Finding Beauty and Humanity in a Living Hell
8/24/2007 0 Comments
Lou Braun is a 2005 graduate of Johns Hopkins University, and is currently a midfielder on the MLL's Denver Outlaws.
I am becoming the best possible lacrosse player I can be. It has only taken me thirteen years to find myself in this place. In those years is cooped up several championships that have been won and lost, many injuries and long hours in the classroom, weight room, and obviously practice field. But becoming the best lacrosse player I could possibly be has much less to do with those things and much more to do with what has been happening in my life off the field.
My experiences on the field have been nothing short of incredible. For a guy from Ohio, simply playing at Johns Hopkins is a great opportunity, let alone winning a national championship. Then to have the opportunity to play for the Denver Outlaws in the MLL, how lucky can one guy be? But it wasn't until recently that I have learned what it means to be truly blessed.
It started last summer. I had just moved out to Denver to play for the Outlaws and met a former Middlebury lacrosse player named Brad Corrigan. Just another informal meeting set up through the close knit world of lacrosse; little did I know that Brad and I would become life long friends. Brad is a full-time musician, faming from the band Dispatch, a former indy band that is playing a three-night sold out show at Madison Square Garden. Although we share many things in common such as our faith, lacrosse, music, snowboarding, golf, and all other pastimes, one thing has bonded our relationship so much in this short time that it enables me to say we are so close. When I say one thing, I really mean many things, and not really things, but children.
In July, Brad convinced me it would be worth taking two weeks of my summer to spend down in Nicaragua serving orphans and street kids in impoverished communities. Now, I consider myself a good guy, but certainly not a great humanitarian by any means. So this thought was very attractive, but not so much a reality.
Sure enough, though, there I found myself, missing a mid-season game for the Outlaws, spending all kinds of cash I really didn't have to lose, and alone in a country I had no previous knowledge of other than some reading on the flight over.
We spent the majority of our time in a trash dump community called La Chureca. It is in Managua, the capital city of Nicaragua. There are about 1,500 people who live in this city dump. Yes... city dump... All of the garbage of Managua is compiled and dumped in these people's back yards... front yards... children's play area... you name it. I had never seen anything like it, never dreamed of anything like it really. It was my first encounter with a place I could visibly equate to hell.
We did some traveling to different orphanages to play music and hang out with kids. A lot of soccer games and broken conversations full of laughter fill these homes. There is an obvious sadness that seeps in when visiting such a place. It is amazing how music, sports, and laughter can break through all kinds of barriers - ones of language, age, color, sex, it doesn't matter. We would show up places and instantly get involved in games of toca (tag), soccer, or many times just be used as a mobile jungle gym. I would help to get the kids all riled up and then after a while Brad would break out his guitar and we would sing and dance until they were just spent.
When in La Chureca we spent our time in much of the same way; sweaty, smiling and laughing, playing catch and soccer, hanging out on swings and playing music. There was lots of running around and sweating. It was like training camp or something. We would always make a stop before going in to pick up food and water. We had bags full of clothing and shoes, and somehow it was gone in minutes. The need is incredible. I have more clothes in my dirty laundry hamper right now than most families in La Chureca. Lots of soap and stuffed animals were handed out to anyone who needed it (everyone did).
On my second trip to Nicaragua we came across a boy named Marlon. He was two years old and had some serious vision problems due to a lazy eye. We talked to a doctor friend and discovered we may be able to help improve Marlon's vision through a simple patch over his strong eye. Although it was tough to explain to Marlon's mother our intention in giving her loads of tape and gauze to make a patch, it eventually worked out. Still, it must be weird to have some gringos come into your home and try to convince you to cover your son's eye for the next eight weeks. This is just one of many small, but practical, ways we were able to hopefully be a blessing to the people in this community.
At the end of each day we would have a rich time of coming together and discussing our experiences, what we did, and how different encounters impacted us. Debriefing is important on trips like this; you need to think and listen, otherwise you can breeze through the whole experience and never remember what that moment was really like.
I have had some serious injuries before: dislocated shoulders, torn ligaments in my hand and knee, concussions, all kinds of stuff. But none of that physical pain compares to the emotional and spiritual anguish you feel in seeing a four-year-old kid rifling through trash covered in week old dirt and mud from head to toe. Flies circle around a small warm body and the smell is embarrassing; embarrassing because I have never felt so ashamed as as when I thought I was going to throw up in the presence of a little child because of its condition. How do you reconcile this? How do you justify this? How do you internalize this? There were so many questions and emotions it is hard to even think.
The children of La Chureca are confronted with death on a regular basis. "Pego" (a highly concentrated glue substance that kills brain cells by the hundreds) plagues these kids from eight years and up as a temporary escape. Crack, alcohol, STDs and child prostitution are some of the more serious challenges each kid will have to personally face in the city dump, their home.
