Category: Ecuador

The Nosedive Five

EDIT: This is actually being posted nearly two months later. It’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts folder for all that time, and though I don’t feel like I can do it any more justice than I could when I started writing it, I wanted this day to be recorded.

Travel Day: 8
On Ground Day: 6
Nicole’s Birthday
Final Day

This morning was early. Granted, we are used to that, and I would have rolled over semi-consciously when the stupid roosters started crowing anyway. But seriously having to roll out of bed at 4:00 AM and go to the kitchen would not have been on my to-do list of choice if I’d written the schedule for our eighth day in the jungle.

Breakfast meant seeing the kids for the last time. They came in basically in the dark and still sang their pre-meal songs and prayers. We definitely have our system down pat by now, and since some of the kids left last night, there was only one super-fast breakfast shift, another hearty meal of the brown sardine mush that makes me praise God for Chet’s dwindling supply of Nutri-Grain bars and sick at the thought that some of these kids are 5 years old and they are hiking for up to a day or more and probably will eat nothing else on the trip home.

That thought just kept slamming me as I watched groups trickle out into the jungle, mostly groups of tiny kids with one adult guide per group. And I was sympathetic before it started raining. And raining. And raining.

The gringos went back to the church to begin packing up. Chet handed out beef jerky to the guys before the girls came over. I’m really glad that he can’t go for days straight on yuca and rice either. Fabian sat singing “His Cheeseburger” from Veggietales and peeling us grapefruit, putting a candle-sized hole in one for Nicole. I’ve had weird birthdays. My 16th and 19th stick out in that regard. But Nicole’s a candle-topped jungle grapefruit takes the cake (no pun intended).

Chet talked to us for a while about the rain. The original plan was for us to go and bail out the runway with cups from the kitchen so that the water wouldn’t stop the planes from landing.

For emphasis and so that you know I’m not kidding, let me just say that again. We were going to go and bail out the runway with cups from the kitchen so that the water wouldn’t stop the planes from landing.

He also mentioned the possibility of planes not getting out, and that the order of flights would be two Ecuadorian groups (including Giberto (sp?), whose wife just had a baby back home), three gringo flights (Chet’s group being last) and then the rest of Rey’s crew. As a bit of foreshadowing… flex and flow, right?

As it turned out, Rey and Palabra de Vida wanted to give us a break. I don’t think I could have felt more appreciated (as I tried also not to feel guilty) for our work than by walking to Toca’s house down the runway as the Ecuadorians seriously did bail out the runway with coffee cups as the bit of afternoon sun helped to clear it up a little. Looking down at the still soaked and muddy landing strip and up at the 80%-gray, cloud-covered sky as we trekked to lunch with the Vice President, I was already skeptical that eight flights would get in to Toñamparé, much less out.

We were all pretty tired, and there wasn’t much talking over the delicious arroz con pollo. Sarah even had to jab Teddy a couple of times for that whole facial expression thing (as he can’t express himself of Wao) so he didn’t look like he hated the meal as he sat staring blankly into space from exhaustion.

Hiking was another one of those things that just would not have been in my own plans, but as it turned out, getting a lesson in jungle flora and fauna was pretty sweet, and so was standing by the beautiful, gigantic waterfall when we got to the end of our jungle journey. And somewhere in the discussion on the way back, Toca decided he’d teach us to shoot the blow gun. The big one. (As in “Keep-out-of-reach-of-chiiiiiildren.”) He set up a watermelon, and I just about hit it, and most of the guys came close. Necia and Danielle didn’t do bad either, but Jerry nailed the thing. I don’t think many gringos do that (though I don’t know how many non-Huaorani other than Chet they’d let try).

By that time, Chet decided that we couldn’t hang any longer or we’d be cutting it too close on the planes. We made it back to the church and actually part-way back to town when we heard the first engine in the sky. We RAN. I’m stunned we actually got all our belongings into various backpacks and Williams’ adventure racing bags, especially in so little time, and all of us were back at the other end of the landing strip as the first planes took off and the second set got ready.

That was the two Ecuadorian flights, and the first gringo flight did get out with Jerry, Necia, Matt and Angela. Next was supposed to be Teddy, Nicole Lane, Danielle and me. Somehow we switched with Chet, Fabian, Bryan, Sarah and Dana, and then again at the last moment, Dana and Nicole switched. Praise God- this turned into another birthday present for Nicole and a very much needed Spanish speaker in our group. She thought she’d just be the translator for the pilot, and I also think she might even have had the foresight to realize that another plane was NOT getting out. I should have known that after seeing a North American pilot scream in Spanish at an Ecuadorian pilot who had sat on the ground for 30 minutes and knowing how concerned he was as our time was being gambled against the ever-darkening weather.

Chet turned to us as it began to rain (having been misinformed that our plane was already in the air from Shell) and said “See you in Shell.” To give you an idea how confused things were already, the pilot (coincidentally named “Dan”) turned to him with a strange look and said “You’re going to Arahuno.” Chet’s smile faded just slightly, but he shrugged and said “Okay.” As he hopped into the cabin.

As the five gringos and Fabian faded into the looming clouds, we heard our last airplane engine for the night. That was it. There were no more planes leaving the ground, and in fact, we found out later that the ones in the air were disallowed to land in Shell, having to make instrument landings in Arahuno. The pilots used our sleeping pads to crash in the cargo areas of their planes.

Forgive me for the consistent redundancy in this post, but here’s that statement again: The pilots used our sleeping pads to crash in the cargo areas of their planes. That meant that our sleeping pads were in Arahuno, and we were in Toñamparé.

It was a pretty sad moment for us as we unpacked again, Teddy, Lane and I in the church (praise God we didn’t cut our lines and could re-hang our mosquito nets) and Dana and Danielle back in the house across from us. After that we walked back down the runway for the beginning of at least the fourth round trip to town that day. We felt appreciated again though, as the Ecuadorians did the “ritual of the rain” for us as we entered the kitchen and made us sit and be served first. And as for dinner, at least we got eggs again. My mom will think I’m crazy when I start putting eggs on my rice at home, but it was delicious.

We went back to the church and Dana went right into Maestra mode. Or maybe mom mode. Or at this point I’m just thinking that’s Dana’s all-the-time mode. We went around the circle of the five of us and talked about or feelings. Amazingly, all five of us had already worked out exactly why we were there, why God picked us at the five to be left behind (the “Nosedive Five” as Teddy named us), the individuals who needed to learn a specific lesson. All of us had different reasons, and all of us were pretty honest about it, to the point that it wasn’t hard for me to open up and express myself at all, and that I could gain a newfound respect for two people in the group, and an unexpected friendship with another. I doubt that that conversation will ever leave that circle, if only because there is absolutely no one who could understand it without being there. We say that a lot about experiences with Youth World and Ecuador, but this is one that I will not even attempt.

I played guitar in the dark and prayed to close us out, and it was cool to have five musically talented gringos singing praises and choosing joy despite the ridiculous circumstances. I realized about halfway through my favorite song of all time that we were probably waking up Dayuma next door and tried to keep it down, but just couldn’t help it. That will go down as one of my favorite and most meaningful worship experiences ever.

MUD (a.k.a. "Where the heck is Fabian?")

Travel Day: 7
On Ground Day: 5
Father’s Day 2008

I’ll just skip right over breakfast and lunch. The highlight today was the sports.

Normally the kids go play basketball and soccer after the afternoon program until dinner. Today it rained. And I mean it RAINED. The town was soaked and the mud that we’ve become so accustomed to walking through (and having all over us) was amplified by an immeasurable magnitude. While we were cleaning up lunch, Gustavo and Carlos (two of the younger guys on Rey’s crew, both about 18) asked Bryan if four of us gringo guys would play soccer with them in the mud. This was eventually extended to all of us, as many as wanted and girls included as well. I wasn’t keen on the idea, because I like to be dry. And clean. And dry. And not uselessly exhausted by dinner. And dry.

