The echo of a Si Dios Quiere (If God Wills)

The echo of a Si Dios Quiere (If God Wills)

The origins of the expression Si Dios quiere (If God wills) are obviously religiously based; however, it is a mystery how this statement managed to spread itself across religions. In Islamic views and in the Arabic language the expression, In ša Allāh, means that hopefully things will happen and literally translates as, If God wills. How it reached Christianity, I am not sure of but given my own experiences, I know that it is used in the U.S, Mexico and here in Colombia. The transcontinental voyage of the expression could have piggybacked itself on the spread of Christianity and managed to penetrate cultures and peoples via the colonization of the Americas. It seems, however, that this expression successfully merged into the lexicon of every day life without necessarily loosing its religious undertone. Its fundamental meaning lies within ideas/beliefs of predestination, which utilizes the concept of time through an understanding of a before and an after. Predestination assumes that the now (pre) is the present and that destiny is what occurs next. The pragmatic use of a Si Dios Quiere, however, surrenders events and human experiences to the will of divine forces (in this example, God). Nonetheless, it is possible that today people say it for many different reasons, some of which have nothing to do with religion or faith. These words could have melted themselves into their identity, their culture through social interactions and not through religious experiences.

My own experience with the expression alludes to the fact that it has managed to survive and to cross socio-cultural and geographical borders. Si Dios quiere has been a part of my life ever since I can remember, given that growing up in a Mexican Catholic family, I heard this expression numerous amounts of times. I really don’t know how much of it was habitual and/or how much did my family’s faith in God influence their use of it. What is clear to me, however, is that Si Dios quiere served as a reminder that although we had concrete plans in place, there was always room for the unexpected. My parents and relatives would state it when they would make plans to go out of town or plan an event that they desired to happen yet knowing that it might not happen. I never really thought about God when this was stated. I did not think of the literal translation of the expression - that there was a possibility that God might not want something to take place; instead, I simply thought about the possibility of an accident, an illness, cancellation of plans because of traffic, and any difficulties that might present themselves due to earthly mishaps rather than divine intervention.

In these past months that I have been living in La Unión, I have once again come to hear the same expression that my parents and relatives would often use – Si Dios Quiere. When I first heard it, I thought of it as being one of those culturally familiar expressions that I associate with being a Latina and having a Catholic background. However, one day I heard it at least six times from different people and it suddenly struck me that this expression must have more meaning here than what I initially gave it credit for. More so, I thought about the different setting and history of this place, as opposed to my own lifestyle and environment. Could it be that the statement had the exact same meaning despite such drastic differences in political planes and geographical locations? I then began to pay attention to when individuals were using it and realized that it is indiscriminately used for all sorts of plans and events such as visits, arrivals, departures, meal plans, work plans, celebrations, and any sort of anticipated activity. It seems that Si Dios Quiere always follows any stated plans.

If applied to a context where conflict is a fresh reality that continues to drink from the nearby rivers thus putting them in danger of emptying out —a place where conflict can always interrupt a day unexpectedly—then Si Dios Quiere can mean something different. Although, I believe that regardless of where you find yourself or what circumnutates surround you, this expression has much to do with the juxtaposition of the present and the unknown. This unknown, however, can mean death, torture, threats, and illness, all which lie in the limitless spectrum of possible human experiences. In the end, the key question in understanding the
implications behind a simple but meaningful Si Dios Quiere, might depend on who you are and where you live.

When the adults say it here in the community, there is an underlining tone to that whispers, “I don´t own my future¨. As Mrs. Rinades explained, “Nosotros no somos dueños de nuestras vidas, entonces no podemos asegurar cuando se puedan terminar (We do not own our lives, therefore, we can not determine when they will end).” Could this expression be used as a reminder and/or as an extension of their understanding that there are no guarantees of a tomorrow because they have seen that the larceny of time takes so much with it, including lives, plans, and tranquility? Even habitual events in the community, like harvesting cacao every morning, is expressed as “Si Dios Quiere mañana vamos a sacar un cacao.” They could be referring to the possibility of uninvited visits from armed actors who not only change the course of the day just with their mere presence, but who by their mere presence automatically put the entire community in a very vulnerable position. Or, they could be referring to bad weather, waking up sick, having to go finish other work instead, or any other less negative reason that could impede them from going out and about.

