Samán

Since there was no room on the plane Jeremy and Susan took from Lima to Pucallpa, Graham and I took the first one out the next day. That same day we all got on a launch bound for Iquitos on the Ucayali River that would stop in Samán. On the launch, we found our place and strung up our hammocks for the three day voyage. In Samán, we met with two men who had been through our training the session before mine, and taught classes on storying and Biblical churches. Although the teachings challenged them, they received them well.

The Saturday after we arrived, a few of the men and I went out into the country to gather some leaves for a local dish they were preparing. On the way we met a man in a motocar. Javier, one of the guys I was with, stopped to talk to him. He asked me if I wanted to play soccer later that afternoon. I told them I was not very good, but would be willing to play. He then asked me for 5 soles (about $1.50) and wrote my name on a clipboard, which I thought was strange for a pick-up game. After collecting the leaves, we met several soccer players in jerseys and cleats heading for the soccer field. I asked Javier who they were. He told me they were with the club I was going to play against.

"A club! You signed me up to play with a club! I barely know how to play!" I said. He groaned and apologized while I made up my mind I just would not show up. We arrived at the place Jeremy and Susan were staying, and watched as a steady stream of people passed by heading for the soccer field. Their host told me they were all going to watch me play! I asked him how he knew, and he told me they had made an announcement in the center of town!

Well, could not just not go if the entire town knew about it, but I did not even have any shoes to wear. All I had brought were sandals, and nobody sold shoes in my size. We tossed around a few options, decided I had to go, and hoped for the best. We arrived about halftime (I had been in no hurry while deliberating what to do). They gave me a jersey and shorts, but none of their shoes would even come up over my heel. I thought I was off the hook until a boy rode up on a bicycle with a pair of cleats I could just squeeze into.

So, I went to the sideline and awaited the moment of my humiliation. The coach said he would put me in for the last twenty minutes, which is what they do with their star players. I streched, tried to learn by watching the various positions, and prayed. Finally, the ref blew his whistle, and the players started to walk off the field.

"What´s going on?" I asked. The coach told me the game was over; they had tied. So I did not have to play! I did not even try to hide my relief. They apologized, explained that there was a mix-up, and promised I would get the chance the next week. The next week was election week-end, and since voting is mandatory in Peru, everyone had to travel to one of the voting towns. No one was around, therefore, to play. What a shame!

The week we were supposed to leave Samán, both Pucallpa and Iquitos went on strike, so there were no launches. We only had to wait a few days, however, and traveled back to Lima. In Lima we learned that Cusco went on strike, which held us up for a few more days since we had to pass through there to get back to Pto. Maldonado.

Teaching through stories

Nueva Vida

The trip was only two months altogether, but the effects will last a lifetime. The final leg of our journey to Nueva Vida was as I had feared, grueling. We spent 40 solid hours in crowded canoes, one about 50 ft. long and the other closer to 30, accompanied by the constant drone of their un-muffled engines in pouring rain and blazing sun. Nonetheless, our excitement and high hopes for our stay in Jesús hometown buoyed our spirits.

We arrived at midnight and were warmly welcomed before quickly going to bed. The next day, we saw for the first time the natural beauty of this place which would keep us in constant awe throughout our stay.

Jesús took Graham and me around to meet the rest of the village that evening. As we walked from hut to hut, I felt like I was in a dream. We greeted them in the broken Chayahuita Jesús had just taught us and drank their masato (which was hard to swallow to say the least) while Jesús talked about us and the training in Pto. Maldonado. Everyone was excited and fascinated by the two gringos. They had seen gringos before, but they rarely had spoke to them in their language and never drank their masato. The only words I understood that these smiling people said were the greeting and a few Spanish words they used that were lacking in their language, but their joy was written all over their faces. Graham and I went to bed that night so excited we could hardly sleep!

When we woke up, we noticed the men heading towards the center of the village with machetes, and I asked Jesús where they were going. "It´s community work day," he told me.

"Well, can we help?" I asked.
"I guess if you want to..." he replied.

It was clear that as far as they were concerned we were their guests and were not in the least expected to work. We wanted to help out in whatever way we could, so we put on our rubber boots and headed out. All of the men were in a line stretching all the way across the village to cut the grass. Some had started to work, so we took our positions and started cutting. After a few moments, I realized that it was very quiet for a work day. I looked up and saw that every single man there had stopped to watch Graham and I work!

Graham was still hacking away and I said, "Graham, If you don´t like being the center of attention, don´t look up." He didn´t. I later asked Jesús if they had ever seen gringos working with them before. He grinned from ear to ear and said, "Never!"


After a few days, Graham contracted one of the tropical illnesses we were to face, delaying our plans to take some of the Chayahuita young men on a trip to another community. We spent all of that week in our room. He was too sick to leave, and I could not leave him to go work with the men. It became obvious that there often was not enough food to go around. We felt worthless, and it weighed on us heavily that we could not contribute anything.

That weekend two men died of malaria. One was a teenager, and the other an older man who had helped found the town. We visited the families Saturday, and buried the older man Sunday morning. I had chills when I went to bed that night.

I woke up with a headache and a fever. The man in the clinic tested my blood and told me I had malaria. I had never before so directly faced my own mortality. We decided it was time to leave Nueva Vida. Even if the disease was not so serious, we would only continue to postpone the work that our Chayahuita brothers wanted to do. I told Jesús we needed to leave and why, but he told us no boats would be able to leave until it rained and the river rose.

So we prayed for rain. It rained all night long, and we woke up sure that we would be leaving that day. The river did indeed rise, but the entire city of Yurimaguas, which was our destination, was on strike. No one had any reason to go down river, and even if they did, we would not find the help we needed. They could not even buy food there.

So we prayed for the strike to end. The next day they told us it was over, but there was no one going downriver. So we prayed for someone to take us downriver. Later that day, Jesús told us a man wanted to go, but had no boat. So we prayed for a boat. Finally, the next day everything lined up and we left.

Through it all, God spoke to me and revealed things I will never forget. In spite of our illnesses, we were able to encourage Jesús in his plans (he has since visited two communities and reports the start of a new church) and collect valuable information for later trips.

We met Jeremy and Susan in Lima a few days later. They were leaving for Samán later that day, and asked if we were well enough to go. Within 24 hours, we were off again for the next adventure.
(For a daily account of this trip, see Graham´s Blog)