Missionaries

	My community was visited by a number of missionaries on about a tri-monthly basis. (Every three months.) They liked to visit my community because it was very close to the main road and they could drive out there quickly and make a day of the evangelization. Most brought helpful items, like: clothes, sports equipment, and one group even brought an entire medical brigade. Unfortunately a few groups spoiled my opinion of the rest. This is the story of the worst group of missionaries/people that I have ever met.
	I came across a group of children one day shouting, “Payaso, Payaso!” excitedly. When I inquired, I learned that a clown was coming to the school today to entertain the kids. My interest was piqued so instead of going up the mountain to tend my watermelon, tomato, cauliflower, and carrot patch, I decided to visit the school. It was crowded and there was a bus parked in front of it. Ten people emerged from the bus, they were dressed like tourists. (Shorts, sunglasses, straw hats, and short-sleeve shirts.)
	They entered the school and began to set up chairs and everything else for their assembly. I had them pegged as missionaries the instant I saw them. I walked up to them and helped them set up. They had not been informed that there would be another white person there so my sudden appearance and assistance came as a bit of a shock.
They told me they were from Texas and I told them a little bit about the community. At this point, one of them asked if I had allowed Jesus into my life. I don’t like sharing my faith with others, I believe it is something that causes rifts between people and is irrelevant as long as people try to lead a positive/helpful life. I told him that I was going to both churches in my community. (One Catholic and one Evangelical.) He responded, “But do you worship the true Jesus?” I had not been aware that there were a bunch of fake Jesuses out there tricking people into worshiping him. (Kind of a dick move Fake Jesus.)
	The leader asked if I would be willing to translate for them as none of their group spoke Spanish. They had brought a translator along, but they had begun to doubt whether of not he was accurately translating what they said. As my community is divided into Catholics and Evangelicals, I declined for fear of alienating either group. Upon my response, the man looked dead into my eyes and asked, “Why don’t you want to do the work of the Lord?” I told him to use the translator as my accent was hard to understand and my vocabulary wasn’t as advanced as the Nicaraguan man they hired for the job.
	While one missionary changed into a clown make-up, they began proselytizing and the man translated for them. They claimed they had prayed the cancer out of a woman’s stomach and their prayers gave the blind sight. It was obvious the translator was not buying anything they said and tried his best to put a spin on their words, but was ineffective at making them appear anything other than bat-shit crazy.
	Next they brought out the volunteer painted up like a clown and she blew a few balloons (three) and then popped them. Unfortunately that was all she did and it was painfully obvious the children were not fans of her abrupt act. They then decided to do an interpretive dance that mimicked the life of Jesus. It consisted of him dancing at the other missionaries who were pretending to smoke, drink, and steal until they stopped. The interpretive dance then ended with the mock-Jesus being given a pantomimed crucifixion.
As I watched that scene unfold with a bunch of five to thirteen year olds, I couldn’t help but notice the ridiculousness of it. The missionaries (Including the volunteer playing the clown.) watched the pantomimed crucifixion solemnly. It was one of the more surreal moments of my life, watching a clown with a painted-up grin trying to solemnly look on at a crucifixion. It turns out the kids also weren’t huge fans of watching a bunch of white people pretending to crucify a man while being told that it was because they sinned that lily-white Jesus was being mock-crucified.
Their presentation ended and they got aboard their bus. Before preparing to depart, a few volunteers decided to throw candy out the windows for the kids. The kids swarmed around the bus in an effort to grab the sweets they so rarely got to eat. It was here that the leader of the missionaries, who was also the pastor, stated, “They’re fighting over it like dogs!” He watched them throw more candy and shouted, “Fight dogs, fight!”
I had over-heard all of this and went to the driver’s window to ‘wish them farewell.’ The pastor leaned out the window and asked me, “Well, did we convince you to allow the one true God into your heart?” I can’t remember what I said exactly, but I do remember this little bit of vitriol, “I’m not going to change my religion for your shitty one because you brought a fucking clown. Never come back to this community. These people don’t need your condescending help.” Suffice it to say, they drove off in a bit of a huff and that is why I hold the belief that missionaries are some of the worst people I have ever met.