwise.

Most of the conditions here I expected. Toilet paper goes in a wastebasket, not into the ceramic throne, because the plumbing simply won't handle it. Don't drink the tap water, don't even get it on your toothbrush – just as in Mexico. Drink lots of water to replace what is leaving your body via perspiration, long before you're aware of a thirst reflex, lest you dehydrate. In fact, today, one of the teenagers did indeed forget to drink enough water, began throwing up, and required an IV. Hey, it happens.

So far, no culture shock for this old man. But the Hole was a whole new experience for me.

I'm making an effort to learn names, and remember things like who I talked to this morning about the scene panels. The week is young, and so I got the first such test completely, and embarrassingly, wrong. Of all people, it was Patrick who had been showing me the drawings, and I should have remembered him if only because he is Sarah's husband. But there you are. In my defense, consider that some of the names I'm supposed to keep track of go like this: Dan, Danna, Don, Dawn, Dennis, Denise.... and that's just the D's for goodness sake. :)

The people in this group are very friendly as well as tolerant of my weirdness, and I could see them becoming good friends if I lived near them. I also like the sense of humor that runs through the group like a lifeline – when the rooster next door woke us up way before dawn, some suggested that we go next door and buy it, and donate it to the ministry.

Tomorrow we begin the drama camp. That will be.. um... Thursday. So we cut some fabric for making costumes, and started working on props, and this afternoon I had a “Gare” moment, when Sarah showed me a shawl and asked if that would work for the woman in the lost coin parable. Of course it would, but it was so like the many times we had costume “parades” for Gare, our director at Backdoor theatre back in Wichita Falls. It began to sink in that I was really directing this play and taking a measure of responsibility for it. And I began to wonder if I was going to disappoint these people who are counting on me to shape it. When we finish casting the play, I think I had better make an opportunity to tell them about the concept of the “audience of one” whom they'll be performing for. (That's “God,” for those of you who are friends of mine but outside the Faith).