Knowing there was no way I was going to remain dry if anyone was playing anything in the mud, I went back to the church and changed into my swimsuit. Good thing. We got owned in gringo vs. Ecuadorian tug-of-war (twice, no less) and then th kids did all of the games from the other night… just in the mud. It started raining even harder for a while there and mud was everywhere. By the time it stopped, the games had dissolved into a giant mud fight with everyone involved. Not wearing a shirt, I looked clean even when I was covered in mud, and I got taken down about six times. Jonathan and a couple of the guys even carried me to a huge puddle and just dropped me in.

We took down Chet, and even Reynaldo and by the end, whether you were gringito, Ecuadorian national, or Huaorani, everyone looked the same: COVERED in mud. We looked around at the end and realized Fabian was nowhere to be found. I think he heard the first hint of mud and vanished back to the church to sleep or play with the parrot. Pastors!

We decided the best way to get clean would be to trek back to the Curaray River and Palm Beach (though the beach itself was actually fully underwater at that point). A long and muddy hike later we were back at the river, and all able to just jump in (nobody brought boots or other “stuff,” thank God). The current is intense, and I now understand why Ed McCully’s body was never recovered. Even swimming against the current, which doesn’t look like much from shore, it was very hard to even stay in the same place.

We got all the mud off, but entirely missed the “shore” downstream where we needed to get out. It was really stressful there for a minute, especially trying to make sure the girls (who could not touch the bottom and who also had a really hard time getting to the side to grab something) were all alright. We found a place to climb out, with Chet basically dragging most of us out of the water, but Teddy and Bryan had to get Danielle and Nicole out even farther downstream when they couldn’t get back up to us.

It is something I’ll never forget, and every one of us had a different experience there. But as we trekked back through the mud (requiring another shower when we reached “home” again) the question again arose “Where the heck is Fabian?” He always seems to miss these mishaps. He’s probably better off.

We made it just in time for serving dinner and everyone pitched in with dishes again to “git ‘er done” and get to the program. We were first up tonight, and did the songs we’d planned on yesterday. It was very cool to see how into it the whole camp was, and how appreciative they were, especially since we were hard to hear with a plugged-in guitar but basically no amplification of the voices. Everyone joined in when we sang “Lord I Lift Your Name On High” because the kids know it in Spanish.

We stayed for a bit of the award ceremony and end-of-camp activities, but we had debrief to do ourselves and knew it would take a long time on the last night, so we took off early. Debrief was “Pass the Staff” (except it was actually “Pass Chet’s Machete”). The idea is that you take the “staff” and give it to someone else in the circle and say something positive about them. I got a chance to pass the machete to Sarah, Nicole, and Fabian and jump in while Chet, and Jerry had it. (My comment to Fabian was- in short- that we tend to wonder where the heck he is, but he picked a project and stuck it out. If he wasn’t at the church, he was in the kitchen doing those benches and it was a testament to his perseverance that I really admired). It was passed to everyone at least once and everyone had some really great things said. I don’t think anyone was really flattered out of their minds. Quite the opposite, most of us seemed to feel (I know I did) that what everyone says was just “who we are.” But that was the point. Just being who we are, we’re unique and special and each have our own God-given abilities and personalities that compliment the team as a whole and it was really great to know how much we can be appreciated.

It was a muddy day, but it was fun for everyone in that town, and a bonding experience for thirteen gringos and a pastor.

Fair Trade?

This is a thought from today. I separated it from the rest of today’s entry for emphasis and to differentiate the seriousness here.

Dayuma is a Huaorani woman. You can read her history right here, but the long and short of it is that she’s the reason we’re all here.

She taught Rachel Saint Wao and learned Spanish from her. She also speaks Quechua and some English phrases. After Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, Pete Flemming, Ed McCully, and Roger Youderian were killed, it was Dayuma who brought Elisabeth Elliot and Rachel Saint to the Hauorani. She was the first Christian Huaorani and Rachel Saint credited her as being “the preacher” to the tribe and beginning the transformation of the Huaorani from possibly the most violent tribe in the world to one of the most peaceful.

She could be living in Quito, or in the States. She is known all over the world as a Christian leader and the Rosetta Stone of the Huaorani. And here she is in Toñamparé, her home, with her people, hobbling along on a stick making necklaces for gringos. Four feet of concrete, trilingual, and content.

So before lunch started being served today, I found myself sitting next to her on the bench outside the kitchen. She began to speak to me, and I don’t even know if it was in Spanish, Wao, or Quechua. All I know is I didn’t understand. She smiled at me and asked a couple questions, but decided pretty fast I was either a very strange gringo or I didn’t have a clue what she was saying. She did look at my water bottle, and I held it up and unscrewed it and asked (in English) if she wanted some. She caught the gist and took a long drink.

And that was that. Soon I found myself putting spoons in bowls and bowls on tables and I’m not really sure where she wandered off to.

This woman handed us her entire culture. I gave her a drink. Can that even begin to repay her?

Testimonies

Travel Day: 6
On Ground Day: 4

I’ll give you a break today and not write six billion paragraphs. This is mostly because my revelations for the day were a lot more personal, and because even though we got to watch some sports and talk and play with kids a lot more than we have been, there were a lot less events crammed in today.

Morning was the usual: Fabian singing, devo, breakfast.

After breakfast the morning was a get-to-know people sesssion. We split into three groups of two parejas each. Dana/Bryan/Matt/Angela, Teddy/Nicole/Jerry/Necia, and Lane/Danielle/Sarah/me. The idea was to tell the group, particularly our pareja just our life story, our family, our walk with God; a testimony of sorts. Sarah and Danielle were away from the group when this was decided and Sarah was being a nurse, fixing up a really nasty cut a Huaorani girl had gotten. You could just see the joy in her eyes as she got to do what she does and what she loves. When the first ten minutes of our alotted half an hour had gone by, we thought we’d get to get started, but we were commandeered to go pick lemons.

It wasn’t quite the trek that the banana hunters would take later on (I’m really glad for the sake of dryness that I wasn’t on that excursion) but it was a little wet and muddy. When we got to the lemon tree it was raining, but fortunately the appropriate way to pick them is from inside the hanging branches, so we were totally covered. Unfortunatly, we were not warned that the large chunks of dead leaves and dirt in the branches were ant nests. And these are mean ants. They bite immediately and it hurts. I had three get on my arm and suffered several bites from each before I could get them off. I think they just have really strong pincers because I only squeezed one of the bites, and though it looked like some venom came out, all of them stopped burning fairly quickly. Crushing the doggone ants is the hardest part. You can break the things in half and the head half will still be biting your hand.

We took them back to the kitchen and then finally (about the time we were originally supposed to be finished) started on the testimonies. Its funny how a consistent topic in these kind of conversations throughout all twelve of us has been trust issues, and yet out of the four of us who had been strangers at the beginning of training, we talked and heard about fears, issues, and stumbles amidst faith, family, friends and relationships. Lots about relationships. A certain superlative I got in our senior yearbook was even mentioned. Oh well.

Overall it was a really great experience. I think it let us even have some revelations about ourselves as we verbally, externally processed our own faith journeys for our pareja and friends. And ended in prayer.

We made it back to lunch really late. The kids were already lining up, and it was really good that Dana, Necia and Jerry had gotten back on time to set up. I did help serve for a while, and when all the plates were passed out, I felt like Milton in Office Space (“The ratio of cake to people…”). Dana, fortunately, is awesome (and not a big eater) and shared her gigantic bowl with me, so I got lunch even though we actually ran out of food (EDIT: This was the only meal all 8 days that Roberto did not personally serve. I think he was working on dinner already. That man can stretch some food).

After we were relieved for lunch dishes afterward, I discovered that I literally had an ant in my pants. One of those monster ones from the lemon tree. Tons of fun, let me tell you, especially when he gets to bite you several times before you realize what it is. But it turned out okay, because I went back to the church to get Chet’s bug bite/anti-itch stuff and it began raining just as I was walking in the door, greeted by Teddy and Lane. It downpoured for maybe forty-five minutes, and so while we were stuck there, the three of us just got to nap in our own beds while everyone else was stuck in the kitchen or under the covering in town. And since the ant bites are more of an immediate than an ongoing problem, it turned out that the little guy gave me a little extra sleep. Too bad I crushed him under my thumb. Oh well, little ant. Maybe you taught me not to be so vindictive as well. You’ll never know.

