“But
now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have
been brought near through the blood of Christ. For
He Himself is our peace, who has made the two one
and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of
hostility” -- Ephesians 2: 13-14 (NIV)
Just
before sunset on Feb. 10 we were witnesses to, and
participants in, a miracle. A Bribri family came to
our hut and asked us to pray for them. Their prayer
was no more specific than that. Then they stayed,
and without any further explanation, they spent the
night sleeping on the floor and disappeared back to
their homes just after sunrise.
As
to why this simple and odd incident would be considered
a miracle requires some explanation. The Bribri have
been living in the mountains and coastal plain jungles
of Costa Rica for at least a thousand years. Their
history is what they remember, and what outsiders
have written. Four hundred years ago, Spaniards in
search of gold and converts occupied San Jose Cabecar.
Unsuccessful in attempts to find gold, they enslaved
the indigenous people. Two hundred years ago the Bribri
and Cabecar tribes rebelled and threw out their oppressors.
One hundred years ago, capitalists invaded Costa Rica
and cleared jungles to plant bananas and cacao trees,
leaving behind an unprofitable banana and plantain
agriculture, diseased cacao trees, and a vastly changed
environment on the coastal plain. Fifty years ago,
the Costa Rican government established the Talamanca
Reservation to protect the indigenous tribes from
outside exploitation. The unfortunate side effect
is that they are also relatively isolated from any
government or social services. Small wonder that the
Bribri word for any non-Bribri is “sepequeé,”
loosely translated, “bad seed.”
Five
years ago, John Whited of AguaViva Ministries along
with Pastor Miguel and a Bribri guide went to visit
San Jose Cabecar. After three days of rain, mud, difficult
river crossings, and sleeping in hammocks on the jungle
hillside, they came to a home. They were welcomed
to spend the night. Then they explained to their host
that they were hoping and planning to lay the foundations
to tell about the good news of Jesus Christ. They
were then informed that although they could still
spend the night, they would be expected to pay rent,
and leave in the morning. To my knowledge that was
the last visit of any missionaries to San Jose Cabecar.
Since
then lots of things have happened to build trust among
the Bribri in Talamanca. A church welcoming indigenous
people and refugees from other Central American nations
has been established in the town of Bribri where Miguel
is now the full time pastor. Several medical clinics
have been held in the village of Bajo Coen and Dururpe
(three of which were from CrossRoad teams). Men who
once live in San Jose Cabecar now go to church at
the AguaViva Church in Bribri. Last summer, a CrossRoad
team attempted to do a medical clinic in San Jose
Cabecar, was but was rained out.
This time the weather was perfect. No rain. The rivers
were not too high to cross by foot, nor too low to
get transport for a few miles by canoe. The trails
were repaired to their best condition and with minimal
mud. A picnic. A veritable walk in the park. Well,
not quite. On Feb. 8, John Whited, John Armenta of
St. Augustine (a.k.a. “the Chief”), Adam
Lohse and myself set out from the church at Bribri
with six days of camping provisions, three bags of
used eyeglasses, and as much medicine and dressings
that we could cram in our packs.
The
first leg was one hour by a pick-up truck taxi to
the river edge at the village of Surecka. The next
leg was about ninety minutes by canoe going upstream.
We were met at the river edge by Porfilio of Bajo
Coen with one of his sons and three horses. The horses
carried the packs for the two hour hike to Porfilio’s
house in Bajo Coen where we would spend the night.
Porfilio has hosted several medical clinics at his
home in Bajo Coen. He and his wife and five sons are
good friends of John Whited and have always provided
invaluable assistance. On this trip, he arranged for
Bribri guides and pack carriers to accompany us from
his house to San Jose Cabecar. He also came with as
our interpreter from Spanish to Bribri and Cabecar.
The
following morning, the four Anglos, Porfilio, and
five Bribri men set out for San Jose Cabecar. Three
large river crossings, several smaller stream crossings,
a 1700 foot net elevation gain, seven hours and three
blisters later, we came to the village of San Jose
Cabecar. This was in the best of all possible hiking
conditions.
