Because the jeep is broken down, Dad was going to relay those who wanted to go out to Kilometer 18 on the one rented motorcycle he had. Dave had already been dropped off, and Dad had come back for the next person. It ended up that Lydia and I were the only ones who were here, and wanted to go, so it was decided I was going to drive the two of us out there, then Dave would ride with her back, leaving me there for the night. I was a little bit nervous driving, especially considering I didn't have a motorcycle license, had never driven that far, on a public road, with someone who didn't know how to drive riding on the back. And we are in South America. In Colombia (the country with the worst driving I've seen in any of the countries down here). In Leticia (a jungle town where everyone rides motorcycles, and there are I don't know how many deaths because of it every year). On a long, country road. Without a cell phone, or any type of communication. Having only two girls. On a rented motorcycle.
Nonetheless, we prepared to go. Putting on our helmets, we made sure they were ones that actually DID buckle under our chins (or that we could at least tie the strap). Dad kick-started the moto, and we were ready. I kinda had a moment of hesitance, and decided I was going to make sure I could kick-start it myself, in case something happened. After a couple attempts, it started. Mom felt a little uneasy about this, and reminded Dad to pray with us before letting us go. “Make sure you get back before dark, the moto needs to be back at the rental place before then”, Dad reminded me before we left. The wheels bumped over the curb, and onto the street. Starting off was a little shaky. We went a little swervy, and in trying to avoid the pot-holes, I managed to hit every one! Once we were out of sight, and going a bit faster, it was easier to keep my balance, and drove in more of a lazy snake-shaped line, than an earthquake meter. Driving in the town was a little more difficult than on the kilometer road, having to avoid the motos turning right in front of you, and big trash trucks stopped in the middle of the street. As we passed the gas station, I wondered if Dad had filled the tank recently, but the thought, “He wouldn't send us way out there without making sure we had enough... besides, we have to get out there soon, there's no time check and see”.
As we leaned through the curves, and sped past the large open areas with cows grazing, then the dense
jungle patches, watching the sun slowly sinking behind the tree-tops, the thought had completely escaped my mind, until the motorcycle started to sputter. Then it started going slower... and slower... and slower, until it came to a complete stop. Right in the middle of our lane. “I think we ran out of gas”, I said stating the obvious. We jumped off, then started pushing the motorcycle to the side of the road. It was really hard to push. It would go for a few feet, then the tire skid for the next, continue for a couple more, and stop rotating again. That is when I realized it was still in gear, and had to pull up the little gear changer until the little light showed we were now in neutral. We pushed to a little driveway leading to a house, which was blocked by a metal gate. Beside it, driven into the ground was a little gray rock, and painted on the white part were little black numbers indicating we were at kilometer 14.
Great. It's starting to get dark, we're two girls without a cell-phone, or even a phone number we could call, with a motorcycle that's out of gas, in the middle of nowhere, four kilometers from where we want to go, and 16 from where we came from... as well as all those other things I mentioned earlier.
We had a short prayer and discussion as to what should be our next step. “Let's just keep walking”. So that's what we did. Not wanting to get ourselves in any trouble, we decided to avoid going to any houses to ask for help, and try to walk out the four kilometers. Lydia carried the stuff, while I pushed the moto. This is when we realized that our front tire was also flat. Deciding to take advantage of the fact there was NO possible way we could be back before dark, let alone arrive at the Bible school before then, we decided to enjoy our time. Slipping off our flip flops, we walked, kicking through the water sitting in puddles on the road, remaining from the morning rain. As we talked, parrots flew over the trees silhouetted against the orange sunset sky, trying to drown us out with their loud squawking. We were thankful that it was evening, and not the middle of the afternoon. Although we were just walking, we were pretty warm, but having the sun behind the trees helped keep us cooler.
It was getting darker by the minute when we decided plan #1 wasn't going to work. We were going to HAVE to ask someone for help if we wanted to get there before midnight. A guy walking towards us walking a bike with a flat tire looked nice enough. “Do you know where there might be somewhere we could get gas?” well, apparently there was a “white house” somewhere down the road a little bit, but after arriving at a house, there was no way to tell whether it was white or not, it was too dark. There was a little bridge across the ditch consisting of two boards laid side by side, just wide enough for the motorcycle's tires. In order to turn the hunk of metal enough to straighten it out, Lydia had to lift up the whole back end of it, while I pushed, walking through the ditch so the moto could stay on the bridge. At one point, forgetting the exhaust pipe was hot, I tried to catch the thing while it was falling over, and it made a pretty nasty burn on my leg. As we trudged through the mud to the house, I smeared some over it to soothe it (in attempting to wash it off later that evening, scrubbing it to get the grains of dirt out, peeling shriveled skin along with it, I came to the conclusion that hadn't been the best of ideas, but it felt good until then!). “Buenas noches!” I called standing in the dark outside the house. I could tell someone was inside, because of the light shining out from beneath the front door, but nobody answered for a little while. When a woman finally opened the door and peering out she exclaimed, “Ay! Me asustaste!”. I can imagine why she was scared. After dark, having someone calling outside your house, in a strong American accent, hearing no motor indicating how they had gotten to your front door. But after seeing us two girls standing there with the silent motorcycle, looking very unimp
osing, she opened the door wider, and asked what she could help us with. After explaining what had happened, she told us apologetically that her husband had run out of gas the night before, but to go to the next “white house” down the road. By now we really were wondering how to find these “white houses” when it was completely dark outside. We tramped back through the mud, and back to the street.
The next house we came to looked promising. It looked very well kept up, and two stories, built of concrete. To the side of the house was a car, indicating we had a pretty good chance of getting gas. After about five minutes standing outside the gate yelling “Buenas Nooocchhessss” to no avail, we decided this was not the answer to prayer we were looking for, and continued walking. I had decided to just try to make it the 13.5 more kilometers, and not take a chance, when we came upon a house that had a tire with a stick piercing right through the middle. I recognized it as usually being a sign for a “taller”, or repair shop. Maybe they would have gas here. I started calling the “good evening” I had yelled out at the last two houses, when Lydia gave me the brilliant idea of asking if they have gas. Minutes after the “Tienen gasolina?” was out, we saw the front door swing open, and the outline of a shirtless man walking cautiously out of it. In one hand was a flash-light, and in the other was the red glow of a cigarette butt. Shining the flashlight in our faces he walked close to where we were. He wasn't very friendly when we told him our predicament, slowly opening the gate letting us in. Lydia and I prayed together before proceeding. “Do you have gas?” I asked again as we walked in. “I'll see” he responded and kept walking the flashlight sweeping back and forth in front of him. When we arrived at the front of the house I stopped, as he disappeared around the back corner. Seeing we weren't following, he looked back at us, and motioned to come back saying, “Hay luz aqui donde podemos ver mejor”. Yeah, there WAS a light back there where we could see, but there was also a light in FRONT of the house close to where we were standing where it was shining plenty bright. But, we still didn't even know if he had gas! I asked again, and this time his response was, he thought so... I pushed the motorcycle under the circle of light, and told him we could see fine right where we were. He kinda smiled, and disappeared. I was starting to get a little bit uneasy with the whole situation, and we stopped to pray one more time together. He was gone for a
while before walking back out through the front door hauling a big, five-gallon container of gas on his shoulder. Pulling it down, he had me hold a water bottle, cut in half, using it as a funnel to pour the gasoline into the tank, spilling the cold liquid over my hand. Lydia paid him, and after thanking him, we got out of there as quickly as we could... thanking the Lord for keeping us safe.
