The heart can not taste what the eyes have not seen. — Brazilian proverb
Three of us -- Dave Harrison, John Hershey, and I -- drove into Baja California and delivered approximately 750 pounds of beans and rice and about 100 children's jackets to the Triqui (also spelled Trique by English speakers :-) people served by Iglesia Filadelfia in Vicente Guerrero about 100 miles south of Ensenada. We spent approximately 24 hours photographing, interviewing, and meeting with Triquis and missionaries and local vendors. The meetings were largely to coordinate a summer church construction project which will provide a new, much larger multipurpose facility for both church services and a variety of outreach programs to the Triquis.
The Triquis are an indigenous people from Oaxaca in central Mexico. Theirs is a sad story with similarities to our own Native Americans. Triqui land has been confiscated. Drunkenness and violence are common. Local Spanish speakers tend to look down on all speakers of Indian languages, but especially on the Triqui, and the local Mixtec also look down on them, leaving the Triquis at the very bottom of the social pecking order. Because of their subordinate status, the Triqui have traditionally had a deep sense of inferiority about their language and culture. In short, the Triquis have been, and continue to be exploited geographically, physically, and economically.
But Jesus transforms lives in the bleakest of circumstances. In the short time we were there, we were able to hear the inspiring stories of four indigenous people whose lives were radically enhanced through a personal relationship with Jesus. Their faith in the face of poverty, obstacles, and even hostility is moving, challenging ... even embarrassing.
We logged approximately 1,200 safe, but exhausting miles in little more than 48 hours. Please pray with me that we can help to make those few hours spent with a humble, delightful, inspiring people count for eternity.
I'd been warned.
Dave, the ramrod behind this blitzkrieg recon mission to Mexico, is also my Bible study leader. He's been working with the Triquis for years and told me about the amorality prevalent in the culture. Among other symptoms, he noted that: polygamy is common, women are considered chattel, and they think nothing of selling themselves for a loaf of bread or anything else they want or need.
So it was with great trepidation that I met "Maria" as I prowled the dirt streets alone seeking photos in the "golden hours" shortly after dawn.
Even worse, she was insistent that I visit her home comprised of two separate buildings made of plywood sheeting on a slab floor.
"Oh man, what am I getting myself into?!" I thought as I followed her into her home. One Spartan room, approximately 10x15 feet, seemed to be general purpose and held a bed where a baby a few months old lay. Will he make it past next winter when there's little work and even less food, to his 1st birthday? Dave tells me that it's not uncommon for Triquis -- mostly children -- to die from malnutrition every year.
A smaller second building contained a bunk bed with two more of her four children and a barren kitchen -- not a crumb of food to be seen except on the dirty dishes shelved beneath the stove. No sink. No running water. No gas in the propane tank beside the rough wooden counter.
I've seen even more desperate living conditions in Haiti, but Maria's tenuous situation reminded me once again just how fortunate we whining, materialistic, hedonistic Americans can be.
Not to worry. I got some good photos and nothing untoward happened. I gave her the two dollar bills in my pocket and I made a mental note: next time draft some energetic young whipper snapper to chaperone me from dawn to dusk.
If you'd like to get involved in the Triqui projects in any way -- praying, giving, and/or going -- please contact:
Dave Harrison
1190 Cana Lane
Colfax, CA 95713
(530) 906-2222
canavi@peoplepc.com
I was feeling pretty smug. I'd done my homework and bought several dollars worth of the trinkets veterans told me would work best with the Triqui children. Balloons, "Matchbox" trucks, toys for girls, bubble gum and candy hid in bags and awaited the kids when I'd take to the streets to photograph them.
But Dave had a better and wiser idea. "Why don't you take the Pastor's son and let him pass out the goodies?"
"It works for me and keeps my hands free," I thought, so off the young man and I sauntered down the dirt street. We hadn't even gone a block before that Godly young man asked me in Spanish, "Do you know Jesus?" He didn't let the tall, skinny gringo nor our language barrier intimidate him. He got right to the most important question you can ever ask anyone: "Do you know Jesus?" And I'm sure he had memorized every Scripture needed to lead a person to Christ.
I'm the antithesis of the popular battery: never ready. And I can come up with a thousand excuses why I shouldn't say anything ... at least not now. God used a humble, and obedient young man to teach me one of several lessons I learned from the Triquis during my short visit with them: Quit making excuses and do it now. If God can use a donkey He can probably speak through my stumbling lips.
BTW, Dave's idea worked like a charm. The kids mobbed the Pastor's son and he got to be the hero to pass out the goodies.