Back just in time to set up/eat/clean up dinner and get in some practice. We were asked to sing for the program, so we had three songs prepared (Lord I Lift Your Name on High, Every Move I Make, and Open The Eyes of My Heart) and I was relieved from dishes to practice while all 12 other gringos and Fabian washed them all in record time. When we finally headed to the program, I’m not sure if we were just a few minutes too late or if we had misunderstood the request. But whatever the case, the entire program was a play in several acts with all of the South American crew involved. It was a Share-the-Gospel message as well as an anti-alcohol message that seemed pretty intense for some of the younger ones. Rey came out at the end and gave a straight up sermon about alcoholism and just slammed the secular part of Huaorani culture. Even Sarah just started giving me the highlights in her translation after a while (EDIT: It was Monday before I really began to realize how important a message that was and why Rey felt so strongly, and why those two topics were woven together the way they were. I only discuss it briefly in the post, but see my writing from Monday, June 16).

Debrief was Jerry and Necia and they had us write down 10 essential characteristics of life. It is a hard exercise to explain, and took us a little while to catch on ourselves, but it really made us think about what we need, and what we hope we’ve gained from our time with the Huaorani. We each said our number one from our list and could talk about it if we wanted. Mine was Faith. Necia’s was Brokenness, but the one from her list that stuck out to me was Surrender. When we split into parejas, Sarah and I each stole a couple of each other’s, and I’m sure that this is something I could do all the time and maybe have two the same (definitely one) and new ones depending on the stage of my life and my walk with God at the time. I may even do that periodically to see what they would be.

What would your top ten essentials be?

"I've never seen Gringos work that hard"

Travel Day: 5
On Ground Day: 3

Devo this morning was really cool. I sat next to Sarah, which meant I actually got it translated today, including when some of the Ecuadorian crew got up and spoke about different experiences with the kids, some of them learning and growing, and a couple of them even accepting Christ. Going hand-in-hand with last night, it really made me feel connected to the camp aspect that I’m not necessarily right there for all the time. Rey also had a pretty powerful message just for those of us on the two teams (which I’m really starting to consider one team now that we’ve been working together with them so much).

After scripture we had a traditional Ecuadorian breakfast. For the uninitiated, that means sweet (sort of) bread and café con leche (coffee with milk, though it’s much more milk and delicious). There was also two kinds of cake, but I just can’t handle that that early. During the devotional and breakfast there was a short rain shower, just enough to get us a little wet and seem to cleanse the whole place a little. There’s the recurring theme for the day. Things being washed away.

Breakfast for the kids was super smooth. We had it prepared, set up and out for them, then did it again for the second batch and had the whole thing cleaned up before the program even started.

We got over to the program ourselves and were able to sing a lot of the Spanish songs. The Hudson Taylor story continued and then the game for the session was a sort of scavenger hunt. The whole camp has been divided into two teams. Both are lions (one is named león, lion in Spanish, and the other is named lion in Wao, the Huaorani language). We tell them apart because one has a red flag and the other a blue flag, so in true old-school camp style, they’re the red and blue teams. EVERYTHING is a competition. Even who can be louder singing songs and chants before the blessings each mealtime. The scavenger hunt was pretty intense. The WHOLE team would have to run outside and grab something, say an object a counselor outside was holding for them, or go tag one of the dogs (the Huaorani dogs are of even more interest than other dogs or even Ecuadogs here. Ask me about it some time) or something like that. Whoever brought it back first won a point. Finally, to Chet’s total surprise, Reynaldo called out from the stage that he needed a “pelo de barba de Ricardo” (probably bad Spanish there. But basically he called for one of Chet’s beard hairs- incidentally, his real name is Richard. Never put that together before).

One hundred fifty Huaorani kids swarmed Chet and pulled his (sweet) goatee. He tried batting them off at first but just gave in eventually. There’s no escaping Huaorani kids (EDIT: After this, Rey had it coming to him. See tomorrow’s post about mud wrestling… the Christian kind).

Before lunch while the kids were doing devotionals, we headed out to pass out some tracts to houses in the community. Granted, they were in Spanish, but ever since Cameron’s story about the group throwing them from their car (sorry- I don’t have the retelling ability to explain that one to anyone other than last year’s Christ Episcopal Ecuador team), I just have this bad connotation for tracts.

We split into groups and I ended up with Chet, Toca (the Vice President), Danielle and another Huaorani man. We were told we’d make a stop at Toca’s house to drink some chicha and then be on our way. The whole point of this thing was to just talk to some of the Huaorani because part of their obligation to the camp was that each household was supposed to supply a day’s worth of Yuca. We never made it to any other houses. We watched Toca’s wife and daughter(?) make chicha and drank some ourselves. Chet said he’s had some that will just knock you out, but most of it is not allowed to ferment very long. This stuff was pretty fresh and was more like Sprite than anything. You could feel it going down a little bit, but its less intense than wine. Funny that the only alcohol other than Communion that I’ve consumed in the last year has been champagne and chicha, both in Ecuador.

So after that, we went to pull more Yuca. I wasn’t exactly excited, but I was at least prepared. I pulled one stalk and Danielle and I cleaned most of that. Between us and Chet and the Huaorani we had it packed up in no time. The President grabbed the bag and hauled it out this time. I was very grateful. We made a brief stop at Toca’s on the way back in to the town to collect leg of jungle pig (seriously. A leg of jungle pig) and a bag of grapefruit, which I carried Yuca-sack style back into town. The President beat me by a mile, but I didn’t stop or take it off or slow down too much. But I really couldn’t breathe when I finally got back to the kitchen. It’s a long walk down the runway with a bag of jungle grapefruit on your back.

We were the last group back and lunch was mostly set up when I got there we ate, and were relieved again for lunch. We decided as a group that because of the sheer amount of work the kitchen crew does, the sports people will relieve us of dishes, however, we’re taking our break/quiet time/devotional time in the mornings now so that we can help the relief crew get back to the sports on time and have a bit of down time just before they stand and ref back-to-back soccer and basketball games in the sun. That way, neither group has to work for four hours straight.

The girls went up to take a shower at the “shower”. Jerry and I headed back “home” to the church and took more of a bath in the stream down from us. That was really great. We didn’t have to go far, and you don’t have to be totally covered in freezing water all at once, though it does feel really good when you’ve been pulling Yuca all morning.

Dinner went smoothly, but we were told we might run out of water for washing up afterwards. I’m not exactly sure how the small hose that brings a little stream of water to the kitchen actually works, or from which water source it is diverted. I’m not even sure how they knew it was a possibility it might not be getting any water to us. All I know is that they were right. Fortunatly there is a big oil-barrel-sized-and-shaped plastic container where the hose is placed all day when not in use. It stays pretty full most of the time with clean water and you can dip a pitcher in for water when someone else is using the hose. It does get empty pretty fast when it’s used frequently though, and takes forever to fill back up because there is very little pressure in the hose even when it works properly. I was afraid we’d run out of water before we were finished with the cups, but sort of like 1 Kings 17, the container did not run dry until the hose began to work again.

We went to the program when we were finished. It was fantastic. Renaldo and company did a skit about giving your heart to God for the kids. I know it was aimed at the campers, but it hit me really hard. It was a wordless skit, and the gist of it was that a missionary (Bryan) told an unbeliever (Rey) the Good News. He scoffed at it at first, but then He began to feel it in his heart. They pounded a mic offstage, heartbeat style to make this super evident. He went to go have a beer with his friends, and they could hear the heartbeat. He finally took his heart out of his chest and showed them (symbolizing showing them the Love of God) and they all laughed and wouldn’t give him a can of beer unless he gave one of them his heart. So he made the trade, but they simply tossed his heart around and stomped it into the ground and spat on it. It stopped beating, and they left with Rey on the ground. He tried to revive his heart, and finally lifted it up to God and it began to beat again. Then the process started again with Rey trying to impress a girl (Carolina, 18 one of the members of his ministry who is straight out of high school and did a fantastic job with the girls for whom she was a counselor). He gave her his heart and she held onto it for a while and held his hand, but then another guy came along (Teddy) and she went off with him. He begged for his heart back, but as she held it out, Teddy slammed his hand down and smooshed it with a loud CLAP and walked off with the girl in tow.