Once back on the road, I realized that I was going to have to kick-start the moto again. I was a little more confident since I'd started it at the house earlier, but wasn't completely comfortable. After kicking it over and over again, without it starting I got discouraged, and was about to call the guy, who was now disappearing into his house, to come back, and start it for me when I finally got it, and the sound of the motor sounded like music to our ears. It was wonderful to know we'd be able to make it somewhere, faster than walking. After starting it, I realized that the front headlight appeared as if it had gone dead. It had been on the whole walk without the engine being on, and had probably burned out or something. I got on, and Lydia swung her leg over, sitting behind me. That is when I really realized how flat the front tire was. Driving started off even more wobbly than when we'd left the house! It was worse when I tried pressing buttons, and switching switches thinking there might have been a chance I'd turned the lights off sometime during our trek, but after almost crashing, I decided to concentrate more on driving.
So here we were, two American girls, on a long Colombian road in the middle of nowhere, driving a motorcycle with a flat tire, and no headlight. By now it was practically pitch black all around us, the white cement road ahead of us was the only thing visible, but the potholes were not... no matter what size they were. The “dashboard” saying how much gas (which obviously didn't work) we had, how fast we were going, and all that was all lit up. Now all I could see was the bright light shining up at me from below telling us we were in third gear, going thirty kilometers an hour. But, I'd really have rather been able to see the road than this bright annoying light under my chin, blinding me from seeing the important things in the road like big branches, small animals, or deep puddles. Thankfully I had grabbed one of Paul's nice helmets (instead of a rented one... the ones that have broken chin straps, no padding and fall off your head...) that completely covers your head, has a chin strap, and is like a “normal” motorcycle helmet that has a part that goes in front of your jaw and chin as well. So, I drove with my nose up in the air, appearing like I was enjoying all the wonderful night jungle smells, but in reality was blocking the bright green light with my jaw/chin guard on my helmet, so I could see the road. In riding this way, I was also able to look up into the sky and see the sliver of the moon, with the scattering of stars covering the heavens. They were all so bright, not being anywhere near civilization where there's “light pollution”.
After bouncing over some pretty big branches, then bumping down into a couple shallow, abrupt ditches in the middle of the road, I decided this wasn't the appropriate time for star gazing... and attempted to pay more attention to where I was driving, which still didn't improve much, considering the chin/jaw guard wasn't really intended for shielding my eyes from getting light bleached from the “dashboard”. The next day when riding back, I saw those enormous branches were placed in the middle of the lane (being extra big so nobody would miss seeing them... except for a couple of gringa girls riding a motorcycle down a deserted road, at night, with a flat tire, and no headlight) so that they would not run over the construction area where road workers had dug into the concrete of the road, making little ditches for some unknown reason. We managed to hit both in one shot!
Thankfully nobody else was on the road (even people with pumped up tires AND a headlight weren't out on the kilometers after dark), so we were able to drive right down the middle, where there were the least “alterations” to the road. The whole ride I was thinking, “Lydia was an amazing person to have broken down with me. I was so glad I was with her!”. She didn't panic, or get worked up... we both were just like, well, this is how it is, and we can't do much to change it, so we'd might as well make the best of the situation... and we did! We actually had fun!
When we finally pulled up, parked the motorcycle, and walked in, Dave was like “I was starting to wonder if you'd guys would EVER gethere!”. He'd already finished playing sports with them (well obviously, it was now way dark), and been for a swim in the “manigua” with everyone. We explained to everyone what had happened. Then, realizing there really was no way for Dave and Lydia to get back in the shape the motorcycle was at that moment, we came to the conclusion they would just have to stay the night also, and go back the next morning on one of the three buses that pass there daily. Hopefully once they got back, Dad would know what to do next.
After being there for about a half hour, Dad called. But, because we were out of cell-range, the call dropped. Here those with cell phones have pre-paid minutes, and neither Tita, nor Luz had minutes, meaning they could only receive calls. Dad kept on calling, and then it would keep dropping. Finally I got the majority of the message to him, and he said he'd come on out, and figure out what we'd do from there.
Lydia and I helped in the kitchen making dinner. Everything they cooked was on a long, thin
gas stove; the kind used for cooking in restaurants. Having no oven, the food was all put in these huge cauldron-like pots. Standing over the hot stove, we steamed rice (which I'm starting to find EVERYONE does differently... Tita does it one way, Luz another which are different than either my mom's way, or even Martha's) then added peas, and other vegetables. In a small frying pan, bananas sliced in nickle-shaped pieces were spitting oil as they fried. One little piece of chicken was fried for each person as well, before serving them all up in bowls. We had some sort of native fruit juice, which was delicious.
Before were were done making the meal, dad showed up on a moto taxi. He took a look at our moto, and decided he would just try to drive it back to the house with Dave sitting as far back on the seat as possible to try to relieve the weight on the front tire. Lydia would ride back with the “mototaxista”. Dad got on the moto, started it on the first try, then switched on the headlight. I was incredulous. Had it been that simple? I must have accidentally switched the light off when walking the moto or something. So, we had driven all that way without a headlight, putting ourselves in more danger than we were already in, only because we hadn't stopped, and made a more dedicated effort to find the light.
As they drove slowly off into the dark, I wondered how this would all work out... both them getting home, and I staying here the night with people I'd only seen three times my life.
Everyone sat down around the long, tall table, and bowed our heads as one of the students prayed. After finishing their large bowls of rice and chicken, everyone was allowed to have seconds from the large pot. It was amazing how much the small Indian guys could eat! They must be like Nathan; eating more than double what everyone else eats, but staying skinny.
After dinner everyone washed their own plates and silverware, then certain ones had jobs for cleaning the bigger dishes.
Then, while the students worked on homework, Aldo and Tita played the guitar, and sang. They sang some of the same Christian songs that the guy in Macedonia played, as well as others. It was beautiful! Once again, I sat listening to the beautiful singing, and guitar playing while trying to follow on where I could, just enjoying the amazing Christian fellowship. Even though we speak more than three different languages, we're from three different countries and have three completely different cultures, there is one thing that joins us together, completely overcoming all those barriers. Jesus, what he's done for us, and the desire to share it with others.
By nine-thirty guys had to be in their room, and the girls in theirs, lights being turned off shortly after. Both the guys and girls went through the sheets serving as doors separating the “dormitories” from the one, big room. We sat on the beds for a while, talking, sort of learning some Ticuna words, such as the numbers, which I've now forgotten. It was interesting to me, how we count by tens (and ones I guess too...) but they count by fives. I don't know if that makes sense, but like they count to five, then like say one-one, one-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, then start over two-one two-three... I'd never really thought about how other cultures say their numbers.
Trying to pack as little as possible, considering we were on the moto, I hadn't brought pijamas... Luz let me borrow hers. Being she is about a foot taller than me, and quite a bit bigger, they were pretty much huge on me, but at least I didn't have to wear my clothes I'd worn on the trip over.
I was on the bottom of a two-level bunk bed. The yellow mosquito net, containing several patches around the perimeter, was hanging from the four corners above me, then tied in a knot at the top. I watched as the other girls carefully undid the knot making sure there was no way mosquitoes could get inside it as they did. Tucking them all around under their mattresses, they would leave one little section allowing them to climb in. Once that was accomplished, after squirming in, they'd tuck in the last little section too. As soon as everyone was safely in their net cocoon, one person was elected to turn off the light, and either use a flashlight or just feel around to get back to their bed.
We said goodnight, and could hear the guys over in their room saying their goodnights too. I couldn't understand, but the Ticuna guys must have been saying some sort of joke in their language, and were all laughing.
Soon, everyone was quiet, and deep in sleep, considering they wake up so early every morning, working hard and studying all day. I stayed awake a little longer, enjoying the complete darkness, as well as the only sounds being jungle noises. I could hear crickets, frogs, all kinds of other insects, and animals. Such a contrast to being in the town of Leticia, the neighbor's lights being on all night, dogs barking, and roosters crowing at all hours of the night. I could have laid there all night under my mosquito net just listening to the jungle's night song, but in trying it lulled me to sleep, and I drifted off.
