Karey in Guatemala: A Humbling Experience

Just as I was starting to think I was getting to know the Guatemalan culture, I got the opportunity to see some of what I do not know. A few days ago my roommates invited me to a special service in a church in a small village 15 minutes up the highway. I didn’t know what it was all about, but sure! Why not? So the 3 of us dressed up in traditional Guatemalan clothes. I borrowed Julie’s and she had to teach me how to put on the skirt. We pile into the car with Ingrid’s family this Monday night. On the way, Ingrid’s dad asked if I know any songs. In Spanish? Ya, I know some. So he had me sing one for them. Random, I thought. He asked me to sing another one, but by this time the windows were fogging up because I was blushing from embarrassment, and I couldn’t think of another song. We park the car, but there are no other vehicles. I have no idea where we’re going, but we walk up this dark path to a house beside the Nazarene church. Julie mentions to me that here people don’t greet with a kiss on the cheek like in Tactic, it’s just a pat on the arm. We are greeted at the entrance by who I assumed to be the pastor, and we pass through the “kitchen” into the back room. There are 30 of us total seated on plastic chairs or wooden benches around a dimly lit room. As the pastor starts talking, Ingrid, beside me, starts translating…from Pokumchi to Spanish. Some of the service is in Spanish, some is in Pokumchi. So I have to listen really carefully to know when to listen to the pastor, and when to listen to Ingrid whispering. The pastor prays. Then Ingrid is handed a Spanish hymnal and leads the group in a song. By the fourth verse I can sing along as I peer over her shoulder. Then Julie and I are introduced. We’re obviously new and very white, even in the dark lighting. Suddenly Ingrid is whispering to me that it is my turn to sing a song. Seriously?! Right now? Any song? Do I stand up? Yes right now, and sing the one you sang in the car, and yes you should stand up. Suddenly I’m thankful for the dim lighting, and for experience I have singing in front of people, and for her dad having me sing one in the car. As I begin, people slowly start to join in. Phew! They know the song. Maybe it’s not one they sing often, but at least I’m not doing a solo. Usually the chorus is repeated, but I sit down anyway. The service continues, we read some verses and I’m glad I brought my English/Spanish Bible. We turn and kneel on the floor to pray. One young man accepted the Lord and prayed with the pastor in front of all of us. By the end Ingrid is tired of translating. I don’t blame her, but I am thankful she did. It turns out this was a special service for the leaders of this church as they begin the new year. After the service, chairs are moved aside and a table is brought in. We eat a meal together, the kind I have eaten many times already since being here: deep fried chicken, rice, tortillas, and hot chocolate with cinnamon. No questions asked, I eat everything on my plate. I listen politely to what Spanish I can pick out among the Pokumchi. As we get up to leave, I am overcome by a deep feeling of humility. Here I am, a wealthy Canadian, having learned Spanish, in their country to teach my language, and I am the one who knows nothing of their language, their customs, their culture. Some of the Bible verses they read and discussed were about clearing your house of everything abominable, and not seeking riches because of the pride and corruption that comes with. Here I am, used to reading these verses from the point of view that God has blessed me and I am quite rich, and so often we pity poor people. Here these people are pitying the rich. What a humbling experience.