POST by JONNY: Hitchhiker's Guide to a Strategy...

Mauricio in Costa Rica

Hello my name is JOHNNY

My story is about an experience that I had, going to my country’s neighbour, COSTA  RICA, in order to represent my homeland, Nicaragua.

In 2011 I went to an international event where two dancers fought on the dance floor against two other dancers, with competitors being eliminated in groups of two. We won the event, my friend Mauricio and I.

Five days after this competition in San Jose, we received a telephone call from Costa Rica. The person on the other end of the line advised that myself and my dancing group companion, Mauricio, had been elected by the bboy organisation in Costa Rica (the board of the Costa Rican dancing federation) to represent our country, Nicaragua, in future events.

Jonny in Costa Rica

One day my dancing companion, Mauricio and I, were wondering and discussing how we could ever get to the dancing event in Costa Rica. He didn’t have any money, and neither did I. On top of that, neither of us were had a job at the time.

We thought about who we could borrow money from and then I thought of someone. Mauricio agreed that we should ask for a loan. And so we went along to my friend’s house, and low-and-behold, the chap was at home!

Jonny with some Costa Rican junior talent

We explained our situation to my friend, and he said “of course I’ll lend you the money for your trip to Costa Rica. When you get the money back again, just repay me then.”

The next day I went with Mauricio and bought the coach ticket. We would be departing Managua rather early in the morning, at 4am, on the 23^rd of February, 2011.

The Boys with local Costa Rican talent

Five days after purchasing our coach tickets, we left Costa Rica-bound. However, when we arrived at the border between our two countries, all of the people on our coach exited the bus and proceeded to the immigration hall. Each one of us were asked by the immigration officials (Police) for our passports. Mauricio, my friend, told me he was hungry, and persuaded me to go with him in order to buy something to eat.

When we went to buy food, I told Mauricio that I needed to go to the toilet.  Mauricio agreed and went by himself to buy a snack.  When I came out of the bathroom I saw Mauricio running towards me. “What happened?” I called out. “All of my things have been stolen!” I was shocked. “Who stole your things?” I inquired. “Some thieves” Mauricio accurately replied.

Jonny dancing on the streets of San Jose

We headed for the bus. When we arrived we were told by the coach staff that we would not be allowed to board the bus, because we didn’t possess tickets. The bus left us at the border. We didn’t know what to do.

At that very moment, a young man of approximately 25 years appeared and told us that he’d watched our videos on Youtube, that he knew of us, and that he’d like to one day watch our crew dance. We told our new friend that we were desperate to travel to Costa Rica, for in San Jose we would represent Nicaragua in a dancing competition. Our friend explained that he knew of a path nearby, that we could travel along, in order to cross the border.

Mauricio dancing on the streets of San Jose

We went on foot with this fellow and traversed the border to Costa Rica. When we made it safely through, our friend crossed back, because he had to return for work. Once on the main highway again, we tried to hitchhike. However, nobody offered us a lift.

So I said to Mauricio, “come on, let’s walk. Somebody will eventually give us a ride.” Mauricio agreed, and we started walking towards San Jose at 9am. We walked for five hours.

Mauricio, the tinman

At 2pm a van stopped and told us to get in. “The capital of Costa Rica is 340 kms away” he said. “I will talk with the Police and they will help you.” We looked at each other, and then at our Good Samaritan and said “Okay, sounds great. Thank you.”

The chap took us to the Police station and then took off. He was headed in a different direction and needed to get moving. The Police beckoned us in and began to ask us questions. “Why are you walking?” We said “We’ve been robbed, but we’re here legally. We have the correct documentation.”

Jonny, on the coach to Costa Rica

The Police asked us if we knew of someone who could help us. “Yes”, was our reply. We asked to use their telephone so that we could call the event organisers. The Police kindly offered a loan of their phone and we called our colleagues in Costa Rica and asked them if they could send us some money, so that we could get to the capital.

