9 Predictions For My Time in Venezuela (Part 2)

9 Predictions For My Time in Venezuela (Part 2)

This is the 2nd part of my series on predictions for my time in VZ

The first part: http://venezuelastint.blogspot.com/2013/09/9-predictions-for-my-time-in-vz-part-1.html

6. I will never be able to completely roll my R's

Some people are born without the abilities that are inherently and graciously imparted to others. Abilities such as athleticism, artistic and musical abilities, and of course, the ability to cook delicious food items. Of course, with the right amount of time put into these activities, most anybody can become a skilled artisan. I myself had become an artisan, if you will, in various musical activities and - at one point in time - Sudoku puzzles. But you cannot deny that some people have the genetics that give them advantages over others. Even if that genetic ability is being able to learn something at a faster pace than others. I don't know if rolling R's is genetically influenced (I bet it is), but I do know one thing... There are people who have been trying to do it for a much shorter time than I and have gotten it down.

The worst part about not being able to roll your R's is knowing that it hasn't gotten any better from the first time you tried. It's not the same as when you don't know other things in the language. When I don't know what something means or I don't know how to say something, I can ask or look it up. And I will be able to use it eventually without any help. Nobody can teach my mouth to produce sounds it doesn't desire to sound out. Believe me, I know my mouth well. But as the Lord can change the heart of a murderer into the heart of a saint, I have to admit that I believe the Lord has the ability to perform what would be nothing short of a miracle on my R-rolling impediment 

5. Kingdom Vision - My view of ministry and my own personal walk are going to change greatly (in good ways)

Every week that I'm here I come across things that throw me off guard and challenge how I view how I do ministry, not just here but anywhere. I'm also challenged in my own personal walk with Christ in new ways. It's funny, when I'm back in the States, I always hear other Christians talking about their views on what the Christian life should look like, what evangelism should look like, how we should go about worship etc... I can tell you, that that hasn't changed in the least bit here. The only difference is that many of the same issues have different amounts of focus.

Something that burdens my heart here the most is broken families. I don't know the comparative statistics of % of broken homes between the US and Venezuela in order to say that it's worse in Venezuela, but I do know this: Venezuela's standard of living is much lower than that of the US. And the opportunities for single women raising children in the US to support their kids is much greater than those in Venezuela.

Sadly, when I talk to students, I'm used to hearing about broken families. A lot of the guys I talk to just need people in their life who love them and won't leave or abandon them. Ministry, in general, can sometimes be too focused on numbers, and I believe this to be true for ministries and people who have goals and objectives that aren't even quantitatively based. You start a Bible Study on a campus and only 2 people come faithfully the whole semester. It's hard not to think about whether you're doing something wrong or if you're even supposed to be on that campus to begin with. But I've noticed more and more the need that students have - even if they've been involved in the ministry a long time and have many friends within it - to just have somebody there who is constant. Someone who cares about them and someone who loves them. That's when I realize that there are occasionally days, when I need to just drop my material, cancel my original plans, and just sit and listen to a student who is in deep emotional pain.

What good is a ministry with hundreds of students, when, with all the company around them, nobody hears their cries.

4. Venezuelan Guise - The longer I stay here the more I will become unrecognizable as a Gringo.

Chelsea, the long-term US staff here and friend, constantly refers to me as the Venezuelan within our small group of Gringo staff. At first it was just a joke, but now it's becoming more and more of a reality...

Normally, Gringos stick out in Venezuela, because of a few main reasons:

1. They just visually stand out. Lighter hair and skin. Eye color that isn't dark brown. Not wearing their blue jeans in 100 degree weather. Picture with me, a safari, and in this safari are only flamingos. Rarely do you ever see non-flamingo creatures in this safari. NOW, imagine that some buffalo up and walk in on the safari. It's hard for the flamingo not to sit there and wonder "What's up with these buffalo?" That's what it's like. (In no way am I saying Venezuelans are like flamingos, and Gringos like buffalo, that's just the image that popped into my head to help convey my point).

