I was with a small team from work and we were spending the week away from our Charlotte-sphere to visit our partner affiliate in El Salvador, who invites several volunteer groups from the United States each year. By definition, you could say this was a mission trip, and that definition left me feeling hesitant as I boarded the plane that first day. Mission trips are traditionally defined as the mobilization of a Christian missionary for a short period of time ranging from days to a year to a malnourished or undeserved community with a packaged bundle of wealth, resources, knowledge and beliefs. With words like evangelical and Christian tourism floating near by, it wasn't hard for me to form adverse feelings of what my trip to El Salvador might be like. What did my bundle look like and what did I intend to do with it? What did we, as an organization, intend to do with it?
El Salvador is bright and bold and beautiful. As densely populated as it is, volcanic summits and lush green canopies make most of the countryside look unstirred by human touch. We spent some of our afternoons exploring these areas, from an afternoon on the clear waters of Lake Coatepeque to one spent on a fourth-generation coffee farm nestled in the mountains outside of Ahuachapán. The capital city of San Salvador, however, is constantly stirring with activity; it's streets lined with vibrant store fronts and open air markets where the scent of pupusas toasting on griddles lingers in the air.
As important as it was to explore the country's people, land and culture, we were also there to work, and more specifically, we were there to help a father and his three year old daughter move into a home of their own. Alongside a Mason, the homeowner and a few neighborhood helpers, we were building that home from the ground up. I could probably count the number of resources used to construct the home on just two hands and we spent four days using those hands to mix mortar and chispa, fill and sand cinder block walls and compact layers (upon layers) of sand for the floor's foundation. When we arrived on the work site earlier that week, the walls of the home were almost four feet high and the day we left, the home was almost ready for interior finishings, a roof and tile floor.
My knowledge of El Salvador prior to this trip was minimal and my exposure to it's culture was nonexistent. With the exception of a number of articles and research materials I read weeks before, I was going into this experience knowledgeable but unfamiliar. I had the understanding that I am a visitor and can only respect the culture and nature of the community I was to be exposed to.
I was the malnourished— learning from and serving with— devouring this experience entirely.
The hesitancy I felt the very first day of our trip quickly faded as I realized that trips with Habitat were not like normal mission trips to begin with. For almost twenty years, we have worked closely with Habitat El Salvador in a mutual partnership of service and friendship and we spent that week talking with those in the community we worked in, gaining insight to their desires and hopes for the future. We listened and they were grateful for that. This trip undoubtedly changed who I am, how I interact with people and how I view culture's different from my own, which is something I find invaluable to the work that I do.
Every opportunity to travel is an opportunity to grow and learn more about a world we think we know.
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