The long yellow school bus pulled up to Beth and Pat's right on time, 3:30 a.m; either too early or too late to be awake depending on how full your glass is. The streets were mostly empty and the sun still on the other side of the planet. Josh waved the attendance sheet and there was at least one person dozing at all times. We double checked everyone had their passports before leaving the girl's house: not everyone did. All the Britts were very excited to be on that yellow school bus that took us to the airport. We all had two pieces of luggage and one medpak, which meant more metal luggage carts than people. Second cup had good coffee and Tim's had good food, so two long lines later we sat grouped together with our breakfasts and Spanish dictionaries. Josh now has more pictures of him sleeping in that chair than I'm sure he'd like...
The sun rose as the plane left for Toronto, so my whole 45 minute ride was spent with my camera glued to the roundish plastic plane window. I've never been able to choose between sunrise or sunset, both show God's glory so radiantly! Much to David's chagrin, I ate an onion filled greek salad in the inbetween foodcourt. We bought yoghurt covered pretzels, a pack of gum and found our seat on the plane. I was seat 20A on all four flights, which means I only whack nineteen people in the arm with my bag on the way to the back. You're safe rows 21-24. : )
I fell asleep shortly after take off, and I'm not sure who all else was sleeping. The drink cart rattling down the aisles woke me after what had to have been a few hours. I got apple juice, David orange. Before he'd had two sips he nudged me for the cheese/cracker and grape tray he'd somehow convinced me to stuff in my carry on in the Toronto airport. I am a cheese smuggler. Excitement errupted behind us and I turned to find Matti training his camera out the window. Water appeared beneath the clouds; baby blue wrapped around white sandy beaches. Islands and islands that turned out to be the Bahamas (according to the little map on the screen on the back of every seat). In some places the water sashayed a bright, neon blue, and several cruise ships left a short, foamy trail near the coast. It took us awhile to figure out that the white dots we saw adorning the ocean like flecks of paint were savage white horses dancing furiously. I used the airplane bathroom for the first time in my life, barely able to follow all the rough little diagrams and knobs everywhere... Someone should have told me it would be my last bathroom with a toilet seat.
Palm trees appeared as the plane came lower and lower, circling around to hit the runway. We all cheered as it touched the bumpy pavement, still comfortable in our air conditioned atmosphere. Stairs rolled up and, being at the back half of the plane, we exited out the rear; no more bag whacking. Sunglasses appeared out of nowhere and I'm sure we waltzed into the slightly cooler Holguin airport. When the bags wound their way toward us we grabbed anything tagged pink, and I was surprised how quickly all bags were accounted for. Naive Chantal thought the little puppy running around the airport was just oh so cute...turns out it was a drug sniffing dog. Ha. Good thing I only smuggle cheese.
Medpacks went first toward the door-and were stopped. Tim stood there with a big wad of paperwork as five official looking people argued off to the side. Beth saw the translators outside the glass doors, along with the rest of thick, waiting crowd, and did a little happy jump. In ten (maybe fifteen) minutes the medpacks were pushed, untouched, out the airport doors, followed quickly by the rest of us. Oh, I wish you could smell Cuba. Two white vans waited the two groups. Luggage was piled high in the back of our van. A man named Pepe coming with more and more, all the while saying, "No problem!" Five minutes into the drive I heard a quiet squeak and turned to see Esperance pushing against a duffel bag that had fallen on her. We shoved it back on top and I assured her, giggling, "No problem!"
Look both ways before getting out of a vehicle, because the roads are narrow and the traffic fast. They communicate everything by horn: 'I'm coming,' 'I'm bigger,' 'Get off the road.' Supper was bread and cheese, cake, ice cream and diced fruit served in a huge orange bowl. TuKola and Hola (Coke and orange pop). Really, they have coke in so many third world countries, why is it so hard to get the gospel in? We had our first experience with unlit, unflushing, un papered, unseated Cuban bathrooms. Be proud of us brave students. Hand sanitizer and grins all around. The teams split up and we all hugged goodbye; climbing into our separate white vans. See you in eight days. Eight LONG days.
I'm not sure who we picked up on the way, who we lost. The van seemed to stop so many times and people moved around; the vehicle was so big I was never really sure who or how many were in it. It probably didn't help that I was at the very back, situated like an expectant ten year old on the last seat of a school bus. Cameras were out and snapping for the first half hour, and then we were singing. Singing our way to Guantanamo. The landscape changes so dramatically, so quickly. No sooner did I put my camera away than I was pulling it quickly out again. It's like Canada, condensed, only not like Canada at all. Once it was dark more people were dozing than quietly singing to themselves. I could stand full height in that van. "This van is 5'4, now don't hit any bumps."