But there is a beauty in this living hell. It is a beauty that needs to be sought out, not unlike most truly unique beauties. It comes in the same form of some of the greatest heartache in this community. It's in the lives of the people there, the kids especially. But this beauty of life has to be sought out, as I said, and it can only be mediated through relationship. There is no other way. We can see pictures of kids covered in snot, mud and garbage, their stomachs sticking out because of malnutrition, barefoot and weak, and yet smiling. And sure we can see some type of beauty there; but what do we know of this kid? What do we know of this life? The real beauty comes through intimacy only found in relationship. To walk with that kid, spend time in his home, see his pet pig and chickens and ducks, to play games with him and his friends, to eat a meal with him. Have I gotten away from true humanity? Have I missed what it means to be human? How can I possibly relate to this kid or any of his people?
I am becoming the best lacrosse player I can be because I am learning who I am and what I want to be about. There have been times in my life when lacrosse seems to take over, when practice and championships sit on the throne of my life and everything else disappears. But I am learning what it means to be human again. Sounds weird, doesn't it? Maybe it is weird, but what if that is what we really need? What if I have been so sheltered by my life and experiences that I lose the ability to relate to people, to children!? That seems weirder to me now, or maybe just scarier.
I have come to the conclusion that life is found only in giving it away. That a life lived for itself is just not satisfying. One trip doesn't make me the person I want to be. But it is encouraging to know that I am moving somewhere. There is the tangible realization that my life is not just about me. I don't know if that has always been true, and I know it won't always be true, but we have got to start somewhere, right?
It is hard to remain the same after those types of experiences; something deep inside you opens up, and if you're willing, it will open so much to the point that a lot of other things in life find their way to the background. Lacrosse is a platform for me now. I love this sport; I love the life it affords me. I have a great job with the best young company in the business, Maverik Lacrosse. I play for one of the top MLL teams, the Denver Outlaws, and I have no regrets about anything in my athletic career. But I am becoming the best lacrosse player I can be not through goals and face-offs (I still don't score too many goals), but rather through this right here. It is because of lacrosse that I can write this, and it is because of lacrosse that you are reading it. And if somehow this inspires someone to spend their time, talent, or treasure on just one of those children trapped in that city dump or any other oppressed part of the world, then that has made my career as a lacrosse player great in my eyes. And I'm thankful for that.
Brad goes down to La Chureca almost once a month, and I will certainly be returning with him when time and money allows. You can get involved too, there is much to be done, and you are needed. The best way to get involved is to check out the website of the non-profit, Love Light & Melody, that Brad has started and dream of how your personal gifts, skills, and treasure could be used as a blessing for those who so desperately need it.
I am becoming the best possible lacrosse player I can be. It has only taken me thirteen years to find myself in this place. In those years is cooped up several championships that have been won and lost, many injuries and long hours in the classroom, weight room, and obviously practice field. But becoming the best lacrosse player I could possibly be has much less to do with those things and much more to do with what has been happening in my life off the field.
My experiences on the field have been nothing short of incredible. For a guy from Ohio, simply playing at Johns Hopkins is a great opportunity, let alone winning a national championship. Then to have the opportunity to play for the Denver Outlaws in the MLL, how lucky can one guy be? But it wasn't until recently that I have learned what it means to be truly blessed.
It started last summer. I had just moved out to Denver to play for the Outlaws and met a former Middlebury lacrosse player named Brad Corrigan. Just another informal meeting set up through the close knit world of lacrosse; little did I know that Brad and I would become life long friends. Brad is a full-time musician, faming from the band Dispatch, a former indy band that is playing a three-night sold out show at Madison Square Garden. Although we share many things in common such as our faith, lacrosse, music, snowboarding, golf, and all other pastimes, one thing has bonded our relationship so much in this short time that it enables me to say we are so close. When I say one thing, I really mean many things, and not really things, but children.In July, Brad convinced me it would be worth taking two weeks of my summer to spend down in Nicaragua serving orphans and street kids in impoverished communities. Now, I consider myself a good guy, but certainly not a great humanitarian by any means. So this thought was very attractive, but not so much a reality.
Sure enough, though, there I found myself, missing a mid-season game for the Outlaws, spending all kinds of cash I really didn't have to lose, and alone in a country I had no previous knowledge of other than some reading on the flight over.
We spent the majority of our time in a trash dump community called La Chureca. It is in Managua, the capital city of Nicaragua. There are about 1,500 people who live in this city dump. Yes... city dump... All of the garbage of Managua is compiled and dumped in these people's back yards... front yards... children's play area... you name it. I had never seen anything like it, never dreamed of anything like it really. It was my first encounter with a place I could visibly equate to hell.
We did some traveling to different orphanages to play music and hang out with kids. A lot of soccer games and broken conversations full of laughter fill these homes. There is an obvious sadness that seeps in when visiting such a place. It is amazing how music, sports, and laughter can break through all kinds of barriers - ones of language, age, color, sex, it doesn't matter. We would show up places and instantly get involved in games of toca (tag), soccer, or many times just be used as a mobile jungle gym. I would help to get the kids all riled up and then after a while Brad would break out his guitar and we would sing and dance until they were just spent.
