Day One, July 2
By Mandy Cloninger
It was just past 5 a.m., and she was certainly one of the more colorful people we encountered in the airport yesterday morning. She was decked out in hot pink basically head to toe; her hair was the same pinkish red as the decadent cherry on the front of her shirt. Her shoes were a bit of a cross between sandals and lace up tennis shoes and went halfway up her calves, they too were pink. She certainly had a lot of flavor and color! She was also heading to Cuba on the first flight of the day out of Miami; I couldn’t help but notice that she was transporting a handicapped toilet seat so that perhaps one of her family members in Cuba would have an easier time with some rails to hold onto and a higher seat in the bathroom.
There were two rounds of spontaneous clapping when we landed on Cuban soil; the first in anticipation before the wheels even touched the ground, and the second, after the flight attendant welcomed us to Cuba. Because this is simply what happens when you land in Cuba! We were the only Americans on our flight; the rest appeared to be Cuban Americans visiting their families and bringing many of the necessities and little luxuries that the Cuban people do not have access to. We successfully made it through the three security checkpoints with only minimal scrutiny and all our 22 suitcases!
Our short trip in Havana from the airport to the Methodist Center was filled with tons of sights and sounds. I expected to see the old American cars on the roads in Cuba, but it was like a blast from the past to see the blues, the greens, and the reds of the 50s and 60s Chevrolets puttering down the roads, windows rolled down, thick plumes of black smoke coming from their exhaust pipes and mingled with a few foreign cars and the tiny canary yellow electric taxi. The older buildings and ornate, intricate architecure were beautiful, with the art deco colors of turquoise, pinks and blues. In stark contrast, every few miles along the roads were bold, billboard messages of propaganda interspersed with colorful laundry hanging from balconies, and people walking along the streets holding hands.
Our extended family at the Methodist Center: Josmanny, Elias, Orlian, our translator, and grande y poco Alinna and Magdalena welcomed us with hugs, kisses, and a very lavish luncheon of baked chicken, rice and beans, platanos and fresh vegetables. We even had a special dessert treat of guava puree with cheese and Cuban coffee. As Pat, who has been on the trip previously, said, we are all part of one big family in Christ and the welcome we experienced from our brothers and sisters in Cuba was one of the many blessings of the day.
Even though we had been traveling since 5 a.m., not one minute was wasted on our first day in Cuba, after our welcome luncheon and getting settled into our rooms, we departed for a sightseeing tour of Ernest Hemingway’s home. It began with one of the many, spontaneous connections that we made during the day. As Bruce described it, we need to be attuned to these spontaneous moments of ministry with the Cuban people. Rebecca, who speaks fluent Spanish, connected with a gaggle of children and practiced her Spanish and the children coversed with her in English and shared the love of God in relationship with one another as we soaked in the beautiful, lush green surroundings of Hemingway’s home. We could see Havana and the Methodist Center from the highest point where Hemingway sat writing with a breeze flowing through the windows and the smell of books and plumerias wafted all around us.
Once we returned to the Methodist Center, Belinda set up camp out front and began strumming her guitar, Jeanne was singing along, and Dan and I decided to try out the hula hulas (hula hoops). Two little girls approached and watched, but it wasn’t until we grabbed all the hulas and walked out in front to the street that a dozen or so children joined us in hooping, jumping rope and just having fun. An older man sat down with Linda and sang along with her to various hymns and songs in Spanish.
As Drema shared the devotion on our first evening, we read from Matthew and Mark, the Great Commission. “Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations,” and we learned a song that we’ll be sharing with the Cuban people during worship tomorrow, Ënviado Soy de Dios, Sent Out in Jesus’ Name.
“Sent out in Jesus’name, our hands are ready now to make the earth the place in which the kingdom comes. The angels cannot change a world of hurt and pain into a world of love, of justice and of peace. The task is ours to do, to set it really free.”And we were challenged to that task, to let love be our guilding light every day and every moment, as our holy mission in Cuba is to make disciples of all nations.
We ended the evening with a walk to and along the Mallecon, the Bayshore Boulevard of Cuba, where thousands of people young and old gather to people watch, sing, dance and just hang out on Saturday night. As we returned to the Methodist Center, the jovenes were worshipping next door to an upbeat contemporary, rocking sound, and were jumping (mosh pit style), kicking and swaying to, “No puedo parrar,” I can’t stop. I can’t stop praising the name of Jesus.
 |
| Cuba |
No puedo parrar, no puedo parrar, no puedo parrar.
Comments