Our friends very graciously lent us the $20 dollars we needed. Mauricio and I walked five kilometers to a place where we could withdraw the money for our bus tickets. We bought our tickets and began to wait. I fell asleep and Mauricio chatted away on the telephone he’d recharged with the money we’d received. Our bus, left without us! We continued to wait, and luckily the next bus allowed us to board. San Jose at last!

Mauricio hitchhiking

When we arrived in the massive city, nobody was there to greet us. We were nervous, as we’re Nicaraguan and didn’t know much about Costa Rica. However, Mauricio had a sister who lived in Costa Rica, but he had no clue where she lived.

In this moment I asked a complete stranger if he knew where the local bus terminal was. He said that he did, and offered to take us there personally. Mauricio asked if he could borrow our tour guide’s phone for a moment, so that he could look at his facebook and try to locate his sister’s phone number. Our guide obliged Mauricio.

Mauricio with his sister and her kids/friends in Costa Rica

Mauricio found his sister’s phone number and called her on the telephone. She told us to wait at the bus station and she’d come and get us. Two hours later, and in she waltzed. It was so good to see her. She took us with her to her house.

We hadn’t eaten all day and were starving hungry. We’d been up since 4am! We told Mauricio’s sister that we were hungry and she made us some food. It was like breakfast for us!

Mauricio and his brother inlaw

The following day, we called and spoke with staff from the competition that we would be participating in. They explained that they were no longer having us come and compete in the event. We went along anyway, unsure as to why we were no longer to be included.

The View from our House in Costa Rica

The following day, we were still unsure as to how we’d make it back to Nicaragua. We decided to busk, dancing in the streets, in order to raise the money we needed for our bus fare. It took us twenty days to raise the money. We’d been on quite the trip, and were now excited to return to our beloved country, proud that we were able to represent Nicaragua, even if only dancing on the streets.

God bless you for reading this story. Thank you!

Jonny!

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This story was written by a Nicaraguan youth, and was voluntarily given to Capital on the Edge for publishing. The subject choice was his entirely. He has elected to write about his experiences for the glory of God and so that others may learn from his experiences. The translation of this work is performed voluntarily and not professionally, hence there may be some errors. Any decisive deviation from the text is in consultation with the author, and is done so to make clear the life events written about and to provide further information so that the story is more understandable. 

Hola mi nombre es JOHNNY

Mi historia es sobre una experiencia que tube que pasar para representar a mi pais en el vecino pais COSTA RICA .

En 2011 fui a un evento 2 vs 2 Y fui ganador del evento. Y alos 5 dias recibi una llamada de COSTA RICA y la persona que me llamo me dijo que yo y mi conpanero de baile mauricio estabamos elejido por la organisacion de eventos de COSTA RICA para representar nuestro pais Nicaragua .

Y un dia mi conpero mauricio y yo estabamos ablando sobre como i vamos a ir al evento si no teniamos dinero y no estabamos trabajando tanpo . Pero yo pense en prestar dinero a unas personas que conocia y mauricio me dijo si esta bien agamolo y en eso fuimo a casa de la la persona y cuando yegamos , la persona estaba hay y yo le dije que nos prestara dinero y el dijo que si que nos aria el fabor pero que le pagaramos el dinero cuando tuvieramos .

Y al dia siguiente mauricio y yo fuimos a comprar los boletos del auto bus . nuestro viaje era alas 4 de la mananael dia 23 de Febrero del 2011 .

Al terser dia de aver comprado los boletos nos fuimos acia costa rica . Pero cuando estabamos en la frontera nos bajamos de el bus a que la policia mirara los pasaporte de cada persona que iba en el bus . En eso mi amigo mauricio me dijo tengo hambre bamos a comprar algo para comer y yo le dije bamos esta bien .

Y cuando ibamos a comprar yo le dije mauricio ire al bano y el me dijo esta bien , y mauricio se fue a comprar solo . Y cuando yo sali de el bano mauricio benia coriendo y me dijo me robaron todo ..

