Vol IV: #3 Colombia And My Sister
One of the benefits of attending BSSM is the opportunity to meet men and women from all over the Earth. My small group had Germans, Brazilians, Mexicans, an Austrian, several people from Singapore, a few Brits, and a half dozen Canadians. And then we had Omar who hails from Colombia, the land of gangsters, violence, and cocaine.
I befriended Omar the first day of class. He was quiet and sat by himself a few rows in front of me. During a break, I introduced myself and he seemed unimpressed. Later, I’d learn he was overwhelmed and lonely in Redding. He’d left his family and friends and culture to come to BSSM. It’s a sacrifice I don’t think many domestics properly understand.
Omar is of a medium build, clean shaven with a broad face, and deep smile lines on either cheek. He always wears colorful button-down shirts, and clean blue jeans and hiking boots. (On my visit to Colombia, I’d find this to be of the common fashion.) He’s thoughtful even in his own language and eternally polite. Living in America was hard on his sense of time and bank account, but he persevered. And most admirably, he never complained. Not even once.
Over the last two years, Omar and I have wondered through the Redwoods and hiked local trails in Shasta County, discussed geo politics, and encouraged each other in the area of romantic interests. Naturally, we built a supportive friendship and enjoy spending time together. I’d wanted to visit Colombia but knew I needed to wait for an invite. And in May, before he left for the summer, Omar asked,”why not come to Colombia?” And I happily said yes.
Colombia isn’t what you think it is. It’s beautiful with tall green mountains, vibrant flowers in bloom, and warm, welcoming people. Food is plentiful and affordable and I felt safe- with the exceptions of a few neighborhoods in Bogota. I wasn’t shocked. Omar represents his country well, and I read. I knew the narco days were in the past- for the most part. And that Presidents Uribe and Santos had propelled the country into the 21st Century. Colombia is a bit behind on infrastructure because of the wars, but they are making up for lost time with construction projects every ten feet.
During my time there, the overwhelming beauty refreshed my soul. I thought about it a lot, how the enemy tries to destroy the most beautiful places and people, but the Lord is good. And I also thought about my sister, and how in some way I felt like I understood her more. She speaks fluent Spanish and has visited a number of South American countries. And given the person I know her to be, she fits right in to place like Colombia. Her sense of community, lack of planning or time*, her expressive nature, all of it. Be if the best parts of a country like Colombia or the not so best parts, my sister would thrive in a place like Colombia.
All of these thoughts also gave me feelings of empathy for her. And I wonder if learning Spanish changed the way she thinks and looks at life. Scientists say it does. Our very white family could not have known how her Spanish proficiency affected her life. (Clink this link if you want to learn more: Learning a language changes your brain.) And so, for this and few other reasons, I’m glad I visited Omar in his home country. Colombia is wonderful and so is my sister.
*For real though, the lack of time management drove my Germanic-Anglo ass up the wall. Ten minutes means 600 seconds, not “some mysterious time in the future after the aforementioned ten minutes.”