Although
it is marked on maps as a village, it is a community
of family dwellings that are spread out throughout
a mountain valley. There are no stores, no roads,
no schools, no government buildings. In the middle
of a pasture there is a simple shelter that was constructed
simply for the rare visitors who did not have family
with whom to stay. This was to be our home for the
next five nights, as well as our clinic and chapel.
It was constructed out of native materials, had a
waterproof roof and a snake proof floor about five
feet off the ground. There was good ventilation, but
no walls. It was only about one hundred yards to the
river to bathe and fetch water. Latrine facilities
were as close or as far as modesty would allow. The
advantage of the herd of pigs living beneath the hut
was that it added to snake protection. The disadvantage
was that they were quite loud about late night arguments
about whatever it is that pigs fight about.
Our
porters disappeared. We set up camp, unpacked the
medicines, cooked dinner and took to our hammocks
and sleeping bags at about 7 p.m. For the most part,
exhaustion overcame pig and jungle noises, and we
slept until about 5:30 the next morning when the sun
came up. By 7 a.m. we were ready to see patients,
but nobody came until 9:00. They waited until then
because they had to walk a long way, they took time
to dress up -- especially the little children, or
maybe just because they were giving the "gringos"
time to get up. By the end of the day we had seen
57 patients, and played the Gospel of Mark in Bribri
on a portable tape recorder in for people who were
waiting. The day ended with the sweet and puzzling
episode noted in the first paragraph.
The
next morning we saw fewer patients (27 for the day),
but we made a house call. We crossed the river, with
our Bribri guides helping a lot, and walked about
15 minutes up the mountainside, looking down on our
hut and valley. The little old lady we had been asked
to see had taken to her hammock for several weeks,
had abdominal pains, and had lost her appetite. She
had almost disappeared into the folds of the hammock.
We saw all the other women and children in the home
who had not been able to come to the clinic, and after
we returned to our clinic we sent back medicines for
everyone. When they had gone, John told me that the
home we visited was exactly the same one that he had
visited with Miguel five years previously, where he
had received such a cool welcome.
Later
that evening, all the members of the family that could
travel came to our hut to ask us to pray for them.
John prayed in Spanish, Porfilio translated into Bribri,
and the Chief translated back to English for Adam
and me. More people from the village gathered to talk
and listen to the Gospel tapes. They expressed their
thanks that we had come: “No one has ever carried
medicines here, spoke to us in our language, and stayed
with us.”
John
explained that we had been sent by Jesus who loved
them as much as anybody in the world. They told us
that they were grateful, and it was their custom to
express their gratitude by having a family stay with
us every night we were there. So every night a group
of people would gather and some would spend the night.
One night there was a two month old baby. The last
night there were at least a dozen people who gathered,
and in the morning even more came to say good-by.
We were able to witness to the love of Jesus by words,
tapes, and shared food.
Our
trip back to the AguaViva Church in the town of Bribri
was blessed by good weather, lighter packs, porters
to Bajo Coen, horses to the river landing, an available
canoe, and a truck to pick us up at Surecka. We left
San Jose Cabecar at seven in the morning and by the
grace of God were in the church by 5 p.m. on Valentine’s
Day. Calls home, showers, clean clothes and sleeping
without the pigs were welcome changes.
On
Friday we attended the evening service. Pastor Miguel
asked John to tell a little about the trip. John told
about the families spending the night. Timeteo Jackson,
a grandfather who lives now just outside the town
of Bribri, was originally from San Jose Cabecar. He
stood up to explain to John.
“Once,a
long time ago, there was an outsider who came to our
village. It was recognized that he did good things
for us. Because he was alone, every night a family
would stay with him, and when he left, people would
travel with him to the next village, so that he would
never be lonely.
Since then it has become our custom.”
I
don’t know how long ago “a long time”
is to an elderly Indian living in a place and culture
where time takes on a totally different feel. I don’t
know who the man Timeteo described was; only that
he was an outsider -- “bad seed” -- and
he had transcended the differences of culture and
ages of injustice with compassion.
I
do know that we were honored greatly by the resurrection
of an old custom. More importantly, since we came
in the name of Jesus, Christ was honored in a place
where his representative had previously been sent
away.
