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| Kudos to this guy - this can't be OSHA approved |
So this is the third time that I scrap and restart this
letter because I really want the feeling to come through! This time it will. I
have this impression that many times people don’t think about or reflect on
missionaries being out proselyting at night. We certainly do, and our
appointments often fall through leaving us little choice but to knock doors and
talk with people in the street.
Here in Esmeraldas night-time brings a different kind of
feeling than that of the day. I felt it the first time I was here 18 months ago
and I still feel it now. It feels like this: the street lights cast a baked-type
of orange color and every few of them are not functioning. The roads are either
dirt or very simply paved with a cheap and cracking cement. In the city there
aren’t supposed to be any speed bumps but they place heavy fishing nets around
the roads to slow down cars. In the dark we are constantly “stepping over”
their silhouettes. It’s normal to see a good number of people out doing various
things – buying eggs, fruit, or milk for their dinner, others riding bikes that
look like they belong in the “lost and found”, and there are even a few who may
be dancing. The stray dogs are always out. It’s a very lively scene. The night
brings a cooler temperature, but the humidity never goes away. Lately it’s been
raining a lot at night. I carry a towel to wipe off my face. Everything feels
really tropical like a city in the rainforest. On top of it all is the music – the
vibe and soul of the city (salsa, bachata mostly) - played at full volume, up
and down every street. I’ve learned to be a lot more aware at night, because
it feels like I need to be.
On Tuesday we were walking around on a night like this, very
aware, when all of a sudden an audible clap sounded and echoed all around us. A
power outage suddenly removed all light from the world, leaving us alone in the
middle of a very dark shadow of our surroundings. Besides the obvious physical
darkness, without the light I felt a negative thickness flowing through the
air. When the light left, the life of the city seemed to retract as well. I
noticed that people started putting out candles and everything seemed really
calm. The music – the vibe and soul of the city – had stopped. The whole scene
helped me understand better a nickname the rest of Ecuador has for Esmeraldas –
“La Ciudad Olvidada.”
I’m always grateful that my home in the US isn’t a forgotten
city. We have every necessity that one needs to live comfortably and I’ll always
be grateful for that. I’m also grateful this week for the light. Light is life.
Let us all cling to it. I’m happy to be on this earth, writing to you from the
forgotten city. I’m happy to be a missionary. Life is amazing.
With all my love,
Elder Ericksen
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