Day 3: Where the rubber meets the road and the boat hits the water

(Reader Advisory: Yes I am an English teacher. However, I would like to direct my attention to the heart of the message and not the mechanics of our jumbled language. So please forgive the many mistakes I’m sure you will find in this and any other posts and remember that I am in the jungle where proper English is the least of my worries. Haha)

Day 3: Thursday, July 1, 2010
Where the Rubber Meets the Road and thus the boat hits the water

Sleep last night was amazing, I was exhausted. I’m not really sure what time I crawled out of the bed. In my typical “non-morning person” habit, each time I woke up I would scan the room to see who else what still asleep. As long as I wasn’t the last sleeper, it was a-ok to snooze. I do know that they served breakfast at 8 and I was tardy because I felt the need to put make-up on one last time before the jungle madness began.

In a surprisingly timely manner (Latin/South American cultures generally have difficulty adhering to time frames), the group’s luggage was loaded onto a bus. We left the base around nine o’clock headed two hours to Nauta. Because we were still for a whole two hours, most of us travel beaten kids fell asleep on the way. The bus didn’t have AC but there was a glorious cool breeze blowing through the windows that basically served to chill your sweat. Haha.

Nauta is an interesting port (I guess you would call it a port city, even if it’s not on the ocean?) city. Here we formed a chain line to pass all our excessive “American” amounts of luggage into the boat (“Logos”). By the time we were finished, everyone was basically drenched in sweat (which would probably have happened just by standing in the Sun…it’s intense). So we wondered through Nauta for 30 minutes or so. It’s really funny to walk around the souvenir shops and markets with a blonde-haired person. The natives don’t even attempt to hide their stares. I ended up with a cold electrolight (Gatorade) which tasted like rain in the desert.

While we were waiting for some of our younger friends to finish shopping, we stood alongside the road. Men, women, and children are all staring at the “gringos” drinking our flavored drinks. Every kid 12 or younger that was bold enough would come and stand close by to toss up a piercing set of wide, black eyes. No language barriers exist with these poor children when they want what you have. Some of the guys passed off what was left of their snacks and a look of pure delight filled their sooty faces. How simple life is for them. Sometimes I dare to ponder who really has the better life. How much more would I be willing to give my God if stuff had no value to me because I didn’t have materialism to hold me back?

We collected all of our team and loaded up on the boat (it seems like such a simple sentences, but all of these actions do, in fact, bear some weight. “Collecting all of our team” can mean waiting awkwardly for some time and “loaded up on the boat” actually means we traipsed through the mud onto the boata). We traveled 2 or 3 hours up the Marañon river, a tributary of the Amazon, until we reached “the farm” – property along the river that is owned and operated by YWAM. The landscape is very lush, the water is very brown, and the air is hot and humid (not all that different from Mississippi). I enjoyed observing everything around me from the beautiful jungle to all the new people.

Once we arrived at the farm, Rob and Hulio gave everyone the tour of the building and land. The New York team and all the interns decided to set up camp in the church while the rest of the crew put tents up in the main building. I have no idea what goes through the average American mind when they ear church building. A gym or sanctuary maybe. Not even close. Let me try to paint a picture for you before I lessen it with an actual photograph. The church was of a decent size and made of cedar like planks. No insulation and definitely no AC. The roof consisted of rafters and dried banana/plantain leaves. We were lucky enough to have mosquito nets over the windows, but unfortunately there was nothing we could do about the many holes in the roof. Haha. Inside were wooden benches and bat poo on the floor.

The “passing chain” was put to work again, so we quickly unloaded all the bags and equipment before arranging our sleeping quarters. I decided to go with the hammock the first night and give it a try. Thanks to Chris for letting me borrow it for such an adventure. It took some strategic thinking to set it up at the appropriate height, but before long on was ready to sway the night away. Haha. Let me also explain that because of the mosquitoes, Clark had suggested a serious hammock with a mosquito net actually attached to it, not your normal siesta hammocks.

At dinner, which Yola had prepared, she walked around the table and gave some guys gentle massages to help them relax. Then she said something that was so profound to me, “It doesn’t matter what I do, it’s all for my heavenly Father,” What an incredible servant’s heart! She didn’t care that she wasn’t part of the team that went out and dug wells or played with kids – she cooked for all of us as her ministry to the Father, not begrudgingly but with undeniable joy. So inspiring.

6pm – the night comes. The mosquitoes decide it was time for dinner as well. It was literally so bad that all of us ran into a tent to play “Skip-bo”. Once dusk hit…it was time to stay covered. Which I thought would be fine the first night because I was so tired. The hammock is difficult to get situated into but once you do, it’s pretty comfortable. However, the jungle noises are something to be contended with. Unbelievably loud! Praise the Lord for earplugs and the comfort of his promises when he leads me so far out of my comfort zone.