Given their history of multiple displacements, it seems that although community members are always hoping for the best, they have learned that hard times are always a possibility. According to the Peace Community, the military and the right-wing paramilitaries have entered the caserio (community houses) and forced everyone to displace numerous amount of times (in 1996--800 Campesinos displaced from the 27 veredas (community settlements); in 2002 people from La Unión displaced; in 2005 people from La Resbalosa, Mulatos, Las Nieves, and La Esperanza displaced due to a massacre; in 2005 the installation of a police post forces the Peace Community to displace and resettle in La Holandita). The massacres endured by the community members have also left them with a history of tragic memories (in 1977- 8 people in Mulatos & Resbalosa; 1996 - 4 people in San Jose; 1997 - 6 people in San Jose, in 1997- 3 people in San Jose; 2000 - 4 in San Jose; 2000 - 6 in La Union; 2005 - 8 Mulatos; 2005 - 6 in La Cristalina). These threats have followed the Peace Community since before and after their inauguration in 1997.

I wonder if the habitual use of this expression is a reflection of the confusion that living in a conflict zone can create. People are presented with the challenge of making sense of why so many atrocities have taken place against them for reasons that fall outside of their own control. When armed forces and illegal armed groups want to claim territory/victory, they often times dichotomize the conflict reducing it to an Us vs. Them issue. This was called to mind during George W. Bush’s post-911 address to Congress: “Either you are with us or with the terrorists”. A third category - innocent civilians caught in the middle of the struggle- is nullified from the analysis. The individuals living in the middle of this highly contested Urabá region have endured so much for almost half a century and they continue in their struggle to make room for the space they claim as their homeland. Why are they subjected to such a violent experience that has not ceased to exist? How can there be an explanation that can convince people that all the massacres, the displacements, and the violence are logical? And above all, how can anyone conceive that there is something fundamentally reasonable and right that could justify all of this suffering?

And who is to answer such questions? In a country like Colombia, overcome by conflict, it seems that no one is free from being affected in some form or another. Armed struggles almost always include unnecessary deaths, forced recruitment, suffering, losses, corruption, propaganda, financial incentives for the perpetration of violence, violations of all sorts and across all scales, and a threat and lack of respect for individual autonomy. Individuals who end up taking an active role in the armed struggle do not cease to be human- someone’s son/daughter, partner, or someone's relative- just because they pick up a weapon. They are the agents that are trapped in a world that continues to breed violence as a means to achieve a goal; a society where survival requires that you feed your hungry stomach with an ideology that you might not necessarily agree with and where laws force you to pick up a weapon if you are to be a patriotic citizen with access to your due rights. It is a society where violence constantly attacks and systematically eradicates “threatening” peace initiatives. It is another place in the world, where every time innocent blood is spilled, dignity evaporates, the value of a human life is destroyed, respect for others diminished, hate is magnified and violence weaves one more thread into the social fabric.

In the end, conflicts that use arms and violence as a means to declare victory and gain power and status tend to result in more victims than warriors. Those who are forced to kill anything that threatens their ideas are trained to identify each and every lethal enemy; all are condensed to the word victim—a word that can stretch to even include each and every one of us.

Maybe I am attempting to extrapolate Si Dios Quiere when it should just be interpreted for what it literally states: no further explanation required. Maybe I am making it a complicated matter when it could very well just be the left over of many years of living in yet another country that was forced to adopt Christianity. Maybe what people here mean by it is really not different than what anyone else would say in another place, in another time.

All in all, the unknown is still a powerful mystery that can forever fill our minds with dreams and hopes, with fears and worries, and with pride and honor. The gift of an imagination allows us to swim into the endless possibilities of an unknown next moment—of a tomorrow that arrives in the now. In our yesterdays we can find the occurred, the moments that were experienced with or without a preceding Si Dios quiere. I only hope that in seeing Colombia’s yesterday, people here can imagine a better tomorrow and that the unknown becomes a promising and peaceful one. Si Dios Quiere.

Happy Campo-B-Day

So I am 25!!! Wow, a quarter of a dollar old, although, I like the perspective presented to me by Aj: "You can know rent cars for cheap!" That made me feel great, although, considering my volunteer position, I doubt that I can afford to really rent a car at any age-given rate.