Modified love letters:
Sunday afternoon, Guantanamo, Cuba.
Three days in, Josh got his guitar. I learned the hard way not to complement a specific object, but the person as a whole. In Canada you can say, 'I like your shirt,' or, 'That's a nice bracelet,' and it's a conversation starter. A 'likable in', but I warn you, not in Cuba. I said, "That's a nice shirt," to one of the girls who came to the beach with us, and she said, "Oh thank you, I'll wash it and give it to you tonight." Ummm, not what I meant! Oh no! Note to self. As the bathrooms look so different from what we're used to in Canada, I didn't find it that hard to remember not to flush the toilet paper. What took more reminding on my part was to bring in the pack of kleenexes in the first place. (kleenex's? kleenexs?) Our team has picked up certain Spanish words that we think are funny and repeated them to death. Guan Carlos, the pastor at the church we're staying at, has a low grumbly voice and he stands over us as we eat, offering food and icecream. He says 'melanga' (a type of potato) and we picked it up. On the bus to the beach we were all yelling 'melanga', and Ali said, "It's no wonder they think we're crazy: we yell potato all the time!" Another word is 'bomba', meaning bomb. It's amazing how many places you can slip that word in to get a chuckle (or an uproar), but we've most commonly adapted it to mean we're full. They feed us SO much food. The table's always so full there's no elbow space; someone always ends up holding a plate of scrambled eggs or fried plantain until a space can be cleared for it. Coffee is grown in Guantanamo, but all exported, so it's hard for them to get. We bought a package of it in Santiago and right on the package of Cuban coffee it says, "Cubita is a coffee variety grown in Cuba's Eastern region mounatins. Our farmers produce Cubita for their own use because they rate it as high quality coffee." (not true) They serve Nescafe made in hot milk. (addictions abound) Becase I've asked about nuts so many times (mani), Guan Carlos has taken to calling me 'peanut'. Irony at it's best. He'll point at me, say 'peanut',and then direct his attention elsewhere.
We swam in the ocean yesterday. That baby blue water with the smooth pebble beach and hot sun. Our smooth Canadian soles can't handle the sizzling rocks, so we sink in flip flops while the Cubans run bare. Where the pebbles are smaller and slide as you step on them, it tickles my feet so much I can barely walk. It's almost a painful hot tickle! We met all the youth; said hello with a kiss to the cheek in a long line, like a sports team congratulating the other after a game. Placing our belongings under the shade of the trees, we made our way cautiously out to the ocean. I watched the waves slam against the beach and was so nervous. I come from Saskatchewan. The wave pools did not prepare me for this! Where's the floaty mat I clung to? I sat on the sand and Sam sat beside me. Screams of laughter as bodies washed ashore, then scrambled back in. I burried my feet in the small pebbles. As I pulled them out, little bugs scrambled back to hide in the cool dark, and I was off like a bullet into the ocean. I'd rather waves than bugs, sorry Sam!
Turns out most of the youth there didn't really know how to swim either. Well, the girls anyways. With their hair up and bundled, they faced and jumped in time with the waves, screaming when a bigger wave threw them off their rythm. They laughed as I joined them; this white girl sputtering as salt water slapped her face. Don't swallow the water, cautioned Tim. Yeah, right. *cough* The boys were more adventerous, swimming further out. On shore was a volleyball game of sorts, and then later soccer, which Sam and Josh both joined. To be a spectator to that game was hazardous! Stones hit you in a stinging spray whenever they ran or kicked.
Megan and Lesley had their circles of girls and they spoke half sign, half Spanish. I sat on the edge and tried, I really did, but my sign/spanish is not so good. They all knew my name though! Ha. As we sat along the edge, watching boys roll into the waves (an art not to be imitated by an ameteur), FULL plates of food appeared. In true Cuban style, when they go to the beach they have pork (there must have been six thick slabs piled high on my plate, all cut WITH the grain...), plantain and rice and beans. I couldn't finish half of it and tried to pawn it off on our translator, Orly, who declared he'd finish his plate and no one elses.
