January 29, 2009

The day has finally come for us to travel “up north” to Huehuetenango. Dick and Fernando, a young man from Dick's neighborhood, picked me up about 7:30. We were not able to leave, however, until Mari made sure Fernando had a “snack” for the road. She’d already given me provisions for Dick and myself. If you are getting the idea that food is a large part of the hospitality of the Guatemalan people, you’re right. And to refuse is considered rude, if not an outright insult! (I wonder what I’ll weigh when I go home. Gaining weight on a trip to a Third World country would be absolutely embarrassing!)

I had been a little worried that, out of kindness, Dick was making this trip to show me the back country. I know how he hates being a “tour guide.” All concern was erased when I got to the Land Rover and saw the back and top loaded with wheelchairs and other paraphernalia, and realized we three would all be riding up front on the six hour trip. This was definitely going to be a working trip.

The first part of the trip was already familiar to me. I’d been on the winding, steep roads which lead to Lake Atitlan. Little did I know that would be the easiest traveling for the next five days! As we traveled northwest, the scenery became more beautiful as the drive became more challenging. I am proud to say that I did not scream or try to grab the wheel from Dick even once. I was too busy praying!

Along the way to Huehue (way-way), we made our first wheelchair delivery. Dick and Fernando, on an earlier trip, had “stumbled upon” an older man being pushed along in a go-cart type of contraption by some friends. This is not unusual for these two, especially for Fernando who seems to have an eagle eye and a compassionate heart for those in need. The stop was more challenging, however, as it was pouring down rain. Nevertheless, measurements were taken, and Dick promised to return as soon as possible with a wheelchair for the gentleman.

Now, in Guatemala, no one seems to use addresses, and many houses and turn offs look the same. Getting directions is an art form, and Fernando is highly skilled in this area. After just a few stops, we were directed to the home of the man. He was down at the local “tienda” (store), but his daughter was home. After some negotiating it was decided that it would be easier to take the chair to him, than bring him to the chair, so we set off down the road.

The man could not have been more excited. He seemed to be somewhat surprised that Dick had actually kept his word. With a few minor adjustments, the chair fit the man just right, and we were able to sit down and visit with him. I feel badly calling him the “go-cart man” but even Fernando could not seem to catch his name, as he spoke so rapidly! He did listen intently, however, as Fernando translated for Dick, giving instructions on how to care for the chair. (In actuality, Fernando could probably have handled this alone, he’s done it so often.)

This was the first of many times on this trip that we were able to share the good news: the wheelchair was not from us, but from a loving God, given through the work of Christian people, many of whom lived in the United States. Each time we explained this, I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit descend as we shared the love of Jesus and reminded ourselves what a privilege it is to participate in His work.

All too quickly we were back on the road. After a slight detour when Dick tried out a new road that did not go where he thought it would, we made a quick stop in Nebaj. Here we dropped off therapy equipment with Don, a man who had started a school for special needs children in that town. In addition to his ministry to these children, he runs a restaurant in the village, and I can testify that he makes the best peanut butter cookies I've found in either Guatemala or the United States.

After another hour and a half or so on the road, we finally made it to Huehue as it was getting dark. One of the kids had made reservations for us at the Hotel San Francisco. Dick had promised it was a comfortable place to stay, but I was happy to see just how nice it was. It would surpass any of the Motel 6’s I stay in when traveling in the States, and, for a little more than $20/night, it could not be beat. It even had a restaurant on the grounds.

At supper I met my third traveling companion, Roland Elf. Roland is from Sweden and has lived in Guatemala for a number of years. He lives in Xela, in the northwestern part of the country, and appears to be Dick’s “contact” in the area. Roland speaks a number of languages, including Spanish and the Mayan dialect Quiche, so was a valuable interpreter. He is also a meticulous record keeper, but most of all, he has valuable relationships with people in many of the villages which we would be visiting. So our small team was now complete, even if I did feel a little like a woman in a man’s world.

We all turned in fairly early this night (at least I did--guess I really don't know what the "boys" did in their room) as we were to set out for the village of La Libertad early the next morning. I couldn’t imagine what we would see the next day, but was eager to begin the “real work” of our trip.