What happened on this very day, while in La Union? To start it off, one of the young moms in the community came and surprised me in the morning as I laid on the hammock. She handed me her gorgeous baby and without hesitation and much joy, she cracked an egg on my head! It was gross and funny, but more gross than funny. I got up and had to take a cold shower way earlier than planned and dedicated a good 10 minutes to scrubbing my scalp and picking out the eggshells. I figured I was already going to have a unique 25 since I was away from a city, from home, friends and family, so I went with the flow and figured that I might as well have a full appreciation of my day of birth (egg or no egg).

In any case, my daring egg-breaker friend also baked a cake in my honor. I still have not figured out how they manage to bake cakes without ovens and have vowed not to leave this place until I develop some non-electrodomesticated baking techniques. It was a delicious cake with white swirls all around. I was a bit worried about the size of it since I could have eaten the entire pie on my own and there were more people showing up at our house as the afternoon approached.

So I spent my birthday with about 25-30 folks from the community who came to share about 2cm of a 18cm cake with some gaseosa (soda;pop) and enjoy a few evangelical birthday songs. The music was made possible thanks to Pedro who brought his bible and his guitar to say a blessing in my honor and sing some happy-clapping birthday canciones! I never expected to have such an experience on my 25th birthday with people of all ages sitting around the living room, a tiny cake, and a guy with a bible and a guitar singing for me. I was in awe of what music can bring to a celebration since people here were incredibly shy to sing Feliz Cumpleaños but were so willing to clap and dance to whatever rhythm available.

To add some color to the scene, we bought some fluorescent glossy masks (zorro style) and had folks wear them throughout the celebration. It was such a gift to see the most random folks willingly wearing the mask. I mean, people who are usually serious and shy were asking if I had extra masks. Not to say that everyone was that willing since some folks refused to "be such kids" as they were "too old for that". In any case, it was so hilarious and fun to share masks and take pictures...yeah, let me remind you that this was not necessarily a kid's party.

Speaking of kid's parties, we also had a pinata! I have to say it was a week after my birthday though. In my words, "it was a really ghetto style one." AJ had the brilliant idea to make a piñata out of a balloon. Well, after plastering it with a newspaper and a sugar and flour mix, we let it dry for a few days. The paste did not turn out to be as effective as we hoped for, so we grabbed the roll of duck-tape and tape the hell out of it. It was a fabulous tuck-tape piñata about fifteen layers of grey tape all around it. It was a great idea though since it probably received about 40 hits before it actually tore. There was a line of kids and then some of the adults volunteered to try to knock the candy out of it. I was not to eager to hit it but ended up accepting the challenge. Aj, on the other hand, was more than happy to give it a good hit or two.

Well, so I am veinticinco años now. I don´t know that I feel this old, or young depending how I wanna look at it. I wonder what kind of behaviour I should be expected to have, I mean, I have now begun the aging process of the late twenties. This is the middle point. This is when those grand plans for the adult age are put in practice. Geeeezzzz.

As of now, I will enjoy the rest of the year and go with the flow...

To see my birthday picture album go to this link:

http://picasaweb.google.com/myra2m/MiCampoBirthday

It´s been 3 months

Bueno, tanto tiempo que no escribo nada en mi “blog”. Sera porque los dias se pasan tan rapido? Será porque aun estoy absorbiendo estos instantes tan nuevos para mi ser que necesito más semanas, más noches y más dias para hubicarme y entender lo que sucede a mi alrededor? Tál vez es por todo lo contrario: Porque ya me “amañe” y los días se pasan y me visita la lluvia de esta temporada, estos inviernos que me parecen caer de las mismas nuves que me miran en Los Angeles, bajo el mismo cielo que se disfruta desde culaquier parte del mundo.En realidad, prefiero pensar que es un poco de todo. -May 28th

