The Position is Already Taken

September 19th 2009 12:00am

I wasn't sure if I was going to write about today until just now. I just finished writing an email to Jon Rumburg, and I found it rather cathardic, so I figured I might as well write about it here too. As a warning, this entry will be a little bit graphic.

Today started out like a normal Saturday. I woke up and got ready for my day of classes, and was off to meet Luis Felipe at Plaza by 8:00am. By 8:35 he still wasn't there, and I assumed that even in the Latin American event-oriented time structure, that he was late and that it was maybe up to me to get to work.

I flagged down a taxi, and though I didn't know exactly how wo get to the office, we were able to go landmark by landmark until we were close enough. The taxi driver was very nice and patient with me.

I got to work and talked with Heidy and Anna for a little while. Luis Felipe still wasn't there, and neither was Juaqine or Gloria. By 9:15am, everyone was there, and the classes began. Today, the class order was mixed up a little bit, but I still got around to everyone. Today, we tried a meditation, and much to my surprise, everyone participated. I think they enjoyed it.

After my last class, I went up to talk with Edgardo and Betzabe for a little bit. Edgardo suggested that we start a band and began to play guitar. I sang some harmonies for some songs that he knew, and Betza chimed in here and there too. We sounded pretty good. By noon, they were ready to leave, and asked if I wanted to ride with them to Plaza. I had already promised Luis Felipe and Juaqine that I would eat lunch with them. It was one of those things, I looked back on later.

I sat down to a nice big bowl of chicken soup with Luis Felipe, Juaqin, and Gloria around 12:00pm or so. It wasn't the best lunch, and I didn't eat very much of it. I resolved to finish having lunch time when I got back to the apartment. We discussed our days and our classes, before Luis Felipe began asking me about typical American food. I said that it was hard to determine typical American food due to the immense amound of cultural blending. But, if I had to pick...hot dogs, hamburgers, and most things grilled or barbequed would fall under the category that I call "American Food".

I tried to explain chain restaurants, and with Juaqine's translating help, I was able to properly explain Skyline Chili to my companions. I don't think that they are eager to try it. Luis Felipe kept asking about Hooters, anyway, so I'm not even sure that he was paying attention.

After lunch, I talked with Heidy and Anna for a while, and we shared about our dating history. My stories were brief, and theirs rather extensive. Heidy's first of seven boyfriends came at the age of 12, and Anna's first of 10 boyfriends was at the age of 10. Apparently, that is pretty normal here, and it is very normal for the boy to be several years older than the girl.

When I decided that it was time for me to go, Luis Felipe suggested that I walk down to the road to go and grab a taxi cab down there, rather than calling for one to pick me up. He told me that it was significantly cheaper to get one that way. Juaqine quickly cautioned me that the neighborhood where the CCD office is would not be called the safest neighborhood, and that I might want to pay the extra 20 lempiras and have one pick me up. No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than we both heard relatively nearby gunshots.

As Juaqine had said, the neighborhood isn't the greatest, and I had been getting used to the random gunshots. Neither of us even reacted. I decided to call for a taxi, and luckily for me, there was one already in the neighborhood. I was in a cab and on my way within a couple of short minutes.

On the way out of the office, there are no left turns onto the main road, so we turn to the right and drive down a ways before being able to turn around and come back on the opposite side of the street.

We reached the street and began our turn to the right, and were immediately in traffic. I could see in the right hand lane a group of people and police officers gathered together. My window was down, and the crowd seemed surprisingly quiet.

The taxi neared the group of people, and I could see a body on the ground. As soon as I did, I saw a police officer grab a sheet from someone in the crowd and throw it over the person lying on the asphault. My stomach knotted up.

We drove closer to the crowd, and as we did, I could see a loved one running forward. I could hear her screaming, and I watched as she tried to claw her way past the people holding her back. She wanted so desparately to be with the person under the sheet. She screamed and yelled and cried. I will never forget her face.

There was a line of blood flooding out from under the sheet onto the side of the road where we were driving, and when we got closer I saw the a dark red stain on the back right tire of the car ahead of us. With every rotation, it showed its ugly shape again and again. I knew that we would be driving through it soon, and when we did, I was less than 5 feet away from the person whose blood it was.

My stomach turned, and I almost threw up.

We drove a little bit away before turning around and coming up the other side of the street. On our way back, I couldn't help but to stare at the woman who was on the ground weeping next to her lost love.

The rest of my day seemed to pass by inconsequentially. I couldn't eat any more lunch. I tried to sleep, but ended up just laying there in bed for a while. Around 5:30pm, Marisela called and invited me over to dinner. I went to her house for the first time, and had a nice homecooked meal. I tried to talk with her about things, but. . . couldn't.

I got back home around 9:30pm and went up to the roof to ride the stationary bike for a while. A song came on my music player, and I felt very compelled to pray. I was surprised that I hadn't really prayed about today.

I realized that I had wanted to do something all day. I wanted to help. Some how, some way, I wanted to help. And as I stood on the roof looking up at the combination of stars and lightning, I blurted out "I feel useless!" As soon as I did, the words that Jon Rumburg spoke to me at camp came flooding into my mind.

"You are not their savior. That position is already taken."

I felt lighter. I cried. I cried for the person under the sheet, I cried for the woman, I cried for myself, I cried for Jesus, I didn't know why I was crying.

It gave me strength to know that the position was filled. I finished my prayer, and returned to my apartment and have just finished writing Jon a thank you email.

Love should always end with hope. My day ended with the hope that I find in God through all of you.