The hardest thing I have ever done

Just thought I would take a minute to describe some of my work this week. Part of our mission is a farm about 45 minutes from Yurimaguas. The goal of the farm is three fold, support the Shawi with agriculture development, support the Hogar with food, and disciple and train men of God in the process. This week the focus was on food for the Hogar. At the Hogar we eat a lot of yuca. For those of you not familiar with yuca (just like me a week ago) it is a miracle food in the jungle. Grows well in heat, can take a lot of rain or drought, can store in the ground for three to six months, pest resistant and high in calories. It might be the perfect food for the jungle (God's kind of amazing like that). So we decided to grow yuca at the farm.

We began by clearing an area for the yuca and then we needed to plant some yuca. To do that we had to make a trip to a Shawi community to get some yuca starts. On Tuesday morning two of the workers at the farm and I loaded up in the new furgon and headed out to a village called Segunda Jerusalem.

About an hour and half from Yurimaguas we stopped along the side of the road took off on a foot path through the jungle. I realized that my companions were wearing sandals and thought it strange to wear sandals in the jungle until we had walked about 200 yards and came to a river. 

There was a dugout canoe tied up on the bank but as it is the dry season now it became obvious that it was easier to walk across the knee deep water, hence the sandals. They had to wait for me to take off my boots and socks and then wait some more for me to put them back on on the other side of the river. I felt I really didn’t have a clue what I was doing but that was only the beginning.

We walked past some houses through a papaya field and a pasture and back into the jungle for a while till we came to a little clearing. 

There in the clearing was a small elevated house. One of my companions said, “there are dogs,” as he reached for a large stick. The other ran for a tree and prepared to climb. I decided it would be smart to follow suit and ran to a tree as well. We yelled at the house but no one answered. So my companion just held the dogs at bay with the large stick while I was trying to decide how to climb the tree. After a few minutes a Shawi woman appeared from the jungle with a large basket of produce. She called off the dogs and went directly into the house. She didn’t speak much Spanish but one of the guys I was with spoke Shawi. They talked for a few minutes and he apparently explained that we had spoke with her husband the day before and he said we could have some yuca starts. Her husband was away at the moment but would return later she said. She invited us up into her house where we sat on the floor while she served us a large bowl of chapu one by one because she only had one bowl and she waited till one person finished until taking the bowl and refilling it. It is custom for the Shawi to always serve a drink when a guest comes and it is never water. Chapu is a drink usually made of over ripe plantains and it is thick and sweet so I was looking forward to my turn. But I was surprised when she handed me a large bowl full to the top of red juice with white stuff floating in it. It was not what I had anticipated and it smelled terrible. But at this point I had no choice. Culturally the worst thing I could do was decline the drink. They only offer you their best stuff and to turn it down is very offensive. It could end a relationship and they might never talk to me again. So I tipped up the bowl and took a drink and it was as terrible as I thought. The first sip hit my stomach like a ton of bricks and I had an instant stomach ache. Despite my desire to gag I tipped the bowl again while everyone watched and downed the whole thing. It might have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

After the drink we all grabbed machetes and followed her out into the jungle. 

We walked for quite a while through corn fields and plantain fields and patches of jungle till we came to her yuca field. Yuca grows like a tall skinny tree about nine-foot-high and what we needed was the trunk, called yuca poles. We cut the trunk off at the ground and trimmed the branches until we had a pile of nice straight poles. While we were doing this the woman cut some plantains from a nearby field and piled them beside our poles.  It was explained to me that this family was Christian and as they don’t have much money they often tithe in food. The plantains were her tithe to us to use at the Hogar to feed the woman and children. What a blessing!

After we had collected the poles it was time to harvest the yuca. Yuca grows in tubers underground and can be as much as two feet long. In this field there were old trees still growing so we had to harvest the yuca by carefully cutting out from among the roots of the trees. It was painstakingly slow and difficult. As the hours wore on and the jungle sun baked us I realized this might have been one of the hardest things I have ever done. 