At this point I just stopped watching (not out of disrespect, I just had the thing figured out at that point) and listened to the music and prayed. It really drove home for me how much we give ourselves (and by that I mean how much I give myself) to things other than God, and that only He can revive my heart.

I don’t really remember anything else until I found myself sitting in our room again for debrief. Lane and Danielle had us throw out an event, but they didn’t make everyone say anything. I was (unsurprisingly) one of the silent ones along with two other people. I did get a lot out of what everyone else said, but I was mostly just waiting to talk to Sarah about the skit. It’s become basically the high point of our debrief and a great way to end it in splitting into parejas to go in depth. I don’t know if we were just on the same wavelength throughout the program or if she just had me pegged when I didn’t speak up with the whole group, but she talked about the skit before I could even get the words out of my mouth. I love it when things just fall into place.

A fantastic conversation, prayer and half a Snickers each later, it was time for bed. I think the last four days have really been a cross-section of a short-term mission for me, both on the surface and deeper. I’ve had a day of devotion, a day of work, a day of service and a day of learning. Not that each of those things aren’t happening all the time, but one just stood out for me each day, and I’m finding myself really grateful for Sarah, Rey, Roberto and Dana particularly over the course of this week for helping that along.

Thoughts:The quote that is the title of this entry came from Roberto. He said that to Bryan, talking about us in the kitchen, and Bryan told me after debrief when it had been mentioned that we feel like we’ve accomplished something at the end of the day. We didn’t set out to impress anyone, nor am I bragging about it now. It’s just that I find it interesting how much he appreciates us when I feel like he’s the hardest working guy in this camp, and its because of his attitude and the way he pours himself into his work that I think we get so motivated when we are around him.Secondly I mentioned yesterday what an amazing job Rey’s group has done and is doing here. Dana put it very bluntly over our dishwashing conversation: she said that a lot of times we think “Oh, we’ll just be here and do what we can and they’ll never know the difference if it’s not perfect because they’re just the jungle kids.” But these guys have just poured themselves into every aspect of this camp. The actual VBS part of it, the decorations, the food, the games, the devotionals, the relationships with the kids, the music. They aren’t cheating them out of the experience, and in fact I’ve never seen a camp or VBS put on so well anywhere in my entire life. That’s a bunch with true servants’ hearts.

Refreshed

Travel Day: 4

On Ground Day: 2

Every morning we’ve been waking up to Fabian. I’m usually conscious enough to hear Chet to say “Bryan?”, which means “Wake everyone up, Mr. Maestro.” Immediatley Fabian, in his awesome Ecuadorian accent starts repeating “Bryan? Bryan? Bryan?… Bryaaan? Bryyyyan? Bryan?”

This morning was no exception, and it continued when he burst into song. I’m not sure if I find it obnoxious or hillarious when he belts out “Buenos dias, Señor Jesus!” and “Acompantes, acompantes….” He’s like a human alarm clock. And considering there are no other morning people in the group (even Chet just shakes his head and walks outside) he takes a lot of grief for it, but just stands and stares at you for a while and then shrugs and continues singing.

As we were all brushing our teeth outside the church, our new home, Fabian walked next door to Dayuma‘s house. She has a covered area out front for storage and where her animals hang out, particularly a parrot. Fabian was putting his finger out, trying to get the bird to land on it. In a high-pitched parrot voice he would say “Hola amiga?” and the bird would flap its wings violently and go “SQWUAAAAAAAAK!” and try to bite the outstretched finger. This continued for twenty minutes. I kid you not.

We had devotion with Rey’s group and made it only about 4 minutes late. Pretty good for gringos, and amazing that the Ecuadorians started on time, even when the missionary in charge is Columbian. The kitchen crew took off while everyone was having coffee and some semblance of breakfast cake. We had breakfast set up and ready to go in no time. Roberto informed us that it was much easier for him and us and much less complicated for the kids if we just put spoons in the bowls rather than on the table. This really did make life much easier, just setting the places with cups and bringing the food over in a sort of assembly line. Meanwhile, Fabian was working on those benches from yesterday. Turns out that he and a couple others are putting some wood on the bottom to make a long flat surface to touch the ground on each leg, rather than a pointed end that digs into the ground. This will help stabilize them as well as keep our “remodeling” work from being undone.

One thing that I did not mention about yesterday and that I might have failed to mention today except for some events that will occur later in this story is what we do when the kids arrive. Dana was really excited for the kids last night and as they lined up outside and we had nothing to do until they were finished eating, she said “Let’s make a tunnel!” So all five gringos stood on one or the other side of the door, put our arms up and out for them to run underneath and smiled and yelled “Whooooooo!” as the children came in. The littlest ones were totally confused, but some of the older ones really liked it.

We had opened several cans of sardines but we didn’t see them in breakfast. Nicole said as we were eating that if we were having sardines for lunch, she was going to be packing in this stuff. The “stuff” in question was a crumbly, dried sort of brown something. There’s just not even any kind of breakfast I can compare it to. Even oatmeal is just too liquid-y even in its driest form to compare, and I had no clue what any of the ingredients were at the time, and only know one of them now. Fortunately, it was easy to clean up.

The cups got done first (which is something we learned to start doing the rest of the day) and then the spoons and finally the bowls and it just flew by, with not much to scrape or scrub or rinse off before actually washing them. We had plenty of time to make it over to the program, which was a story about Hudson Taylor in Spanish of which I at least caught the gist. As the kids went out to do devotion time in their age groups with counselors, we headed back to the kitchen, which feels like our base of operations now. Between not having worked our tails off for breakfast like we had with all previous meals and the fact that we were upbeat from Fabian’s singing and the parrot and had had a fairly happy morning, it was like we had settled into our place here.

Now that all the kids are here, it takes two shifts for them all to eat. About 90-115 (depending on what is being served) come in for the first batch. Then when they leave, we clean up and reset as fast as we can and let in the other 45-60 kids (depending) and then the gringos (the other eight) and then the kitchen crew (gringos, Ecuadorians, and Huaorani) and any other Huaorani who would like to eat. It’s really cool that they get to come because the extra food goes to good use and because the people in town are becoming very involved in what’s going on here, watching, helping, and coming to the program each session.

Lunch contained tuna, and we discovered in the course of setting it out that those sardines HAD been in our breakfast. Nicole was really happy to learn that. At least it was a painless way to consume them, not knowing. Ignorance is bliss.

And on the bliss front, it turned out that after we (the kitchen crew) sat down, we were D-O-N DONE. (I know how to spell, it’s a YouthWorld joke). Bryan, Chet, Sarah, Teddy and probably a couple others relieved us from lunch dishes. Dana had gotten a chance to talk to Chet about the extreme amount of exhaustion we had felt yesterday (and to think I was worried I wouldn’t be doing enough work on the kitchen crew) and they decided to step in for us. We went to take showers and have some desperately needed quiet time.

This afternoon was the first time in Toñamparé that I got to take a little bit of a nap, and to do my Quito Quest Intern devotional and read scripture and to just have some prayer time. It was really good to realize how much we have actually accomplished, despite feeling like we are trapped in one little area for the largest chunk of the day. We had talked on the way back how that was really sweet of them to step up for us (but how we were sure we looked exhausted) and by the time we walked back I felt really refreshed. Refreshed. I just want to put emphasis on that word because it would become a theme the rest of the day. For me, personally because I felt like the floaters and sports/generator crew that switched us out for lunch dishes were just an answer to prayer. I asked yesterday to be able to have the energy to just keep doing my job all week and to glorify God through it, and those guys definitely gave us the ability to do that, and to have the time to remember what we’re here for.

We went back for dinner and set up again. It was getting dark by the time Rey, Angel, and the rest let the kids out of the session, but fortunately the generator guys had string wiring and two light bulbs in the kitchen and had the generator going five minutes into the meal. The kid applauded when they cranked it up.

