Author: Erik de Kievit

In Aruba, ayaca’s are made every year in November and December. These are small packages of cornmeal, chicken and vegetables, wrapped in banana leaves, a traditional Venezuelan and Antillean Christmas dish. Congregants of one of the churches we are in contact with make this together. This is necessary, because the church building, which is an old house that has been adapted several times, is bursting at the seams and is in need of a makeover. This church also organizes a youth club every Saturday evening, picks up children from San Nicolas every Sunday morning and plans to start an after-school care center so that single mothers can go or continue to work.
On Sunday mornings during the service, more than 25 children with supervisors are crammed into a room that is half the size of our living room. Everything is working out so far, but let’s be honest, it is definitely not ideal. And so, a number of adults in the congregation have stepped up to help raise funds. It’s really heart-warming to see how this is done. A beautiful example of being each other’s hands and feet. Everyone does something. 
Hanneke and I were invited to come and help make ayaca’s. We had already tasted them and were excited to learn more about making them. When we arrived at the church, the worship music was already playing loudly and we were pushed into a conveyor belt of people. Everyone performed their own task. This is how I learned exactly how big a ball of cornmeal should be and how it should be crushed. My neighbor then rolled it out even more precisely. Her neighbor put an exact amount of seasoned chicken on the dough and Hanneke, who was sitting next to her, pushed cashew nuts, capers and olives between the chicken in specific places. The package of dough was then neatly folded and wrapped in two banana leaves, after which it was tied with string into a nice package. One hundred and ninety pieces was the score at the end of the evening. Working hard on Sunday evening. But so cozy!

As a YWAM base we worship every week on Tuesdays, and intercession on Fridays. Those moments are special to us. We sit together in the living room with everyone and together we give God the glory that He deserves. We also pray for individual people, groups, areas and countries. We often notice that the topics for which we may pray are very specifically designated by God. In this way we can also be a blessing to others from a distance.

Last week it was Emilia’s turn to organize intercession. She thought that we could ask God to point out people for whom we could make a Christmas star or card. While the worship music sounded through the room, we were all busy doing crafts and praying in our own way. The children were helped in between and occasionally fun new ideas came along that we were able to implement immediately. How wonderfully relaxing to be able to pray, sing and do crafts together for God’s glory and for the blessing of the people around us. Now that was some great crafts worship!

Sometimes you meet people of whom you immediately know that they follow Jesus with all their heart. So special! Francis is such a man. He once wanted to do a Discipleship Training School at YWAM in Amsterdam, but due to circumstances he was unable to do so. So he decided to establish “Lean On Me Aruba Foundation” and go and help people hands-on. That worked and in addition to God bringing him into contact with all kinds of people, he also continued to listen to the ideas that God gave him in the process of developing his foundation. One day he heard God say to him: “shower on wheels”, so he arranged a trailer, a toilet cabin, a water tank and a generator. A friend helped him to neatly build everything onto the trailer, and behold: Shower on wheels was born. Now Francis drives past different places where homeless people go every week. They can then shower, get clean clothes and even have their hair cut. I’ve seen him at work and it’s a treat. The people are so happy. What a good idea and what obedience to implement this idea immediately. I hope to see him do more of this special mission work soon. He has already indicated that he enjoys working with us and not only enjoys offering something practical, but also enjoys talking to people to tell them about Jesus. I can only wholeheartedly agree with that.

