Area volunteers find "richness" in the faces of the Guatemalan poor

by Meg Kubesh

There were 22 of us who heard the call. Possibly we were "chosen"? With blind faith we followed, trusting that if He led us to it, He would lead us through it. The "why" we are all still trying to process.

On January 9, 2003, a group of adults from Sleepy Eye, St Peter, Walnut Grove, Springfield, Marshall, St. Paul, Bird Island, Olivia, Wisconsin and Nebraska, led by Father Brian Oestreich, Pastor of St. Mary’s Parish, Sleepy Eye, ventured to the New Ulm Diocesan Mission Parish of San Lucas Toliman, Guatemala. We set out with our servant hearts shining and suitcases filled with monetary donations, as well as school, medical, kitchen, carpentry and personal supplies, all donated by people who recognized the needs of the poor. In the true spirit of missionaries, our main goal was to give of our time, talents and supplies. It was a mere token compared to the treasures we were to return home with.

Guatemala is like experiencing an oxymoron. It was more beautiful than anything most of us had ever seen, yet filled with extreme oppression. It leaves one feeling so confused yet so certain. Our biggest mission was to open our hearts up wide enough to let the people of San Lucas minister to us! It was not primarily about "doing for them" but about being vulnerable enough to share with them "the journey of the poor."

Together, we and the people of San Lucas, worshiped, sang, ate fresh fruit and vegetables, served meals, picked and sorted coffee beans, bartered, poured cement block, made a stove, wired rerods, potted bags with soil for the reforestation project, and, shared stories. For most of our group everything was "No comperendo," with the exception of Amanda, a brilliant 11 year old girl who served as our interpreter. As a result worship, song, children, laughter, tears and hugs became the universal language that crossed all barriers. Not being able to speak Spanish gave us the golden opportunity to lavish ourselves in listening, smelling, touching, watching and just being present as the richness of the poverty began to unfold. It was very humbling and eventually left us feeling powerless.

The mission parish of San Lucas Toliman ministers to 22 parish communities (some only accessible by foot). Father Greg Schaffer, a priest of the New Ulm Diocese and pastor of the mission parish for the past 40 years, coordinates all volunteer efforts.

Along the way we experienced many "freeze frames," making this journey feel holy and personal. One day, as we were walking amidst the ruins left by the devastating mudslide on September 12, 2002, we encountered a man aimlessly roaming with his machete in hand. We followed him as he led us to the ruins of his home. The pain and sadness in his eyes are etched on our hearts forever. Through the tears of Maria (the Public Health Nurse) we heard his story. His 15 year old daughter had been swept to her death in the mudslide, his wife lost her leg and they lost their home. He showed us the crotch of the tree that saved his baby from being swept into the falling debris. Together we stood in silence. Before he wandered off, he smiled at us and said "gracias" for just being present to listen to his story and share in his pain.

Another "freeze frame" was having the privilege of attending Mass up in the mountains, in front of a primal hut, where wooden boards and tables easily converted into an altar and pews. As we approached, sirens began to sound and we saw a primitive microphone system hooked up to big speakers. The sirens were to call people out of the hills for worship. The speakers were turned outward into the hills so the Word of God could be proclaimed to all. Without e-mail, phone, Fed Ex or UPS the word got out and people flocked to the service. Prior to Mass, confessions were heard just adjacent to the hut. Mass included guitars, singing and Eucharist with fellowship to follow.

As a group, we gathered each evening to reflect on the activities and experiences encountered throughout the day. We celebrated Mass each night under the stars. At the foothill of the volcano Toliman, we left behind all of our old clothes in an effort to fill our suitcases with coffee. In some ways, we left behind more than just our "old" clothes. Perhaps we also left behind "old" prejudices, "old" attitudes and "old" pride. We entered San Lucas Toliman with our mouths hanging wide open, feeling so sad for the people and the poverty we were witnessing. We left with that same sense of sadness, only this time it was for ourselves. In the midst of their poverty, we had discovered a richness that we knew money couldn’t buy. Amidst the abundance and richness of our lives, you will now find pictures of the Guatemalan people hanging on the walls of our homes....symbols of our dreams and aspirations and a constant reminder to hold faith, family and food at the heart of our lives.