It is extremely challenging to try to conceptualize all that has been absorbed and felt in my being since I came here to the Urabá region of Colombia. It has been twelve weeks and I don’t know if I should phrase this introduction as, “It’s only been twelve weeks”, or “I can’t believe twelve weeks have already gone by”. In so many ways, I am still foreign to this place. I am the newest FOR team member (although I’m not so new anymore) and am still in the process of resolving what all of this experiential learning entails. So many events have taken place in these past few weeks that only little time was left for me to write in my blog. Recently, the community released a Comunicado (public notice) regarding Francisco’s death, (former leader in a Humanitarian Zone which are regions designated as being conflict-free zones and are protected by the Inter-American Court on Human Rights). My teammate has been recovering from the lingering typhoid she acquired sometime in December (along with leptospirosis and dengue) and has had to go numerous times to town for check-ups and updates on her health (she all better now). Two weekends ago the entire kick-ass team FOR got a chance to finally reunite during a retreat in Medellin. Nonetheless, on early Sunday morning we get a call informing us that the FOR office/home got robbed in Bogota. This forced us to reschedule our plans for the next couple of days, cut our retreat short, and get back to where each team member needed to be (Please see AJ´s & Janice´s Blog for more details). Right after we came back from our retreat, we had to say good-bye to our senior team member, Mireille, who spent a year living here in La Unión and is currently traveling across the country. And while all this has taken place, so many other things have remained unchanged. I am still getting bitten by mosquitoes, the rain continues to wet our grass and nourish the fincas (land plots), the mountains are still forest green, and the armed conflict continues.

Being here can be so contradicting and paradoxical in so many ways. Some days are so tranquil, full of life uninterrupted by any worries—days when I just enjoy the gifts of nature; fully satisfied while listening to the pouring rain and the variety of animal sounds nearby; admiring the stillness of a sky that could easily inspire a masterpiece on a canvas. And there is the counterpart to this with active days of continuous phone calls, pending emails, meeting notes and weekly reports. Weekends here are usually spent with both children and adults visiting us for the most random reasons. The kiddies come to borrow a puzzle, soccerball, crayons, dominoes, or simply run around our house. One of my favorites visitors is little four-year-old Esteban who comes in with a line of gooey green buggers dripping from his nose. After I get some tissue and wipe his runny nose, I can’t help but pick him up and give him a tight hug and a piquito (little kiss on the cheek). And, we have our regular guest, Miss Bruja, who comes daily to chitchat about the latest gossip and to have a good laugh with the FOR team (aka the gringas, well I am the not-so-gringa-gringa). Her visits usually include laughter, lots of jokes, some cigarettes, and a running around the house. Oh, I forgot to mention how she continously patronizes us for speaking “incorrect Colombian-campo Spanish.” This is usually followed with AJ singing with her amazing opera style voice (which means really loudly) provoking laugher in all those who witness or hear it from a distance. Miss Bruja has to be one of the most unusual/unique individuals I’ve ever met (and believe me, there are many “weirdoes” in my life J). She epitomizes the non-conventional femme in La Unión with her 4ft’9 petite self, a to die for smile that includes four missing front teeth, a boy-style haircut consisting of shaved sideburns, a tiny duck-tail and an almost Wesley Snypes early 90’s movie hairstyle that she likes to style with some gel. Her wardrobe consists of ONLY dresses and she looks like a tiny doll when she wears her blue and white strawberry dress along with her black rubber boots and walks around with her machete on the side. Who said that females in La Unión are not allowed to have ducktails and shaved sideburns? Apparently no one. And no, she is not butch, although could easily be judged as one in my hometown.

Other busy days includes going to Apartadó to either accompany someone from the community or run errands. We have to hike down for about an hour and half (depending on the trail and on our energy level). We walk through grass fields, green mountains, horses, cows relaxing on the grassy or muddy earth, and a few isolated houses along the way. We jump across puddles, and skip on stones to avoid the groovy mud, often trip and sometimes fall along the way. The hike down is sometimes interrupted to have a quick “pee break” or to chug some water but mostly to take a drink of fresh campo air. We have to cross the river in three different locations (some are small crossings). Consequentially we end up walking with wet socks and ounces of water inside the rubber boots that inevitably make gushy sounds as our wet feet rub against the water and creates friction. After finally arriving to La Holandita (the community settled here after they were displaced due to the establishment of a police post San Jose in 2005) and greet every one in the caserio, we make our way to the international house and remove our rubber boots and change into some dry clothes. All this is done while we are on the lookout for the next Chivero (public transportation which costs about $1.75) to pass by. One usually passes through every hour. When we finally hear one coming we run out and crowd in it along with 13-14 other travelers (technically the chivero should only fit 11people) including the driver. The Chivero goes to Apartadó but usually stops along the road to load sacs of yucca, avocado, and/or other goods. Apartadó is the largest city/town closest to us and where we go to buy supplies, groceries, pay bills, eat cheese, and try to make it back to La Holandita before 3pm. If it did not rain a lot and the river is not too high, we load up our backpacks and start the two-hour hike back to La Unión. Sometimes we make it before dark (my personal preference), but often times end up walking through the muddy paths with our headlamps for what seems like hours and hours under the night sky. It feels like an adventure every time despite the fact that I’ve done it way more than what I should admit to. I usually arrive back hungry, wet, and tired and call it a day!

