Bienvenidos a La Chureca

by Jacob Phipps

Hello ngco readers!  My sister and blogmaster, Jessica, asked me to write an entry regarding my latest trip to Nicaragua.  For those that don’t know me, I am the youngest child of James and Denise (excluding Dylan).  I’m living in Ames and attending ISU.  Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s dive in to the subject at hand.

"Bienvenidos a La Chureca!" was how I was welcomed as I stood atop a rather sizable hill in the heart of the western hemisphere’s largest active landfill on Thanksgiving Day.  The words came from one of La Chureca’s scrappy-looking residents.  This individual introduced himself as Ezequiel (Ezekiel).  Ezequiel was most visibly intoxicated and as skiddish as one would expect a dump-dwelling junkie to be.  In a moment of internal unrest, as Ezequiel was pushing the limits of my state of comfort, I shook his filthy hand and introduced myself.  I looked Ezequiel in the eye, scanned the unruly wild hair under his old ball cap, and evaluated his wiry frame to reassure myself that I could take him down should he try something.  It was at this moment that I noticed something especially strange about his patchy beard.  As he was pointing out his dwelling to me, explaining how the scavenger birds feed on all the dead things in La Chureca, and how he had Christ in his heart- I couldn’t get past the greenish goop smeared into that beard of his.  It didn’t take much longer to deduce that this green goop was the adhesive Ezequiel was huffing to get high, stay high, and curb his hunger.  In my entire life, I’ll never forget what happened next…

I stayed.  I stood my ground.  I made pleasant small talk with Ezequiel.  I felt God’s leading to make Ezequiel feel comfortable, careful not to let his disgusting appearance and putrid smell affect my body language.  It may sound ridiculous or perverse, but this is how I expressed love to Ezequiel.  After all, if God called me to this place- this Hell on Earth- then I was not going to treat Ezequiel like an exotic creature in a zoo- I was going to find a way to love him as my brother.  Ezequiel said he was 25 years old.  Two years older than me.  I thought to myself, "How did he and I arrive at this place in our lives?  Why is it that I’ve been blessed with so much while he is struggling to survive?  Is the condition of my heart that much different than his?  No.  Certainly we have the same sins coursing through our hearts, but what would I do with the cards he’s been dealt?"  Really a profound moment in my life.  Ezequiel proceeded to open up his mouth to point out all the teeth he was missing, muttered a few things I couldn’t understand, and scampered off down the hill as quickly as he appeared.

La Chureca is the landfill that services Managua, Nicaragua’s capital city.  Youtube it.  People live in La Chureca.  So many people in fact that there is a school with over 300 dump-kids.  Drug use runs rampant, young girls prostitute themselves to dump truck drivers for first-dibs on trash, and people build their dwellings with things they find in the garbage.  It is a place that is perpetually on fire, the smell could knock someone over, and it is filled with people, goats, horses, cows, pigs, and chickens, along with the thinnest and deadest dogs you’ve ever seen.  The day I spent there was to celebrate at the schoolkids’ ceremony for passing their grades for the year.  After the ceremony, I had my encounter with Ezequiel and then we served the kids lunch.

Perhaps now I should give you a little more background as to how I got involved with Nicaragua.  My aunt and uncle from Atlanta visited during Thanksgiving of 2007.  This was at a time in my life when I was going through some spiritual changes and felt God pulling me back into His fold.  Somehow I got the inclination to go on some short-term mission.  Rob and Alex said I should go with their church in Atlanta to Nicaragua.  I thought it was a great idea but questioned the practicality of joining up with a mission team from Atlanta.  A few weeks later, my friend and fellow ngco blogreader, Will Owens, called me to wish me luck on my finals.  I spoke to him a bit about the things I was going through and that I had a desire to do some short term mission work.  He told me that his church, Harvest Vineyard Church in Ames (www.harvestvc.org), goes to Nicaragua every spring break and that he’d talk to his pastor on my behalf.  This is when God’s tap on the shoulder turned more into a slap in the face.  "Alright, God, I get the point already.  I’ll go to Nicaragua."  So I got my passport, got sponsored by friends and family, and turned my skiff South America way (not really South America but wanted to appeal to the G.O.B. fans that read this blog).  My life was turned upside down during that spring break of 2008.  We stayed at an orphanage called Brazos de Amor (Arms of Love) in Jinotepe which is approximately an hour outside of Managua.  This orphanage has kids ranging from 3 years old up to 17 year olds.  These kids have some incredible stories.  Most cases involve the kids being discovered as abandoned on the dangerous streets of Managua.  The majority of the boys and girls have had to endure some form of physical abuse- often sexual in nature.  Basically things that just broke my heart, especially after witnessing God’s grace in the way that they laugh and smile and play.  I don’t know if I could be as joyful as them after abandonment and abuse from the very people that brought them into the world.  Anyway, the mark that they left on my heart compelled me to visit them again during spring break ’09.  This was another great trip.  Different than the first in that I felt like I got to share more of my heart with them.  I got to pray with them.  They got to pray for me.  It was another beautiful experience.

Then in October of this year, I checked out airline tickets to Managua on a whim.  I found reallllllly cheap airline tickets over Thanksgiving break, and the wheels started into motion.  I took a couple weeks to pray about the idea.  I wanted this to be God-driven.  I didn’t want it to be a time that was necessarily convenient and affordable for me.  After praying, I didn’t really feel swayed one way or the other so I just went and bought the tickets.  Maybe a foolish move, maybe not.  Immediately after booking the tickets, I got so unbelievably busy with school.  Without embellishing, I was averaging a 16 hour day of studying for exams, research work, and homework.  How does the saying go, "if the devil won’t make me bad, he’ll make me busy"?  Something like that.  To put it in perspective, I started packing at 10:00 the night before I supposed to leave at 4:30 am.  It was while I was submitting homework through an iPod touch at Houston International Airport that I felt God tell me why He allowed me to become so consumed with school.  I felt Him say that He wanted me to be His blunt instrument.  He didn’t want me to go on this trip full of my own ideas or expectations.  He wanted me to serve the orphans.  The least, the last, and the lost.  After all, I serve a King that is fundamentally different than any other leader in human history.  My King loves the widows and orphans.  He identifies with the oppressed and impoverished.  He serves them.  If His human form was still on Earth, He’d be chatting it up with Ezequiel (with much better Spanish than I could muster to boot).  He’d probably even heal him of that whole glue huffing issue also.

This is getting long.  I have more to say.  With Blogmaster Zeigler’s permission, I will make another appearance shortly.  In the next segment we’ll look at The Great Commission, stories about the orphans, and information about my next trip.  For now I will leave you with the organization that runs this orphanage (http://armsoflove.org/).  Go to this wiki site for more info about Nicaragua in general (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nicaragua).  Until then, Dios te bendiga!