Finally, we finished and had three piles; plantains, poles and yuca. I asked what are we doing with the yuca, hauling it to her house? “Oh no,” the guys replied, “she is giving us the yuca too.” It was then I realized we were at least a mile walk from the road and we had to cross a river with many heavy loads. My day was only beginning.

On the first load out the lady stopped me at her house and offered me another drink of chapu. At this point I was so hot and thirst that it actually did not taste that bad, I only gagged slightly. Trip after trip we carried poles, then plantains, then yuca. Finally, on one of the trips we passed the man returning home. He insisted we stop at the house for more chapu and a chat. By the third bowl I think I was growing accustom to the taste. Then he served us lunch. A steaming bowl of fish soup, made with dried piranha with a side of yuca and plantains. Luckily I sat at the edge of the house so I could sneak bites to the dog sitting below me. I think now I am his best friend. Also they had pet parakeets that ate the yuca off my plate, I didn’t stop them. 

After lunch the man offered to help us carry the rest. He easily carried twice what I could, barefoot, and twice as fast. On our last trip out we stopped by another neighbor’s house where of course we had to drink some more stuff. This time it was yuca based but just as terrible. When we arrived back at the furgon we found lemons and more plantains donated by other Christian neighbors. It is amazing to see people with so little give so much. We had about 500 pounds of yuca, 200 pounds of plantains, yuca poles, and a bag of lemons. There is no way we could use all this food at the Hogar but we donated much of it to some families in Yurimaguas who lost all they owned in a house fire. Bouncing back down the dusty dirt road to the farm, reflecting on the day, it was then I decided that it was the hardest thing I had ever done.

Continued:  The next day we cut the yuca poles into one foot sections and stuck them in the ground where they will sprout and grow. We planted the yuca only to find out we didn’t have enough poles. So we returned to the same village on Thursday where a different neighbor offered us starts. The only problem was that it was much farther from the road, at least an hours walk, and the food was worse. Also it had rained and the river was four feet higher. I ended the day much more tired, with a touch of heat stroke and a lot of food poisoning. Not to use the term flippantly but that was for sure the hardest thing I have ever done. 

Pray for Esther . . .

Santa Gema Hospital in Yurimaguas, Peru

 Josh said it was my turn to write a blog post and he thought I should share about the healthcare system here in Yurimaguas.  I said I'd have trouble writing that post through unbiased lenses.  We learned in training that most things are not right or wrong, just different.  I'm having a hard time with that when it comes to healthcare though.  It just feels wrong to me to see bugs crawling around in the newborns bassinet.  It seems wrong to see cockroaches on the hospital floor.  It seems wrong for personnel not to wash hands between patients - and they usually don't wear gloves or have hand soap at sink if they did wash their hands.  

There are other things I view as just different.  The suggested packing list for a mom in labor in the US is quite different than the required packing list here.  Here, the patient provides their own everything.   If you want even just one pillow (which is super helpful in positioning and nursing) you bring it.  You also provide your own toilet paper, pads, diapers, gowns, blankets - just about everything.  They only provide you with the bed.  The attention they give you once you're in that bed is minimal as well.  I recently spent the night at the hospital in a broken white plastic chair with a mom who had delivered and had no one to help her.  When she needed to use the bathroom, the staff gave me a bed pan and said I should help her.  The expectation is that your family cares for you while you're in the hospital. 

That is a brief summary of some of my observations at the hospital - some things are just different, and some things feel wrong to me which reflects a bit of the culture shock we experience daily.  
Those differences and stress however pale in comparison to the stories of the women we're working with here.

Esther came to us about a month ago.  She was brought by a woman from the street market close to the home.  The woman said that she was looking for work but brought her here as she was pregnant and thought we could help her.  Over time, we have learned more of her story and I'll share with you today what we understand to this point.  She is Shawi, from a distant village up river that is 30 minute walk from the river.  She has never attended school and speaks limited Spanish.  She is a brave woman.  She left her community and everything she's ever known to save her son's life.  He was born a week ago via c-section here in Yurimaguas.  

