My Time in Prison

One of the great gifts of having this much time in Guadeloupe - 3 and a half weeks - is that there is no pressure to fill my days with touristy things.  I am appreciating the beauty of this island everyday, but this sabbatical trip is not about doing but about being, specifically being with my daughter so I can understand what her life is like as a missionary here.  Since one of her primary ministries is prison chaplaincy, I was excited to get the opportunity to go with her to the prison on two separate occasions.  This was only possible because I am a pastor and Bethany's boss, Jean-Pierre, filled out the paperwork to request a special pass for me.

It is not possible to bring a camera inside the prison so I could only take photos outside.

To enter, I had to turn over my passport and my letter granting me permission to visit as a guest chaplain.  They gave me a temporary badge.  Of course, all this was done in French, with Bethany translating for me.  We passed through a metal detector and made our way back to the women's section of the prison.  This prison houses both men and women, but the women are a small minority - usually less than 20 of them.  As a result, there aren't many services available to the women.  The chaplains - both clergy and laypeople - regularly visit the women and try to advocate on their behalf.  There are also chaplains who visit the men, of course, and Bethany has done this in a different prison on the island during her time here.  But presently, she mainly visits with women.

I won't say too much more about her work because she will be itinerating soon - going around to churches on behalf of Global Ministries to share about her experiences - and I hope you'll get a chance to hear her.  But I was able to witness first-hand what it means to these women (some of whom have few family visits) to have someone who comes to see them, to ask how they're doing, to let them know that God will forgive them, to pray with them.  As Bethany prayed for one of the women, asking God to comfort her and to be with her children, tears streamed down the woman's face.  Some of these women come from neighboring English-speaking islands and are unable to speak French to the guards or the other inmates.  It is a great blessing to hear someone say to them, "You are not alone.  Even here, God is with you."

I have a greater understanding now why Jesus specifically mentioned visiting prisoners in his parable of the sheep and goats (Matt 25:31-46).  Of all the people we want to demonize and dismiss as being "other" and "less than" us, prisoners are the obvious and easiest choice.  After all, we KNOW that they are bad people who did bad things, right? We feel that they deserve what they get, including isolation.  It is part of the punishment for their crime.  But even if the criminal justice systems of the world worked perfectly and innocent people were never sent to prison, we must still see the prisoners as children of God, people created in the image of God.

Prison ministry is difficult and draining.  But Jesus will not let us neglect nor ignore those behind bars.  I am grateful for the chaplains of Guadeloupe - and for all prison chaplains - who go to the places we don't want to go and love the people we don't want to love because Christ compels them.

The Joys of Not Being a Tourist

I never intended to travel the world.  I've always been more of a homebody, preferring a good book and familiar surroundings to new adventures.  I didn't have a passport until I was 38 years old.  Now I'm on my second passport and I've been to so many incredible places that it's hard to remember them all.  But it is not the majestic castles and museums that stay with me most.  It's not even the breathtaking landscapes.  What I remember most are meals I've shared in the homes of people who don't know me and often don't speak English.  I've shared family meals in South Korea, Germany, Tanzania, South Africa (actually tea in a bed and breakfast in the Township of Masiphumelele) and now here in Guadeloupe.  I previously wrote about our wonderful 3-generation 3-languages lunch at the home of Katy and Hubert.  This week we were also invited to the home of Maryse, a retired teacher and a member of Bethany's church.  She has befriended Bethany and had invited her to her home several times, but this was my first visit.  She speaks English much better than I speak French.

As you can tell from these photos, Maryse is a master gardener.  Her father was a farmer/horticulturist and her late husband was a landscaper and it's obvious that Maryse knows how to love and care for all kinds of flora.

She served us some fresh limeade made with limes, local honey, water and cinnamon.  Very refreshing! 

Then we toured her yard/garden/orchard.  She has many beautiful and exotic plants in her yard, many of them planted by her father.  It was truly almost like being back in the botanical garden in Deshaies! As we walked, she told us about all of the trees and even stopped to pick fruit for us to takes home.

