Carmen’s Place, Part 5.
Members of the church always drive for
us in Tegucigalpa. The road system is awful, traffic is horrendous, and finding
your way around seems like some strange magic. I am too intimidated to drive
here. The few large modern highways, often paid for by American grants, are
clogged with traffic. These highways teem with tractor trailer trucks of every
variety, many of which belch ugly, black clouds of exhaust. The city streets
are filled with old school buses which serve as the principle means of public
transportation. It is ironic to see the name of some American school district
still printed on the sides of these re-purposed buses. As far as I can tell, there
are no marked bus stops and no indication anywhere of the bus routes. I have no
idea how one would learn to use this bus system. But most times of the day, the
buses are packed to standing room only. (I know about this bus system from
chatting with Herbert, a successful businessman who owns of a large bus company
in the city and also serves as a leading Elder and Treasurer in the Presbytery.
Herbert pays enormous “fees” to the gangs which allow his buses to keep
running. This is a cost of doing business.)
In addition to the trucks and buses
which are pervasive in the city, there is also a deep, ubiquitous ethos of
crime, violence and gangs. It is important to say that I have never, in ten
years of visits to Honduras, ever been the victim of a crime; I have never seen
any crime; I have never witnessed any violence. I believe to the bottom of my
heart that when we are in Honduras our church friends keep us safe. They keep
us safe with their powerful commitment to prayer. They keep us safe by very
practically watching out for us, surrounding us with their presence, and
protecting us. Of course, safety cannot be guaranteed or promised but my
experience here thus far has been safe. This is a gift from God; this also
includes a careful attention to all the details of personal safety and
security. But there is everywhere an uncomfortable sense that this is a dangerous
place. The way buildings, stores, and homes are locked up tight with metal
gates, razor wire, fencing or high walls is a sign. The presence of security
guards, usually carrying shotguns, at most stores, businesses, banks, gas
stations and office buildings is a sign. The statistics of gang violence and
murder are signs. This may be one of the troubling and nagging spiritual issues
for Christians here. We know the reports we hear in the States about Honduras
being one of the most dangerous nations in the world; we know about the flow of
drugs through these small Central American nations into the States which have gorged
streets gangs with money and power. We feel the stressful obsession everyone
has to be safe and stay safe. In such a context what does it mean to trust God?
What does it mean to have faith? What does it mean to pray for protection and
safety? As North Americans we do not live with this daily ethos of crime in our
society. Should we avoid the risk and stay home? No, we will keep coming here.
But it is essential for anyone considering one of our mission trips to
understand that this is a dangerous place.