Dinner was rice, lentils and eggs with lemonade (though we found out that the water for the lemonade isn’t purified, and despite being heated, we’re trying to stay away from it. Back to the Nalgene bottles). When the kids were lining up outside, two of the Ecuadorians said “Let’s do the Ritual of the Rain!” Dana knew what this meant even before she was done translating that sentence for us, and all of us were laughing as we ran to make the tunnel. We thought the kids would think we were crazy gringos. The adults certainly do, but it is truly a sign of partnership that they join in with us in our idiocy. And apparently the kids like it. Besides that, we get to show our enthusiasm for our assigned job and for the kids that we’re truly here for, making them feel at peace and at home as they learn about God and have an amazing camp (EDIT: see Saturday, June 14th’s post about the “amazing” aspect of the camp that Rey’s group is putting on here).

It also turns out that they constructed a new table outside during the afternoon. We’d had one before, but it was small and short. This one was a little taller and a little longer, and the Huaorani who had made it had done so specifically for us to wash the dishes. If there was one thing they could do to show their appreciation for us beyond the “Ritual of the Rain,” that was it. I’m sure it sounds silly if you are reading this on a screen in North America, but that we were noticed and thought of cared for was really just touching, especially in light of knowing the usual sentiment toward gringos, “We love them, they bring money.” I’m seriously tearing up right now typing about a table.

At any rate, we now had dishes down the a science. Fabian (who was at this point about 80% finished with all those benches: this guy is a work-a-holic) made sure the spoons were cleaned and dried, aquiring the nickname “Spoon Boy.” It also turns out the Roberto has been boiling water and keeping the spoons in it for half and hour or so after every meal so that they really are sanitized. That made me feel much better about our ability to clean them, and I can handle cups and bowls. I’m sure I’ve eaten off worse at Boy Scout camps. The rest of us ripped right through the cups and then the bowls in record time, especially since we now had room to stack the dirty dishes outside and then pass them through two wash buckets and a rinse bucket and a “clean” bucket to take back inside as we had the table/working space for everyone to be involved at once and be out of the way of the diligent Huaorani women who cleaned the nastiest cooking bowls before we could even get to them.

We went to the program and I thought we would be getting to bed soon. But this is Flexador, right? I can’t honestly say I wasn’t grumpy going into this, wanting to have debrief and be D-O-N DONE. But we went outside in the dark and cranked up the generator for some makeshift light posts and played games. The kids did a South American style tug-of-war with inner tubes rather than rope. One from each team would grab the inner tube and hang on and the rest would hold on to the kid in front’s waist and pull. It’s really a lot more violent but also a lot more effective than our way. After several rounds of that they did the same thing grabbing the waist, but formed two “caterpillars” and tied a balloon to the waist of the last one in line. The first kid in line had to pop the balloon of the last person on the other team, and no one could let go of the person in front of them. Hilarious to watch.

Finally, it was an obstacle course. Each team had ten people line up behind an inner tube. The first kid would scramble through the tube, grab a broomstick and do ten fast-paced turns to get dizzy. Then they’d run and have to stop and put their face to a plate on the ground full of water, grab a piece of candy out of the middle with their teeth, and spit it to the side. Then they’d get up and run in a straight line to another plate covered with flour and grab another piece of candy with their teeth and spit it out, but now the flour would be all over their wet face. Finally, they’d run again to a soccer ball and have to kick it into a “goal,” two sticks, each held by a counselor. It was pretty wide, but dizzy and with flour in your eyes, even for kids who play just about no other sports butsoccer, it was a tough shot. When they finally made it, the second kid would scramble through the inner tube at the beginning and do the same process.

After all the different age groups had gone, rotating a set of two girl teams and a set of two guy teams against each other, the counselors went.

Then they decided it would be a good idea for the gringos to participate. So the six gringo guys went head-to-head with the six gringo girls. We had a huddle and it was unanimous: there was no way we were going to get beaten by girls. We flew through that thing, and I was last in line, which meant everyone else got to stand and yell “GO FASTER DANNY” as I spun around the broomstick and headed off toward the candy. Being the VERY LAST person through all the water and flour, it was disgusting and dirty, and I couldn’t find the candy, and had grit in my teeth for hours when I got done. But when I kicked that goal and the whistle blew, we were a full person ahead with Nicole still standing behind the inner tube.

And we were disgusting. I’m hoping Chet will have some pictures I can insert here of us covered in flour and mud. And all we had was our Nalgene bottles (we were out of both water in our cooler and buckets from which we could pump without going up to the “shower” again) with which we could get our faces and hair clean. For those of us with facial hair (though fortunately I shaved before we left Adam and Sarah’s so it wasn’t too bad) this was an exceptionally fun experience. But the kids cheered us on and thought we were awesome. For those of us who are in the kitchen all day and only get to see the kids when they eat, it really made us feel a part of the camp and beginning to have a relationship with them. I think it also raised us a few notches in Rey’s crew’s eyes, because in their experience gringos can be high and mighty and certainly wouldn’t deign to do a children’s obstacle course when they could be headed back to the church to sleep. (PS- if I didn’t relay this already, the church is very much like the buildings we were in before, in that it is open and has the fence for window/walls above chest level so you can see out and so we could tie our mosquito nets in the same manner. That has no bearing on what I’m writing, I just don’t want to give the wrong impression when I say “sleeping in the church”).

We did head back after that, but the whole town was heading to bed too. It was probably about 10:30 by this time, and for people who are used to rising and setting with the sun, that was a loooong day (sunset is around sixish and there was a lot of activity between then and the end of the games).

Teddy and Nicole led debrief, and as it turns out, they used the “one word” debrief that Sarah and I intentionally saved for someone else. Not that we can’t do the same one again, but I feel like we like being creative, and it’s a good way to practice different methods before we do them with our teams. I won’t get into my word, because I feel like I can get my message across without it. The one that has stuck with me (other than Chet’s being “Tortilla”) was Sarah’s: Refreshed. She’d felt spiritually refreshed working with the kids and holding a baby for a large chunk of the day, and getting to be a nurse for a while, and listening to God realizing a new Call in her life. I was really glad that we split up into parejas to talk about our words and pray once we’d all shared our word and whoever wanted to had gotten a chance to explain their related feelings. And I was really glad that it was my pareja who had said something that resonated with me so much, especially on a day that I had spent so much time with God and really really felt like I had found a place among my friends in the kitchen crew and in the camp with the kids as a whole.

Praying with Sarah was also a really great experience, just because of getting to know each other, and being able to talk out our fears and frustrations and joys and lessons learned. She also prayed for something that will stick with me for a long time (cryptic key word for my own memory when I read this later= tickle).

Chet finally let us break into the junk food tonight. We had Chips Ahoy and Oreos as we debriefed and prayed and had a brief meeting afterward about the plans for tomorrow with Rey and for ourselves, who would be doing and leading what (Lane and Danielle will be taking debrief tomorrow and we’ll have another devo session at 6:30 for which we plan to be fully on time).

Six o’clock will come early, but as much as it has been another truly long day, I feel truly Refreshed, and I feel that the team does as a whole as well.

The Longest Day

Travel Day: 3
On Ground Day: 1

We woke up early again. Early for me anyway. 6:45. Breakfast was roughly at 7:30 and we were supposed to be there to help set up 15 minutes before the meal. Note to self: we need to wake up earlier tomorrow.

We were able to basically set the last of the tables. The “two” tables I saw last night are actually three on each side pushed together in a long line, Hogwarts style. The original kitchen crew (you’ll see why I say “original” in a little while) felt a little bit useless as our drinkable oatmeal and more of the lemon drop juice stuff was already cooked and ready to go. We put it out for the kids, and not long after we got there they all showed up. We filled probably four tables between Rey’s crew, the kids and the Gringos. We did get to clean up a little bit, collecting all the dishes.

After that the kids went to the program. I’m not sure what the building is usually used for, maybe storage, barn-style. It has a stage (although that may not be its purpose all the time), but I assume that the church (which is at the other end of the runway… see this semi-accurate map) is the usual meeting place. At any rate, Reynaldo and company went all-out decorating this building to be the main gathering place for the camp/VBS. While everyone was headed that way, Chet talked to Rey and came to the conclusion that we needed to redistribute the jobs.