I woke up to the sound of cheerful whistling, singing, sweeping, and talking. It was five-thirty, or six, and everyone was up doing their different assigned jobs, but me. Tita walked by bunk and said “buenos dias”. I jumped up, got dressed, then went into the kitchen where she was lighting the stove with a long candle (instead of just the cigarette lighter, because she's scared she'll leave the gas on too long without being able to get the spark of the lighter, and it will end up exploding). She started the hot chocolate, given as a snack to all those working before breakfast.
To the side, she had a big bowl of masa to make arepas (a sort of pancake-like breadish thing that is pretty much like a dough nut, only not sweet). She had me pour cold water over the mix while she kneaded it with her hands, until it was just the right consistency. Then, she separated the dough into enough sections for each of us to have two. From there, the two of us would roll them into a more spherical balls. After rolling them for about thirty seconds, it began to flatten out, making a UFO shape. Then it was time to hold it in one hand squeezing it between your fingers and thumb muscle with your other hand just with the tips of your fingers and thumb going around making it flat. Once it was almost the right shape, you'd slap it back and forth between your hands, sort of how the ladies in Mexico make tortillas. Tita laughed at me because of how slow I would slap it between my hands; she on the other hand looked like she was clapping, she did it so fast, doing it the way she's done it ever since she was little. It reminded me of what we'd do with silly-putty. Once they were the perfect roundness, and thickness, they were placed on a grill sitting over the stove.
While they were cooking, we made coffee the same way we'd done the other morning I'd been, with the coffee-grounds in a sock-like strainer, put in boiling water inside the metal pitcher.
Once it was all done, we served up the plates, and placed them on the shelf for the everyone to take to their seats. We sat down, and thanked the Lord for breakfast.
After finishing eating, everyone scattered to their different jobs again, cleaning up the dishes, as well as getting ready for the day's classes.
Finishing quite a bit before Tita, Aldo and I, the students went out for fifteen minutes of reading a passage in Proverbs, and meditating on it with Luz. Looking from the doorway where we were, all the students sitting under the palm frawn covering at the little wood tables, made of trunks, bent over their Bibles. There outside, mist covered everything. You could barely see the trees from the jungle peeking out behind it. You could hear all the birds singing everywhere around, as well as a (very) occasional motorcycle motor driving past on the road.
After the fifteen minutes of meditation, the students returned to the long house, where Tita led the Bible reading, where we first sang with the guitar, then each person told what they had learned or thought about as they had read Proverbs 12:18-20. I sort of thought that was too easy, but soon learned that these Indians really don't know much of the Bible at all, and are not even really educated. They were practically right out of the jungle tribes. It was a complicated task for them, first understanding the Spanish words, then gathering their own thoughts about what it said, and translating it from their language into Spanish again. Later Tita told me they might have been embarrassed to talk in front of me, so that may have been part of the problem too.
During the next break I went out to the little prayer hut to read, and pray. It was just sopeaceful, and quiet. I wished we could stay out there at kilometer 18 with the Roberts the whole time here in Leticia. But, it's hard 'cause it's so far from everything; like groceries, the hospital, or anything else you'd need to buy.
Then, while she taught another class, Aldo and I prepped for lunch; cutting up onion, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic. He told me about the students, and how it wasn't easy working with them. He said it isn't possible to just tell them the gospel, about Jesus, and God, then leave, because others have done that before, resulting in a mix of their religion with Christianity. And each tribe has a different idea of how the world was created. One tribe believes that the world used to be in complete darkness under the shadow of a humongous tree, when an Indian came along with a machete, cutting it down allowing the sun to shine. Some believe man came from the pink dolphins on the Amazon river, who when they came too near to the shore would change from the dolphin to men and women. Another believe there was only one man on this world, who walked and walked on the face of the earth until he was really really old. That was when two bees came and bit him on each knee. Before dying, out of the bites on his knees became two other men. One was good, the other bad. Some of the Indians who heard the gospel decided that the good one was God, and the bad one was the Devil. So, what they're trying to do at the institute is start from a firm foundation, instead of just building on their previous beliefs.
For lunch, we mixed the vegetables we'd cut up in a pot with whole fish (with little slits one-fourth of an inch apart all along both sides, intend ended to “reduce the amounts of bones in the fish”, but really only cut them up in little pieces making it impossible to get through a tenth of a bite without having a million little pieces you have to pull out of your mouth. Others must just eat the bones because they're so small, but not me, I took double the time eating my piece than the slowest of them), boiled bananas in another, then steamed rice in the last. Carrying all the food and juice outside, we sat at the wooden tables where the students had been reading earlier. Instead of having one of the students pray in their native language, they had me pray in English.
After lunch, everyone kinda scattered doing their own thing. One guy, went off to find some balsa wood for the “ark” he was carving with a knife (they're learning about Genesis, and instead of calling it a “boat”, it was now re-named an “ark”). He went off with a machete in hand, and returned a couple hours later, soaking wet from the dip in the lagoon, carrying a good sized log, meaning he'd cut down a pretty big tree with just that machete. Aldo, Tita and I just kinda hung out in the hammocks until Aldo decided to get the blowgun, and styrofoam plate for a target. We had fun testing the strength of our lungs. Seeing a bat way up in the palm frawn ceiling, Aldo decided to see if he could get it; and sure enough he did. The dart went through it's wing, and had it pinned to the ceiling, while it made a high pitched squeaking. It was pure chance though. When he tried to hit it again, he was at least a foot off. Thankfully the little animal didn't die, and we left it hanging by it's toes on a nail nearby.
Behind where
we'd left the tiny bat, I noticed a tree having two snow-shoe looking apparatuses wrapped with string holding it on. Each consisted of two poles, looking like they were hugging the tree, then on either side of the tree, perpendicular to the poles, wooden vines were holding them together. The night before, I had seen a short video-clip on the laptop of one of the Indians using these. He would climb up on the bottom one, push the second one up to about his waste, climb up on it, laying down pull the first up to where the second one is, stand on the first one again, pushing the second one up again. Kinda hard to explain, but is somewhat similar to an inchworm; it's top half of it's body going up, then pulling it's second half up, if that makes sense. It was pretty cool. At the top of the tree there were little round, orange fruit that he would cut off, and throw down. Wondering why they couldn't just shimmy up the tree like they do with coconut trees, I came closer to the tree, noticing it had two-inch long, skinny spines all the way up the trunk.
Tita invited me to come with her and Aldo on a hike into the jungle with them, but because she had most of the responsibility at the school that day, being as Luz had gone into Leticia for groceries and errands, it wasn't possible to do it that day. So, I was going to stay another night with them, and go early the next morning. I hadn't really talked with Dad about how long I could stay, but was sure he'd let me spend another night, but Luz called saying Dad wanted me back on the 2:00 bus back to Leticia.
We played a Spanish card game, which I've never played in my life, before I collected all my stuff, shoving it into my purse, and standing out on the street five minutes after hearing the “colectivo” pass the house coming from town, waiting for it to reach the end of it's route, then pick me up on it's way back.
I was sad I couldn't stay another night, but so thankful for the wonderful time I'd gotten to spend with such awesome, fun Christians... which were so easy to get along with, despite all the differences, especially considering we have more differences than things in common.
Nobody was in the little bus when I jumped into the front seat next to the driver. Before I'd gotten in, Tita told me his wife usually volunteered, helping with the cooking at the institute, but had fallen, hurting her ribs, and was recovering. I talked to him a little about that. He was a really friendly older man, telling me all he knew about the places on the sides of the road as we passed them. We only picked up passengers at one other stop. The “micro” was so bumpy, it's shocks were pretty much killed from driving that stretch of bad road so often.