2. They walk in herds together wherever they go. Ok, now imagine the buffalo in this safari travelling together wherever they go. The least buffalo-looking buffalo lead the pack with each new buffalo looking more buffalo than the last. Now there are safety reasons for sticking in packs, even for the flamingos, but with great precaution comes great standing out.

3. Verbal communication is different. This is just an obvious given. When a flamingo hears a buffalo's vocal sounds it doesn't think to itself, "What an odd sounding flamingo". It instantly recognizes the buffalo without even needing to see it.

Heeeyyy Everybody!

So as for myself, I arrived in Maracaibo with the last two being as true as they'd ever be. Couldn't speak much Spanish and when I could, my accent was more than obvious. And for the first month or two my team was not allowed to go anywhere by ourselves [for safety reasons].

BUT, there is a wild card in play, my friends. Not only did I come down to Venezuela, looking similar to the people, but as I continue to darker in the sun and get used to the heat, my number 1 is looking good. My eyes have a little color in them, but it's too hard to see from afar and my hair only needs gelled and it'll be as dark as night.

AND, the longer I'm here, the more independent we're able to be with shopping, leisure activities, and the sorts. Not to mention that my Spanish can only get better from this point on, so long as I put the effort in. 

One Month Update

I realized that many people have no idea what I'm doing down here... So I've created this post as a way to give my ministry partners, family, friends, and the people creeping behind your shoulders a chance to find out.

My Team

(From left to right: Christian, Melissa, John, Chelsea, Me, Nate & Lissy)

Our Campuses

IUTM (Chelsea and Me)

LUZ Architecture/Engineering (Chelsea and John)

LUZ Humanities (Melissa and John)

LUZ Medicine (Christian, Nate and Lissy)

LUZ Sciences (Melissa and Nate)

UNICA (Christian, Lissy & Me [not anymore though])

On Wednesdays and Thursdays Chelsea and I go to IUTM. We've been mostly connecting with students that Chelsea and the previous summer project (short missionary trips lead by Cru) had met over the last year. IUTM is very much Chavista (supporters of Chavez), as shown by the red paint scattered throughout the campus. A student who looked like he was in his thirties stood in line in front of me at the comedor (cafeteria) with a lady who appeared to be his significant other. As I spoke in English to my friend Obi, the guy turned around and started speaking to me. I was able to answer his questions (that I was American, I don't speak very much Spanish, and that it's very hard to learn) until he asked me whether I was Chavista or not. I could clearly see he was. I tried my best to act like I had no idea what he was talking about since I didn't want to make him angry. To be fair and honest, I didn't have much of an opinion on Chavez. I've purposely distanced myself from American politics, so I have absolutely no desire to emerge myself in the politics of another country. But the man wouldn't let go so easily. He shortened the question to this "Chavez.. Good or Bad". And I shortened my answer to "I don't know".

For the past 4 weeks I have also been working on a campus called UNICA. It's a smaller artsy-type campus that is easy to get around. We've had plenty of great conversations lead by Christian, who is the only Spanish speaker out of him, Lissy and I. Each day we were on campus, Christian would lead us in conversation and Lissy (mostly) and I would chime in here and there. Although it seemed that everyone we talked to were girls. Every person on UNICA who was a Christian interested in joining our group (and the few we lead to Christ while there) was a girl.

Every. Single. One. 

