A CHRISTIAN MISSIONARY IN VENEZUELA

 

http://www.elimpulso.com

 

Everyone who knows me, will be surprised to see that me, a catholic lady without excessive abilities, (even though with profound beliefs) , will be writing with admiration and affection, about a North American missionary, of the Christian assembly Missions, from Atlanta Georgia (more specifically), who has devoted much of his time in recent years to Venezuela.

 

       His name is Andre Head. A southerner, from the intricate south of the United States. An orphan, and extremely intelligent. He took the desicion of riches and happiness, not to surround himself of solitudes and grudges, but of light, concerns, life, committing himself to God.

 

       Physically speaking, Andre in not an “Adonis”,black and stocky, short and intense; makes up for a friendliness, politeness, graciousness, as we say in Venezuela “the outside charm”, and supplanting it by that inner charisma, with a real concern for life, that is translated into love for the elected mission, and with a great respect for the people of God, and with a beautiful, authentic passion for the world around him.

 

      Andre has come to my dwelling to take english classes, from  Nayleth (my daughter-in-law), who is a transcendent, and linguistic professional young lady. All the team of love and livelihood, of fantasy and creativity, the team of fatigue and anguish that depicts my family, and every human family, have taken a great liking to him. And gradually we have been cultivating a friendship that has enriched by  its beautiful gifts of spirit, and by the riches of its observations, the respect of its performances, the sensibility of its understanding of the less easy world (and it may be more fascinating!) that there is in Venezuela. I’m talking about the Amazonian world, where Andre has just spent some un-expected, unusual, and fascinating days. An experience that may well be called “A trip on le Genesis”, made by a man  of God,  through a magmatic land, linked up by its great rivers; its amazing “tepuyes”, its silence, fauna, solitude, vegetation,  wild beasts, its stories, to the essence of human life.

 

      Andre Head has navigated up and down the tremendous waterways next to Puerto Ayacucho, on a canoe steered by Yanomami missionary Isaías, ( the fact that there is a Yanomami missionary by the name of Isaías, reconciles with this name and erases that of the nation’s  Attorney General, and, in case this is a joke!) Isaías being a polyglot, because  he  speaks  English, Yanomami and Spanish, has gone  through magically distant places of all villainy. We chaotically cite the “Tobogán De La Selva”, “El Porvenir”, “El Venado”, “Monduapo” and “Laja Lisa”, “Canaraben”, and “Punta Piaróa”, out of yet more remote names.

 

      Andre Head, floating along the large Amazonian river, in the small boat, on a star-less night, lighting up with a flashlight on his GPS ( a devise that tells you with greater precision than a compass, where we are and where we can go),  he could sense by the size of the river, the intensity of the night, the confusing noise of un-known animals, amongst which were flying fishes, and anteaters. Panic-strikken by the cocodriles and anacondas lying in wait in the streams, they had to stop and try to survive by fishing for some animal they could cook and eat, some fish, I guess. And under the leadership of Isaias, Andre Head (a modern hunter and fisherman) with an ad hoc hat on, the hooks and a nice fishing rod dangling from it, etcetera, endevoured to fish for awhile. And in a long lapse he could only get two small fish.

 

But the missionary was  shocked to learn, that a group of Yanomami women that were fishing nearby, on the same cove could, by just dipping their hands in the water, kindly slap the animal out of the water. This was a cove that was also infested by all kinds of vermin; and they quickly gathered up a big basket of fish which they just boiled and ate like that.

 

      Another shocking sight for our missionary, was to see how the Yanomamis grabbed and clubbed an anteater to death.. The beautiful thing is, that all of this was told by Andre, with an unusual understanding about survival, not making any protectionistic scandals un-implemented in such a complicated place.

 

      In these very same days, the president of our sound judgments, deliriums and bewilderments, has been standing at squares crouded by the audiences, lashing out against imperialism. His speech has been perceived phony and distorted, perhaps because , while it is true that empires do exist and are harmful, it is absolutely untrue that the  life of a great country like the United States, cannot be delimited and  exhausted in the imperialistic story. I think, as I write this observation to the timid, serious, honest face of Andre Head. I think of his respectful, and human attitude towards the inhabitants of our homeland. I think of his way of reaching out to other worlds, like a warm shade, his belief in God. Without hurting the pre-existing essences.

 

      I believe that no one can, and should not, interrupt all of the canals, streams, and the river navigations, where us humans can keep trying our realization. I also believe, that we should not give in to the snares of the common places, and that, in every way we should be more generous and available with the idea about God. And with all the pennant-bearers of the spirit, like Andre Head, this Georgian man who learned to walk the outdoors, in the mountains of his homeland, bringing us from his infancy and from his America, his kindness and hidden grandeur and beauty.  

 

                                                                                       Beatrice Viggiani

 

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