Monkeys chillin' in the rain |
RRRICO....So much rain, so much happy!! |
Río Coco waterfall |
The Hondurans, or really Spanish
speakers in general, have a luscious word to articulate this feeling: rico. The
dictionary really doesn’t do this word justice; “rico” is defined as rich, in
the sense of monetarily rich or richly delicious. Spanish speakers, however,
give this word life, and Hondurans know how to feel it. Deeply. Abundantly. Completely. Picture this… you are at
Río Coco, your skin all sticky with sweat and roasting in the sun. Then you take
the leap off the rocky cliff into the madly swirling waterfall below, and a
delicious icy chill races up your back as you hit the water. ¡Qué rico! Or you’re swaying in a hammock on a Sunday afternoon,
Ninoska’s freshly chilled tres leches cake in hand, while a stray breeze dances
across your face… Qué rrrico. Or you’re
leaning against the countertops in the kitchen with Anna and Annie, sipping yet
another frigid banana peanut-butter smoothie and laughing at the latest ridiculous
drama. ¡Qué RICO! (It’s strange how “icy cold”
has been a particularly significant factor in all of these examples…).
“Rico” really just describes
experiencing something absolutely delightful to the fullest that it can be
perceptibly experienced. It is tangible
happiness. For me, “rico” summarizes a large portion of Honduran life (at least
in the parts of Honduras I’ve seen). Life is so physically experienced here.
For most Hondurans, work isn’t an 8-5 job behind a desk. If you are blessed to
find a job, it is often physically exhausting and demanding from sunrise to
sunset, and the pay is insufficient. A disproportional percentage of the
typical Honduran’s earnings is spent on food (around 40% of income is spent on
food, whereas in the US we spend an average 6.8% according to a study by
Washington State University), so food is intensely valued and enjoyed. The
Hondurans I know would never “accidentally skip lunch” or “grab a quick
sandwich” like an American worker might. Instead they ask what’s for lunch in
the early morning already, and women spend hours every day making their tortillas
perfectly round and thick and their frijoles just immaculately seasoned and
“machucados”. Also, Hondurans also don’t have many toys for their babies; they
use hugs, kisses, and tickles to play. Even in their free time, being close to
family and friends even just to eat or sit quietly in a hammock is considered
the best possible use of time. Qué rico… Qué rico it is to drink an icy
coca-cola, qué rico it is to swim in a clear river, qué rico it is to hold a giggly
chubby baby, qué rico it is to receive a kiss, qué rico are these beautiful
little moments in life!
Yet, there is of course so much poverty, sickness, and social insecurity in
this area that cannot be ignored, so I want to highlight the beauty of Hondurans’
lives here without trivializing their suffering. There is a deep appreciation
among the Hondurans for these seemingly small physical blessings and a contentment
with the beautiful moments they experience in life, and I can’t help but admire
it and try to learn from it. Living here, I’ve grown to appreciate every little
blessing, each moment of “tangible happiness”. Even when some days are really
tough, especially for the Hondurans, God gives us beautiful moments where we
can say “¡Qué
rico!”, and we wish we could experience them perfectly.
No matter how “rico” the experience
or how perfect the moment though, there is always that tiny undeniable presence
of an insatiable desire for more, the need to experience that perfection even more fully. Here on earth I don’t think
we can ever reach that complete impeccable happiness. We always long for more. Even
while I am oh-so-happily drinking my banana-peanut butter smoothie (quite
literally an everyday staple to my diet here), I feel a twinge of sadness that
it will soon be gone. Even that feeling of pure elation that comes from
watching a child make progress after months of therapeutic intervention is
dampened by the realization that this is just a handful of children; there is
always another million youth in Honduras, or Central America or the world, who
desperately need help and won’t get it. It’s self-defeating. It feels hopeless.
What am I doing here if this doesn’t really make a difference in the grand
scheme of things? The joy in seeing progress is there, but it feels so
fleeting.
Paul, however, reminded me of
something in his letter to the Galatians. He writes, “And let us not be weary
in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not” (Gal. 6:9). He
can say this because God has promised that he has a plan for this world, and
that everything eventually will serve to the fulfillment of that plan and for
the good of his people (Jer. 29, Rom. 8). That doesn’t mean that we can sit
back lazily and do nothing just because “God has a plan, so he doesn’t need me”
or that everything in life will be perfect for people who follow God. That was
never part of the deal. God still requires much from us, because “to whom much [is]
given, of him much will be required”. He expects us to use the means he has
given us. To whom much is given (e.g. 1st world wealth and the knowledge that
there is suffering around us) much will be required (e.g. serving others in his
name as he has told us to do). So we give as much as we are able, not
“fainting” or giving up, knowing that we will reap the results in God’s time.
You can never get enough of this silly little guy! |
With that
said, what we do out of love to serve God and others does make a difference in the grand scheme of things. When we work
and love in his name, we are doing what he has required of us. With his grace
we play the part that he has set out before us in his plan, however insignificant
it may seem to us at the time. Then the results will come, and all those hours
of work and stress will be worth it. Keep serving! Don’t grow weary! And
through it all, let’s be thankful for every “Qué rico” moment and live them all
to the fullest we are able.