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the girls that we've gotten to know at UNICA. They've really been great and I've enjoyed spending time on campus with them, but I started to realize more and more everyday that I wasn't supposed to be there. It had crossed my mind several times while feeling quite useless in what were all Spanish conversations. The one day I went to UNICA with Christian and Lissy and the first thing we did was meet up with a girl who Christian wanted to follow up with. While that was happening, Lissy was catching up with a girl who spoke English (this girl seemed to only like Lissy. She may have had a distaste in guys). I can't express to you how useless it feels to not be able to really contribute to either conversation. Couldn't speak Spanish and was cold shouldered from the other conversation. As much as I loved the students I met on UNICA, I just couldn't stay. I felt more secure in this decision when I evaluated my options of being on a different campus. We had 3 on UNICA and the other two campuses for those days had just 2. It just seemed to make more sense to have the larger number of staff on the bigger campuses (Engineering or Sciences). My choice will probably be Sciences.

Activities and Goals

Every week we go on campus to meet with students we know or to share the gospel with others. Often times there are students there who are part of Vida Estudiantil. We assist in helping them do events and activities on campus such as prayer times, Bible studies, and outreaches. Our goal is to see the students take leadership over aspects of the ministry as they begin to grow and multiply. 

9 Predictions For My Time In VZ (Part 1)

9 Predictions For My Time in Venezuela

I don't know why, but there's just something about looking back to where you were a year ago and comparing it to now. I'd like to think that when I'm finished with my STINT, I can think back to a year ago and have a good laugh about many of the things that are happening to me now and over the next ten months. There are many things that I imagine will be a part of my future here in Venezuela - some good, some not so good. So I've compiled a list of 9 things I believe will be in store for me while I'm here. I will try to mix some lighter material with some heavier things, so that you may have a good picture of the ministry and culture here (from my perspective, of course).

9. American Food - I'm going to miss it

Before I begin, I just want to say that I've enjoyed quite a lot of Venezuelan food. A lot of it includes plantains, beans, rice, ensalada, and has some form of breading, meat and cheese. Usually, there's no hidden secret sauces that cause me to projectile vomit over the face of the person sitting across from me. Most everything is fried. I can't say that I've really disliked anything I've eaten yet.

But, this doesn't help me overcome the longing I have for wing nights with friends, or a quick trip to Arby's for a sandwich, or.. Mexican food.

Many of the people I talked to about Venezuela food had the idea that I would be eating tacos and burritos, listening to La Cucaracha. That is most definitely not the case. The only similarity between Mexican and Venezuelan foods are their use of beans and rice for many dishes.

But, I know I titled this about American food, so I digress.

The hardest part of dealing with this is when I grocery shop. You know those times when you don't make a grocery list before shopping and you arrive at the store just staring down all the isles like you're waiting for the Holy Spirit to give you the discernment on what to buy. Similar to when you're hungry, you go to your fridge and open it, look in, decide you don't want anything, and close it. Then you repeat this several times afterwards with the expectation that something will magically change.

Hmmm... Maybe I missed something... Nope just water, cream cheese, and butter

Well in Venezuela, it's the same situation, only worse. Most everything is in Spanish (obviously), which even Melissa, who speaks fluently, may sometimes not even know. I don't know whether what I'm buying is chicken, turkey, or dinosaur meat. Also there's a shortage or just lack of anything and everything that you may desire. You want butter? Too bad! Flour? Good luck! You want milk? Hope you like it unpasteurized

You may have a grocery list that you've prepared over the past week only to leave the store with 15% of the items on your list and a steady stream of tears coming down your eyes..

8. Battle Within My Stomach - My stomach will have problems the entire time I'm here (on and off)

I hate to start on two negatives, but they just happened to be the first two things on my list. I promise it won't all be like this. 

Apparently, traveling to countries like Venezuela will truly determine what type of stomach you have. I have, as I had already known, a fairly weak stomach. Not necessarily in the throwing-up way though... In the other, more exciting way. About 2/3 of my days here I've had stomach aches and much needed trips to the bathroom. Thankfully, the Lord has been gracious enough to allow my conversations with students at the Universities to go uninterrupted. 