Last Saturday, I went out with Pastora Sandra, or Mama Sandra as she is called, to deliver food to the Village. She is in her late 70s and has been continuously caring for the less fortunate for ten years. For the first seven years she could be found in Rancho, a deprived neighborhood in Oranjestad. For the past three years she has been doing ministry work in San Nicolas, first on a street corner, now in the Hub. 
With her words “you come” I was chosen to go with her this time. I had no choice whether it suited me or not, it was decided and would be carried out. I arranged for my guests, who had driven with me, to be returned by Sean and piled into mama Sandra’s fully loaded car. Her not very large car was packed with pan (bread), sòpi (soup), cuminda cayente (a hot meal) in cardboard containers and juice (much too sweet ice tea). 
Once on the road, I ask her some questions. In short sentences she tries to give the clearest answer possible in the little English she knows. She speaks mainly Spanish and Papiamento. Not too convenient for me, because although I do my best to learn Papiamento and Spanish, I still am stuck to English and Dutch for a normal conversation. But she does not give up and says that she is in contact with 34 women who work in prostitution. Every week she eats with these women and listens to their stories.
When we arrive at the first houses, she asks me to bring in some of the food and drinks and to pray for the residents. I do it with love. The houses can rightly be called small and some are barely habitable. But the people are friendly and very grateful, both for the food and the prayer. In one of the houses a few people are bedridden. I take a little more time for them. When I come back outside, mama Sandra has disappeared, so I decide to take a chance and look a street further. I find the car there, but no trace of mama Sandra herself. A nice neighbor shows me the way, I find her with a grandmother with a small child in her arm. While we are still talking, a young woman comes to pick us up. She asks if we have food for her and her five children. Unfortunately, all the food is gone. Mama Sandra turns out to know her and walks with her to her house to greet the children. I follow. When they arrive at the house, all the children come out into the street. Mama Sandra asks if I can pray for her and the family. It is necessary, they have no food and mama Sandra does not have enough money to buy food for the family. She would like to take care of them, but that is not possible right now. Father is addicted and beats his wife and children when he is at home. I ask the children to come close to us. So, in the middle of the street, I pray for them all. Mother and one of the little children cry silent tears. 
We’re done. With a broken heart for this family I get back in the car. On the way back we pray some words out loud. When we have returned I give mama Sandra a big hug. I drive back home crying.

He walks into the Hub smiling; “Goede morgen, good morning, bonjour, gute morgen”, immediately followed by a couple of stories. About how proud he is to be Dutch and how that has often led to problems in his life. About how he doesn’t understand why so many of his compatriots criticize the Netherlands. He has the appearance of a Venezuelan and an English surname. At 68 years young, he speaks Dutch, English, Spanish, German and French. And of course Papiamento, “but that’s a little bit of everything,” he explains. He has been a croupier and has lived in Rotterdam, but also in St. Maarten, Bonaire, Curaçao and Miami. For five years he sailed around the Caribbean on a cruise ship, enjoying a free life, making fun with everyone he met. He had been almost blind after accidentally cutting his own retina while taking out his lenses. But luckily he was living in Aruba again at the time, they had transported him to the Netherlands and helped him well. “Life is beautiful!” 
Today he stops by the Hub to pick up some food for his neighbor. He also wants some food for himself, but because they don’t trust him, he only asks for food for his neighbor. He will manage himself. 
He missed the bus home. If I can give him a ride to his friend. I do so with pleasure. He still has all kinds of tips and stories in the car. When we arrive at his destination and he is standing outside the car, he leans in through the window to show me the route to the main road. He says goodbye with a broad smile and a wave.

I was asked to drive for the teen club. At first I would only pick up and bring two kids. Very few teenagers had come from San Nicolas this time. But in the end two girls still had to be brought home to San Nicolas. And so I had four kids with me on the van. I quickly delivered the boys to our house in Savaneta and went on to San Nicolas. The first girl was soon home. With a short greeting she disappeared behind the gate of the house. I was left with fourteen-year-old Anna^[1]. She lives in the very back, close to the cunuc^[2], about a 10-minute drive from where we were at the time. It was quiet for most of the ride. I asked her to show me the way, which she literally did; finger to the right when we had to go right, and finger to the left when we had to go left. We arrived at her house; dark, no one home. She didn’t have a key, checked the door and windows anyway. I promised to wait. She came back with no result. “I think I know where my mother is,” she said. I said, “That’s fine, we’ll drive there.” It was quiet again and the finger pointing ritual was repeated. We drove back largely the same way as we came. I asked, “Are you worried about your mother?” “Not always,” she replied. She let out a sigh as she said it. “We’re going to find her,” I said. She didn’t answer.
A little later we arrived in the Village, down the street from an auntie. First she saw her slightly older brother walking there. “Hey, what is he doing here,” was her response, followed by: “I have no business with him.” And so we continued. 
Her mother turned out not to be with auntie. But auntie thought she knew where her mother was; at her stepfather’s place. So we got back on the bus, the finger pointing ritual repeated itself once again. Back on the way to the back, even closer to the cunuc. 
At stepfather’s house it turned out that her mother’s car was indeed parked in front of the door. Anna visibly breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she said as she half stepped out of the van. I told her, “I’ll wait until you get inside safely. Go quickly.” And off she went.