When in La Chureca we spent our time in much of the same way; sweaty, smiling and laughing, playing catch and soccer, hanging out on swings and playing music. There was lots of running around and sweating. It was like training camp or something. We would always make a stop before going in to pick up food and water. We had bags full of clothing and shoes, and somehow it was gone in minutes. The need is incredible. I have more clothes in my dirty laundry hamper right now than most families in La Chureca. Lots of soap and stuffed animals were handed out to anyone who needed it (everyone did). On my second trip to Nicaragua we came across a boy named Marlon. He was two years old and had some serious vision problems due to a lazy eye. We talked to a doctor friend and discovered we may be able to help improve Marlon's vision through a simple patch over his strong eye. Although it was tough to explain to Marlon's mother our intention in giving her loads of tape and gauze to make a patch, it eventually worked out. Still, it must be weird to have some gringos come into your home and try to convince you to cover your son's eye for the next eight weeks. This is just one of many small, but practical, ways we were able to hopefully be a blessing to the people in this community.
At the end of each day we would have a rich time of coming together and discussing our experiences, what we did, and how different encounters impacted us. Debriefing is important on trips like this; you need to think and listen, otherwise you can breeze through the whole experience and never remember what that moment was really like.
I have had some serious injuries before: dislocated shoulders, torn ligaments in my hand and knee, concussions, all kinds of stuff. But none of that physical pain compares to the emotional and spiritual anguish you feel in seeing a four-year-old kid rifling through trash covered in week old dirt and mud from head to toe. Flies circle around a small warm body and the smell is embarrassing; embarrassing because I have never felt so ashamed as as when I thought I was going to throw up in the presence of a little child because of its condition. How do you reconcile this? How do you justify this? How do you internalize this? There were so many questions and emotions it is hard to even think.
The children of La Chureca are confronted with death on a regular basis. "Pego" (a highly concentrated glue substance that kills brain cells by the hundreds) plagues these kids from eight years and up as a temporary escape. Crack, alcohol, STDs and child prostitution are some of the more serious challenges each kid will have to personally face in the city dump, their home.
But there is a beauty in this living hell. It is a beauty that needs to be sought out, not unlike most truly unique beauties. It comes in the same form of some of the greatest heartache in this community. It's in the lives of the people there, the kids especially. But this beauty of life has to be sought out, as I said, and it can only be mediated through relationship. There is no other way. We can see pictures of kids covered in snot, mud and garbage, their stomachs sticking out because of malnutrition, barefoot and weak, and yet smiling. And sure we can see some type of beauty there; but what do we know of this kid? What do we know of this life? The real beauty comes through intimacy only found in relationship. To walk with that kid, spend time in his home, see his pet pig and chickens and ducks, to play games with him and his friends, to eat a meal with him. Have I gotten away from true humanity? Have I missed what it means to be human? How can I possibly relate to this kid or any of his people?I am becoming the best lacrosse player I can be because I am learning who I am and what I want to be about. There have been times in my life when lacrosse seems to take over, when practice and championships sit on the throne of my life and everything else disappears. But I am learning what it means to be human again. Sounds weird, doesn't it? Maybe it is weird, but what if that is what we really need? What if I have been so sheltered by my life and experiences that I lose the ability to relate to people, to children!? That seems weirder to me now, or maybe just scarier.
I have come to the conclusion that life is found only in giving it away. That a life lived for itself is just not satisfying. One trip doesn't make me the person I want to be. But it is encouraging to know that I am moving somewhere. There is the tangible realization that my life is not just about me. I don't know if that has always been true, and I know it won't always be true, but we have got to start somewhere, right?
It is hard to remain the same after those types of experiences; something deep inside you opens up, and if you're willing, it will open so much to the point that a lot of other things in life find their way to the background. Lacrosse is a platform for me now. I love this sport; I love the life it affords me. I have a great job with the best young company in the business, Maverik Lacrosse. I play for one of the top MLL teams, the Denver Outlaws, and I have no regrets about anything in my athletic career. But I am becoming the best lacrosse player I can be not through goals and face-offs (I still don't score too many goals), but rather through this right here. It is because of lacrosse that I can write this, and it is because of lacrosse that you are reading it. And if somehow this inspires someone to spend their time, talent, or treasure on just one of those children trapped in that city dump or any other oppressed part of the world, then that has made my career as a lacrosse player great in my eyes. And I'm thankful for that.
Brad goes down to La Chureca almost once a month, and I will certainly be returning with him when time and money allows. You can get involved too, there is much to be done, and you are needed. The best way to get involved is to check out the website of the non-profit, Love Light & Melody, that Brad has started and dream of how your personal gifts, skills, and treasure could be used as a blessing for those who so desperately need it.