The most interesting site in her yard is under the "strangler fig." This invasive parasitic tree sprouts in the crook of a host tree and grows roots down to the ground from its limbs.  If you aren't vigilant about cutting off these shoots, the tree will eventually take over and strangle the host tree.  In Maryse's yard, her husband parked an old car under the strangler fig 15 years ago.  If you peek under the sheet metal, you can see the remains of the car, now crushed by the tree.

We ate lunch on her shaded breezeway, a lovely meal of salad, creole crab with local vegetables and mussels cooked in wine and garlic (we are in France after all).  As we enjoyed our meal, the neighborhood rooster stopped by.

It was a delightful day spent with a delightful woman, and it is one of the special memories I'll take with me.  

Being a tourist focuses all of the attention on me - How is this hotel or meal making me feel?  Is it meeting my needs? Is it a good value for me?  Spending time in someone's home makes me aware of their hospitality and what it costs them to host me - not just financial cost but their time and giving up their privacy.  It also makes me aware of how truly alike we are when we sit around a common table.  Of course, this is something Jesus knew 2000 years ago.

And while I wrote this post, my church back home was hosting some Muslim friends as they broke their Ramadan fast.  The path to peace is truly through our stomachs.

Remembering What We Want to Forget

I did not intend for this time in Guadeloupe to have a theme.  I just wanted to rest and spend time with my daughter and see the sites of this beautiful island.  But I brought along several books to read and it turned out that two of them were novels about slavery (including the wonderful "The Invention of Wings" by Sue Monk Kidd).  So slavery has been on my mind.

And then when we stayed in Marie Galante, I first became aware that the Caribbean has a different history with slavery than the U.S.  In fact, the many islands here have their own unique history that differs from the other islands - even though most of them were sugar-producing islands.  I wrote about some of this in a blog post last week.

But then we went to the Memorial ACTe Museum here in Guadeloupe.  It's brand new and it tells the story of slavery - all kinds of slavery including biblical and modern - but specifically focused on Caribbean slavery.  They don't allow any cameras or phones inside, so all I can post are photos from outside.

Here's some information from the brochure:

The museum is self-paced with an audio soundtrack in English.  The displays are interactive and engaging.  There are so many things I want to share but I'm still processing much of it.  There are four things that stand out, however.

1.  When Africans were captured, they were told by their captors to circle a "forgetfulness" tree three times and leave behind their past lives. At the museum, an artist used a full-size tree trunk and created "limbs and branches" that were tokens of African life - masks, dolls, clothing, tools, etc.  The point is that those things, that way of life, was not forgotten but continued to live on.

2. In a narrow hallway we were told to stop.  We began to hear the sounds of a ship sailing on the ocean, then soft moaning and crying.  As we listened, the abstract shapes on the floor transformed into full-sized projections of dark-skinned men, shackled together with barely an inch of room between them.  No matter how far we tried to squeeze near the wall, there wasn't any place to stand that wasn't taken up with their bodies.  I had seen drawings of how tightly packed slaves were forced to travel overseas. It's another thing to see it directly beneath you.

3. After viewing many rooms specifically about the Caribbean slave trade and French colonialism, we came to the room that described American slavery.  It was all true and accurate but I felt my face burn with shame.  Several other museum visitors had heard us speaking English, knew we were American.  Why did I feel shame when we had just seen how horrible the French (and English) had been to their slaves?  Because the American room included information about what happened after slavery was abolished, how hate groups like the KKK and Jim Crow laws continued to enforce a different form of slavery.  We had lynchings.  The European countries didn't.  I had to leave the room.  I had an overwhelming anguish that we have not dealt with our demons and our involvement in the evil of slavery and lingering injustice.

4. Fortunately, after the heaviness and sorrow of the museum, the last thing you do is walk down a long hallway - the hall of heroes - with huge banners hanging from the ceiling containing photos of men and women who raised their voices to stop slavery and injustice around the world.  Some heroes paid with their lives.  A deep gratitude rose up in me and a renewed dedication to live like that.  The best part of this Hall of Heroes is the soundtrack - the great Miriam Makeba (an anti-apartheid hero herself) singing "Pata Pata."  It was impossible to keep from dancing down the hall of heroes. https://youtu.be/kCc61z9IFu4

Mother-Daughter Fun Day

When your daughter is almost 28 and she hasn't lived at home since she was 18 (other than a few summer months in college) it's hard to know how to relate to each other.  Not only has she been living away from home for 10 years, but for 4 of those years she's been living in the Caribbean doing missionary work.  She is currently doing prison chaplaincy in Guadeloupe and she's not exactly on vacation while I'm here.  So it's been a little tricky to figure out what we can do together that will still allow her to do some work.