^[1] Fictitious name. ^[2] Cunucu stands for outback farmland.
Image from Pixabay.

After the church service we were chatting over coffee for a while. I brought my cup back to the kitchen one of the women drew my attention; “Can you help us? My sister still has some shopping to do, but her car is broken.” I asked her how they got into the church. “Pastor has picked us up”. At first, I notice a brief hesitation in myself, but something told me to help. “Why are you asking me?” I answered. I was amazed to hear that she has a hard time trusting men, that she normally wouldn’t ask, but that God had told her that she should ask me. And so, on Sunday morning I got the special opportunity to help heal her betrayed confidence a little bit. I am honored that she asked me. And the pastor who already does so much, got a moment of rest as a gift. What an unexpected blessing for all of us. God puts beautiful puzzle pieces in their place.

Our detergent had been stolen overnight. From the laundry room. We once had that experience before, but now it happened three nights in a row. Reason to stop this for the future. And so, we came up with all kinds of nefarious plans. The movie Home Alone was nothing like it. We’d get this squared away. Push comes to shove, I decided to place an alarm on the door of the laundry room. That alarm would only go off thirty seconds after activation, but still. Of course, that wasn’t enough. So, I decided to make a deep fake detergent bottle, filled with a little Windex for the color and lots of water. I also added chlorine in the bottle so that we would recognize our thief in the street if he managed to circumvent all measures. For the extra effect, we tied four rattling cans to the bottle. Perhaps the sound of these cans would wake us up. Enjoying all the preparations we went to bed that evening. My phone and front door keys were ready, along with Blue’s belt in case I saw danger. But of course, nothing happened during the first night. The second night it hit. The alarm went off early in the morning at a quarter past six. I was immediately awake and saw through the window an elderly man fleeing to our gate, which was slightly ajar. I quickly turned off the alarm and went after him. He saw me coming, tried to find another way out, but knew he had been caught. The adrenaline still going through my body, I clearly told him not to try doing this again. I took a nice picture of him with my phone (great preparation) and told him that I would call the police next time. He was shocked, which I found endearing. Fortunately, he understood the lesson, he has not been back. Who knows, maybe he will buy his own detergent in the future.

Sometimes I meet special people who stand head and shoulders above the rest. This week that person was Ron^[1]. We were having coffee at the Hub and he had just introduced himself. He had a cheerful appearance. What a nice man, I thought, and I inquired about his life. He told me his wife had passed away from Covid two months ago. But he had decided to keep going and not give up. Here he was at the age of 70. He had been an addict for 20 years and had been off drugs for 30 years. He wanted to be an example for the people around him. So, he decided visit older people and drink coffee with them. He told me he never arrives empty-handed, because his wife had told him that if he wanted to continue the missionary work they had been doing, he should always bring something small for the people he wanted to visit. He is one of the beautiful people on the island, who have become wise through trial and error, wanting to be an example to those around them. Tomorrow, he has to go to the hospital for a minor operation. Later this week I’m going to have coffee with him. And I will not arrive empty-handed.

^[1] Fictitious name. 
Photo by Fred Kearney on Unsplash