Baptisms were next, and, unfortunately, my camera died right before then. The battery, not the camera, thank goodness. The one thing I'm missing pictures of! I think four people were baptised, and they all sing a song as the person goes under, which I though was wonderful. We had a great time of prayer and then boom! "Let's go!" I was very surprised by how many worn out shoes littered the edge of all the beaches. A sandal here, a runner there. As we drove back to town, we must have had close to thirty people in that van. Standing, sitting, squating. No room for personal bubbles. At the meeting last night there was a man blind in one eye, and I thought of how David really wants to pray for a blind man. I didn't have the courage to ask him if I could pray, it was only the first night. They put on a talent show of sorts, which was wonderful, and a cute little girl claimed my skirted lap as hers. I almost lost my waterbottle, but somehow kept track of the flower they'd given us all. I met Suset, and she taught me to dance. Grabbing my hands and joining them with tiny child hands so we could dance in circles and kick our legs. So joyful!
The ice cold showers are quite refreshing after a hot, muggy day. Although, one shower and six girls... I've decided I like getting out of a cold shower into a hot room rather than a hot shower into a cold room. Less shock in the long run. Guan Carlos alwasy whistles at his wife. It's sing songy, but it's how he calls her, and after the meeting last night a man on a bike was trying to get past me by whistling, and I'm so not tuned to it so I didn't move. Ali joked David will pick up the whistling and all I had to say was he had better not.
Everyone loves Esperance's name. It has the same meaning in Spanish so they call her Esperanza. They made her sing a worship song in church this morning, unexpectedly, on the spot. I would have been shaking with embarrassment but she did SO well! Just called her up and handed her a microphone. Tim brought the pastor some Axe and this morning he wreaked as strong as a grade nine boy. He shook our hands and afterwards (after he left the room to check on breakfast), all eleven of us could smell him, the Axe, on our hands. Tim joked we should make a hoax Axe commercial like that. Youtube! Children stare in wonder at megan's baby blue eyes.
Cuba smells like burning cane sugar, frying plantains and hot, dusty road. Close your eyes and take it in.
I know why the Cubans sit outside now. Why they leave their front doors open, sit on the porch, the steps or stand along the sidewalk. They seem to be watching for you, for something interesting. Aimlessly walking the streets, hands in pockets, wandering. It's relaxing. Half an hour before the meeting I sit on the steps of the church, watching the road from behind a spiked iron fence. It's cooler outside than inside, and the breeze is warm. I hear car horns, music, hammering, birds, children and-children. There's a two year old girl-topless-turning over a stone her size to my left. Inside the fence. She's walking over to me, speaking Spanish. Another girl, older, follows. All I can do I say, "No comprende," (which isn't right), shrug, and not answer their many questions. The little girl picks up my camera and so I take a picture of her, and then more children come. Children who want not to have pictures taken of them, but to see the picture I took of her. I feel helpless and stupid for not understanding what they're saying.
11 pm, Sunday.
When Lesley came out with the group to leave for church, she told me they were waiting to see the bus we had come on. Alas, no bus; the chuch is just around the corner. At church there were eight hundred people. Eight hundred people packed like sardines, looking in windows, filling the balconies. We danced during the never ending worship-danced in the front with the kids. Everyone was SO tomato faced, just dripping sweat from the heat and the jumping and the dancing. Hello Cubans. We are attractive Canadians. (HA) Josh brought the message, and when he said, "Shout to Jesus," the congregation took it literally, which I don't think he was prepared for. He took it well and rolled with the shouting congregation. Fourteen people came to the Lord, and then we prayed for the church. All 800. We climbed on pews and shoved our way through other sweaty people, laying hands and praying in tongues. A learned practice ( I think) is that when the Spirit comes, they shake and faint. Which I'm sure the Spirit can totally do, just maybe not as often as we saw. Lesley gracefully "fell" a very tall woman onto me! Augh!
The ushers were very good at laying people down on the floor and covering any exposed skin. They helped us through the crowd and on and off the creaky wooden pews. It was a humbling moment for me to realize that all the 'fainted' men on the floor were covering their eyes because of all the skirts in the room... O.O
Touring the Cuban coast, Monday.
There's twenty of us in this rickety bus with it's fold down seats. Butterflies flutter across the road and mountains stand tall on either side. They're taking us (3 hours) to a river, a tourist area, where we can swim and boat. It's supposed to be a relaxing day for us. We have some people from the church with us, and as they got on the bus they handed us all freshly cut roses! They were so beautiful! We heard word of team two this morning. That many have come to the Lord, the Spirit is moving and everyone has preached several times. Everyone except David, because he joined too late to get a religous visa. Our translator, Orly, spent the bus ride translating and then trying to teach the song Great Are You Lord in Spanish. It's easier to learn when you can see, so he gave up and passed around the sheet. We all scribbled out letters as bumpy as the road, and will learn the song later.
