In the small Bolivian city of Riberalta, there is a tradition. In the center of town, is the Plaza Central…the main plaza. Worn benches are placed under great shady trees that face the streets that circle the plaza. Where there is grass, in Riberalta, it is patchy at best and in the main plaza there is no exception. Picking the most strategic spots, the early birds, hog what shade there is, in the hot little dusty towns plaza. Folks sip lukewarm liquid through thin red straws that stick out the top of small plastic bags that they hold tight at the top. Some pick an ice cream from vendors pushing around small, two- wheeled carts. Folks gather, with anticipation, to watch the coming event. I was privileged to be taking a break between teachings and sat at a lazy café and observed all that was taking place.
At first, there were just a few, but soon, there was a squadron of motor scooters going around the plaza. Fifteen or so to begin with, but within a short time…there was at least seventy five in one wave…thirty in the next…twenty in the last group of stragglers which was eventually passed by everyone. As I sat and watched this migration taking place, I was amazed at what I saw and what I learned.
There were all classes of people going around the plaza and as the mass grew with each revolution, I learned a little more.
Among this mass of high pitched motors, it was so obvious to see those that “Had it,” and those that wished that they, “Had it!” It was easy to pick out the cool ones, and the not so cool ones. I marveled at the young, trying to look older and the old, trying to look younger. There were pros and beginners. I watched the evolution of a tradition that has gone on in Riberalta, Bolivia since the first thrill seeking Bolivian decided to take a spin around the plaza in his horse and buggy.
There was not a Harley in the group. Most motor- bikes were no bigger than a scooter, but many were decked out. Scooters and riders all went around and around and around the plaza. Some just riding around with their families, as if on a Sunday afternoon ride. Older couples…the pros…rode around this same plaza that they have been riding around since their first date as teenagers. I saw alert fathers navigating through the mass as if they were on a mission with two kids in between he and his wife, who was sitting side saddled and holding the third child and eating a single dip ice cream.
I saw happy fathers, apparently glad to just get out of the house, holding a baby in one hand and driving with the other. I saw young girls on their cell phones as they drove…the other two girls on the seat behind her were talking on their cell phones as well.
Then there was the family driving the beautiful Hummer, with more Bling Bling than Snoop Dogg. They rode the entire time barely moving while talking to the people next to them on scooters. I watched them go around this plaza, at least 20 times, mingled in among the less fortunate, and I wondered…why don’t they just pull over and talk?
I saw a young mother multi tasking. She was nursing her baby as she drove with one hand and talking to her friends who were riding patiently beside her. One dad, a young guy, found a good use for the same kind of plastic chairs we use in the back yard. He had positioned it between the handlebars and his seat on his decked out scooter…the kid sitting in the chair must have been the envy of his buddies because as they rode beside each other, he had that look of superiority that one can get when they have reached the pinnacle.
During this fairly peaceful time of just watching and enjoying all that was going on, I suddenly heard the ear piercing sound of a scooter with no muffler. It was easy for my ears to pick up the location of the offensive scooter and his driver. Sure enough, like the same guys that cruised the Sky-View in Florence, SC, in their muffler less, jacked up, Vegas and Mavericks…a wild man showed up running into the pack from a side street.
He caused great confusion and folks gave him angry stares and tried to get away from the maniac. He was a Bolivian version of, what some from the South might call, a Red Neck. All the jeers and sour faces only egged him on as he rode in and out of the smooth flowing stream of scooters, making helpless girls angry and stylish boys nervous. He had black spiked hair that blew straight back and a cigarette clinched between teeth that could use a little more care. Suddenly, he took off on a side street never to be seen again by me…but his loud scooter haunted the air around the plaza as he road around other parts of the small dusty town.
The most interesting thing about this whole tradition is that it takes place three times a day…every day. The riders show up in the morning, at noon before lunch and at night, mostly after eating. Not only that, but many families in the town of Riberalta come out in droves on Friday and Saturday night, to fall into the vortex like stream of motor scooters going around and around and around the plaza, mainly because…well…they grew up doing it…and they have always done it this way.
As I sat and drank my liter of warm Coke-Cola and ate a fresh hot cheese empanada, I kept an eye out for something or someone unique. I began to think how silly all this was and how much time is wasted doing the same thing over and over again as the same crowd goes around and around the plaza…and going no where. “How silly.”
Then the voice…that quiet one that many times shows up when I am passing judgment on someone or something that I have no right to be passing judgment on.
“Oh…and you don’t do the same?”
I realized who was talking, and knew that it was time that I should sit still and listen. I was about to receive a lesson…whether I wanted one or not.
“You, just like those people on the scooters, spend countless hours going around and around in circles. You have many opportunities to make an impact for the Kingdom but you would rather keep going around and around in areas that feel really comfortable to you because getting outside the circle or doing something completely new may upset the boat…or be too hard.”
“They are doing what they do, day in and day out, because they are following the traditions of men…who do you want to follow?
Remember Ephesians 2:10…”For you are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus, to do good works, which He created in advance for you to do.”
“So what are you waiting on? Why are you going around and around in circles following a crowd?”
I felt ashamed for just a second, and then I heard him again. No not Him…but the crazy guy.
I heard the loud obnoxious muffler, off in a distance, as the rider and scooter must have passed a street that connected to the plaza. In my heart, I must have passed judgment on him as well, because the voice caught me off guard.
“By the way…I like the kid with the loud scooter. He’s not marching to any bodies drum…and he likes to mix things up. Notice he didn’t stay in that mass of folks going around and around for long, now did he? Nope, he got the heck out of there. That’s exactly the kind of guy that I can use. Reminds me a lot of that first group of trouble makers I called to follow me…all those boys from Galilee.”
This verse came to my mind…
“When they saw the courage of Peter and John and realized that they were unschooled, ordinary men, they were astonished and they took note that these men had been with Jesus.” Acts 4:13
Sitting there, looking at the mass of people going around and around, I thanked the Lord for that excellent picture of what I had become. If I truly do not want to be like everyone else, then I need to stop following them, and start following Jesus.
In Bolivia….wick
9/17/10
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