Intense Women's Group Time

I didn't really want to go to the women's annual conference. I have traveled enough with locals in third world countries to know it would be uncomfortable at times and that I would return exhausted. I had the perfect excuse – it was being held in a city known for riots protesting the president and it was election season. Even though I had some anxiety about traveling to this city, deep down I knew I was suppose to go. The other women did not share my security concerns as we drove down the last mile of dusty road to get to the school compound hosting us, they sang thanks to Jesus for our safe travels – loud enough to hear two blocks away. I wanted to say, shh, they will know we are here! I know a great witness from this missionary...

The gifts at a dowry party are often out of sync
with the couples living conditions. Showing
more what they aspire to than what is practical.

As we have touched on some previously, making friends here has been harder than I thought it would be. I expected a simpler lifestyle, but, even over all these miles and in the least developed country in the world, the women still have ambitions for “more” and lives of importance, which creates lots of “levels” in their group. I believe this feeling as well as me being an outsider with different values contributed to my struggles while at the women's conference.

I was now with these women 24/7 and trying to be a good example of Jesus' love, but not really feeling love for them. I am glad that it was Good Friday one of the days and I took time to sit aside for personal devotions. After reading through the passion story, I wrote this journal entry, “I remember the warning that cross culturally everything is so much more intense. Intense could be a good summary word for this time with these women. I have had intense dislike for many of the women and I have looked intensely for what they don't do well. What a great reminder for this day. Jesus suffered an intense death for ME. Please Lord fill me with your love. It doesn't matter how they love me. Please teach me and give me love for them.”

The famous microbus - here we're moving gear to another 
bus for the last 10 minutes across town.

A good moment of reflection, but I can't say that everything went great after that. In fact, we had a very bumpy ride home. We had 20 women in the microbus on less than 3 hours of sleep. I was in the back row with three other women and two girls. The driver was going over the speed bumps so roughly that I would hit my head on the roof hard each time.  Yet he also spent so much of the ride at 5-10 miles an hour (creating a 7 hour drive out of a 3.5 hour drive). Finally, I realized we had no brakes on the vehicle and if we went too slow the van would stall. We started to warn each other to brace for the speed bumps. The next day when we celebrated Easter baptisms on Monday and I went to church, I now had a few things to talk to the women about, “How are you feeling from that bumpy ride? Are you still tired from the conference?” If nothing else we had survived the bumpy road together.

-- La Maestra