The question has come up several times as to what the source of my stomach problems is. My answer: probably most everything. But I believe it's more of a problem of my stomach than the food I'm eating... Almost as if my stomach just isn't having it

Not having it, bro

7. The People - I will love them

There are so many things that make Maracuchans so much different than Americans - things that I enjoy, things I don't, and things I'm indifferent to. I want to avoid direct comparison though, so I'll just talk about the Maracuchans... And only the things I enjoy (which definitely are more numerous than the things I don't)

The atmosphere has just a generally welcoming and friendly vibe. When you see somebody you know or meet someone new, there is always a great deal of contact. Cheek kissing, cool hand shakes, or awkward exchanges of the aforementioned. 

First cheek-kiss interaction thought process with Maracuchan girls

Do I give you a cheek kiss? I'm the first person in line for you to meet at this party, so I haven't seen whether people are cheek kissing you yet. What if I'm not aware of some cultural norm of no cheek kissing at a certain time or place? What if that time is now? No that's stupid, just do it... No, I'm not going to unless you initiate it... Wait. I don't want to be rude... Okay, I'm going in for a cheek kiss, I hope that's acceptable.... Ok, ya, I guess that wasn't so bad. 

First cool hand shake interaction thought process with Maracuchan guys

Well that could have gone better, my bad...

Last Sunday (22nd) we attended a church called La Fe. It's a fairly decent sized church that models many of the medium-sized churches in America. Each week, they have any new guests stand up to be welcomed by whomever wants to while they sing you a welcome song. I can't say I've ever felt so welcomed in my life. I also got the cheek kissing and cool hand shakes down pretty well.

Of all the things that I've heard and noticed about the Maracuchans, the one thing I am definitely most impressed with is their willingness to have a conversation with you. 1 of the girls that we initiated a spiritual conversation with on campus was so friendly that it was almost as if she had been expecting our company. As Lissy, my teammate, walked up to her and introduced us, she happily told Lissy to have a seat next to her and said that it was okay, she could relax. It rocked my world. Not everyone has been THAT eager to talk with us here, but even two girls who seemed hesitant at first ended up talking with us for 2 hours! (They ended up being 2 of the 16 students who came to know the Lord that week). 

To sum things up, I have loved getting to know the Maracuchans and I don't even speak their language yet. I can't tell you how excited I am for these next coming months as I begin to learn more Spanish, and deepen my friendships.

First Days in Maracaibo

I spent some time trying to decide how I should start my first blog post in Venezuela. There are so many things that I'd love to share with everyone, but that would make my blog post go very long... And they're usually already long enough. So I'm just going to write. I don't know if there will be any flow or structure, but there will be thoughts. Thoughts written out from the bottom of my heart: because I love Maracaibo.

Week 1

Arrival

Upon arriving we had some problems getting through immigration and customs. Our Visas were changed from 90 to 30 days by the immigration officer checking our documents. By law, he's not allowed to do that, but we weren't going to argue with him. What were we going to say anyways? "No bueno! No bueno, senor!" We would've been sent home immediately. And there would be no chichas or pabellon or arepas or anything!

I've had to make few decisions for myself since coming here, usually those being choice of food... And actually, that's only happened once... So pretty much there have been no decisions made for myself by myself yet, which is good.

... Let me just stop this blog post for a second to tell a quick story that happened while working on this post. Andrea, our roommate, speaks as much English, as I speak Spanish (So, basically, not enough). Our conversations consist of some form of "What's up" and "Como Estas" followed by one word answers or longer answers with many hand gestures. We're both sitting at this table working on our laptops when I walk over to give my speakers to my teammates, so they can play the movie on louder speakers. They turned the volume up as loud as they could, which apparently wasn't very loud for Maracuchan standards.

As I'm about to sit down, Andrea starts speaking to me in Spanish. I understand one word: "movie".. And that's about all I got. After 3 minutes of back and forth, she types it into Google Translate which did a terrible job of translating, but I got an idea of what she was talking about through context clues and gesturing. I tell you, I'm going to be good at all games that require no talking after this trip. We finally, after 10 minutes and Lissy's help, communicated that she wanted us to know she didn't mind how loud we had the movie volume. At least I think that was the conclusion.

