Saturday night dinner at Joy's consisted of salad, a rotisserie chicken, mashed yucca with garlic/butter/parsley sauce, and
patacones (mashed & fried plantain patties). That was the second of at least three different forms of plantain that I was to consume on my Panama adventure.
Shortly after our meal, Joy offered to take Ryan and me to youth group. I admit that I was slightly nervous as we meandered down the road in my cousin's SUV, thinking of how potentially awkward this might be instead of how brilliantly unforgettable it could (and did) turn out to be. I wondered if Ryan was thinking the same thing.
Youth group was being held that night at the Guerra's: the same people who would be hosting our Easter dinner the next evening. As we pulled up to their home, I noticed a small but decent group of teens seated around the Guerra's porch. Joy approached them deliberately while Ryan and I lagged bashfully behind.
"See that tree over there?" whispered Ryan, subtly pointing towards the back end of the Guerra's sideyard.
I nodded.
"That's where Xiu lives."
"Xiu?"
"Their pet monkey."
So they had a pet monkey. A boy named Xiu. (Actually, it's pronounced "SEE-oo," a lot like our English word "Sioux.")
Joy motioned for us to sit down in a few empty seats by the edge of the porch, while Mr. and Mrs. Guerra welcomed us congenially. I couldn't have been more thankful at that moment that Joy knew them all, that she knew Spanish way better than I did, and that all Ryan and I had to do was follow along as best as we could. As the minutes went on, I noticed that I soon felt right at home.
Mr. Guerra was speaking about the resurrection. (This was the day before Easter Sunday, of course.) I surprised myself with how well I was following the majority of what he said. It was then that I felt a pang of sympathy for Ryan: at least I could understand some of what was being discussed!
There came a time when Mr. Guerra had to leave the group for a short while. Joy leaned over to me and hushedly explained that to me, in English. I don't recall where exactly he was going; all I know is that he wasn't gone long. During his absence, Mrs. Guerra suggested that one of the students--the lone boy at this point, besides Ryan--get out his guitar to lead a few worship songs. I adored listening to all of them and striving to comprehend so much of what was being sung. I even recognized a few of the melodies right off. Some of the songs were basically the same as the ones I've known back home, but in Spanish.
Soon enough, Mr. Guerra returned with his vehicle that now runneth over with more students. As they poured into the porch, laughing and obviously pleased to be there, each one of them made a point to greet us -- specifically Joy, Ryan, and me -- personally. This was just cultural normalcy, and I knew that; but I admit, it still made me feel genuinely special. Each one of them came up to me, shook my hand, looked me in the eye, and greeted me, unabashed. Like I said, this is their common, friendly practice, but it felt authentic. I appreciated that.
The girls talked and giggled and complimented each other on their outfits. (At least I think they did.) Several of the boys disappeared momentarily and magically returned with more guitars, preparing to help lead a few more songs. I'm sure my older brother would have loved to join them.
Chatting amongst themselves, all the recent arrivals managed to find seats on the now crowded porch. Joy pointed to a few of them, giving me their names and explaining who the four Guerra brothers were. She then leaned over to me again and smiled. "Now
this feels like youth group."
* * * *
"Well, Joy, what game did you bring for us this evening?"
Apparently Mr. Guerra asked that question often at the end of his Bible study discussion time. At least, that is what Joy mentioned to me as she stood up to give instructions. She had something in mind after all.
Have you ever played the "
human knot" game? Basically everyone gets in a circle, takes random people's hands, and becomes one giant pretzel that needs to be undone ever so skillfully. We split into two groups to play this, and one girl in mine asked me in English if I spoke Spanish. "
Un poquito," I replied sheepishly. It was probably too humble a statement to make, but I would rather lead her to believe I knew less than I really do, than to somehow make her think I was fluent.
After a lot of laughter in the midst of all the chaos, the game ended and we were sent into the kitchen for cookies and juice.
Darrel Guerra and his owl
Some of the kids stayed on the porch with their snacks, while some of the kids trickled out into the yard to admire the Guerra's pet birds. Ryan and I chose to admire the birds: a falcon and a few owls, some of which were contentedly seated on their particular tree stumps, while others were perched on the outstretched arms of the Guerra boys or their friend Eliecer.
Eliecer is the one who held the falcon at this point. This bird had a sort of mask over its eyes, and I was curious as to why. I approached Eliecer and asked him the question in Spanish.
"¿Qué tiene en la cabeza?"
He answered me in English.
All right. I ask him in his native language; he answers me in mine. Fair enough.
I found out later that he is fluent in English. Admirable? Understatement of the year. I was (and still am) genuinely impressed.
And that was youth group.
I miss it. I miss them all. I hope I'm lucky enough to go back someday.
