Stuck

I have really been trying to understand the way people think in this new culture we are living in. When we got here, several other missionaries told us, “Don’t try to figure out why things happen the way they do here. There is no logic behind it.” But I wasn’t convinced of that. There has to be a reason, some way of thinking, behind people’s actions. There must be some rationality, I thought, that in my cultural mindset I can’t understand. But these last few weeks I have been understanding those other missionaries’ advice a little better. Don’t hear me wrong. I’m not bitter and hardened, just confused and frustrated.

A week ago Sunday, the country held a vote to determine if the powers-that-be, the president and the regional representatives, would stay in office. There was so much hype about this vote. The whole country shut down for the day. No one was allowed to buy alcohol or guns for 48 hours before and 24 hours after the vote. No one was permitted to drive that day. Everyone was talking about what a big deal this vote was. The whole country seemed in discontent and we were receiving warnings about what could happen after the vote took place no matter how it turned out. When all was said and done, nothing really changed. Only a few of the representatives were voted out and I don’t even know if they have been made to step down.

We anxiously left the house on Monday only to find that it was business as usual. It was as if nothing had happened; as if no one were unhappy one day earlier. We were, well, confused.

Today, more than a week later, there is what they are calling a “civic strike” in several cities, including ours. It has something to do with taxes, but honestly no one can really give us a clear answer as to why there is a strike. Everything in town is shut down and the roads are blocked. I had an obligation in town today but couldn’t make it. We are stuck inside all day.

This morning we just found out the most stressful factor of all. Our visas are at a stand still. We have all the paperwork done to get a visa and are only lacking a certificate from the government. Our visa runner called us and said the government has decided to revise their visa rules and will not be issuing those certificates until they have made the revisions. This may not be until the end of the year, she said.

Several other missionaries have petitioned the government for answers. When will this happen? What are they supposed to do in the meantime? The government refuses to give any answers. The main problem with this for us is that we have an obligation to teach at our team training in September in Peru. Our visa runner told us that, because of this certificate not being issued, if we leave the country, all of our work so far will be null and void and we will have to start over.

This is a huge mess for our team. We love the people here and the work. We are determined to do it. But sometimes it feels like we are swimming upstream, spending half of our time trying to survive and jump through hoops rather than doing what we are here to do. Please just pray that we would be patient and have wisdom as we make decision. And thanks for listening as I vent.

What An Adventure

This weekend went so well. We have been dying to get out into the communities but with all of our other obligations, we haven’t been able to. So going out, even for just the weekend, was like quenching a deep thirst.

We drove most of the day Saturday and arrived in Ayuma around 7:30 that night. Jeff, Javier, and Simon were with us in our truck. Ayuma is off of a road, and you have to remember as you read this that the further the towns get off the road, the more extreme things get.

When we got there, several people from the church there greeted us and took us to a small room where they fed us some heavy wheat bread and tea filled with so much sugar that I could feel it in the back of my throat when I drank it. They were both very good. 

Some of the people spoke a little Spanish here and there, but for the most part, they all spoke only Quechua. Simon translated for us some, but we mostly just sat around and watched him talk to them. We then moved to the church building where they started pulling out mats and mountains of blankets for us to sleep on. The building was a medium-sized concrete room with wooden benches and a few windows. It looked like what you might imagine an old one-room schoolhouse to look like. The ladies were especially worried that I was cold, or “chiri,” my first Quechua word that I heard a lot this weekend; so they insisted that I sit on one of the mats and covered me with so many blankets that I could hardly move.

We soon discovered that they wanted to meet that night, so Trent began to share, while Simon translated, about our team, what we do, and what our plans are. They all seemed very supportive and excited about us working close to their community, and one young man was really eager to help. 

Tired and still full from our bread, we wondered what would happen next when they brought in a huge bowl full of boiled potatoes, a few boiled eggs, and what they called salad, sliced up carrots with some kind of sauce on it. They all sat around and watched as we ate, while not eating anything themselves. Of course we have learned to eat as much as you can of the food set in front of you, so we ate until I felt like I would explode. They left us to sleep, which we did very well. It was cold but we had plenty of blankets and we had even brought our sleeping bags.

The next day dawned bright and “chiri.” We stepped outside to see beautiful mountains and to hear a bustle of activity. They brought us more bread and tea, followed by big bowls full of pasta, potatoes, chuno (a type of potato), a leg of lamb, and some hot sauce that they often put on top of food. Simon later told us that this was a very special meal. It was quite delicious and we stuffed ourselves until it hurt.