Y yo le dije quienes y el me dijo unos ladrones .

Y en eso nos dirigimos a donde estaba el bus . Y las personas de el bus nos dijieron que no podiamos abordarlo porque no teniamos los boletos .

Y el bus en eso se marcho y nos dejo en la frontera . Y derepente aparecio un chico y nos dijo de que miraba nuestros videos en YOU TUBE Y que queria conoserlos a nuestro grupo OSB CREW

y nosotros le dijimos que si nos podia alludar a ir a costa rica que ibamos a representar el pais. Y el nos yebo por un camino que seria cerca de pasar la frontera en donde no nos mirara la policia de costa rica .

Y nosotros fuimos con el y pasamos la frontera . y cuando pasamos la frontera nuestro amigo se regreso, porque el tenia que regresar al trabajo , y cuando el se fue mairicio y yo enpesamos a pedir Ray pero nadie nos daba . Y

Y yo le dije a MAURICIO caminemos que abra una persona que nos alludara . Y MAURICIO me dijo esta bien caminemos y enpesamos a caminar de las 9.AM asta a las 2.PM Y derepenta una camioneta se paro y nos dijo que nos montamos y el nos dijo que estabomos muy largo para yegar a la capital de costa rica , que eran como 340 quiilometros y el nos dijo que ablaramos con la policia para que nos alluran y nosotro le djimos que estaba bien .

Y en eso yegamos a una estacion de policia y el senor de la camioneta se fue . Y la policia nos llamo y nos pregunto que porque estabamos caminando. Y nosotro le dijimo que nos robaron todo y que estabamos legales . Y ellos digieron que esperamos y que si teniamos a alguien que nos alludara . Y nosotros le dijimos que si , pero que nos prestara el telefono de el para llamar alas personas del evento .Y el policia amablemente nos presto su telefono y llamamos alas personas del evento y le pedimos que si nos podian mandar dinero para poder yegar que teniamos prolemas .

Y las personas del evento nos dijieron que si y nos madaron 20 dolares para el bus . Y mauricio y yo nos fuimos caminando 5 quiilometros para llegar a un lugar en donde retirar el dinero y para comprar los boletos de bus .

Y luugo de conprar los boletos nos fuimos y cuando yegamos a la cuidad nadie nos estaba esperando y nosotro no conociamos nada de el pais .

Pero mi amigo mauiricio tenia una hermana que vivia en costa rica . pero el no savia en donde vivia ella . Y en eso yo pregunte a uan persona que si sabia en donde eran las estaciones de buces . Y el me dijo que el se dirijgia acia las estaciones que nos fueramos con el , Y mauricio y yo nos fuimos con el y mauricio le dijo a el que si le podia prestar su telefono para mirara su facebook y poder tener el numero de la hermana . Y ls persona dijo que si y mauricio miro el facebook y pudo sacar el numero de telefono de la hermana .

Y mauricio llamo a la hermana y ella le dijo que esperara en la estacion de bus que nos yegaria ir a traer .. Y pasaron 2 oras y yego la hermana de mauricio y nos fuimos con ella para su casa . y mauricio le dijo que teniamos hambre que no aviamos comido y ella nosdio comida . Y esa comida era como el almuerso y eran las 4 de la manana .

Y al dia siguinte llamamos a los de el evento y ellos dijieron que ya no habia hospedaje para los bboy de nicaragua .. Pero a muaricio y a mi no nos inporto y acistimos al evento y a mi no me dejaron participar y no savia porque motibo .

Y para regresar a nicaragua tubimo que ir mauricio y yo a bailar a las calles para poder recoger dinero y regresar a nuestro pais . Y pasaron 15 20 dias que pasamos bailando en las calles y a si podimos recojer el dinero y poder regresarnos a nuestro pais .

Y todo eso paso solo por representa nuestro querido pais .

DIOS bendiga a todas las personas que lean esta historia gracias .