You see, he is not Esther's first son.  She gave birth to another son not long before he was conceived.  Sadly, her family did not want her to have the baby, so when she went into labor, she was taken up into the mountains by her grandmother.  She returned with no baby.  You see, here, in the Shawi community, if the child is not wanted, it is killed when it is born.  As we understand it, these babies are most often buried alive or tossed into the river.  

Esther had already suffered the loss of one child, and she did not want to suffer the loss of another.  She is brave indeed to run away from the family, community, and language she knows to an unknown future to save his life.

She also ran away from much pain.  You see, her own father died when she was young and her mother remarried and abandoned her.  She was left to be raised by her aunt and uncle.  At a certain age, that family returned her to the community where her mother was from so she could get to know the family there.  Her sons were then conceived from her uncle, thus leading to her grandmother's disapproval and the death of her son.

I am lost for words.  She is but a child and knows more pain than I will likely ever know.  Her father died, her mother abandoned her, her grandmother killed her son, and now she's here. 

She has found life on her own here in Yurimaguas a struggle as well.  About a week after arriving at the home here she left to find work.  We later learned she had found work at a bar.  Most of the work offered to young girls at a bar you can imagine is bad news.  The woman who employed her brought her to the hospital when she was in labor and the hospital contacted us.  

I went to see her the evening her son was born with the director of our home.  For the first time, she was vulnerable.  I asked her if she was scared and her eyes filled with tears as did mine as she said yes.  Through the help of an interpreter I learned she did not feel safe with her employer and did not want to return there.  I promised she was safe with us and we'd help her.  From that connection and my brief previous experience at the hospital, I knew I could not leave her alone there all night.  Imagine, 14, new mom, major surgery, and no one to help, alone, and scared.  So, Josh got a phone call - I couldn't leave her, I had to stay the night. 

When she first came she had indicated that she would give the baby up for adoption after he was born.   However, once she had delivered, she decided to keep him, and she loves him.  When I asked if she wanted to hold him, she said yes and she smiled at him and caressed him.  It was the first time I'd seen her smile since I met her.  She sacrificed everything (even if her life wasn't that great) for him and he's all she has.

As if her life weren't hard enough, she's now struggling to recover from the c-section (which was likely unnecessary but they tend to like to do them here).  The incision has become infected and she is now hospitalized again.  This is complicated by her lack of good nutrition as wounds don't heal and scar as well when one is malnourished.  I was with her this morning as they cleaned and packed the wound without any anesthetic.  She is a strong woman.

When she left the home the first time I felt convicted that I hadn't reached out to her as much as I had wanted to.  I wanted to tell her how brave I thought she was and encourage her - even if she didn't understand everything I said.  I thought I had more time with her.  When she left, I realized we often don't know how long we have with our guests here and here might be the only chance they have in their life to hear about Christ.  I'm thankful she is back.  I trust the Lord brought her here for a purpose.  I pray that we can reach her heart with the love of Jesus Christ and that He can restore her soul.  Please join us in praying for physical, spiritual, and emotional healing for Esther and for her son to grow and thrive.

Naturally, I want to bring this 14 year old and her baby home with me and love on them.  I said to Josh, surely they're not all like this, we can help her.  Today, I learned the story of a 16 year old mom we have staying with us because she's been severely abused by her husband and her mom has refused for her to return home knowing that if she returns to her husband she may be killed.  Of course, I want to take her in too!  We knew I'd want to bring home a lot of babies when we moved here, we didn't expect to want to bring home so many teenagers!  

I don't understand how families can do this to each other.  But I'm encouraged tonight by John 16:33 "I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble!  But take heart!  I have overcome the world."  Our desire is that these woman may know Him who overcame the world.

                                                                                                                            ~ Jennifer

Struggling to build the kingdom

 

One month. We have been here one month. As the picture above shows, life is a struggle here. We are struggling to learn new things and to understand. Struggling with the heat. Struggling to find a routine. I (Josh) am struggling to communicate. But the most important struggle is to build the kingdom of God. That is why we are here.

As I think back on the month I also can't help but praise God for his protection. We have been perfectly healthy. No sickness. It is a blessing from God and for that we give Him praise.

