It is not always easy

There is very little more humbling than when someone opens up to you enough to tell you their story, especially when then story is painful to hear and 100 times more painful for the person to tell. We spent five days in a smaller town that will remain nameless for the safety of those we have met. The church in this town is very small, where just about all the members are displaced. Most of our time is spent sharing smiles, laughter, hugs and food. It is simple and joyful fellowship. But sometimes it is spent sharing moments so painful we don't know how to respond. Sometimes we hear stories so horrific we can't even understand. To even try would be incredibly egotistical. So we listen and we share.

While in this town we ate everyday in children's ministry that is funded by a larger organization but partnered with the IPC. The lady who cooks at the ministry is a member of the church. We will call her Amelia. She comes from a town from which many people are displaced. She has been displaced for 12 years and even today the violence continues. The Presbyterian Church used to be big and active, but know it is disorganized, contains very few members and does not have a permanent pastor. The pastor from the town where we were goes there often to help with services but he told us it was to dangerous for us to accompany him. One afternoon, while sitting on the porch and chatting, she told us her story. It was unexpected, heartbreaking, and humbling. 

Twelve years ago she and her family of 6 were displaced. One day she was out with her youngest child who was about 3. She heard that people were randomly being killed in her town and everyone had to flee into the woods. For 2 days she hid in the woods, not knowing if the rest of her family was alive or dead. She was able to reunite with her family and they had to leave all their possessions behind and flee to a new town. A new town where they had nothing and knew no one. Amelia told us a few years ago someone came to record the stories of the displaced but she was not ready to tell her story. She was traumatized she said. Even though she now feels ready to tell her story we could see how difficult it still is, and always will be to remember that pain. As the pastor said, it hurts his heart to both hear people's stories and recount them to others.

We find Amelia to be so brave. While she says she now feels safe you can still sense her hesitation. She did not even say what group it was that committed the violence and we did not ask. Telling your story and fingering the violators are two different things. Her oldest son has actually joined the national army, which might make it even more difficult. It shows the complicated web of relationships between the violence, guerrillas, paramilitaries, and national army. When violence is used nothing is clear or simple. We are not psychologists, we did not have any inspirational words of comfort. All we could say is thank you for sharing with us. Thank you for teaching us. Hopefully we helped her to heal by listening, but now we have to share. We share so people understand that it is our own government that funds this violence and it is our responsibility to prevent more stories like that of Amelia.