Jonny & Mauricio dancing on the streets of San Jose

POST by JED: Planes, Trains & Automobiles - Part 13

Jed & Liz transitting in Chicago

Our trip to the Wild West! By now we’re well and truly American. We enter the airport half-dressed in baggy clothes, carry-ons weighing double the permitted weight (saving us cash because now, amongst American airline carriers, there is an EFTPOS system attached to every part of your travelling experience: $20 per bag, $10 per snack, $2 per polite gesture from flight attendants, etc.), and not so much as a wave to our great friend Shane, who graciously drove us to the airport.

We made a smooth transition in Chicago, with only one hour on the ground. We arrived in San Francisco full of excitement and anticipating wondrous things. Our hostess? No where to be seen. But, she was to be the magical bride, and probably bore one thousand tricks on her pre-wedding to-do-list, and so we forgave her tardiness.

Of course, Liz and I separated, thinking we could, with our some 50 years of combined travelling experience, track our radiant little marshmallow gal down in this San Francisco flying world. Liz scooted back to the arrivals gate and I just sat with my friends, the baggage, down by carousel number 5.

In she flurried, our great friend Abigail Dickson. We chatted and laughed for most of the drive home, reminiscing about the good times of Mexico and listening to the many family wedding drama stories.

Liz and I eloped. We didn’t have an exceptionally beautiful wedding day with all the pomp, flair and ceremony. It’s always fascinating to watch the comedy, the tragedy, the spectacle, the glam, the ugliness, the value, the expense, the honesty, superficiality, loyalties, gossip, hard work, boredom, things being pushed up and people being put down. ‘Tis really a mixed bag of wonder and horror, all bundled up into one, hopefully not raining, day.

The very same evening we went to Enterprise Rent-a-car and got ourselves a top-of-the-line, compact car. I always find it humorous when I go to hire the cheapest, most economical car, because I’m usually offered an upgrade. This offer is nearly always at my own expense, even though it should be clear that I elected of free will to hire the cheapest, most economical vehicle. “No thanks, it’s better for the environment,” I responded. “Who’s environment? Yours?” I heard the sales associate mutter under her breath.

Jed in his beloved Compact Car

Now from the moment I arrived in Frisco, until the moment I left, I was freezing. We weren’t there in the autumn, we weren’t there in the winter, we weren’t there in the spring, WE WERE THERE IN THE SUMMER! And to my complete surprise, everywhere we went the droll of air cooling machines could be heard, rather than heating systems.  “It doesn’t take long to become accustomed to tropical weather” I decided.

The very next morning we trundled off down the freeway towards sunny San Jose. Our first appointment was at 9am, with the lead pastors of the Bethel Church. We left Nutty Creek at 7:30am, yet only just managed to make it to our appointment on time.

We walked into the church building and were instantly excited by what we saw. This house of God was pumping, with people frantically buzzing this way and that, clearly very busy with the Lord’s work and the icing on the cake? Everybody appeared to be perfectly charming – You have got to LOVE California...

We sat and waited for Pastor Allan, the head honcho. Pastor Allan had brought his wife to the meeting, and I sensed that this duo were quite the dyno-team (dynamic, not jurassic. They looked to be around 50 years old).

To date, we had only presented before Church congregations. Yet on this auspicious occasion, we were presenting to just two people in an office, but two important people of one of the largest churches in the Bay area.

Pastor Allan and his wife listened graciously half smiling as Liz and I stuttered, spoke over each other, became trapped in nonsensical, never ending monologues (having to ask them what our original point was halfway through) and generally made ourselves out to be complete loons, of Austin Power proportions.

They offered their generous thoughts, that we have a great mission and we seem to be great people, but the relationship would have to be put “on hold” until we became credentialed with the Assemblies of God in America. This was probably never going to happen, and so we accepted our fate and continued to listen to Pastor Allan, sort of zoning in and out all the while.

