We had decided to celebrate the successful completion of our first week at language school by going to have lunch at the Pizza Hut and then on to do some necessary shopping. We had a good lunch, managed to order our food, eat it and pay the bill without leaving the entire wait staff rolling on the floor, holding their sides in hysterical laughter.
We then drove to Sinsa, an extremely over-priced mini-Lowe’s-type store so that Jim could get a new seal for the toilet tank in the hall bathroom plus a new widow-maker for our bathroom shower. Now, because we rent our house, it would make sense that we take these needs to our landlord, wouldn’t it? But considering the fact that after 4 months, we are still waiting for the landlord’s electrician to come to fix the areas of the house where we have outlets but no juice and to install an outside light by our back door; still waiting for the landlord’s lawn mower repairman to come to fix the lawn mower which hasn’t worked since we rented the house in February (and our landlord won’t let Jim do either job…he thinks it’s not something a gringo should do); our landlord was to repair our road while we were in the States and now it’s so bad that a neighbor across the road has tried to fill in some of the holes with brush, sticks and grass clippings…his lawn mower obviously works; our roof still leaks, and is so “open” that the bats continue to throw their wild parties in our “attic”…well, let’s just say we felt it was in our best interest and well worth the money and effort to take care of these recent plumbing issues ourselves. Plus, I think Sinsa is just a place Jim loves to go. He is always thinking of something we “need” from there so a leaky toilet and a cold shower were probably an answer to one of his prayers!
Have I told you what a widow-maker is? It’s an appliance that attaches to the shower head and enables us to have hot showers. That may seem like an odd thing to want in a tropical country but, believe me, it’s much more comfortable to shower with warm water than it is cold water. As hot as it gets here, I haven’t yet reached the point where a cold shower feels good…maybe someday, but not today. The widow maker has electric coils in the head and when the wa
ter is turned on, it also turns on the current which in turn, heats the coils and ultimately, provides us with hot water. Yes, we knowingly are standing under an apparatus that mixes water and electricity…and as long as Jim doesn’t reach up and make contact with the shower head, in our home, it shall remain a widow maker in name only. It’s at this point I probably need to alleviate some concern from our family members…I think if touched, one might get a nasty shock but I don’t know that it would be enough to actually kill someone…although, neither of us are willing to be the guinea pig to prove my theory.So after getting our plumbing items, we then went on to the grocery store and then on to Price Smart – Managua’s version of a Sam’s Club. Got the things we needed there and managed to get in the car with only two guys in the parking lot trying to sell us pirated copies of DVDs…we were feeling pretty good as we pulled out of the lot and headed for home. Jim drove several blocks and then turned right at one of the major intersections to take us back across town. Immediately after our turn, there was a policeman standing on the right side of the street and motioned us to pull over. Our high spirits quickly took a downturn. Not knowing what we had done, Jim pulled over and I took our insurance card and car registration out of the glovebox and Jim pulled out his driver’s license. I don’t know how Jim was doing, but my heart was pounding…the stories of how the police deal with foreigners is legend.
The officer took the identifications and began studying them. He started rattling ninety to nothing and both of us told him we couldn’t speak Spanish. He asked if we could understand any and I told him we could understand just a very little and asked if he could speak slowly. He must have thought I said loudly because his volume increased. When he realized we really didn’t understand him, he slowed down and began drawing pictures to show Jim what he had done. It seems that there once were lane division lines on the curved part of the road where we had turned right and that Jim had evidently crossed the unseen line. There was no point in arguing and so we just said we were sorry.
He told us he was going to keep Jim’s license and that we would have to go to the bank to pay the fine and then go to the transportation office to be able to get his license back. Of course, this was after a very painstaking question and answer period. Neither one of us were comfortable with the fact this guy was going to take Jim’s license. We have heard stories of that happening and the license disappearing, with no one knowing anything about it. He then asked me where we were living and I told him. We were still about 25 minutes from our house. He wrote out our ticket. He then wanted to know what bank we would go to in order to pay our fine which he had written would cost us 400 cordobas (a little over $20). We told him the name of the bank where we go to pay our bills. We asked him where the transportation office was and he gave us a vague area. When asked for directions, he didn’t give them. Instead, he just looked at us for a long time. My biggest fear at that moment was that Jim might be arrested and that I would have to drive that standard transmission 4-Runner home by myself through the streets of Managua! Okay…not really. But, I was experiencing some anxiety in the situation.
