Bernard and Trish started the mission to rescue people and not dogs. But the dogs were soon attracted to the project because Bernard had scraps in the garbage. Scraps are manna from heaven here. We have witnessed the dogs jumping and eating bugs to get protein. Let's see, scraps or bugs? It is an easy choice for hungry dogs.
Soon Bernard would find them waiting outside the door every morning. Vultures were less obvious. He tolerated this for a time and even gave them scraps. But soon even the patient, gentle Bernard had enough and stopped feeding them and forbade members of mission groups to feed them.
Everybody understood the logic, “if you feed them, they will come”. But we hate to see scraps not be used to give life. People would “accidentally” drop things on the way to the garbage. The dogs didn't care how they got it as long as they got it. They still recognized that the source of scraps was Bernard's place. The dogs were like teen-agers in cars circling the local Friday night hot spot. When the door was opened they would immediately come to attention. The general was coming out to address the troops, even better, a stranger was coming out to bring scraps.
Bernard would frown and pull out his little remaining hair. Muttering under the breath is an excellent way of showing displeasure, especially if accompanied with a frown and a subtle sideways shake of the head. Bernard would do this once or twice but being subtle was not a strong gift. He would yell. “Whoever is feeding those dogs, stop!!!” Ah, the gentle Bernard.
There is one dog in particular. A woeful female that seems to be always pregnant or always with a new litter of pups. She is emaciated, her ribs are banners proclaiming the poverty of the village. A gaping black hole dots the left side of her face. How she lost the left eye no one knows. But the remains are ugly. She bears the scars of many a battle in the “food wars”. The dog walks with a limp and runs only when there is the possibility of food. We have begun to call her “gimpy”.
I would enter gimpy in the ugliest dog in the world contest. Surely she would be in the top ten ugly dogs. But somehow God has taken her ugliness and made it an advantage. Her ugliness tugs at the heart. It is as if we feel collectively responsible for having a creature so ugly walk around this earth.
Her pups, when she has them, suck what little life she has from her body. We wonder how can this dog survive. But every time we return there is “gimpy”. She neither seems to gain or lose weight. There is always the frail ugly dog that has learned how to survive, but barely.
Many a missionary has fallen under the “gimpy” spell. The tail between the legs is like a rope around the heart. The “unh, unh, unh” accompanied by a roll over elicits tears.
If Panimaquin had a flag and a mascot, gimpy would be the mascot and her image would be on their flag. Nothing says Panimaquin better than gimpy.
Panimaquin is blessed with the best volcanic soil in the world. The people are excellent farmers and most own their own field. They are willing to work hard. Their only problem is they have become the “gimpys” of Guatemala.
It is almost always a major mistake to give someone something for nothing. The mission tried to avoid this mistake by requiring that the men of the village work one day a month at the project in exchange for food, jobs and education for their children. We provided the food, jobs and education and they neglected the one day a month. They “gimped” out on us. We let it slide and they were more than willing to let it slide.
In their minds, they are “poor ignorant Indians”. We owe them. Their poverty is our fault. If they can trick us or cheat us or use us it is not wrong. After all, we owe them. They are the man holding the “hungry, need help” sign on the corner dreaming of the whiskey he will buy.
A sober alcoholic told me one time that when she was drinking, a baby on the hip was always worth two beers and a pack of cigarettes. When she would run out of money she would get the baby and stand outside the local grocery store looking pathetic. It always worked. Panimaquin has lots of babies.
Gimpy can't really do better, Panimaquin can. They don't send their kids to school not because they don't value education but because they are willing to trade their child's future for an extra field hand. Their families don't have enough food because they break basic laws that God has put in place. They break it because of their greed.
Of course there are some great exceptions. One young man was given the opportunity and has finished high school and is working toward law. He is not any more intelligent than many others in the village. His Mom just pushed him to break the cycle. He will and already has.
We need to break that, “I'm just a poor ignorant Indian” image. If we could get them to stop thinking it and saying it, they would stop being it. Then the mission would have done it's job. It could, would and should disappear when that gets done.
Ah gimpy, if you only had two eyes, maybe you could see.