It was just about the same as before, except we only needed two floaters and plus two on generator duty (moving it across from the meeting building to storage and making sure both that one and the one at the kitchen were running and full of gas). Teddy and Lane got that job, with Chet now with Sarah as floaters, Dana and Fabian with the remaining kitchen crew and sports left the same. We were also informed that the gringos needed to be at the kitchen no later than 30 minutes before each meal.

We split up to go to our designated places, meaning Jerry, Necia, Dana, Danielle, Fabian and I headed back to the kitchen. Turns out that Roberto, one of Rey’s crew is a chef and will be doing all the food. We basically get to facilitate that, which is a lot harder than it initially seemed. We finished cleaning up from breakfast, which meant washing all the dishes outside with two sponges, a little bit of soap and cold river water. We really didn’t feel this was sanitary at first, but Dana pointed out that this is so different from how it is normally done (maybe a river-water rinse) that it should be fantastic. That didn’t really ease my worries about level of sanitation for gringos.

While we were inside setting up for the next meal, Roberto determined that the floor needed to be evened out. So with a shovel for the dirt floor and a machete and a hammer for the benches, work began. As Necia put it, “You can remodel a dirt floor.” It was tough going, and Necia used those Montana farm girl skills to totally show me up and shoveling the very hard floor, chopping it up where it was high and moving and packing dirt to where it was low, along with using more, slightly damper ground from outside to fill in the holes made by the bench legs in the ground.

Fabian and a Huaorani man who I never saw again (probably because we got progressively busier and less attentive to my surroundings as the day went on rather than because he disappeared) began hacking away at the legs of the benches, flipped over on the table. I thought they were just going to even them out be making all of the battered legs the same length again. I even attempted to help for a while, but the Huaorani carpenter figured out how useless I was pretty fast as I chopped away at the bench with the machete. He took it off in two hacks, Ken Jefferson masonry style, sending me back to Necia and the shovel.

About then Chet came in and asked if we wanted to go get some Yucca. Sure. Why not? So Toca took us back to his house. On the way there we discovered that he is the Vice President of Toñamparé and the quiet, unassuming young man walking with us was the President. They were really cool and took us in to Toca’s and told us all about the different plants and trees growing around his place and about his 7 kids. We tried a little bit of Chicha and sat in hammocks for a while and then finally went out. We trekked through a long, winding path through the jungle back to where the Yucca grows. We learned the difference between 1, 3, 5 and 8-month old Yucca just from the stalks and branches growing out the the ground. Each different age of Yucca is used for different things, cooking, making chicha, making stronger chicha, etc.

It’s a LOT of work to pull it out. They chop it with a machete, then clear out the ground around it. Rocking it back and forth loosens the roots from the ground and keeps you from pulling up the stalk with nothing on it. Finally, you yank it out. If you are a gringo, you are lucky to get about five average-sized Yucca with it. If you’re Huaorani, you can pull up a whole plant with maybe twenty of them hanging on and none in the ground.

Then you get to clean them. That means scraping the mud off with a semi-dry stick until it’s more slick than crumbly on the outside. All of it goes into a basket made of fibers that is placed on the back with a strap on your head, above the forehead and below the middle of your head. It is HEAVY. I really wondered at first who came up with this system of carrying Yucca and why they thought it was the best idea. I learned after they stuck it on me that at least this way you have two hands free for balance and you can see in front of you to walk over logs and through mud, mud and more mud. When we were about halfway back and had switched off Jerry to me to Necia, Chet said “Come on guys, one of them can take it all the way back without breaking a sweat. And the women do this.” He also semi-jokingly told Necia (who trekked the farthest with it) to be careful, that was a good way to find a husband. “She’s cute and she can carry Yucca!”

We were hot, sweaty and exhausted by the time we began sweeping sawdust from the tables back in the kitchen (with the same broom used for the dirt floor) and then pouring water onto them from a pitcher and using our hands to wash them as best we could. Then we set the tables with cups and spoons and took bowls full of food similar to last night’s to each place as the kids came in. It was a form of organized chaos, and with kids coming in all morning from various other parts of the jungle and other Huaorani communities, we filled all six tables this time.

More dishes at the end were not what we wanted to see, and it felt like time for bed even though it was around 12:30. We had basically hiked for Yucca, set up lunch, had lunch and taken down and cleaned up lunch with nothing but a 15 minute break, and any one of those events was tiring in and of itself. Even Dana was not happy to know we’d be back there in just a couple hours and that Chet wanted to take the whole group on a hike (another hike for the kitchen crew) to “Palm Beach.”

Palm Beach is the place along the river where the five missionaries landed their plane and set up camp. It is also the place where they were killed by Huaorani from Toñamparé on January 8, 1956. It’s a long, muddy way through the jungle from Toñamparé to get there, but it was nice to kick off the boots and relax by the water. Most of the group even got in and swam in the river for a while. I decided to stay dry, which actually turned out to be a really good decision, not having anything to do with swimming, but because it gave me a chance to sit on a log and talk with Sarah for a while.

Ever since we found out we were parejas, we really haven’t had a chance to hang out, and this was a particularly good time for it since we would be leading debrief tonight. We talked about that, and about working together in general. Turns out that I love debrief and she’s really excited that it can be my thing. Translating also definitely falls to her, and we talked about sharing/designating certain other of our responsibilities with teams as well. We also discussed how to do debrief that night, both of us really wanting to stay away from the “one word” approach, feeling like we should save that for someone else who might not be as familiar with debriefs or for a day after we’d had more contact with the kids. It was Sarah who suggested and I who jumped all over the idea of “highs and lows,” one of my favorite activities personally to do as a debrief. It was an especially good one for today, I felt, because so many people had so many different experiences and sharing a range of events with emotions attached from such a range of the group felt perfect.

We took some pictures and then tromped back through the mud. I was also really glad to have a head’s-up on the debrief because I like getting to think about my answer a long time before I have to say it in front of everyone. I’ll be such a cheater this summer with my teams. Oh well, privilege of rank.

We had just enough time to put back on jeans rather than shorts and get back over to the kitchen to set up for dinner, which was spaghetti and rice with (though we didn’t know it at the time) sardines. It was good, and as Jerry remarked, it seems strange at first, but we’re going to be wanting rice with all kinds of food when we get home. Not a combination I would have planned on my own, but delicious nonetheless (though exhaustion may be a factor).

We started doing dishes outside as it began to drizzle. Bryan jumped in to help, which was awesome of him, and suddenly it was downpouring. I know we were all a little slap-happy at that point but we just laughed. And laughed. And laughed. And did dishes. And laughed. Doing dishes in the rain in the “middle of the stinking jungle!” was the most fun I’ve had since I’ve gotten here. It sounds strange, but we really just had a blast with it and talked and danced around and shivered and attempted to get everything clean and back inside to dry.

Debrief was outside under the covering in the dark. We had enough of a break in the rain that we could get over there without being soaked, but then it began to downpour again and we could barely hear each other. We went through the highs and lows and I was actually surprised at first that no one said washing dishes in the rain was their high (though I don’t think anything other than the six of us could ever understand it even with our theological discussions retold). I felt really good about it and would have been a lot happier if it hadn’t been interrupted for us to bold back to the guys’ room through another break in the rain, but was content with how it went anyway, and learned a lot from everyone else’s experiences.

We had our meeting and then split up knowing that we’d be going to a devotion with Rey’s crew at 6:30 in the morning and having to move all our stuff to the church down the runway so that the kids could use what had been our sleeping quarters. Thinking over this day, it’s amazing that that’s all it’s been. It feels longer even than days at band camp, and I’ve been having that same sensation where I go “Remember yesterday when…” only to be told that, actually, that was this morning.” I think that only my prayer during our fifteen minute break for energy and endurance has been keeping me functioning, and I hope that I can keep it up the rest of the week.

My Low: The 837th dish I washed, just before the rain.
My High: Seeing Roberto. This guy actually cooked all the food that we just set out, and during dinner, exhausted, hot, and sweaty, he took off his hat, fanned himself, looked at all the eating children… and grinned. To see that look of accomplishment on his face made me really think about what we had done today.