The route went right past the corner by the house, I paid my 2.50, thanked the man, and walked back to the Roberts'.
A week later, three motorcycles were speeding back down that same bumpy, jungle road. Nate and Cam, Dave and Lydia, Ben and I decided to go again for their Wednesday “sports” time. This time four of us were planning on spending the night; everyone but Nate and Cam.
As it got dark, we played volleyball. It reminded me of the second time I'd seen these people, when we'd played. This time everyone was much more comfortable, and we were joking around the whole time. It was so much fun.
It was getting late when Nate and Cam jumped on their moto, and headed back to the house. Because everyone was hot and sweaty, it was decided to go swim in the “manigua”. Everyone but Luz, Tita and I went because someone had to stay to make dinner. I did end up walking Lydia down there, considering she hadn't been before and didn't know where it was. It was a beautiful walk. Jungle rising up on each side of the road, with the whole sky lighting up with lighting bolts zig-zagging across the looming clouds turning the heavens a bright electric purple behind us.
While they swam, we made “arroz con leche”. Rice boiled with milk, sugar, and cinnamon, having raisins plopped on top of the porridge looking mixture. It smelled delicious, and when everyone came back, we ate our light dinner.
Because the next week was the students last, they were doing some projects to finish up. As we helped them out, cutting, gluing, coloring and drawing, we sang, listening to Tita and Aldo play the guitar. It was fun just being relaxed, and comfortable with all the Christian young people.
At nine-thirty we separated, disappearing behind the doorway sheet into our rooms. Lydia slept where I had the week before, and I on the top bunk. The night noises were just as amazing as they were before, and perfect for falling asleep to.
Once again, we woke up to the sound of cheerful workers. This time it was Ben sweeping the “sala” instead of one of the students. Lydia and I helped make fried arepas, while the egg soup boiled on the stove. I was feeling sorry for Dave, because arepas are one of the only types of food he really doesn't care for, but thankfully he actually liked these kind that were fried instead of being baked with interesting cheese.
Immediately after breakfast Tita and Aldo took the four of us on a trek through the jungle back behind the school. Because we had forgotten to get running shoes, Lydia and I had to borrow boots and shoes from Tita to add to our breezy outfit of pants and long-sleeved shirts At first I
was jealous of the boys who were wearing just their flipflops, tee shirts and shorts, but soon changed my mind. Although it was really warm as we walked, mosquitoes swarmed around us, even attempting to stick their little blood-sucking straws through our jeans!!
We had five machetes (which got circulated to the person without one) and walked slashing the vegetation on the sides, keeping the path wide enough to walk through. It felt as if we were explorers, climbing over fallen logs, forging small streams, and cutting out the trail. As wewalked, the tall, leafy trees filtered the sunlight that shone down on patches on us. Having the covering kept moisture in, as well as kept the sun from shining straight down on us, keeping us as cool as we could be walking through the humid Amazon jungle in long-sleeves and pants. All of the sudden, Tita lifted her head toward the sky, and started searching the branches of the tall, overhead trees, “micos!” she exclaimed excitedly. Even though she couldn't see them, she could distinguish their shrieks from that of all the other jungle animal sounds (unlike the rest of us). Soon, her ears proved to be right, and the whole clan of monkeys swung through the branches overhead, while they screamed down at us as well as each other. Ben tried to take pictures, but those animals were so small, so fast, and so high up, it was really difficult to capture.
Halfway through our little adventure, we came upon a large log blocking the path about four feet off the ground, and a few feet in front of it long vines hanging from the trees around. Aldo
decided to be the brave one, grabbed the vine, jerked on it a few times seeing how sturdy it was, walked over to the log, climbed up, then jumped off wrapping his arms and legs around it. Looking like fun, I decided to try it too. We were there for probably ten minutes trying to imitate the micos we'd seen earlier, climbing, swinging and yelling.
All along the path we examined all sortss of flora and fauna. There were huge florescent blue butterflies, their fluttering wings each as big as big as an open hand, while others were small, having wings that appeared like stained glass windows of which you were transparent. Weird bright orange fungus, big black beetles, leaf-cutter ants marching in a line to their large nest, and even pineapple plants with tiny pineapples just starting to grow, lined the path.
By the end of our two-hour trek, we were all getting a little worn out, and walked in silence. We were all SOAKED in sweat. Trying to look up around taking in God's creation wasn't as easy as it sounds.
You had to walk with your head down examining the best place to put your next step, over logs, on moss instead of the gushy mud that made a sucking sound when trying to pull your boot out.
Back at the long house, lunch was already cooking, so while some sat in the hammocks, Dave, Ben and I took advantage of the volleyball net, and bumped the ball around a little until the food was ready.
We had beef prepared the same way as the fish I'd had before; with a bunch of cut up vegetables, on rice along with fried bananas.
Taking the break they usually did in the afternoon, we were deciding what to do since after playing only a little bit of volleyball nobody seemed very interested. That's the sky began to get dark with billowing, gray clouds. “Let's play Micro!” suggested Aldo. I'd seen pictures of the last time they'd played soccer with that little ball in the rain; EVERYONE had ended up COVERED in mud. I was a little bit hesitant, but it DID sound like fun.
We felt, as well as saw the first splatters on the dry powdery gray clay-like dirt as we begun to play. Soon it was pouring down on us. Everyone was soaked. The ground was beginning to get slippery, and slippier, and slippier until everyone was sliding all over the field. Certain areas were worse than others, and some would use that to their advantage kicking the ball away from an opponent and over into the growing mud puddle. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, it was also a disadvantage to the first person also, and both players would usually end up either on their back or stomach with fresh mud covering themselves. It was
absolutely HILARIOUS to see someone go for a fast, hard kick only to miss the ball, their one leg flying up into the air using the momentum to pull up the other leg standing on mud as slick as a banana peel on a soapy tile floor, causing the poor victim to end up laying flat on their back, as the others continued to play above and/or around them, slipping on top of them as well, resulting in somewhat of an accidental dog pile. It was the most fun I've had in a long time. The whole time everyone was laughing so hard; both at ourselves, as well as everybody else. Pretty soon we were beginning to get exhausted from the whole waking up at 6, going on a two hour hike, playing volleyball for an hour, then this slippery mud soccer game day, and decided to get cleaned up. Only first we had to have a mud fight, of which I didn't really understand the purpose of, considering everyone was already COVERED head to toe in the slimy mud. But we went along with it, and soon learned we COULD get dirtier. Smear it in the hair, on the face, and just throw it randomly at whoever happens to be in front of you. Poor Tita and Luz had been attempting to avoid everyone, but when noticed they were pulled into the middle of the battle and smeared even more. Then we were VERY muddy, and wanted to get clean even more, considering mud chap stick isn't the most pleasant tasting flavor out there, and a bit grainy as well.
That's when it both stopped raining, and we realized there was no running water at the institute because the electricity was off. All of us but Tita and Luz (who had to stay with the place), walked down to the lagoon. We jumped off the little cement ledge into the luke-warm water, rinsing the gritty, slimy mud out of our hair, and clothes. As we swam around, I remembered what had happened the other week we'd been there. Nate had put the key for his motorcycle in his unzipped pocket, then jumped in, losing it in the mucky brown water. We'd combed the gross, mushy gooshy, try to avoid touching, bottom of that lake, to no avail. That's when we found out all the rented motorcycles could be started with another's key, and run without it... it made us a little more cautious the next time we rented motos.
We had fun climbing up on a floating log while two people held either side, then jumping, and flipping off of it. One time Dave dived in, confusing me, because his head and body went in quickly, then his legs and feet seemed to freeze for a second, then slowly disappear under the water following the rest of his body. When he came back up, his forehead was bleeding; he had dove right into a submerged log! We were so thankful he hadn't gotten more hurt than he did!
