A night on the river

We had a rushed dinner, because we were already running late. It was 7, and Franklin's boat upriver to Iquitos (the 4 day ride we had taken to get here to Leticia) was to leave at 8 or 9. Although it didn't take too long to get to Peruvian side, we had to walk down to the boat launch, get a little canoe, to get across the river, and get his passport stamped out of Colombia.

Ben, Dave, Dad, Lydia and I went to see him off as well as have the experience of being on the river at night. He had packed light, having only had one small duffel bag, and a backpack, so carrying his stuff wasn't hard. It was dark, and the stars were barely visible as we walked quickly down the streets. Arriving to where we had tramped through the mud to the first night there, as well as where we had launched from to get to the river villages, we began to look for a boatman. Dad went all up and down the little creek looking for someone who might take us, but there was no one. The place was pretty much deserted. Nobody was out at this time of night, especially to take people out on the river when it was this dark. It was then we began to get worried. Franklin HAD to get on that boat... there was just no way he could afford not to! His plane he had already bought tickets for was leaving from Iquitos, (depending on how long the boat took) either the day after it arrived, or maybe even the same day. And the next boat leaving port wouldn't arrive in time. About that time, a random guy appeared out of the darkness, “Estan buscando una lancha?” yes, we were looking for a boat, “ahorita vengo, tengo un amigo que puede llevarles”, but he came back disappointed saying his friend wasn't home, but brightened up and said he thought he heard a boat coming (since it was too dark to see). It ended up the only thing coming down the river was a dug-out canoe with three people and their produce sitting in it. There was no way anymore could fit in it. We were just about to turn around, and get moto taxis over to Brazil, and see if we could get a canoe from there, but by this time, we were really running low on time. As we were talking, a man, his wife, and two children came from the street, and down the incline past where we were, then put their things down on the hard, packed mud, and looked down the tributary where we were, to the river expectantly. We asked them if they were waiting for a canoe, and they said they were, and that one should be coming for them soon. It ended up they were also going to Santa Rosa, and said we could hitch a ride with them in their canoe.

We decided to take advantage of waiting, and try to catch the fireflies that were in the tall grass nearby... man, were they hard to get a hold of! We were tramping through all the vegetation, but as soon as we got close to the green, blinking light, it would stop, and go black. Finally Dad grabbed one, and we saw they were completely different from the ones we have in the U.S. The family standing with us were probably wondering if all Americans were like this...

After getting tired of chasing fireflies, it seemed as if this boat we were waiting for was not coming. When we asked the man, he appeared to be concerned too, and pulled out his cell phone. Talking fast in Spanish, he confirmed that at least SOMEONE was in fact coming. He then reassured us, and after waiting about ten minutes, a canoe big enough for all of us came putting up the river. We climbed down to the edge of the river, stepping onto the bow, then into the pecky-pecky, and sat down on the rough boards, or along the sides.

It was a beautiful, warm night. As we slowly approached the river, crickets were singing, and the tall stilt houses above the embankment, which had no doors or windows, had a soft orange glow emitting from the openings. Music and voices floated out onto the water, but no one was outside their homes. Although they were audible, the river seemed unusually quiet compared to being in the town of Leticia, where there is always motos zipping past the house, or the neighbor's campesino music on full-blast. The water was very calm, making the ride smooth. Putting your hand down into the warm, glistening, glassy water, made a v-shape behind, and disrupted the reflection of the lights. The boat itself did the same looking back at Leticia, but behind, the lights were hardly visible because of the trees and other vegetation by the water. Ben was indulging upon the “ambiance” and “romanticness” of the evening, to which Dave replied unemotionally, “well, it COULD be romantic...”. Just the way the two of them were talking about it was absolutely hilarious, making us all cracked up.

It took about ten minutes to get to the other side of the river, and when we stepped off the canoe, Dad realized all his money was missing. He had lost it while hunting down fire-flies. We didn't have time to worry about it at the moment; Dave paid, and we hurried to immigration after checking in with the boat which said it was to leave at 8:30 or 9:00 (It was past 8:30 by that time). Climbing up the building's steps, we found the doors were shut and locked, but there WERE people inside. Knocking on the door, Franklin waited patiently. They finally opened it a crack, but even after explaining his plight, of needing to leave on the slow boat, leaving that night, they told him they couldn't help him, shutting and locking the door in his face.

They were supposed to be open 24-hours. How can you close the boarder for stamping in and out of a country when there are still modes of transportation in and out? Everyone had told Franklin he'd be fine. It was frustrating having this happen. Just then, we saw what we thought was the answer to prayer. A military man was walking down the path. All 6 of us quickly surrounded him, and asked if he could help us. After hearing our story, he agreed to go and talk to those at immigration. He only wanted a small tip for the help. He had no success either. They shut the door on him too.

A man came up from the river asking if we needed a ride back. Although that was a bit too far in the future to think about at the moment (we still had at least 10 minutes before we needed to be heading back), Dad decided we WERE going to need to get back eventually, and it was getting late, meaning not many boats would be going back, so he might as well bargain now, THEN see what other ways we could get Franklin on the boat. The man was asking too much, so all us kids kinda hung out, while we drank Inca Kola, Dave (the only one who had money) bought for us to break a large bill for the ride back. It was around then, that we stopped, and prayed that the Lord would work this whole situation out. I don't know what happened between that time, and the time Dad realized that man was the man he'd been bargaining with, who had disappeared, was the ONLY one going back tonight, and went off to find him. If we didn't get a ride with him, all of us would end up spending the night on the island, somewhere... and Dad still didn't have any money. He came back, a peaceful, mysterious look on his face. All he said was, “let's go talk to the governor”. A bit confused, we just followed him. Walking up to a house with a bunch of ladies running little gas stoves BBQing fish over hot, glowing coals, we saw a short, dark-skinned, slightly stocky man wearing a red shirt relaxing in a white, plastic lawn-chair. “This is him” Dad whispered just loud enough for us to hear before stepping onto his porch and greeting him with hand-shakes. We pulled up a couple of other plastic chairs, as well as a long, crudely cut wooden bench, and all sat around him.

He looked at us a bit quizzically, before Dad began to explain. After we had the problem all laid out before him, his eyes narrowed, and taking Franklin's passport, he said in Spanish, “I'll go right over and get this taken care of”. He called over to the covered shack where a group of men were drinking, and laughing, some of them drunk, telling the captain of Franklin's boat to keep the boat docked until the passport business was taken care of. As he disappeared down the dark, cement pathway, Dad told us how this had worked out. While going to look for the boatman he had rejected, he found the man sitting, talking to this older man on the porch. When Dad started talking to him about the price of the boat, saying what he'd asked would be alright, he introduced him to the man who was sitting with him. He was the governor of Santa Rosa. It was explained to us that he was more powerful than the mayor, who represented the people. This man represented the government, and upon hearing about our dilemma, he assured us he would take care of it. Which he did; coming back with the same emotionless face he'd kept the whole time he talked with us, he handed Franklin his stamped passport. What an answer to prayer! We thanked the governor profusely, and walked down to the boat. Climbing up to the third deck of the ship, it was obvious there was way more room than the trip here. Franklin had plenty of room to string up his hammock, there were probably only 15 other people up on the top deck with him.

Leaving him standing on the front deck waving, we said goodbye, walked down the gangplank to shore, and climbed into the waiting canoe. As the motor droned on, the lights grew smaller and smaller until we arrived to the Colombian side once again. When arrived back at the house, and recounted what had happened to the others, we were all amazed to see one more time how the Lord had been working through every detail.