Sugar Cane Village

When you hear "Sugarcane Village" don't you picture a sweet little village filled with gingerbread houses and sugar cookie inhabitants carrying sugared gumdrops to and fro?

Oh okay. Just me.

In reality, it's nothing like that. Though the children were tan and extra sweet, it was an incredible culture shock to set foot in the batey. I will spare you my attempt at imitating a National Geographic Documentary (and you can read more about Dominican Batey's here) but essentially  they are the poorest villages in the DR. Brought over from Haiti and having been promised stable jobs, the workers find themselves unable to escape the vicious cycle of the sugar cane season, unreasonably low pay and, grueling 14 hour work days.

So yeah. 

Please slap me if I complain about anything in my life ever again.

the whole journey is below....

In my circles we complain a lot about how shy the homeschool boys are. Like we don't want a marriage proposal, but acknowledging our existence by you know, a greeting, would be nice. Dominican men don't seem to be plagued by the same problem as homeschoolers. We were on the bus for two hours, all 24 of us. Winding past Christopher Columbus's castle and visions of oceanic paradise, we also managed to find ourselves in some stop-and-go traffic. And we kept stopping and going and staying in sync with a two guys in a little white truck. The first time we made eye contact I waved a little because IDK, I'm a dumb blonde and I get awkward when I unintentionally make eye contact. The second time we smiled because hey, we were friends now! Slamming on the breaks caused my friend to spill her coffee which was quite comical and of course, the third time we stopped, they saw it and joined in the laughter.

But the next time the bus slammed on the breaks, the only thing that could surprise us more than hot coffee splashing all over was the passenger in the white truck practically climbing onto our bus to tape his number onto the window. 

Imagine how that shocked our little homeschooled hearts.

(But unfortunately, I did not have an international plan so I couldn't call him back. I also don't speak his language. That might have caused for some mild confusion.)

So in our short time there, did we change their lives? No. Did we install a water pump so they could drink and bathe in amoeba free water? No. Did we pass out enough shoes so that every kid had a pair? No. Did we get the chance to hug every orphan, squeezing the love of Christ into them?

I think you know the answer.

Honestly, this part was eye opening. And frustrating. It's easy to hear about a need and to send an operation Christmas child box....then forget about it an hour later.  But it's hard to be surrounded by so much misery and feel so desperately helpless. We can't fix their water forever. We can't make sure they all have shoes and clean clothes for the rest of their lives. We can't hug them hard enough.

But Jesus can, and while we might write that off as the Sunday School answer, it's true.  Life is full of questions and even in our best attempts at responding, we complicate the answer. I do not know if our impact was great, but I know Jesus is great enough. 

I'm glad it wasn't a gingerbread village. For starters, I'm gluten free, so that would have been a major bummer. But also, had everything been sugar coated and royally iced, the need for Jesus wouldn't have been so obvious. Jesus would be on the back burner, along with the caramel reduction. Instead, He was front and center. His love permeated the cinder block houses and His presence was palpable. 

And being with Jesus in a grim, desolate sugar cane village to be better than any empty, cookie-cutter excuse of a town ever could be. 

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