By this time, it was time for us to be heading back to turn in the motos at the rental shop. We didn't have dry clothes, so after throwing our stuff in our backpacks, thanking those there, we hopped on the motos, sopping wet and headed back home.
We rode side-by-side some of the time, and were staggered at other times. I could never get bored of riding a motorcycle through the country, especially here... I love it!
Nonetheless, we prepared to go. Putting on our helmets, we made sure they were ones that actually DID buckle under our chins (or that we could at least tie the strap). Dad kick-started the moto, and we were ready. I kinda had a moment of hesitance, and decided I was going to make sure I could kick-start it myself, in case something happened. After a couple attempts, it started. Mom felt a little uneasy about this, and reminded Dad to pray with us before letting us go. “Make sure you get back before dark, the moto needs to be back at the rental place before then”, Dad reminded me before we left. The wheels bumped over the curb, and onto the street. Starting off was a little shaky. We went a little swervy, and in trying to avoid the pot-holes, I managed to hit every one! Once we were out of sight, and going a bit faster, it was easier to keep my balance, and drove in more of a lazy snake-shaped line, than an earthquake meter. Driving in the town was a little more difficult than on the kilometer road, having to avoid the motos turning right in front of you, and big trash trucks stopped in the middle of the street. As we passed the gas station, I wondered if Dad had filled the tank recently, but the thought, “He wouldn't send us way out there without making sure we had enough... besides, we have to get out there soon, there's no time check and see”.
As we leaned through the curves, and sped past the large open areas with cows grazing, then the dense
jungle patches, watching the sun slowly sinking behind the tree-tops, the thought had completely escaped my mind, until the motorcycle started to sputter. Then it started going slower... and slower... and slower, until it came to a complete stop. Right in the middle of our lane. “I think we ran out of gas”, I said stating the obvious. We jumped off, then started pushing the motorcycle to the side of the road. It was really hard to push. It would go for a few feet, then the tire skid for the next, continue for a couple more, and stop rotating again. That is when I realized it was still in gear, and had to pull up the little gear changer until the little light showed we were now in neutral. We pushed to a little driveway leading to a house, which was blocked by a metal gate. Beside it, driven into the ground was a little gray rock, and painted on the white part were little black numbers indicating we were at kilometer 14.Great. It's starting to get dark, we're two girls without a cell-phone, or even a phone number we could call, with a motorcycle that's out of gas, in the middle of nowhere, four kilometers from where we want to go, and 16 from where we came from... as well as all those other things I mentioned earlier.
We had a short prayer and discussion as to what should be our next step. “Let's just keep walking”. So that's what we did. Not wanting to get ourselves in any trouble, we decided to avoid going to any houses to ask for help, and try to walk out the four kilometers. Lydia carried the stuff, while I pushed the moto. This is when we realized that our front tire was also flat. Deciding to take advantage of the fact there was NO possible way we could be back before dark, let alone arrive at the Bible school before then, we decided to enjoy our time. Slipping off our flip flops, we walked, kicking through the water sitting in puddles on the road, remaining from the morning rain. As we talked, parrots flew over the trees silhouetted against the orange sunset sky, trying to drown us out with their loud squawking. We were thankful that it was evening, and not the middle of the afternoon. Although we were just walking, we were pretty warm, but having the sun behind the trees helped keep us cooler.
It was getting darker by the minute when we decided plan #1 wasn't going to work. We were going to HAVE to ask someone for help if we wanted to get there before midnight. A guy walking towards us walking a bike with a flat tire looked nice enough. “Do you know where there might be somewhere we could get gas?” well, apparently there was a “white house” somewhere down the road a little bit, but after arriving at a house, there was no way to tell whether it was white or not, it was too dark. There was a little bridge across the ditch consisting of two boards laid side by side, just wide enough for the motorcycle's tires. In order to turn the hunk of metal enough to straighten it out, Lydia had to lift up the whole back end of it, while I pushed, walking through the ditch so the moto could stay on the bridge. At one point, forgetting the exhaust pipe was hot, I tried to catch the thing while it was falling over, and it made a pretty nasty burn on my leg. As we trudged through the mud to the house, I smeared some over it to soothe it (in attempting to wash it off later that evening, scrubbing it to get the grains of dirt out, peeling shriveled skin along with it, I came to the conclusion that hadn't been the best of ideas, but it felt good until then!). “Buenas noches!” I called standing in the dark outside the house. I could tell someone was inside, because of the light shining out from beneath the front door, but nobody answered for a little while. When a woman finally opened the door and peering out she exclaimed, “Ay! Me asustaste!”. I can imagine why she was scared. After dark, having someone calling outside your house, in a strong American accent, hearing no motor indicating how they had gotten to your front door. But after seeing us two girls standing there with the silent motorcycle, looking very unimp
osing, she opened the door wider, and asked what she could help us with. After explaining what had happened, she told us apologetically that her husband had run out of gas the night before, but to go to the next “white house” down the road. By now we really were wondering how to find these “white houses” when it was completely dark outside. We tramped back through the mud, and back to the street.The next house we came to looked promising. It looked very well kept up, and two stories, built of concrete. To the side of the house was a car, indicating we had a pretty good chance of getting gas. After about five minutes standing outside the gate yelling “Buenas Nooocchhessss” to no avail, we decided this was not the answer to prayer we were looking for, and continued walking. I had decided to just try to make it the 13.5 more kilometers, and not take a chance, when we came upon a house that had a tire with a stick piercing right through the middle. I recognized it as usually being a sign for a “taller”, or repair shop. Maybe they would have gas here. I started calling the “good evening” I had yelled out at the last two houses, when Lydia gave me the brilliant idea of asking if they have gas. Minutes after the “Tienen gasolina?” was out, we saw the front door swing open, and the outline of a shirtless man walking cautiously out of it. In one hand was a flash-light, and in the other was the red glow of a cigarette butt. Shining the flashlight in our faces he walked close to where we were. He wasn't very friendly when we told him our predicament, slowly opening the gate letting us in. Lydia and I prayed together before proceeding. “Do you have gas?” I asked again as we walked in. “I'll see” he responded and kept walking the flashlight sweeping back and forth in front of him. When we arrived at the front of the house I stopped, as he disappeared around the back corner. Seeing we weren't following, he looked back at us, and motioned to come back saying, “Hay luz aqui donde podemos ver mejor”. Yeah, there WAS a light back there where we could see, but there was also a light in FRONT of the house close to where we were standing where it was shining plenty bright. But, we still didn't even know if he had gas! I asked again, and this time his response was, he thought so... I pushed the motorcycle under the circle of light, and told him we could see fine right where we were. He kinda smiled, and disappeared. I was starting to get a little bit uneasy with the whole situation, and we stopped to pray one more time together. He was gone for a
while before walking back out through the front door hauling a big, five-gallon container of gas on his shoulder. Pulling it down, he had me hold a water bottle, cut in half, using it as a funnel to pour the gasoline into the tank, spilling the cold liquid over my hand. Lydia paid him, and after thanking him, we got out of there as quickly as we could... thanking the Lord for keeping us safe.Once back on the road, I realized that I was going to have to kick-start the moto again. I was a little more confident since I'd started it at the house earlier, but wasn't completely comfortable. After kicking it over and over again, without it starting I got discouraged, and was about to call the guy, who was now disappearing into his house, to come back, and start it for me when I finally got it, and the sound of the motor sounded like music to our ears. It was wonderful to know we'd be able to make it somewhere, faster than walking. After starting it, I realized that the front headlight appeared as if it had gone dead. It had been on the whole walk without the engine being on, and had probably burned out or something. I got on, and Lydia swung her leg over, sitting behind me. That is when I really realized how flat the front tire was. Driving started off even more wobbly than when we'd left the house! It was worse when I tried pressing buttons, and switching switches thinking there might have been a chance I'd turned the lights off sometime during our trek, but after almost crashing, I decided to concentrate more on driving.
