John Statham: A Short-ish Story - Chapter One

This is a short-ish story (four chapters) that I wrote during some classes and is quite bluntly a dreadful rip-off of the the style of Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I did however enjoy writing it and hope you get a kick out of it too. - Michael

Chapter 1

The Galactic March played in the background, at that moment my head of it’s own volition was laying plans for how to attain a pan-galactic garbleblaster. In the fuzzy background of here and now I can make out the mumbling of our professor, a passionate, but monotone guest lecturer. Gifted in real life, but in a classroom his thoughts were not sparks to light young minds ablaze, but rather a drone of repetitious thoughts, just as likely to fall onto pages of thoughtless papers written through dreary hangovers on Saturday morning. I’m startled and suddenly more aware of my environment as I notice that the band of high schoolers has given up their attempts at unity and simply left us in a painful silence.

Although silent, there is a focus brought to it, each cough, the distinctive sound of one typing a message to a friend, and the slower more resolute clicking of a studious note-taker. Even the sound of a seat mate twisting a pen in his dry hand scratching across the course surface of his skin.

Scripture is being read aloud, but is there a respectful silence? No, there is a silence, but it is that of a fatigued and dispassionate sort, the kind you hear an hour into the State of the Union between the moments of applause.

“Click...click, clack.” My mouth waters as I recognize the sound of Tic-tacs being gently poured out. I spy at ten o’clock a fellow with white, assumably mint, Tic-tacs that match the white of his 14” Macbook Pro.

You feel that there is almost a physical object being passed as a discussion passes through the class. The lecturer who has had a firm grip has just let it drop and roll across the stage, one of the keening students in the back left reaches and grasps, almost fumbling in his jumbled rush of thought, not to fear though as a more confident, but now wiser freshman makes a simple and precise comment, and then easily in an underhand pass it returns back to the lecturer; satisfied with his classes response showing voice, but creating no conflict or irresolution.

I’m starting to wish that the band would rehash the Galactic March, or even a simpler patriotic theme. The dry and dusty silence of academia is weighing heavily and almost pinching my mind as I fight back with what muscles my mind may have to hold it off those oh so sensitive nerves.

Is this familiar? No, it’s not the familiarity of simple, almost cliche phrases of doctrine. It’s the familiar of a story, and illustration from life. His stories are simple and few, like a sparse specking of grass in a dirt yard. They give hope of drama and luscious life, but are only minuscule islands in the thoughts of moth-eaten books.

I can see it, there’s a spacious stage with solely a large lectern to one side and a mammoth projector screen where there should be a curtain. A small craft, not anything more than a coupe or a commuter, could easily fit on stage left. At first no one would recognize, thanks to the absurdity, that anything had changed, let alone the pure impunity of a fellow life form disturbing the unsacred, dank, and resolute calm of the lecturer’s stage.

Although leaving the mirroring panels on, he was not terribly proud of his late model commuter craft, Elby stepped out of of seeming nothing onto the stage and simply queried, “would someone like a lift from this bloody bugger hole?”

Rather than being shocked at his uncouth language, the class as a group at this moment first recognized that something had changed. There was a tall, rather handsome young man with a slightly grayish complexion, wearing nothing less than a Paul Smith suit and a paradoxically young and wild looking paisley scarf. He currently was observing something remarkably similar to the result of an apple landing in the center of a flock of chickens.

The students like hens divided into the runners, the screamers, and the talkers. The runners, much like chickens, chose no particular direction or purpose, but ran over seats, around book bags, and occasionally into each other. The screamers took a much simpler role of screaming at varying pitches, volumes, and consistencies united solely in destroying their vocal chords for lack of better thoughts. And the talkers, well they talked. It’s not what one can call conversation or debate or even comment, but that jarrish babble that erupts in chaos, whether the chaos of a shopping mall on a Friday afternoon or a power outage during the Sunday morning service.

I on the other hand had yelled a hearty, “why yes, thank you,” across the room and was now scrambling from my seat in the center of the back to the relative repose of the stage. Upon the moment of our first meeting, he gave me a brisk handshake and a gentle slap on the back. “Hop right in man, afore we get stormed.”

This is chapter one of four, which will be released on a weekly basis...

La Epic de Miguel en Guatemala

I wrote this broad sketch of my time in Guatemala on the flight home and have only slightly revised it. The story is long and not terribly creatively written, the grammar is at best atrocious, but if you'd like to know what happened have fun reading it for the next half-hour. - Michael

Ruins of a Catholic cathedral in Antigua

Our table at Spanish school...notice all my beverages...

The view from CEMI in the morning

We returned from Christmas break on the 2nd of January. The third was spent doing orientation for distance ed classes and pre-trip briefings. That night we all packed and probably only half the group slept before leaving for the airport at three in the morning. On the way to the airport we stopped at Eric's house for a breakfast of bacon and egg sandwiches and coffee before flying out. With a layover in Dallas we arrived in Guatemala city around nine o'clock, loading our luggage into a bus driven by Victor (our driver for most of our time in Guatemala), we drove about an hour into San Pedro. CEMI is a compound for missionaries, run by a Canadian couple, located in San Pedro a suburb of Antigua. We spent the weekend touring Antigua and acclimating, before starting Spanish School on Monday. The first week and a half we stayed at CEMI and attended Spanish school each morning, traveling by chicken bus to school and back.

