Well, let's start with Christmas Eve. As usual, Roman and I had to go our separate ways for the holiday- Roman to Buenos Aires and Myself to Faith Moravian. We were able to share a taxi with one of our favorite Taxistas, Mr.Bryan. Mr. Bryan's wife, Meshell, is very involved at Faith and he is the guy we usually call first when we need to go somewhere.
We dropped Roman off first, all the way across town from my church, and we where leaving the barrio, Mr.Bryan got a call from another client also heading to Faith. He knew that I wouldn't mind the side trip, so we set off together for Limoncito, a sweet little barrio named for the river flowing beside it. Of course, I wasn't charged for the side trip, and it was kind of fun to just ride around town with Mr. Bryan, who has a very dry sense of humor. For example, I asked him once which barrio was his favorite one to drive in, and his response was "None of them- they all have holes!" That's an understatement, by the way.
Anyways, I went to Faith, where we didn't have a Lovefeast (Can you believe it?) but instead we had a regular church service with christmas carols. Then we passed out candles for the final song, Jesus Bids Us Shine. Now, the traditional candles here are just like the ones back home except they are white paraffin wax with red and green crepe paper, and not fluffed out like the ones we see in the States. That's the traditional candle, but they should've known when they put my dear friend Latoya in charge of them this year that traditional was NOT what they'd get.
Instead, she (with a small bit of help that I was almost afraid to offer) bought many different colored candles, ranging from pink to gold, and glued beautiful flowers and ribbons to their bases. Somewhere in Salem there were the collective moans of centuries of Moravians at the sight of these candles, but here in Limon they were regarded simply as they were: GORGEOUS. I was more than happy to take a few home for decoration.
The following morning I almost cooked breakfast, but Roman wouldn't wake up, so I scratched the idea. When he did finally join me, we opened the remaining gifts from my parents and were delighted to find coffee mugs from First Greensboro's 100th anniversary, as well as a few sweaters (one of which I am wearing RIGHT NOW!) and a new Indian movie! I was excited, but once Roman realized he would have to watch it with me, his christmas spirit was somewhat dampened.
After an hour or so, Sister Sally gathered us for Christmas lunch with her family, which was MASSIVE. She and Roman and myself were the only white folks, but they treated us just like we were blood kin and we thoroughly enjoyed Salsa dancing, Christmas Caroling, a banquet of tasty treats, and a visit from the self-proclaimed "Obama Claus," straight from Kenya. Santa handed out small tokens to the children, joking that he was wearing sandals instead of boots because he was the Caribbean Santa. He even had a few surprise gifts for Roman and myself. In fact, Roman received a jar of peanut butter and I received Guayaba Jelly. I tried to explain to Roman that I thought the gift was metaphorical- that we were like Peanut Butter and Jelly, a team! His response? Nope, it's just good for eating.
After wrapping up the Christmas celebration we had a chance to participate in the opening celebration for Kwanzaa, which was very enlightening and inspiring. Kwanzaa is the celebration of African Heritage through special activities that encourage the African community to support and strengthen itself; it has a message of self-reliance that is awesome, in the original sense of the word. It starts on the 26th of December, and we were thrilled to partake in such a special occasion.
Once home, it was business as usual. I returned to the Call Center on Friday, and was surprised to see a few more Gringos at work than usual. One guy came up to me and introduced himself as Creighton, a professional surfer. Apparently, he and his amigos just work for a few months to collect money and then they go all over the country to surf. I told him that I was a missionary, which he appreciated, but didn't prevent him from using his most colorful language in our conversation.
Speaking of the call center, word of my primary purpose in Limon has gotten around, and I am beginning to get questions from my coworkers, many of whom are interested in the school and want to take lessons. I explained that the purpose of the school was to prepare people for serving in the ministries of a church, to which the group- mostly males- replied that if they felt they could be useful, they'd eagerly serve. I think that says a lot in that one sentence, especially in a country where very few men are involved in churches.
Meanwhile, while I was discussing the school with my coworkers, Carlos- my poquito gatito- managed to escape and got into a fight with three stray dogs. He lost, the poor thing, and was nearly fatally wounded in the attack. There was no hope of taking him to a vet for 24hrs following the attack, and to be honest it didn't seem likely that he'd last that long.
However, yesterday morning found him awake and moving (albeit slowly) around the house, still bleeding from his wounds and unwilling to eat. We bundled him up in a cardboard box and headed to town, one of our taxi friends offering to drive us. When the vet saw him, he immediately checked for broken bones. When none were discovered, he took us into his office/operating room/examining room (located in the back of a pet store, no less- and we're not talking about Petsmart, folks) and looked Carlos over. When he lifted his tail we were horrified to find a gaping hole you-know-where that was already badly infected. He sedated Carlos, shaved him down, and thoroughly cleaned the wounds, obviously shocked at their severity. When all was said and done, however, the vet was certain that 6 days of antibiotics and a little analgesic cream would do the trick and cure the little guy.
We returned to the street to wait for our taxi to shuttle us home again, and I was surprised when a woman I didn't recognized came up to me and asked if the cat in the box was the famous Carlos. I said yes, and she said that she knew about the attack and wanted to know what the vet had said. She seemed relieved as much as we were, and introduced herself as my neighbor, Ferella. How touching to think that even my neighbors had formed an attachment to my sweet kitten, and wished him well.
Carlos slept for hours, and we were a little afraid, as his breathing was uneven. However, when I returned from work last night, he was up and moving around- trying so hard to be normal despite his injuries. He was even eating tuna and milk, following us around the house. He's a little shell-shocked, but I hope that this change in activity signals imminent recovery. He is my baby here, after all.
So that brings us to today. We're anticipating a wild New Year- if it will be anything like Christmas, it will be like being in a bombing- so many fireworks! All week we have been hearing fireworks- the real ones- exploding everywhere. In fact, one exploded so close to the call center the other night that the floors shook and the person I was talking to asked "What the heck was THAT?" We've been told to expect so many fireworks that the sky will be as bright as daylight all night. That should be something to see; I'll tell you all about it.
Look forward to pictures on the next post- there are a lot to take off the camera and upload.
Merry late Christmas, Happy New Years, and pray for Carlos!
Morgan
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