I was ready before everyone to go out today, but the doors were padlocked. To keep others out, but then I'm locked in! One of the back doors just had a slab of wood across it so I moved it and 'snuck' out. I just sat on those front steps again, watching the business of the morning. It's not so hot out so the streets are lively. Sam is 'the holder of the keys', so we can't really go in or out without him. Tim came out and said I'd found a way to escape, because I'm a free bird. Si. : )
My hair's blowing in the wind because I'm by the ever open windows. Tim also calls me the journalist photographer of the trip. Both names gladly accepted. I can't wait to swim.
Home again in Guantanamo, Monday evening.
Suset, a teacher we had met on Saturday, joined us to the river. She pointed out the different trees- mango, cocoa, banana, coconut, apricot and orange. Soon we were smack in the middle of the mountains, where the road was so narrow and winding that they had to honk the horn before every corner- to warn traffic! It's beautiful though. We stopped at a look out to take pictures and there were Cubans there, trying to force their wares upon us. Chocolate, coffee beans, peanuts (mani), oranges and colourful snail shell necklaces. They get right up in your face and don't listen really when you say no.
We stopped for lunch in Bacoa. Visited a church (it was the pastor's birthday) and they showed us their parrot and little baby turtle. More interesting were their two little children, whom Megan spent the meal wooing with games of peek a boo. I had fish (a slab, bones and all) and I picked it apart with my fingers. I'm so used to canned fish, but even with the bones it is so much better. Suset is funny. She loves pictures, speaks fair English and is fearless. We only hit the beach at 4:30 pm (four hour drive, two hour lunch), which was kind of disappointing. I absolutely could have spent all day there! It was, once again, a pebbly beach, only this one had pigs and chickens and cows meandering up and down it.
The water was warm and the waves large. The Bishop told them to take us to the river, which was right by the beach, but we didn't know that and so we swam in the waves. They knock you over and drag you under. The Cubans were swimming right into the white horses as they rose, and I asked Suset why- it looked so scary! She said it's because you feel the water rush past your face. I gave it a try and it was so refreshing, like facing a salty waterfall, though you have to regain your footing after. I had worn my flip flops in the water because of all the sharp rocks, and they were very helpful until the constant pull of the tides snapped one of them... Half barefoot and limping back to the van: quite embarrasing. Esperance handed me her flip flops as loaners, which was very kind of her. Please, when you swim in the Cuban ocean (I know that's not the geographical name of it, but in this blog it's Cuban everything. So, the ocean along the coast of Cuba), face the rolling white horses.
The sun set over the mountains, rocks, huts, palm trees and waves. With nowhere to change, we wrapped our towels around our bodies and sat on the seats with the windows open. We sang camp songs and worship songs and I burst out with a Hebrew song and was laughed into silence. I stuck my head back out the window and watched the stars; breathed in the night. Outside the city the sky glitters and I never tire of it.
Rain. Guantanamo, Cuba, Tuesday afternoon.
Is it raining where you are? Big black clouds rolled in this morning, which I was kind of sad about because I had wanted to tan as we shopped. The hot sun is peeking out through the heavy rain, so maybe there is hope. The water sound sso nice as it pounds the tin roof-makes me think of monsoon rain in New Mexico. I have a tiny floral cup and saucer next to me, holding some sweet Cuban expresso (espresso?). You really can't drink more than a shot of it, because it's so sweet. Suset came to Guantanamo with us, so she's hanging out with us for the day. I haven't needed all the protein/granola/fruit bars I'd packed because they feed us SO well! I gave her a taste of the apple granola bars I'd brought and discovered that here in Cuba they have neither apples nor granola, so it was an entirely foreign taste to her! I gave her the rest of my granola bars, which she happily received.
There are ants all over our room. Tiny, tiny red ants that march in a solid line up a crack in the white washed cement wall. The march through our luggage, over our beds and in our clothes. They must have multiplied since we arrived. Now we scrutinze our sheets before bed, check our shirts and beware of a literal ants in your pants. Ali discovered they can penetrate sealed packets of crackers-we lost two bags that way, just simply infested with tiny tiny red ants.
I'll finish this when it's not 3 a.m. This is a work in progress blog. You're so excited, aren't you. I know.