Pastor Allan, who I believe inherited the Church from his father (don’t you just love hearing about families who have Christianity in their blood for generation upon generation? My parents were Churched, but on one side it stopped there – who knows how far it went back on the other side… Couldn’t have been too far, seeings my family line originates from around Sydney, formerly a British penal colony), shared that his Church spends a million buckaroos on missions per year, and that they really take quite seriously the call of God to reach their world.

Of course, Liz had now fallen over backwards and had her feet sailing in the air (inappropriate behavior if you ask me, but I judge not…), whilst I furiously wiped the saliva from around my face. He continued, they had put into place a system whereby they work tirelessly on blessing and evangelising their community within a mile’s radius of their “house.”

Now I don’t know about you, but this kind of talk is exciting to me – sad that it’s revelation to some. I’ve been to stax of Churches throughout the US, many of them having a bazillion missionaries or more. In most instances people are thrilled to tell you about all of the missionaries they support. However when you ask for some of the missionaries’ names, and in which countries these people labour, the person you’ve been talking to often scrambles and scratches, only perhaps remembering one missionary’s name, in perhaps the incorrect country where another unnamed missionary works.

It also got me to thinking about what we do. For many of the missionaries we know in Nicaragua, they have offices, and important roles, they have workers and meetings. But it seems, very often, that communities are compartmentalised into “this program” or that “group,” with responsibility for reaching the lost being catergorised away into some non-existent, imaginary filing cabinet.

It’s rare to meet a work that’s going for every person they come into contact with, around their house, from the supermarket clerk, to the plumber, to the people alongside in Church. “Ooooh, that nutbag-loco-amigo Jed? Yeah, I go to youth group at his house on Friday nights.” These are the sorts of feedback we’ve received from friends after conversing with moto-taxi drivers somewhere between Managua and our house. Not a moment to brag, but a very real example of making every day moments count for the Kingdom.

And in an American urban context, that’s precisely what the Bethel Church does – they care, practically, about everyone in their community, from kids and their school needs, to bikers and their brass bits needing repair, to Dad and Mum who want to get rid of their spring cleaning junk. They’re after one, EVERY one in their community.

Isn’t that what Church is about? God centered community? God centered love? So that together we can reach the World with something we already have?

Well, I stuffed my half eaten muffin into my pocket and we did our don’t call us, we’ll call you handshake, ear-tug and nose tap routine, then flew out the door with tremendous speed like we were actually important people going somewhere.

Of course, once out of their office and having landed down the stairs in a gigantic heap in the company of “only” reception people and cleaning staff, the charade was over and we were able to be ourselves again. We asked in cockney, not queen’s English for directions to the lavatories and joked about our foolish faux-pas.

We danced around the building like kids having had too much red cordial and then crammed our elbows back into our pockets, with feet up our noses, so that we could fit into our environmentally friendly vehicle. That clean air you’re breathing, it’s BECAUSE OF US!!!

Californian roads are a lot like Canberra roads, and so I should never be surprised but I always am… Circles. Round-abouts. Bridges that go over without exit or entry! It can be very frustrating for us aliens. However, thank Heavens for Satellite Navigation! You barely need to drive. Barely, of course, unless you’ve thrown the equipment out the window on account of the irritating, condescending voice that tells you things already painfully obvious like “you’re going the wrong way.”

Of course we arrived on time, with just minutes to spare, and Liz confessed she needed a few moments to reapply her make-up after our very tense transition from the beach and bay clad climate of casual San Jose, to the East Bay valley city of hob-nobbing-it Alamo.

We didn’t want to be prideful or showy about our punctuality (we’re actually NEVER on-time, so it was a weird feeling for us to not be driving up curbs or talking heatedly to other cars, etc.), it’s just not in our nature to push ourselves forward, and so we sat in the car waiting until about 5 minutes before our scheduled appointment – is that what punctual people do?

We exited the car with the style and glam of two model-like celebrities (not even dislodging any bones from their sockets on account of our compact car) and almost skipped and twirled in the heatless sun on approach to the mirrored front doors of the building.