What a View

Block 1 Travel Day: 2

Block 1 On Ground Day: 0

5:15 Wake-up call. That was not nearly enough sleep. I woke up to Bryan telling us the time, and then I really woke up to Teddy shouting at him from the bunk above me “Bryan, why do you have to be so CHIPPER?!” We don’t have many morning people in this group.

At 6ish the bus rolled in. It was a private bus for Reynaldo’s group and ours, which is really nice. No stopping like the public bus every time someone waves it down, lots of space underneath and in the racks and just for seats. Plus the Ecuadorians really like the front of the bus and the gringos really like the back, so we all sat together (which in retrospect was really worthless because all we did was sleep).

Incidentally, Reynaldo is a Columbian missionary who does camps like this all the time. His ministry is who is really putting on the VBS this week and we’re just doing backup, extra manpower, maybe some skits and songs. We don’t really know.

We hit Atahuno pretty early and hung out at the outdoor gymnasium of the local school. Turns out that having 13 Gringos and a bunch of strange South Americans show up is an excuse to not have class all day. Some of the kids had only seen white people once or twice before, so we were quite the attraction. We played basketball with the kids and had some breakfast in the bleachers, untoasted bread with jelly and orange juice. Surprisingly good, actually.

Everyone got a bit of quiet time while we waited for the planes. I totally forgot to explain this in yesterday’s post, but our original plan to fly from MAF in Shell was nixed because of lack of fuel. All the aircraft fuel is tied up in customs, and they literally have enough fuel to get us in, but potentially not out. We’ve prayed a lot about fuel. We could be potentially walking out of the jungle, which would take a Huaorani 10 hours non-stop or a Gringo 2 days. We really don’t want to do that and then have teams come in immediately after. So it was a little bit tense “quiet” time, and not that quiet at that as there were several games, including the lively gringos and Fabian vs. tons of kids basketball competition going on.

At some point one of the kids noticed the guitar. A guitar case is one of those things that is hard to disguise under a Christmas tree, so it certainly sticks out of small backpacks and gas tanks piled up in a gym. Sarah told them it was mine and manged to get me to play. It was actually pretty fun. They asked me if I knew any Christmas songs, which I don’t out of my head (on guitar, anyway) so I just played Relient K in English and they didn’t have a clue what I was saying anyway. I did decide to brave “Eres Todopoderoso” in front of them about half-way through the ad-hoc concert. That whole gym exploded into song.

(Notice the shirt I’m wearing in the picture below. If you’re viewing this on facebook, you’ll have to go to my site to see it.)

Danny playing in Atahuno

When the planes weren’t there by mid-day, we mosied on over to the restaurant down the street. Apparently 14 people is an extreme amount to be cooking for, and the owner/chef let us know that in no uncertain terms, and how he wished we had warned him at 8 or 9 in the morning. We told him we were fine waiting and letting the meals come out plate by plate. Fortunately for ease of ordering, there was only one thing on the menu.

The first plane did show up about then, and some of the girls stayed at the restaurant to calm the nerves of the frantically grilling businessman while the rest of us moved our luggage, equipment and bodies to the airstrip (which is basically a long, semi-flat line or dirt rather than grass just ten or twenty steps off the road).

We sat around on the runway for what seemed like a long time, getting on boots and bug spray and sunscreen but suddenly we were moving and with Nicole up front, Sarah next to me and Teddy and Chet in the back, we were all in the plane and taking off. For the third time in about three weeks I can say that was the smallest plane I’ve ever ridden in.

A discussion yesterday had involved the new people group that was just discovered, a tribe in the Brazillian jungle that had never had contact with the outside world. Chet said that they estimate around 100 tribes have still never been contacted by other human beings. How unfathomable I thought that was in 2008 with airplanes and satellites and mass-communication having been around for so long. But as we flew over endless trees, I thought how perfectly sensible that there are still so many undiscovered people. Just this little patch of the world that takes 10 minutes to fly over is unbelievable. Trees as far as you can see. I just marveled at God and His Creation. How I can’t even comprehend it, and what a small part and yet what a special part I get to play in His plan, particularly this week. Who else gets to see this?

I thought that the coming and going of planes would be pretty normal for the Huaorani, so even though I was told that they would all run out and greet the plane, I was a little bit surprised that they did. I would learn as the other planes came in that the adults were there because they knew how important it was to help get a plane unloaded and back in the air as fast as possible. The kids were there to see the Gringos. It’s always hard for me to talk to people the first time I go to a new place in Ecuador. Even saying “hola” seems strange when I know that I won’t be able to strike up a conversation with them in Spanish, much less in Wao. But we waded through the kids and the mud (SO glad I had my boots on- was not expecting it to be muddy to the point of being stuck in it every four steps) and unloaded everything.

As the other planes came in Chet took us through the town up to “the river,” which is actually a part of a stream that’s been directed under the stilts of a house and up four feet through pipes to come down with a little bit of pressure in enough of a waterfall to have a small shower under and continue flowing in a stream back to the real river after passing through the town. We filled up the two buckets that had made it in on flight 1 and took them back to the guys’ porch to filter.

I somehow expected the water to seem more clean when we got through. The $1000 water filter is pretty tough (and not a joke to work. I’ll be buff after a week of pumping water through this thing) but the river water still has just a hint of yellow to it and a few floaters. After looking at the water that Lane was pumping for a while, I finally decided that it didn’t look to far removed from our drinking water at home. I’m sure this is cleaner than the Pasquotank. Qualms removed.

Setting up house was pretty simple too. The classrooms that we’ll be staying in (at least until the children arrive tomorrow night or maybe Thursday morning) are single-room wooden buildings with a porch. Instead of windows or solid walls on the front and back, the wood comes up to maybe chest level and then there is basically chain-link fence from there up to above a foot below the ceiling. Air flows through and it’s basically like being under cover rather than being inside. But in jungle weather that’s exactly what is needed, and I was able to recognize that instantly whereas last year I’m sure I would have been very skeptical about this situation. And it was great to run the line for the mosquito nets. We tied up to the fence on the front, ran the line across the room and tied it off on the other fence, and viola: mosquito nets could now be tied in place along the line.

By the time everyone was fully in and unpacked and set up and a few more buckets of water had been gotten and pumped, through the filter, there was just enough time for the girls, then the guys to troop up to the “shower” where we’d gotten water earlier. I’m going to be really tired of being cold and washing my hair with soap. After that it was dark and way past time for dinner. We trooped across the muddy field to what was designated the kitchen. It’s a building very similar to where we are staying except that it has a fire-pit style cooking area outside and is not on stilts. It has a totally uneven dirt floor and the benches along the two tables that span the length of the building have dug holes into the floor so they sit at angles between those and the bumps. It’s very hard to keep 15 people on one bench without it falling around. The trick seems to be leaning it up forward against the tables, which are slightly more stable.

We ate in just about total darkness with a few candles. We had bowls of rice and lentils with chicken in some sort of sauce, along with a sort of tea or juice that tasted like lemon drops (Chet says it was more than likely a grass that they boil rather than actual lemons). Surprisingly good and definitely filling.

After that it was debrief. Matt and Angela were the pareja of the day and led debrief under the covered area in the middle of the town in the dark. We talked mostly about changing plans and not knowing if we would even make it in, God’s faithfulness throughout our travels, and what we want the next week to hold, despite still not knowing exactly what we’ll be doing. Angela make a wonderful word-picture for us about the basket we saw in the Nate Saint house yesterday and how she’d been praying to just be that basket for the Huaorani, that link between God and the people we are here to serve. It made me think of a Caedmon’s Call song about missions. One of the lines says “We put the walls up, but Jesus keeps them standing. He doesn’t need us, but he lets us put our hands in.”

I know I’m not the most important part of our team, and certainly not a necessity to God in getting his plans accomplished this week in Toñamparé and the hearts of the Huaorani kids that will be here for the camp. But I pray that I can be useful.