So here we were, two American girls, on a long Colombian road in the middle of nowhere, driving a motorcycle with a flat tire, and no headlight. By now it was practically pitch black all around us, the white cement road ahead of us was the only thing visible, but the potholes were not... no matter what size they were. The “dashboard” saying how much gas (which obviously didn't work) we had, how fast we were going, and all that was all lit up. Now all I could see was the bright light shining up at me from below telling us we were in third gear, going thirty kilometers an hour. But, I'd really have rather been able to see the road than this bright annoying light under my chin, blinding me from seeing the important things in the road like big branches, small animals, or deep puddles. Thankfully I had grabbed one of Paul's nice helmets (instead of a rented one... the ones that have broken chin straps, no padding and fall off your head...) that completely covers your head, has a chin strap, and is like a “normal” motorcycle helmet that has a part that goes in front of your jaw and chin as well. So, I drove with my nose up in the air, appearing like I was enjoying all the wonderful night jungle smells, but in reality was blocking the bright green light with my jaw/chin guard on my helmet, so I could see the road. In riding this way, I was also able to look up into the sky and see the sliver of the moon, with the scattering of stars covering the heavens. They were all so bright, not being anywhere near civilization where there's “light pollution”.
After bouncing over some pretty big branches, then bumping down into a couple shallow, abrupt ditches in the middle of the road, I decided this wasn't the appropriate time for star gazing... and attempted to pay more attention to where I was driving, which still didn't improve much, considering the chin/jaw guard wasn't really intended for shielding my eyes from getting light bleached from the “dashboard”. The next day when riding back, I saw those enormous branches were placed in the middle of the lane (being extra big so nobody would miss seeing them... except for a couple of gringa girls riding a motorcycle down a deserted road, at night, with a flat tire, and no headlight) so that they would not run over the construction area where road workers had dug into the concrete of the road, making little ditches for some unknown reason. We managed to hit both in one shot!
Thankfully nobody else was on the road (even people with pumped up tires AND a headlight weren't out on the kilometers after dark), so we were able to drive right down the middle, where there were the least “alterations” to the road. The whole ride I was thinking, “Lydia was an amazing person to have broken down with me. I was so glad I was with her!”. She didn't panic, or get worked up... we both were just like, well, this is how it is, and we can't do much to change it, so we'd might as well make the best of the situation... and we did! We actually had fun!
When we finally pulled up, parked the motorcycle, and walked in, Dave was like “I was starting to wonder if you'd guys would EVER get
here!”. He'd already finished playing sports with them (well obviously, it was now way dark), and been for a swim in the “manigua” with everyone. We explained to everyone what had happened. Then, realizing there really was no way for Dave and Lydia to get back in the shape the motorcycle was at that moment, we came to the conclusion they would just have to stay the night also, and go back the next morning on one of the three buses that pass there daily. Hopefully once they got back, Dad would know what to do next.After being there for about a half hour, Dad called. But, because we were out of cell-range, the call dropped. Here those with cell phones have pre-paid minutes, and neither Tita, nor Luz had minutes, meaning they could only receive calls. Dad kept on calling, and then it would keep dropping. Finally I got the majority of the message to him, and he said he'd come on out, and figure out what we'd do from there.
Lydia and I helped in the kitchen making dinner. Everything they cooked was on a long, thin
gas stove; the kind used for cooking in restaurants. Having no oven, the food was all put in these huge cauldron-like pots. Standing over the hot stove, we steamed rice (which I'm starting to find EVERYONE does differently... Tita does it one way, Luz another which are different than either my mom's way, or even Martha's) then added peas, and other vegetables. In a small frying pan, bananas sliced in nickle-shaped pieces were spitting oil as they fried. One little piece of chicken was fried for each person as well, before serving them all up in bowls. We had some sort of native fruit juice, which was delicious.
Before were were done making the meal, dad showed up on a moto taxi. He took a look at our moto, and decided he would just try to drive it back to the house with Dave sitting as far back on the seat as possible to try to relieve the weight on the front tire. Lydia would ride back with the “mototaxista”. Dad got on the moto, started it on the first try, then switched on the headlight. I was incredulous. Had it been that simple? I must have accidentally switched the light off when walking the moto or something. So, we had driven all that way without a headlight, putting ourselves in more danger than we were already in, only because we hadn't stopped, and made a more dedicated effort to find the light.
As they drove slowly off into the dark, I wondered how this would all work out... both them getting home, and I staying here the night with people I'd only seen three times my life.
Everyone sat down around the long, tall table, and bowed our heads as one of the students prayed. After finishing their large bowls of rice and chicken, everyone was allowed to have seconds from the large pot. It was amazing how much the small Indian guys could eat! They must be like Nathan; eating more than double what everyone else eats, but staying skinny.
After dinner everyone washed their own plates and silverware, then certain ones had jobs for cleaning the bigger dishes.
Then, while the students worked on homework, Aldo and Tita played the guitar, and sang. They sang some of the same Christian songs that the guy in Macedonia played, as well as others. It was beautiful! Once again, I sat listening to the beautiful singing, and guitar playing while trying to follow on where I could, just enjoying the amazing Christian fellowship. Even though we speak more than three different languages, we're from three different countries and have three completely different cultures, there is one thing that joins us together, completely overcoming all those barriers. Jesus, what he's done for us, and the desire to share it with others.
By nine-thirty guys had to be in their room, and the girls in theirs, lights being turned off shortly after. Both the guys and girls went through the sheets serving as doors separating the “dormitories” from the one, big room. We sat on the beds for a while, talking, sort of learning some Ticuna words, such as the numbers, which I've now forgotten. It was interesting to me, how we count by tens (and ones I guess too...) but they count by fives. I don't know if that makes sense, but like they count to five, then like say one-one, one-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, then start over two-one two-three... I'd never really thought about how other cultures say their numbers.
Trying to pack as little as possible, considering we were on the moto, I hadn't brought pijamas... Luz let me borrow hers. Being she is about a foot taller than me, and quite a bit bigger, they were pretty much huge on me, but at least I didn't have to wear my clothes I'd worn on the trip over.
I was on the bottom of a two-level bunk bed. The yellow mosquito net, containing several patches around the perimeter, was hanging from the four corners above me, then tied in a knot at the top. I watched as the other girls carefully undid the knot making sure there was no way mosquitoes could get inside it as they did. Tucking them all around under their mattresses, they would leave one little section allowing them to climb in. Once that was accomplished, after squirming in, they'd tuck in the last little section too. As soon as everyone was safely in their net cocoon, one person was elected to turn off the light, and either use a flashlight or just feel around to get back to their bed.
We said goodnight, and could hear the guys over in their room saying their goodnights too. I couldn't understand, but the Ticuna guys must have been saying some sort of joke in their language, and were all laughing.
Soon, everyone was quiet, and deep in sleep, considering they wake up so early every morning, working hard and studying all day. I stayed awake a little longer, enjoying the complete darkness, as well as the only sounds being jungle noises. I could hear crickets, frogs, all kinds of other insects, and animals. Such a contrast to being in the town of Leticia, the neighbor's lights being on all night, dogs barking, and roosters crowing at all hours of the night. I could have laid there all night under my mosquito net just listening to the jungle's night song, but in trying it lulled me to sleep, and I drifted off.
I woke up to the sound of cheerful whistling, singing, sweeping, and talking. It was five-thirty, or six, and everyone was up doing their different assigned jobs, but me. Tita walked by bunk and said “buenos dias”. I jumped up, got dressed, then went into the kitchen where she was lighting the stove with a long candle (instead of just the cigarette lighter, because she's scared she'll leave the gas on too long without being able to get the spark of the lighter, and it will end up exploding). She started the hot chocolate, given as a snack to all those working before breakfast.