“It says ‘push’ Liz” I giggled a tad too humouredly after watching Liz almost kiss her own reflection on account of a stubborn door not pulling towards her. I pushed the door and nearly knocked myself into unconsciousness due to my head butting the door, and HARD. “The sign says ‘closed’ Jed” Liz laughed as I swiped away little tweety birds and stars which encircled my head.  

We both peered through the mirrored wall, trying not to cause suction between our lips and the glass, and nearly had the fright of our lives when we noticed a delightful looking little cleaning lady on the other side, who was gesturing wildly towards a service schedule sign. I dare say she was a little nervous/shaken too on account of such stylish yet suicidal, aggressive but punctual Australian/European types making complete fools of themselves on the “outside.” 

The bump must have cured my amnesia because in that very moment I remembered that Pastor Gary had told me the Church offices were actually not in the Church building, rather in the beautiful, historic town of San Ramon. “Where?” I wondered… “Where, where, where, where, WHERE???” 

Lizzie lost in San Francisco

Liz ran to the car, looking a tad bewildered and not at all glamerous anymore, retrieving the all-important diary. AHA! She had entered the address into her diary and how very clever of her! She would never let me live this down. We zipped along in the car, and upon remembering that Americans drive on the right hand side of the road, merged alongside cars who were progressing in the same direction – how orderly, how American!

After speaking with a petrol station console operator, who didn’t speak even a lick of English, and after chasing down an old lady in a motorised wheel chair and stopping a homeless drunk who was pilfering through old food wrappers in a rubbish bin, we finally found our way to New Life Church, and only ended up being nearly half an hour late. But boy was it worth it! The business park was very ooh-lah-lah, and Pastor Gary, what a handsome, kind, generous fellow (reminded me of my favourite pastor in New York, Pastor Mark)…

Pastor Gary reeked of love, like he’d been stewing in some kind of Jesus sauté sauce or something equally delicious. He was also extremely cool, handing me an envelope like a dude and looking as though he was about to jump over the hood of his car, Dukes of Hazard style.

We were going somewhere… In Pastor Gary’s car. “What do you feel like eating?” Pastor Gary asked whimsically, flashing his warm Californian smile at us, whilst simultaneously dressing his face with some snazzy sunnies.

We arrived at our gourmet diner in the nick of speed. Liz and I had been so conscious of our q’s and p’s we’d almost forgotten who we were. Pastor Gary had mentioned in our car ride over that the video link we’d sent him had shown something unique, something different, something laid back. Our video link was hardly a production, just a mish-mash of everything we do, all from a budget point-and-shoot, mixed together over the course of an evening with some gallo pinto and old episodes of Frasier – but it was us, it represented who we are.

Pastor Gary had open body language, asked great questions. He laughed at everything we said, even when we weren’t joking. But unfortunately we just couldn’t relax. We were here for the sale, going in for the kill, taking no prisoners! We knew who we needed to be, in spite of who we actually are and who Pastor Gary wanted to meet with (I knew he wanted the real us, but Liz and I just struggled to relax). We felt we needed to present a certain image to Pastor Gary, an American image, something wholesome, good, a vision he could lay before his board.

We ate our lunch and began to relax. Pastor Gary shared with passion the story of his Church and his plans for missions. He invited us to share in April of the following year, with the people of his Church, our story and our ministry in Nicaragua. Our meeting with Pastor Gary was simply phenomenal – he’s a TOP bloke and I cannot wait to see where God takes our friendship.

God wants us to be who HE created us to be, all the time, with everyone we’re with, and pooh to those who don’t like us. If you’re feeling judged and misunderstood, then perhaps you’ve done something wrong, or made a mistake – or, perhaps your “judge” (other people) has taken issue with your design…

One requires an apology, the other is not your problem. As has been said in Australia, “build a bridge and get over it…” There’s just NOT enough time to waste on people who don’t see in you what God has always planned to be there… Run into the arms of those who love you, leave behind the naysayers, meanies and cynics, however nice they may appear to be…