A View from Below

by Anna McRay

I have had two very unique and troubling experiences in the past couple of days. The first encounter was on Sunday. Those of us who are taking the lab for our Biology class (and a few others) met our teacher downtown to serve breakfast to the homeless. Dr. Hatcher, our teacher, and other members of his church do this the second Sunday of every month. When we arrived, Dr. Hatcher told us that our job was to walk around the neighborhood, look for people who appeared to be homeless and tell them, "Hay desayuno en la posta. There is breakfast in the posta." Rachel, Seth and I set out on our quest. 

The first man we came upon was sleeping so soundly that we did not want to disturb him. The second person we saw was a middle aged woman. She was very sweet and expressed her thanks, but told us that she was not in good health (I think. Our Spanish isn't superb.) and did not wish to come. Then we came upon Andres. He was clearly intoxicated and was not fully aware of his surroundings. We told him about breakfast, but he did not seem to be interested. He started talking to us, very animatedly, apparently telling us a story about something (again, our lack of fluency in Spanish was frustr...fascinating). He kept pointing out something about the building next to us and chuckling. He seemed to think that we should be very interested in what he was showing us. Then he started talking about his "madre" (mother). That is the only part that any of us were able to understand. In the middle of a sentence, Andres paused, gazed at the ground below us, and began to weep. Even the amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before was not strong enough to make him forget his pain. He was unable to stop the stream of tears or even to speak. We were also speechless. Even if we could speak his language well, I do not think we would have known what to say. Seth did the only thing we could do-he reached out and put his hand on Andres' shoulder. I can only hope that we did a good thing by listening to his story and sharing his pain for a brief moment, even if we understood neither.

The second encounter happened just this morning. Our whole group (all 27 of us) was sitting in El Parque Forestal having our version of "chapel." As we were wrapping up our time together, we began to notice an interesting situation occurring just a few yards away from us. A police car pulled up and three officers began taping off a small section of grass in between a few trees. I had noticed a sleeping bag and some belongings over there when we had first arrived. Sadly, I had not thought much of it because it is common to see people sleeping in public parks-in Chile and at home in the States. However, when the police showed up, sectioned off that part of the park, and put a blanket over the body, we realized what was happening. It seemed as if that individual had recently passed away. Maybe even while we were sitting there. With no one around to support him or her. Again, I was left speechless.

I do not have words at this time to fully process these experiences. I know that they both broke my heart. I know that these are exactly the kind of people with whom Jesus would have spent his time. If he had been in the area on Sunday, I probably would have ignorantly told him that there was breakfast available in the posta. He would have been friends with Andres. He would have been there for the person in the park. And he calls me to do the same. These are the faces and the bodies of the "least of these," who see the world from below. As a follower of Christ, I am compelled to see the world from their perspective and to join them in their suffering. And yet, in both these circumstances, I felt helpless to do anything. 

Vía PanAm

by Rachel Lowry

This morning we had a progressive cross cultural class that ended at Bellas Artes museum. There was an exhibit in the basement of the building done by Kadir von Lohuizen called Vía PanAm. Basically, he went from the southern tip of Chile up the Pan American Highway to the northern tip of Alaska documenting migrants all along his route. He wanted to document their struggles, their routes, their motives, and their reality in having to make such a difficult decision as being an immigrant. My eyes were opened to the large migration between countries in South America depending on where there are jobs. For example, there was a picture showing some Nicaraguan construction workers who were working in Costa Rica just because it was the best place for them to find work. I thought about all of the discussions we have had about the migration and colonization by the Europeans in the Americas so long ago, yet we still can see the effects on the more native populations today who tend to be the poorer, more laboring population who are still being oppressed today. What hit me even more was that the turn of the 20th century was a popular time to migrate to the Americas and I realized that is exactly when my own ancestors came to Ellis Island in NYC in search of a better life. Because of my ancestor’s hard work, I am able to live a comfortable life in the states, attend university, and travel all the way to Chile! I could not stop feeling so blessed to be born into the situation I am in and how I too often take it for granted and live so selfishly. It came at a perfect time as today is Ash Wednesday, a time to repent and refocus ourselves on God. So let us all be humbled by the world around us and here’s to the Lenten season of practicing humility!

This is the blog where you can see Lohuizen’s progression through his journey. I really encourage taking a look!

http://www.viapanam.org/viapanam/

Isla Negra

by Ibeth Nunez

One of the many awesome moments of  our trip to Isla Negra. Getting ready to see the sunset.