Some of the little punks I got to hang out with

 Our first ministry opportunity was to visit an after-school style program near Antigua, where our team would hang out with the kids and participate in the planned activities and then do about an hour of programming of our own, including singing, games, and a Bible skit. After a week and a half at CEMI, we moved into host homes in Antigua for the final week and half of Spanish school. Between school, field trips, and program events such as chapel and impact group, we were kept pretty busy. We returned to CEMI for a couple days where we planned and prepped as a team for ministry week.

My dorm room at GBS

On Saturday we drove from San Pedro on the outskirts of Antigua to the city of Chimaltenango, where the Guatemala Bible Seminary is located. The campus is located in the center of the city, being a walled compound occupying about five city blocks. That next week, each morning we would drive into Guatemala City, to work at an elementary school run by an Evangelical organization. At the school we would teach two to four TESOL classes in the morning and then have more of a VBS style program in the afternoon. Although we were only spending five or six hours at the school each day, the time spent travelling made for long exhausting days.

Driving across the country side...

That weekend was the "Guatemala City Experience" where we stayed at a missionary retreat type compound in downtown Guatemala City. We spent this time visiting a variety of ministries, sites, and organizations including Potter's House, International Justice Mission, the Guatemala City dump, and La Limonada. The next week was class week, involving five hours of class every afternoon, a couple papers, and daily quizzes. Luckily, the next weekend was Spiritual Retreat, where we stayed in a very large house in Guatemala City resting and doing sessions focused on our spiritual life. Returning to GBS campus Monday, we started preparations for practicum while the interns went on their own retreat. As a team we decided on specific roles of each member, the goals of our team, and planned and prepped for the ministry we would be doing in partnership with a local church.

No silverware...no problem...

This kid, Danny, thought it was awesome to cuss me out in
Espanol (it was)...and then Josh was just creep'n

On Saturday morning, we traveled to the city of Comalapa, a small city in the mountains of Guatemala famouse for it's artist community. Saturday evening we attended the churches youth group, before returning to the house. Our house there was brand new, the family having moved in about two weeks before our arrival. They had cleared three bedrooms for us to stay in and a group of ladies from the church worked together to cook and clean for us. Sunday we had to church services to attend, singing in front of the church and then helping out in various Sunday School classes in teams of two. Monday morning our team went to visit families from the church who needed prayer and prepared for the kids group we were running Tuesday. The next day we had a two hour event with kids from the community, many of whom had never heard the gospel or even been in a church. There were about 60 kids and probably 40 parents. It was a fun time playing games, singing songs, and presenting the gospel to them. An immediate encouragement was a mother who was there who had never heard the gospel who decided to start attending the church with her children and we saw at other events through the week. Wednesday morning the girls led a women's group meeting and then in the afternoon we distributed chickens to families in the community who would raise them for eggs and eventually meat, providing a sustainable resource for them. Thursday, our hosts planned a surprise for us. We all got in a van with our packs, cameras, frisbee, and soccer ball like our hosts suggested. After an hour of driving we started to recognize our surroundings and it turned out we were being taken to the ruins of Ixemche, a Mayan site that we had gone to on a field trip earlier with the entire Discover group. With our hosts we got a tour and hand a fun time playing soccer, half gringos and half Guatemalan women our parents age wearing traditional blouses and skirts. Afterwards we went to my favorite (and Josh's least favorite because he thinks he might have gotten food poisoning there) restaurant which serves a mix of Guatemalan and western foods. That evening there was a doctrine service, similar to a Baptist Wednesday night service. Friday there was another women's meeting where the girls organized a spa experience to talk about God's perspective on value and beauty.

David, my roommate in host homes, was about to create
a mini-hell in his mouth with this pepper...

The Mayan ruins of Ixemche

Saturday morning we visited the families of youth in the community. At one house the parents had been following God, but their children came to the point of surrendering to God then and there. Another place we visited was actually a family of brothers who ran a butcher shop/store. We walked into the back among hanging carcasses of cows on floor smattered with blood. After talking to them for a while two of the brothers got down on their knees on the floor of their shop and repented of their rebellion and abandonment of God and rededicated themselves to him. Sunday we had two services again. In the morning we led the Sunday school classes we had visited the previous Sunday and sang in front of the church. The afternoon service was a special thanksgiving service where at the front of the church, bags of corn were stacked so high you could barely see the speakers on stage. At this service those who were farmers and such would bring the first tenth of their harvest to offer to the Lord and the church would either sell it or use it to bless the community. The next morning we said our goodbyes with long speeches and hugs and I got engaged, much to the delight of our Guatemalan hosts.

Just walking the streets of Antigua...

And that is a lot of coffee beans...

 On the first Sunday I was feeling crappy, and actually puked during the middle of the second service. That night I continued to throw up and I spend Monday sick in bed. Tuesday I was perfectly healthy, but Wednesday I was in bed again. Thursday I was mostly fine and Friday was similar. Saturday while visiting youth I went from feeling crappy to barely not throwing up and standing was an incredible effort. Sunday morning I prepared to go to church, but both Brittany (my Sunday school teaching partner) and I were too sick to risk it, however I was feeling well enough to attend the afternoon service and Monday felt mostly healthy. We drove for a couple hours from Comalapa to the tourist town of Panajachel on the coast of Lake Atitlan. There we rested, shopped for souvenirs, debriefed, and prepared for re-entry shock. Thursday I rented a bicycle and rode up the side of a mountain meeting and talking to a ten year old boy and then a 25 year old tienda owner who had lived in the United States for two years, now having a wife and kids. Friday night we packed and loaded the bus, so at six o'clock in the morning we could start the trip back to Canada.