Finally, he took the page where he had drawn the “infraction” picture, and next to it wrote “disculpe”…disculpar is the verb “to forgive”…and with a sly smile, he handed Jim back his license. Now what would two street-saavy gringos in Managua say to a policeman who had just written the word “forgive” on a sheet of paper? Probably not “Gracias,” which is what we did, thinking we were being let off with a warning. Oh no. Street-saavy Managuan gringos would know that this interaction was not yet over. Nope. The officer then, with that same sly smile, said that it was out of his heart that he was doing such a thing and that if we would want to give him a gift, then he would have to receive it. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing…and even more so, I couldn’t believe I was actually understanding him! After all, he was speaking Spanish!!! And I was getting it!!! But, the rejoicing for that little accomplishment would have to wait. We still had business to conduct.
The officer pointed to the amount and repeated that if we were to give him a gift, he would have to receive it. Jim and I looked at each other and he took out the money. I took it from him and asked the officer if we gave him the 400 cords if that would pay our fine. He said it was okay and then he again pointed to the word “forgive” and then to the amount he had written. I realized that in order for Jim to keep his license, we would have to give this guy the money. So, I handed it over to the window to give to him. Obviously, neither Jim nor I know the finer points of bribery…for this is what this was…makes me sick to even think about it but that’s what it ultimately turned out to be. The policeman immediately shoved a booklet of some sort in to Jim’s hands. You want to know how naive we were? We both thought he was giving us some sort of book and for a second I thought I had misunderstood the whole thing, that HE was giving US a gift. Of course, that must have been apparent by the look on our faces because the officer immediately set us straight by pointing to the money and then to the book. His patience with the dim-witted gringos was wearing thin. Jim took the money and set it in the book. The officer took it and motioned for us to go on. We thanked him…what were we thinking, thanking him for letting us “buy our way out”??? We drove off. Both of us were stunned at what had just happened.
Wow. It’s true that the police here are not to be trusted and that they are as much of a criminal element as the guy who steals someone’s purse. It’s true that corruption is rampant and that the authorities operate from the vantage of intimidation. But it’s also true that people like us help contribute to that. In retrospect, would we have done anything any different? I want to say we would have. I want to say that we would say “no” to his gift request. I want to say that we would not be party to bribery…what an ugly thing it creates and what an ugly feeling it leaves inside. Never in a million years would I have thought Jim or I either one, would be a participant in such a thing. But I’ve never been a position where I feared what might happen to my husband and that the initiate of that fear would be a person I should have been able to trust. With corruption brings a sense of violation. The realization that law enforcement is really crime enforcement does not nurture warm and fuzzies tonight.
So, how do I feel about all that transpired during that little interchange? I feel sick at my stomach. Not just for the obvious reason of being scared at all the possibilities of how it could have turned out (most of which would probably only occur in my imagination), but more so that I had a perfect opportunity and it never even entered my mind until we were safely on the road on our way home. In the glove box, next to the registration and insurance cards, are the Spanish tracts and gospels of John that we carry. Did the thought ever even occur to me to hand one to the officer? Nope. Not even when he kept talking about us giving him a gift. He was asking for a gift. We had the Perfect Gift to give him but we were too focused on the situation we could see instead of being sensitive to God’s working. Regardless his financial situation, that officer didn’t need the 400 cords nearly as much as he needs the Lord. If Henry Blackaby were here, he would slap us both. But there’s really no need for Henry, the Holy Spirit’s conviction is plenty painful.
I have wrestled with this all evening. I even wrestled with writing this blog. It’s probably not the wisest thing to be so open about such a failure. Missionaries aren’t supposed to help people sin…they’re supposed to help people come to know the One who can take care of that sin. I’ve already gone to Him over this and like He always does, He forgives when there is a repentant heart. But, we have also let you down and now we ask for your forgiveness. Please pray we would be both wiser and bolder in our walk and that we would not miss the next opportunity God puts before us. Hopefully, it will appear in a different manner.
Let not my heart be drawn to what is evil,to take part in wicked deeds with men who are evildoers;
Keep me from the snares they have laid for me,from the traps set by evildoers.
Let the wicked fall into their own nets,while I pass by in safety. Psalms 141:4;9-10
1 comment:
Oh you poor souls! I will
predict there isn't a single person on U.S. soil
who would think badly of you for what you did. You
really don't need to ask our forgiveness. We just need to pray harder for your safety. W.
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