This was actually better than most conversations Andrea and I have had which usually end in me quietly whispering bueno after not understanding a word she says, or her just looking at me very confused. We ended our talk today explaining to each other in our non-native languages, that we were going to slowly learn each other's language. To that we high-fived in success!

Welcome Party

Last night (Sept. 14) we were welcomed with a party and worship, Maracuchan style. It was Hippie themed...

They don't normally dress like this, in case you were culturally unaware of all things Non-American

At first, it was hard to talk with anyone who didn't know at least some English. Every conversation is pretty much the same. 

Me: "Hola, como se llama?"... 

Me: "Que estudias?"...  

Me: "Ahh Bueno..."
-Time to move on, because I can't ask you anything else-

I got to lead worship by playing guitar and singing some more well known Christian worship songs. It was awesome to connect over this, as the songs I played were known by them - just in Spanish. A dance party broke out, and soon I was swept onto the dance floor... Now, I don't know if it's like a required class that they must take or what, but pretty much every Maracuchan knows how to dance (and dance well). As I danced with the Maracuchans that night, I realized one thing: I may not be able to communicate with them via words, but I can through music and dancing. And I guess that's good enough for now.

Just as an update, since I'm finishing this blog a few days later from when I started: Andrea and I had another quick conversation. Neither of us could communicate with the other in either Spanish or English, but enough words were spoken. Words like 'Day', 'Good', 'Classes', and 'Eat'.

That's all we really needed. At least 3 complete thoughts were shared and understood to some extent. Honestly, there's probably some thick-accented Americans that I would probably get less out of. But I look forward to the day where many complete thoughts will be shared with many Maracuchans. Preferably over some delicious chicha:

This is what the chicha looks like.. Except instead of a nice fancy cup, it's a cheap plastic one

Chicago: A Story of STINT Part 1

Earlier this month I got to experience a week of STINT training in Chicago with 400 others. For those of you Cru people who have been to Radiate before, that's what I would compare it to. But instead of 4 days of worship and speakers talking about several topics, it was a week of worship and speakers talking about STINT.

If you're new to following either of my blogs, I'll catch you up on my purpose for running them. This blog has always been used as my 'mission trip' blog. I like to update supporters, family, and friends via blog. My other blog, Unbounded, is actually more for myself. I don't journal, but I do love expressing my thoughts and stories, and a blog sometimes is the perfect way. Unbounded can be a little all over the place, which is why it's probably best to just stick to this blog if you want to keep up with my actual stint in Venezuela. This blog will include a closer look into my stint, tell funny stories, and explain some stuff that my prayer letter can't. I hope you enjoy it and are encouraged by what the Lord will be doing in the ministry at Maracaibo.

Unbounded:

http://unbounded2011.blogspot.com/

Here is my story about my time in Chicago:

1st time newby! We were staying in Naperville, though, which was about an hour-long train ride away from the actual city. I was really confused about this... How were we in Chicago, but still an hour away from the city by train. Did the train travel around the city in a circle? I know Chicago is large, but I didn't realize how large. But I digress...

I was rooming with 3 other guys, one of which was John, my teammate. Now, I'm usually a fairly good bedmate whenever I'm forced to share a bed with someone.

~I'm slender and don't take up very much room.
~I tend to be very quiet and softer spoken
~Once I fall asleep I'm out like a rock
~No snoring, no sleepwalking, no nighttime activities

However, this week, I was almost the complete opposite person. And by this I don't mean that I got really fat and loud.

Some of these events were only told to me days after they occurred, but I'm going to tell them in the order they happened.

1st Night:
You know that point in the night where you are so groggy and delusional that you could easily be mistaken for a non-sober person. I don't actually know if this happens to everybody else, but it most certainly happens to me. Well at some time in the night I had just enough consciousness to know that I was stretching my arms across the imaginary center divide between me and the other guy, Mark. However, it was not enough consciousness to care.