Yesterday we decided to go to Deshaies  (pronounced like Day-yay) on the northern side of Basse-Terre.  It took an hour to drive there and we decided to go to the botanical garden even though it was really hot and neither of us felt like walking a lot.  I guess I should say that our expectations for fun were kind of low.

But right inside the entrance is a koi pond with huge fish.  There was a machine that dispensed fish foods so Beth decided to feed the fish since there weren't many visitors at the garden.  Apparently the fish were really hungry.  Or they really liked the food.  Watch what happened.

A little further on in the park we entered a tropical bird exhibit where you could also purchase food for the birds.  After our experience with the fish, we were not excited about the idea of being swarmed by tropical birds. But Beth did try to make a new friend.

We laughed and took photos and looked for the prettiest, most colorful flowers.  Mostly we enjoyed the beauty around us and one another's company.  And the path was shaded with lots of benches for resting.

After an hour, however, Beth was concerned that her sunscreen was wearing off.  So she did the unthinkable - she agreed to wear the extra sun hat I packed  (I always carry a spare).  She does not have my taste in fashion so she was not particularly happy about wearing my colorful sun hat.

Already feeling relaxed and goofy, we drove to downtown Deshaies to see the filming locations for one of my favorite shows - "Death in Paradise" by the BBC (available on Netflix).  They aren't filming at the moment so we didn't see any stars,  but I was still enough of a fan girl that seeing the locations made me giddy.

There was nothing profound or productive about our day.  And yet, it felt special...memorable.  Maybe it just felt like, for one day, we weren't the pastor and prison chaplain but we were just mother and daughter again.  It was a really great day.

Marie-Galante: Beautiful Things

Bethany had visited the island of Marie-Galante with friends last year and she fell in love with the beauty and slower pace of life there.  So she really wanted to show me her special getaway spot.  We took the boat over and spent a couple days there.  We rented a little villa, a studio apartment set on the hillside overlooking the sea.

The really crazy thing is that this gorgeous villa with this breathtaking view costs as much as the Ankeny Ramada where I stayed three weeks ago.  Of course, getting here is a bit more expensive.

We ate some wonderful meals here, nearly all of them in restaurants on the beach and most of them included fresh fish.

We also bought some street food prepared by local women.  The pastries we bought from them were some of the best I've ever tasted.  Bethany encouraged me to try the local delicacy - caca boeuf  (cow poop).  You can see how it got that name.  But it's actually a sweet molasses bread filled with a coconut or pineapple filling.

We had a little bird friend who tried to join us for breakfast because he also loved caca boeuf.


Marie-Galante has a history of rum and sugar production (which I posted about yesterday) but it is still a large sugar producer and has three well-known distillires.  We toured two of them, including Pere Labat - considered by many to be the best rum.  What was interesting to me is how rustic rum production is here.  The sugar cane is grown on the island so it's harvested and brought over by truck or even ox-drawn cart!  It's pulverized and the juice is extracted.  Then it's boiled in big open vats.  Nothing about the production of the rum looks modern and shiny, but I can't complain about the finished product.  They offer free tastings and they make some very fine rum here.

Lastly, two random beautiful photos.  One is of a natural cave on the north side of the island.

And this last one is of me swimming in the Caribbean sea.  In my younger years, I would have searched for a cute swimsuit and laid out in the sun - baby oil on my skin and lemon juice in my hair.  I would have been horrified to appear in public looking like an old lady or - gasp! - a tourist.  What is beautiful to me about this photo is that I am out in public - factor 45 sunscreen slathered on, a rashguard swim shirt to fully protect me from the sun, an oversized hat to fully cover my face and neck and even clip-on sunglasses to protect my eyes.  I am the living stereotype of a tourist.  And even though I undoubtedly embarrassed my daughter, she was kind enough to not say anything and she let me swim and play in the ocean, enjoying all the beauty around me without sacrificing anything to vanity.  And that is truly a beautiful thing.