To the side, she had a big bowl of masa to make arepas (a sort of pancake-like breadish thing that is pretty much like a dough nut, only not sweet). She had me pour cold water over the mix while she kneaded it with her hands, until it was just the right consistency. Then, she separated the dough into enough sections for each of us to have two. From there, the two of us would roll them into a more spherical balls. After rolling them for about thirty seconds, it began to flatten out, making a UFO shape. Then it was time to hold it in one hand squeezing it between your fingers and thumb muscle with your other hand just with the tips of your fingers and thumb going around making it flat. Once it was almost the right shape, you'd slap it back and forth between your hands, sort of how the ladies in Mexico make tortillas. Tita laughed at me because of how slow I would slap it between my hands; she on the other hand looked like she was clapping, she did it so fast, doing it the way she's done it ever since she was little. It reminded me of what we'd do with silly-putty. Once they were the perfect roundness, and thickness, they were placed on a grill sitting over the stove.
While they were cooking, we made coffee the same way we'd done the other morning I'd been, with the coffee-grounds in a sock-like strainer, put in boiling water inside the metal pitcher.
Once it was all done, we served up the plates, and placed them on the shelf for the everyone to take to their seats. We sat down, and thanked the Lord for breakfast.
After finishing eating, everyone scattered to their different jobs again, cleaning up the dishes, as well as getting ready for the day's classes.
Finishing quite a bit before Tita, Aldo and I, the students went out for fifteen minutes of reading a passage in Proverbs, and meditating on it with Luz. Looking from the doorway where we were, all the students sitting under the palm frawn covering at the little wood tables, made of trunks, bent over their Bibles. There outside, mist covered everything. You could barely see the trees from the jungle peeking out behind it. You could hear all the birds singing everywhere around, as well as a (very) occasional motorcycle motor driving past on the road.
After the fifteen minutes of meditation, the students returned to the long house, where Tita led the Bible reading, where we first sang with the guitar, then each person told what they had learned or thought about as they had read Proverbs 12:18-20. I sort of thought that was too easy, but soon learned that these Indians really don't know much of the Bible at all, and are not even really educated. They were practically right out of the jungle tribes. It was a complicated task for them, first understanding the Spanish words, then gathering their own thoughts about what it said, and translating it from their language into Spanish again. Later Tita told me they might have been embarrassed to talk in front of me, so that may have been part of the problem too.
During the next break I went out to the little prayer hut to read, and pray. It was just so
peaceful, and quiet. I wished we could stay out there at kilometer 18 with the Roberts the whole time here in Leticia. But, it's hard 'cause it's so far from everything; like groceries, the hospital, or anything else you'd need to buy.Then, while she taught another class, Aldo and I prepped for lunch; cutting up onion, peppers, tomatoes, and garlic. He told me about the students, and how it wasn't easy working with them. He said it isn't possible to just tell them the gospel, about Jesus, and God, then leave, because others have done that before, resulting in a mix of their religion with Christianity. And each tribe has a different idea of how the world was created. One tribe believes that the world used to be in complete darkness under the shadow of a humongous tree, when an Indian came along with a machete, cutting it down allowing the sun to shine. Some believe man came from the pink dolphins on the Amazon river, who when they came too near to the shore would change from the dolphin to men and women. Another believe there was only one man on this world, who walked and walked on the face of the earth until he was really really old. That was when two bees came and bit him on each knee. Before dying, out of the bites on his knees became two other men. One was good, the other bad. Some of the Indians who heard the gospel decided that the good one was God, and the bad one was the Devil. So, what they're trying to do at the institute is start from a firm foundation, instead of just building on their previous beliefs.
For lunch, we mixed the vegetables we'd cut up in a pot with whole fish (with little slits one-fourth of an inch apart all along both sides, intend ended to “reduce the amounts of bones in the fish”, but really only cut them up in little pieces making it impossible to get through a tenth of a bite without having a million little pieces you have to pull out of your mouth. Others must just eat the bones because they're so small, but not me, I took double the time eating my piece than the slowest of them), boiled bananas in another, then steamed rice in the last. Carrying all the food and juice outside, we sat at the wooden tables where the students had been reading earlier. Instead of having one of the students pray in their native language, they had me pray in English.
After lunch, everyone kinda scattered doing their own thing. One guy, went off to find some balsa wood for the “ark” he was carving with a knife (they're learning about Genesis, and instead of calling it a “boat”, it was now re-named an “ark”). He went off with a machete in hand, and returned a couple hours later, soaking wet from the dip in the lagoon, carrying a good sized log, meaning he'd cut down a pretty big tree with just that machete. Aldo, Tita and I just kinda hung out in the hammocks until Aldo decided to get the blowgun, and styrofoam plate for a target. We had fun testing the strength of our lungs. Seeing a bat way up in the palm frawn ceiling, Aldo decided to see if he could get it; and sure enough he did. The dart went through it's wing, and had it pinned to the ceiling, while it made a high pitched squeaking. It was pure chance though. When he tried to hit it again, he was at least a foot off. Thankfully the little animal didn't die, and we left it hanging by it's toes on a nail nearby.
Behind where
we'd left the tiny bat, I noticed a tree having two snow-shoe looking apparatuses wrapped with string holding it on. Each consisted of two poles, looking like they were hugging the tree, then on either side of the tree, perpendicular to the poles, wooden vines were holding them together. The night before, I had seen a short video-clip on the laptop of one of the Indians using these. He would climb up on the bottom one, push the second one up to about his waste, climb up on it, laying down pull the first up to where the second one is, stand on the first one again, pushing the second one up again. Kinda hard to explain, but is somewhat similar to an inchworm; it's top half of it's body going up, then pulling it's second half up, if that makes sense. It was pretty cool. At the top of the tree there were little round, orange fruit that he would cut off, and throw down. Wondering why they couldn't just shimmy up the tree like they do with coconut trees, I came closer to the tree, noticing it had two-inch long, skinny spines all the way up the trunk.Tita invited me to come with her and Aldo on a hike into the jungle with them, but because she had most of the responsibility at the school that day, being as Luz had gone into Leticia for groceries and errands, it wasn't possible to do it that day. So, I was going to stay another night with them, and go early the next morning. I hadn't really talked with Dad about how long I could stay, but was sure he'd let me spend another night, but Luz called saying Dad wanted me back on the 2:00 bus back to Leticia.
We played a Spanish card game, which I've never played in my life, before I collected all my stuff, shoving it into my purse, and standing out on the street five minutes after hearing the “colectivo” pass the house coming from town, waiting for it to reach the end of it's route, then pick me up on it's way back.
I was sad I couldn't stay another night, but so thankful for the wonderful time I'd gotten to spend with such awesome, fun Christians... which were so easy to get along with, despite all the differences, especially considering we have more differences than things in common.
Nobody was in the little bus when I jumped into the front seat next to the driver. Before I'd gotten in, Tita told me his wife usually volunteered, helping with the cooking at the institute, but had fallen, hurting her ribs, and was recovering. I talked to him a little about that. He was a really friendly older man, telling me all he knew about the places on the sides of the road as we passed them. We only picked up passengers at one other stop. The “micro” was so bumpy, it's shocks were pretty much killed from driving that stretch of bad road so often.
The route went right past the corner by the house, I paid my 2.50, thanked the man, and walked back to the Roberts'.
A week later, three motorcycles were speeding back down that same bumpy, jungle road. Nate and Cam, Dave and Lydia, Ben and I decided to go again for their Wednesday “sports” time. This time four of us were planning on spending the night; everyone but Nate and Cam.