A Cold Night in the Andes

by Spencer Warren   

As many did last weekend, I, along with Daniel Hutchison, William Marquette, Brandy Richardson, Spencer Richardson, and Rachel Alexander, went to Cajón del Maipo to camp. It was one of the best and worst trips that I have been on. On one hand, Cajón del Maipo allowed me to see a different side of Chile and provided a beautiful sight of the Andes, which surrounded it. We arrived early in the afternoon and walked about 6 miles to finally get to the campsite we were staying at. By the time we all got there, we were exhausted, so we decided to go ahead and set up our hammocks at the campsite. After we all had had adequate rest, Spencer, Hutch, Brandy, and Rachel decided to go camping while me and William stayed behind to eat at the restaurant. The meal, which consisted of slow-roasted pork and rice, was the best I have had since I have been in Santiago. The woman who owned the campsite cooked this meal, which was a traditional German dish she had picked up while living in Germany for 8 years.

The night went downhill from there. After the group returned from hiking, we all took in the beautiful, clear sky that was full of stars that were completely new to us. As I was observing the stars, I noticed that the temperature had dropped significantly and was now probably in the mid 40s. I had been warned that it gets cold at night, but being a guy, I thought I could tough it out in order to save money; I could have not been more mistaken. I got in my hammock around 11:30 with no blanket to shelter me from the brutal winds that became entrapped inside my double-deluxe Eno. Needless to say, I laid there and shivered for about 3 hours before I was able to cry myself to sleep. I woke about 4 am to the sound of rustling around my hammock, and I decided to get up and stretch my legs a bit. When I reached for my shoes, I noticed that one of my Chacos was missing. I made a futile effort to search around my hammock to look for my lost sandal, but it was the darkest night that I had ever experienced. The Andes shielded the campsite from the moon, making the night pitch black. I knew my Chaco had been grabbed by a pack of dogs and taken to another part of the campsite, so I decided to try to fall back asleep until the sun came up and I could begin my search.

My body instinctively woke me up right as the sun came up over the mountains, and I hopped out of my hammock barefooted to search for my lost Chaco. After about 10 minutes of pain from stepping on rocks and whatever else was on that campground, I spotted the evil gang of dogs over by a shed. I quickly made my way over to the shed in order to grab my Chaco, which I could faintly see in the distance, when I was met with surprising hostility from this family of dogs. It was not easy, but I finally made my way to my chewed-up Chaco. There were a couple of rips in the straps, but nothing to really worry about. I returned to my hammock and shivered a little more before the sun finally made its ascent over the great Andes.

Well, at least I got to see the sunrise in one of the most beautiful places I have ever been. All the pain along the way was well worth it.

The Spine of the Earth

by Anna McRay

Last weekend, I traveled with seven of my fellow students to San Alfonso, a small town nestled among the grandeur of the Andes mountains about a two hour journey outside Santiago. We arrived with the intention of spending the day hiking in the mountains in the national park. When we learned the price of entry into the park, we decided to look for another option. As we were asking several locals what we could do and where we could go for a good price, we met a man named Alejandro. He told us that he had a friend who could guide us up the mountain we saw before us and for a very reasonable price. He called this friend, and Pablo came running. This was my first true encounter with Chilean hospitality, and it was a blessing. To be sure.

Pablo then spent the next four and half hours carefully and patiently leading our group up the mountain on the best hike of my life. The vistas were astounding. The company was delightful. The tour guide was perfect. And the Andes were....well, the Andes.

As we were walking, Seth told me that he had recently watched Planet Earth and had learned that the Andes have been called "The Spine of the Earth." I suppose they get this nickname because they are so vast and stretch for miles upon miles up the continent of South America. We both thought this was a beautiful name.

So, we spent the day walking along the spine of the earth. I am so thankful for this experience. I will never forget it.

The President's Place

by Andrew Dorris

Yesterday we were lucky enough to get to take a tour of La Moneda, the Chilean equivalent to the White House and where President Piñera works, but does not live. This building is very low, showing the position of government in relation to the people. La Moneda is full of stories, with the most renowned being the bombing in during the coup of 1973 that killed Salvador Allende. Different parts of the building had different attributes from eras of history. This included things from the Mapuches (indigenous people), past presidents, and religious figures.

Each room had its own history, from chandeliers to windows to paintings. One thing that stuck out was the medals inside of the medal case. Every former president has a medal inside of this case except Pinochet. That may reveal something more about his reign as a dictator. My personal favorite piece of history was in the chapel. They had a seat encased in glass which is where Pope John Paul ll sat when he came to visit. Also in the chapel were different figures of virgins, one of which is Ecuadorian and the only one in the world like it. All of this insightful information came from our awesome tour guide, Andres.

El Cajón del Maipo

by Andrew Dorris

This shot was taken right before we found out we were going to swim in that arroyo down there. El Cajón del Maipo in San Alfonso was incredible. The land had so much diversity: the higher up we went we began to see more cacti and fewer trees, but we still passed streams like this one. Thanks to our awesome guide, Pablo, we got to experience the whole of the land and even try lots of fruits found in the mountains. It was definitely the first of many highlights of the trip.