The first month has been extreme culture shock. Everyday we see something that gives us pause. Everyday we learn something new. Everyday we ask dumb questions. It is a lot like being in eighth grade all over again. Everything is awkward. We don’t know how to act or what to say or what to do in many situations. It is stressful.

We are also sharing new experiences with people here. Just this morning I prepared pancakes for the entire Hogar. Normally there are two women on duty during the day to cook and clean and watch and bathe the children, but on Sundays there is only one. So we are trying to help fill in the gap on Sundays. So yesterday Lucy and I wandered the markets looking for flour, milk, and baking powder. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be, but we were successful. This morning I got up early and made a huge batch of pancakes for the 23 people here right now. Sister Daisy was working this morning, and she told me she had never tried pancakes. I was shocked but then I realized that the majority of the people I was feeding had never tried pancakes. In fact, one of the new Shawi mothers looked unsure of how to use a faucet so I am certain it was her first time eating pancakes. I only wish I had some real maple syrup to share with them.

Above is a photo of Brother Devincen who has worked at the farm for five years. Two weeks ago his ten-month old son, Jose, got very ill. He had a high fever and a intestinal infection. He spent a week in the hospital here in Yurimaguas. Jose almost had to go to Lima for better health care but the day they were leaving his fever broke. Praise God he is 100% recovered now. But for a week I had to go to the farm every other day to check on things. One of the first mornings I pulled into the driveway to find four cows staring at me. Now this may seem obvious but cows don’t belong in driveways, they belong in fences, so this means the cows were out. As I got out of the truck I could hear more cows out in the jungle away from the pastures. Now I have chased cows around the corn fields of Indiana but the jungles of Peru is a different story. So I picked up the machete and off I went. After 20 minutes of hacking a path through the bush I found some cows. I told them “I don’t know if you understand English but I need you to follow me.” And sure enough they did!  Soon I had all the cows out in the open and after some thinking, some herding and some sweating I finally had them back in the fence. It was then I realized that I didn’t know how many cows we have at the farm. I had seen them and checked them before but never counted. Also somehow they had escaped. So I picked up the machete again and off I went to look for cows and a problem with the fence. A couple of hours later I found in the back of the farm where a neighbor had left the gate open. We have neighbors that own farms behind our farm and the only access for them is straight through our pasture. So we have gates for them to pass through but evidently they don’t always close the gates. As a result this past week the guys worked on building wood gates that close automatically.  I eventually confirmed with Devincen that I had recovered all the cows.

I am not the only one dealing with these new difficulties, so is my wife. My brave, brave wife. The other day at the hogar there was a huge spider on the wall. Now I want to be careful not to over exaggerate so I will under exaggerate by saying that this spider was the size of my whole hand, including the legs of course.  It was big. One of the workers told Jennifer that we need to get rid of the spider as it was dangerous. She called me over but I was busy so she took matters into her own hands. Grabbing a broom, she swept it off the wall and pinned it to the ground.  I arrived to see the final smash. After disposing I said to the worker, “so that spider is dangerous?” and she responded, “yes, sometimes when it bites people they die.” That is a strong statement. I feel like saying that the spider is dangerous is not sufficient. I feel she should have warned us that the spider can kill. But the whole thing seemed pretty casual to her. And Jennifer has since killed another. I am so proud.

But more importantly, we have been doing what we came here to do, share Christ. Last Saturday I was able to preach in a local church here in town. It went terribly but I can only pray that God’s message was received despite my poor Spanish. I am preaching again this weekend so pray for me. I have also been able to have spiritual conversations with some of the workers here and I do much better one on one. Jennifer has been working with the children and mothers here at the hogar. After putting the kids to bed the other night she went downstairs to talk with two teenage girls that were here by order of the court. She listened to their situation and talked with them about Christ. More and more it looks like she will be playing the role of counselor here. Pray for us as we continue to adjust. We are asking God for boldness as we share his truth, goodness, and mercy.

 Henry checking out cows at the farm.

Lucy and the horses at the farm.

Maggie helping pick lemons at the farm.