A letter from Tracey King-Ortega in Nicaragua
July 2014 - Being Present
The other day our nanny took our three children for a walk around the neighborhood. It is not unusual to draw quite a bit of attention when you are out and about with twins and an adorable 3-year-old. But on this outing they drew the kind of attention that led me to feel uncomfortable. Doña Emelina came back with a surprise. In the twins’ laps, as well as the other parts of the stroller, were packages of powdered milk. She said that there were a bunch of gringos walking around the neighborhood giving this stuff out. They seemed extra excited to meet my twins and told her to be sure to have their mom drink this milk because she needs the nourishment. We laughed about it and I asked her if they took pictures of the babies with the milk packets, and not surprisingly, they did. All of this left me feeling kind of yucky. Why did this group of strangers make these assumptions of poverty and need about my children? Is it just because they are Nicaraguan, so they must be poor? What would they have done if I were the one taking them on the walk, a fellow “gringo”? Would they still have loaded us down with packets of milk?
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My twins, Ruby and Benjamin, in their stroller
Since then I’ve been thinking a lot about giving and receiving. When I talk with visiting mission teams, I stress to them our partners’ policy of not giving coins or things to children begging in the streets or people they meet out in the communities. I know it is hard to see need and not respond. We justify our need to give, saying that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” In my commitment to emphasizing mutuality in North-South church partnerships, I’ve pushed back hard on the U.S. folks wanting to give materially because I’ve seen the power imbalance it creates and how it reinforces that “Santa Claus” image so many have of people in the U.S. who come to visit developing nations. We value our generosity and because we have been so “blessed” feel called to share our “blessings.” It is so easy to fall into these damaging patterns of paternalism. Or do we just avoid “these people” altogether because we are tired of being asked to give?
I’ve dealt with the aftermath of unhealthy giving, and it breaks my heart and makes me angry. But I’ve always approached the issue from my perspective as one on the giving side of the equation, and I share theories as to when and how handouts may actually perpetuate the problems we see and don’t provide long-term solutions. But I’ve never really thought about how it makes the other feel. What does our giving say about how we perceive them? Do we just look at them and assume they are poor because of the color of their skin or where they were born? We see them as a set of needs rather than a fellow human being. We think we know, when most often the case is that we have no idea of their reality.
In looking to scripture and the example of Jesus on several occasions of performing miracles, I am really struck by the way in which Jesus engages those in need. He doesn’t just assume, as anyone would, that the blind man wants his sight. Instead, he takes the time to talk with him, to ask him, “What do you want?” or in another encounter, “Do you want to be healed?” This detail is so simple yet teaches us something so important about how we are in ministry with others. Relationship first.
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My three children with their nanny Doña Emelina and her family
I say this is a simple principle, but it can be hard to live out. I recall a visit I made last year to a rural community with First Presbyterian Church of Charleston, West Virginia, on a fact-finding trip to a potential installation site for a Living Waters for the World water purification system. After the spiel about the water system and talking about the implications of that, an older woman came up to me to talk. She introduced herself as a community health coordinator and a midwife. She has attended more than 1,200 births and spends that first week of the life of the newborn helping new mothers. She has no set fee for her services, just receiving what they find in their hearts to give. I was in awe. She said her name was Justa and started sharing more of her tragic story.
Justa’s father had died six months earlier. She had just brought her brother home from the hospital. He was in liver failure and there was nothing left to do for him. She said he was as yellow as the yellow card I happened to be holding in my hand. As I listened, I was bracing myself, waiting for the ask, almost wanting to beat her to it with pre-emptive no, explaining that isn’t the purpose of our visit. But then I stopped myself. I took a deep breath and decided that I should just be present and listen. It was a powerful exchange as I listened to her unburden herself by sharing her grief with me. In the end, she did ask me for something. She asked that I pray for her brother, Francisco Aguilar Urbina. I held her hand as she spoke, and we parted with a hug and my promise to hold her and her family in prayer.
Back in our vehicle, heading out of the community, my colleague Leslie commented to me that I looked so beautiful as I spoke with that woman. She said she could see the pastoral presence I was for her.
I still think about her, wondering what happened to her brother and lift them up in prayer. Did I do anything for her that day? Was it enough? Is it just about being in the moment or should we look to the long term? Yes and no. The truth is that what we do will never be enough. So much more important is how we do it; how we relate to the poor and marginalized. When we take the time to listen and be present rather than jump to conclusions about what ails them and how we can fix it, our presence with them in that moment may be just what is needed, for now.
I want to thank you for your support that allows me to be present with our partners in this part of the world. I pray that with your continuing support we are able to build the kind of relationships that allow us to get glimpses of God’s kingdom.
Blessings and peace,
Tracey
The 2013 Presbyterian Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 12
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