My hand slowly reached across the bed to his face, and I just held my hand there. On his face.

Now I don't know if I thought this was a dream or what at the time, but it didn't even phase me. I knew it was happening, I think. And this is why the Bible tells us not to be drunk with wine. Because things like this become suddenly acceptable (For those of you who randomly skipped to this paragraph, no I was not drunk, I was in a sleep-like stage that mirrored that of being tipsy).

Anyways, a couple days later, bless his heart, Mark and I are sitting down and he tells me about it, thus confirming that it definitely was not a dream. Why he never broke my arm and flung it back in my own face, I'll never know.

2nd Night:
Before you can fully understand what happened this night and share emotional sympathy for Mark, I must explain more about our living situation. We were living in a Marriott Hotel in which the AC was set on the Arctic Tundra setting. Everything - the hallways, the bedrooms, the conference rooms - were freezing cold. Why we didn't think to at least turn the temperature up in our room until like the 3rd night is also beyond me. Needless to say, the Marriott blankets were a key asset to not getting frost bite during the night. Now, me being the excellent planner that I so naturally am, brought nothing but shorts and t-shirts for this trip. Because it's summer, and all weather everywhere, whether inside or out, should require me to put no more clothes on than a thin shirt and some shorts.

Each night I would sleep with just some gym shorts that I brought with me. The beds were so comfortable that I needed nothing more. However, the room was so frigid that to be out of the blankets was instant cold death.

One thing fancy hotels like to do is put a nice blanket folded horizontally across the bed that covers just yours legs for aesthetic appeal. Obviously, you can unfold it and use it as an actual blanket, or just chuck it on the ground.

Well, the second night rolls by, and I wake up grasping the edge of the blanket. However, it's not the edge of the blanket that's even supposed to be on my side. It's the edge of the blanket from Mark's side. Apparently, throughout the night, I kept pulling the covers over myself and letting the excess blanket fall to the ground. So when I woke up, the entire blanket was on the ground except for a little portion covering myself. Again, in my sleepy mode, didn't think anything of it.

Mark confronts me that night, bless his heart once again, and asks me what happened to the covers last night. He was forced to use the leg blanket after waking up in the middle of the night from being cold and blanketless.

3rd Night
So after recently being told of my sleeppranking, I made every effort before I fell asleep the 3rd night to tell myself to not be a jerk while sleeping. After a few hours of sleeping, something woke me up ever so slightly to catch in my peripherals Mark slowly arising from his slumber. He was muttering some words that didn't make sense. At first I couldn't tell if he was awake and talking to himself or if he was just sleeptalking. But after a few more moments, I knew he was definitely still asleep. He got out of bed and just stood there motionless for a few seconds.

Now if you've watched some of the same horror movies I have, your heart would probably be pounding just as hard as mine was at this point. Still very sleepy, my mind went to the only explanation I could conjure up at that point: Mark was being possessed by a demon. My body completely stiff, I watched as he walked over to his pillow that had been pushed farther down the bed, mutter something than pick it up.

I was a little more awake now, but still not enough to be at all rational. I braced myself for the worst, believing that he was going to smother me with his pillow for all the psychological pain I caused him throughout the last two days. You may find this hard to believe, but yes, I truly thought these things at this point in the night.

Anyways, he suddenly collapsed on his side of the bed, falling to sleep shortly after. I knew I was safe for the night and fell back asleep myself.


With all this being said, Mark and I got along quite well while we were awake, the few times we saw each other.


I'll post a more serious and thoughtful Part 2 at some point in the near future giving you more insight into my time at Chicago.

Transition To STINT

For those who have been following along in my blog, previously, I'm currently changing it to share the experiences from my STINT in Venezuela. I hope to soon be posting regularly again!

- Michael