As it got dark, we played volleyball. It reminded me of the second time I'd seen these people, when we'd played. This time everyone was much more comfortable, and we were joking around the whole time. It was so much fun.
It was getting late when Nate and Cam jumped on their moto, and headed back to the house. Because everyone was hot and sweaty, it was decided to go swim in the “manigua”. Everyone but Luz, Tita and I went because someone had to stay to make dinner. I did end up walking Lydia down there, considering she hadn't been before and didn't know where it was. It was a beautiful walk. Jungle rising up on each side of the road, with the whole sky lighting up with lighting bolts zig-zagging across the looming clouds turning the heavens a bright electric purple behind us.
While they swam, we made “arroz con leche”. Rice boiled with milk, sugar, and cinnamon, having raisins plopped on top of the porridge looking mixture. It smelled delicious, and when everyone came back, we ate our light dinner.
Because the next week was the students last, they were doing some projects to finish up. As we helped them out, cutting, gluing, coloring and drawing, we sang, listening to Tita and Aldo play the guitar. It was fun just being relaxed, and comfortable with all the Christian young people.
At nine-thirty we separated, disappearing behind the doorway sheet into our rooms. Lydia slept where I had the week before, and I on the top bunk. The night noises were just as amazing as they were before, and perfect for falling asleep to.
Once again, we woke up to the sound of cheerful workers. This time it was Ben sweeping the “sala” instead of one of the students. Lydia and I helped make fried arepas, while the egg soup boiled on the stove. I was feeling sorry for Dave, because arepas are one of the only types of food he really doesn't care for, but thankfully he actually liked these kind that were fried instead of being baked with interesting cheese.
Immediately after breakfast Tita and Aldo took the four of us on a trek through the jungle back behind the school. Because we had forgotten to get running shoes, Lydia and I had to borrow boots and shoes from Tita to add to our breezy outfit of pants and long-sleeved shirts At first I
was jealous of the boys who were wearing just their flipflops, tee shirts and shorts, but soon changed my mind. Although it was really warm as we walked, mosquitoes swarmed around us, even attempting to stick their little blood-sucking straws through our jeans!!We had five machetes (which got circulated to the person without one) and walked slashing the vegetation on the sides, keeping the path wide enough to walk through. It felt as if we were explorers, climbing over fallen logs, forging small streams, and cutting out the trail. As we
walked, the tall, leafy trees filtered the sunlight that shone down on patches on us. Having the covering kept moisture in, as well as kept the sun from shining straight down on us, keeping us as cool as we could be walking through the humid Amazon jungle in long-sleeves and pants. All of the sudden, Tita lifted her head toward the sky, and started searching the branches of the tall, overhead trees, “micos!” she exclaimed excitedly. Even though she couldn't see them, she could distinguish their shrieks from that of all the other jungle animal sounds (unlike the rest of us). Soon, her ears proved to be right, and the whole clan of monkeys swung through the branches overhead, while they screamed down at us as well as each other. Ben tried to take pictures, but those animals were so small, so fast, and so high up, it was really difficult to capture.Halfway through our little adventure, we came upon a large log blocking the path about four feet off the ground, and a few feet in front of it long vines hanging from the trees around. Aldo
decided to be the brave one, grabbed the vine, jerked on it a few times seeing how sturdy it was, walked over to the log, climbed up, then jumped off wrapping his arms and legs around it. Looking like fun, I decided to try it too. We were there for probably ten minutes trying to imitate the micos we'd seen earlier, climbing, swinging and yelling.All along the path we examined all sortss of flora and fauna. There were huge florescent blue butterflies, their fluttering wings each as big as big as an open hand, while others were small, having wings that appeared like stained glass windows of which you were transparent. Weird bright orange fungus, big black beetles, leaf-cutter ants marching in a line to their large nest, and even pineapple plants with tiny pineapples just starting to grow, lined the path.
By the end of our two-hour trek, we were all getting a little worn out, and walked in silence. We were all SOAKED in sweat. Trying to look up around taking in God's creation wasn't as easy as it sounds.
You had to walk with your head down examining the best place to put your next step, over logs, on moss instead of the gushy mud that made a sucking sound when trying to pull your boot out.Back at the long house, lunch was already cooking, so while some sat in the hammocks, Dave, Ben and I took advantage of the volleyball net, and bumped the ball around a little until the food was ready.
We had beef prepared the same way as the fish I'd had before; with a bunch of cut up vegetables, on rice along with fried bananas.
Taking the break they usually did in the afternoon, we were deciding what to do since after playing only a little bit of volleyball nobody seemed very interested. That's the sky began to get dark with billowing, gray clouds. “Let's play Micro!” suggested Aldo. I'd seen pictures of the last time they'd played soccer with that little ball in the rain; EVERYONE had ended up COVERED in mud. I was a little bit hesitant, but it DID sound like fun.
We felt, as well as saw the first splatters on the dry powdery gray clay-like dirt as we begun to play. Soon it was pouring down on us. Everyone was soaked. The ground was beginning to get slippery, and slippier, and slippier until everyone was sliding all over the field. Certain areas were worse than others, and some would use that to their advantage kicking the ball away from an opponent and over into the growing mud puddle. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, it was also a disadvantage to the first person also, and both players would usually end up either on their back or stomach with fresh mud covering themselves. It was
absolutely HILARIOUS to see someone go for a fast, hard kick only to miss the ball, their one leg flying up into the air using the momentum to pull up the other leg standing on mud as slick as a banana peel on a soapy tile floor, causing the poor victim to end up laying flat on their back, as the others continued to play above and/or around them, slipping on top of them as well, resulting in somewhat of an accidental dog pile. It was the most fun I've had in a long time. The whole time everyone was laughing so hard; both at ourselves, as well as everybody else. Pretty soon we were beginning to get exhausted from the whole waking up at 6, going on a two hour hike, playing volleyball for an hour, then this slippery mud soccer game day, and decided to get cleaned up. Only first we had to have a mud fight, of which I didn't really understand the purpose of, considering everyone was already COVERED head to toe in the slimy mud. But we went along with it, and soon learned we COULD get dirtier. Smear it in the hair, on the face, and just throw it randomly at whoever happens to be in front of you. Poor Tita and Luz had been attempting to avoid everyone, but when noticed they were pulled into the middle of the battle and smeared even more. Then we were VERY muddy, and wanted to get clean even more, considering mud chap stick isn't the most pleasant tasting flavor out there, and a bit grainy as well.That's when it both stopped raining, and we realized there was no running water at the institute because the electricity was off. All of us but Tita and Luz (who had to stay with the place), walked down to the lagoon. We jumped off the little cement ledge into the luke-warm water, rinsing the gritty, slimy mud out of our hair, and clothes. As we swam around, I remembered what had happened the other week we'd been there. Nate had put the key for his motorcycle in his unzipped pocket, then jumped in, losing it in the mucky brown water. We'd combed the gross, mushy gooshy, try to avoid touching, bottom of that lake, to no avail. That's when we found out all the rented motorcycles could be started with another's key, and run without it... it made us a little more cautious the next time we rented motos.
We had fun climbing up on a floating log while two people held either side, then jumping, and flipping off of it. One time Dave dived in, confusing me, because his head and body went in quickly, then his legs and feet seemed to freeze for a second, then slowly disappear under the water following the rest of his body. When he came back up, his forehead was bleeding; he had dove right into a submerged log! We were so thankful he hadn't gotten more hurt than he did!
By this time, it was time for us to be heading back to turn in the motos at the rental shop. We didn't have dry clothes, so after throwing our stuff in our backpacks, thanking those there, we hopped on the motos, sopping wet and headed back home.
We rode side-by-side some of the time, and were staggered at other times. I could never get bored of riding a motorcycle through the country, especially here... I love it!