EDIT: We finished debrief and Sarah and I, who will be the pareja in charge for tomorrow got to talk about jobs for each of us. Chet told us that six need to be in the kitchen, four need to be on sports, and the rest can be floaters, with a translator in each group and each one consisting of roughly even numbers of males and females. We designated Matt, Angela, Nicole and Bryan on sports, which left Sarah, Teddy, Danielle, Lane, Necia and myself on kitchen, leaving Chet, Dana, Fabian and Jerry as floaters. I’m writing this at a later time because of how much that changed over just a few hours the next morning and how initially disappointed I was because I felt that kitchen is just a “filler” role and I wouldn’t get to do any useful work for the Kingdom. How wrong I would be.

Ups and Downs and Answered Prayer

Block 1 Travel Day: 1

Block 1 On Ground Day: -1

I began my devotion tonight unsure of what would happen or what I even wanted to happen for this whole trip. Because of weather, we don’t know how many planes are going to make it in, or if any will. If not, it will be missions projects in Shell for the week. And although even now nothing is set in stone, we have a plan that we’re confident in. It’s not the way I would have worked it out, but the fact that it works out at all shows God’s hand and timing.

I’ve been saying how excited I am to go to the jungle and the Hauorani ever since we heard that was what we’d be doing for Block 1. But for the last couple of days I’ve been really unsure, and though I didn’t admit it in the conversation we had about who might/might not get to go, I haven’t been sure I really wanted to, particularly today. I don’t have a reason. I’ve been on enough camping trips that it can’t be for fear of my own comfort. I know we’re running a bible study with another group of missionaries so it’s not out of any irrational fear of what used to be the most violent tribe in the world. And I have no clue exactly what I’ll be doing with each of my teams all summer, so it’s not out of frustration of not having a plan. I just don’t know what it is.

But as I began writing my journal and praying tonight, I asked God to let me know if my fears were from me or something else. The second those words formed in my mind Chet called us out to the outer room of the Guesthouse where we’re staying to meet with everyone. He, Dana and Bryan had worked up the flights based on our weights. They managed to keep each set of parejas together and keep the flights balanced and still allow us our 25 lbs of luggage. Bryan/Dana and Lane/Danielle are flight 3, which may or may not go. Fabian, Jerry/Necia and Matt/Angela are flight 2, which will more than likely go. Chet, Teddy/Nicole and me/Sarah are flight 1, which will definitely go. If there’s anything that could confirm that God wanted me to be where we’re being sent, it’s that I’m one of only ~35% of us who know for sure we’re going. It doesn’t stop my brain from going a million miles an hour thinking about the rest of this trip, but it does give me a comfort I couldn’t have imagined a few hours ago.

So let’s back up.

We started the day early with breakfast at Katie and Chet’s house after a quick stop to snag our stuff at Matt and Marlo’s. There were leftover cinnamon rolls and lots of other great stuff. We also packed sandwiches and such for the bus ride because there wouldn’t be any stops. Couple of last minute details and pictures and suddenly we were on the road in the Williams’ and the Jensons’ cars and then on the bus.

The trip to Shell was much less eventful and much less time-consuming than my last one. The roads have been repaired to an amazing extent such that it only takes the three hours even by public bus now. Which is not to say they are perfect, but even I got to rest some despite all the tunnels. If you didn’t know this, I don’t like tunnels. And to make matters worse, I was sitting next to the guy who is afraid of the dark (who shall remain nameless). It was a lot easier to ignore even the loooooooooong tunnels under huge mountains simply because I could stare at the television at the front of the bus. But even that was playing some terrible Armageddon-type miniseries that must have flopped in the U.S. and had been dubbed into Spanish. But it was better than thinking about tunnels. Needless to say there was some devo time spent on the bus.

Just like the last time I pulled into Shell and the HCJB Guesthouse, it was raining. But unlike last time (they were unexpectedly full and we had to stay, much to our pleasure, at Hostal Germany) we actually got in. The guesthouse is actually really nice, and although Hostal Germany is beautiful and has fantastic breakfast, the guesthouse it at least dry.

We took a short tour of the MAF facility with Ron Grant, the guy who keeps everything except the airplanes functional there (which is a lot of stuff). Chet even got him to take us over to the Nate Saint house, which is directly across the street from MAF and next to the Nate Saint School, which is next to the HCJB Guesthouse.

It was like walking into History. There was a model of the plane they flew to Palm Beach on the counter, lots of pictures, and the actual basket in which the five missionaries lowered gifts to the Huaorani and received the first contact back. Unbelievable. To know this place was home to the very people who cleared the way for us to even be here is just indescribable. The house itself is in pretty bad shape, which is the only reason it’s not used anymore (it used to house 20-30 passing missionaries all the time) and why not a lot of people get tours. In fact, our team went by it last year, but that was all.

It made me think just how much we were really following in the footsteps of all the people we watched in the documentary the other night, and to think that we are 10 hosts who will be bringing 17 teams of short-term missionaries all over Ecuador just really made us feel connected to those families, and really appreciate their sacrifice.

After that we hiked over a suspended bridge over a gigantic valley. Bryan didn’t tell us that the door on the other end was locked and that we were just walking the bridge for fun. I don’t really have any problem with heights, so it was a little bit funny to jump and make the whole thing shake and terrify the girls. Oh well, I guess nobody ever fully grows up. Nobody crazy enough to spend their summer in South America anyway.

We were all starving and starting cooking spaghetti right away when we got back to the Guesthouse. Good old American (sorta) meal full of noodles and beef, two things we won’t be seeing until next Monday at least. After that was a little bit of devotion time and a semi-debrief just talking about how we would debrief a team that had done nothing but travel all day. And that brings us full circle back to the beginning of this post. Ups and downs today. But it ended with me being content with God’s plan for me, no matter what this next week holds.

Falling into Place

One of the most amazing things about my time in Ecuador last year and about our team in general was how God just made things fall into place. We used that phrase, “fall into place” about six million times each day.

Tonight, we packed up for our trip to the jungle and went to Matt and Marlo’s for dinner and to weigh all our stuff (and selves). We ended the evening with prayer requests and a group prayer session about the upcoming week. We prayed about bats and bugs and other fears. We prayed that we will be able to “choose joy” (those are El Refugio words that just hit me this exact second as a way to sum that up) each day when we wake up and that it would be a contagious sign of God’s love. We prayed that our nerves would be calmed, and that we would be able to bring needed gifts and talents, even if we have no idea what we are doing. And by the way, for a group of people who came here with intentionally to be leaders, we feel like we have no idea what we are doing.

So when I came back to the DeVries homestead this evening (it’s turning back into their home as opposed to ours as we pack everything up) I found several e-mails in response to a letter I sent out this afternoon. (I love communication!) Julie sent me the scripture from tomorrow’s devotional, Galatians 3:26-39: Jesus said,”Now I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. If you have love for one another, then everyone will know that you are my disciples.”

It’s written as a command, but I find it a scripture of reassurance as I look at what we are headed into and next to our prayers this evening. It just makes me realize what’s important. We feel like we need to know what we are doing and do our jobs and facilitate a camp. And we’re really focused. Out of the 12 interns/Maestros, all 12 were J’s and 11 were E’s on our Myers-Briggs test. But we’re here as missionaries, here to grow in our understanding of God and in our relationships with his people, and to share His love.

And guess what. The prayer from the Upper Room? Dear God, help us to see the world through your eyes. May we be receptive to your leading for our direction. In Jesus’ name. Amen. Can a devotion fall more “into place”? I need to be receptive to His reminder that our goal is to LOVE and to SHOW IT, and I’ll be seeing a whole new world all week long.

We, as interns, have been reading a couple books this summer. One of them is Credo by Ray Pritchard. He writes about the way that God makes himself painfully obvious, to the point that we must be aware of Him, as Romans 1:20 says, we are “without excuse.” I would be without excuse if I did not recognize that one, and I pray that I will be able to keep that in mind through plane rides and bug bites and 150 children. As we said in Cape Charles, that scripture is my “Yay God.”

EDIT: Literally the same second I published this, I got another e-mail from Heather. I quote (without permission) “Don’t hold back… Share the Well my friend!” For those of you who have any clue what I’m talking about… V8!