Being here has enabled me to embrace mother earth on a daily basis, which is difficult (if not impossible) to do when you live in south-central L.A. and have to drive across the 110 and the 101for most of the day. It is makes me feel weird at times (for lack of a better word) to be so far away from urban demands such as beating traffic, showing up to a designated workplace, pumping gas, picking up the homie, meetings with people in offices, waiting in line for hours at such and such place. My body is somehow used to the city noise, the traffic lights, the gray air, the dusty windshields, and of course the city rhythm. But there is another kind of busy here that is just as real and can be just as demanding. I have to wash my FOR shirts and my five other (non-FOR t-shirts) garments almost every three days, not in a Lucy’s or a local Lavanderia, but in my own living room! Which actually takes a while and this requires time to soak muddy clothes in a plastic bin, scrub it, rinse it, and then put it out on the clothesline. My clothes usually stay out for two or three days for a couple of more rinses since the rain unexpectedly shows up before the clothes get a chance to completely dry. And to prevent bringing in damp clothes, I leave them outside overnight, and over days. You can't imagine how mold can actually can be quite awful when it mixes with your own sweat. I have learned to accept my new scent here in Lau Union: sweaty person, with strong B.O. wearing a moldy-smelly FOR shirt. That is me about 7 days a week.

Then, of course, there is the imperative office work that we must execute with unreliable dial-up Internet and an old laptop that still has a few viruses. Sometimes there are “errors” and “failures” on our Outlook Express service and we just have to patiently wait until the dial-up works and the internet stays on for us to successfully accomplish something that would have taken 15 minutes back home. So what do I do while I wait? Probably fill up the water tank, clean the bugs off my mosquito net, or cobwebs from my bedroom walls, burn the toilet paper in our back yard, cook some quinoa for lunch, and/or all of the above. All the necessary activities we must carry out makes work here far more interesting than working in between clean white walls, on an actual desk with fast-speed internet on a new HP wide screen laptop inside an air-conditioned office. “How sterile,” says the up until 12 weeks ago city-gal Mayra. I like to think that our office is a good “el campo office.” It is about 6X12x14 ft in actual space and is all made out of wood (including the desk and shelves). By wood I mean large pieces of wooden boards that are in their natural color and texture (with uneven surfaces and splinters). We have old ID’s on the wall of former FOR teammates, a stack of CD folders with a variety of music (including some country but please note that it is NOT mine), a collection of “Arrested Development DVD’s that good ol' teammate AJ recently brought from home, heart stickers, a list of people’s birthdays from the community, and a snowman key chain hanging off a rusty nail. There is also a cluttered corner with a poster, pens and markers in an old Nutella jar, a cell phone and random pieces of papers with doodles or important notes on it. On the left corner there is a poster of a woman with vines growing across her torso and face with the words Fumigation = Miseria (misery) written on it. And well, there are spider webs, old nails still piercing our walls probably since the house was first built, cables and electronics with dust on them, four rolls of duck tape, flat soccer balls in a corner, and stacks of SEMANA (weekly published political articles) magazines under our desk. The space is far more interesting at night when the light bulb attracts flying ants, mosquitoes, wasps, beetles, and who knows what other unidentified insects come to visit the working FOR team once the sun sets and we are still trying to send out an email.

And, so the days continue, some seeming like only 10-hour long days when I end up wondering where the other 14 hours went and others seeming like 40-hours days where I wish I could just crawl under the mosquito net and place my head next to my moldy-smelly pillow. And as I end this blog entry, I scratch the mosquito and bed bug bites that have my body looking like a minor case of chicken pox. Feeling sexy these days? Not me !