The rest of the day brought more adventures that I’ll save for another time, but it was a great trip that promises to lead to more opportunities in our province.

Saturday night before bed Trent and I went outside to use the bathroom. We headed down a dirt alleyway lined with a rock wall. It was freezing, you could see a million stars, and two donkeys were staring at us.

“Can you believe we’re here?” I asked.
“I know, it’s great isn’t it?” he commented
“Unbelievable,” I agreed. 

I know it sounds crazy–it sounds insane to me even–but God has put something in us that makes us love being out there. We just can’t believe we’re living in such a different place amongst so many unique people. We’re having the time of our lives.

We’re Headed Out!

Please pray for us this weekend as we head out to a church in our province. Our friend Simon who is from the province offered to take us out to one of the churches, introduce us to the pastor, and go to one of their services with us. So tomorrow we will drive about five hours to the church, stay the night with the pastor, and then attend the service on Sunday morning. On the way back home Sunday, we’re going to pass through Simon’s parents’ town and meet them. We’re excited about this short trip. We view it as a small step toward many more trips to that area.

Also, please pray for Jeff and Javier who will ride with us and then make the rest of the trip to their community. Pray especially that they will be able to safely cross the river to get there.

Our First Quechua Service

Tonight we attended our first Quechua church service. Here are a few things I noticed:

–All of it was in Quechua, and I had forgotten how listening to a language I don’t understand gives me a headache.

–The men and women sat on different sides of the room. But we followed suit with the Quechua family we came with and they sat together, so we did too.

–A little boy stared at us for the entire service. I’m not kidding you…the entire time.

–A man’s cell phone went off in the middle of the service, blasting some Bolivian-type music through the small crowd. I almost got the giggles, but I had too much of a headache for that.

–The pastor struggled through a reading of a passage of Scripture. Most people didn’t read along but just listened.

–Even though it gave me a headache, it was great to hear so much Quechua. Here is another language we will be hearing in Heaven. And this one…well, this one is special to us.

Some Mysterious Encouragement

By Trent

A few weeks ago, we had a church meeting in our house here in Sucre.  We try to practice the same model of simple church that we want to plant in our target communities. A big part of this model is leaving an opporutnity in the meeting for everyone to speak, so that all can encourage one another and the body be mutually edified. On this particular morning, that was indeed the case.

Kay and I had been somewhat discouraged because we have been unable to break away from Sucre to spend time in the communities. Before we shared anything, Javier spoke up. He had tried to call various family members for several days, and was never able to get in touch with any of them. He was pretty down. One night, he was reading Psalms: “You have taken me from my closest friends and have made me repulsive to them….Are your wonders known in the place of darkness, or your righteous deeds in the land of the oblivion.” He went on to explain how the Lord comforted him with this passage…knowing that he has been taken away from his closest friends in efforts to tell of the Lord’s wonders in the places of darkness.

The next day, the guys got a phone call at their house. It was a Spanish speaker asking to talk to Javier. Javier picked up the phone, and the caller began randomly encouraging him. “You are strong, Javier. Press on. Don’t give up. We are proud of you.” Javier asked who it was, and the caller just ignored the question, and continued encouraging him. After several minutes, the caller hung up. Javier was stumped. Who could be calling? We could count on one hand the number of people who have that phone number, and it wasn’t any of them. In fact, the only Spanish speakers that have that number are Javier’s family, and by their accent, he was positive it was none of them.

Mutual edification? You better believe it. We don’t know who called. But, we know the Lord used the call to encourage not only Javier, but all of us. It’s amazing. While the guys are on their trips, they are completely dependent on the Lord to provide food, shelter, persons of peace, and he always does. But, he does so much more. There really is no aspect of our service to him that is not sustained and empowered by his great hand. 

We worshiped together that night….not because it was planned, but because we could not help it.

Lose One, Gain Another

Andrew, our summer missionary, left us on Thursday to go back to the States and start his junior year in college. Andrew was a great part of our team for the short month and a half that he was here. Honestly, we didn’t know what to expect. One missionary in Bolivia told us that he once had a summer missionary who never even made it from the airport to the missionary’s house. In his defense, it was a very, very bad road. But still, the missionary picked him up from the airport, was making the few hour trip back to his house, and the summer missionary asked him to turn around and go back to the airport where he had just picked him up.

Andrew, obviously, did much better than this. He was taking his second Spanish class when he emailed Trent to express some concerns. How was he going to minister in Spanish, let alone Quechua, when he would only have had two classes, he wondered. Trent encouraged him to pray that God would teach him what he needed to know and challenged him to learn two Bible stories in Spanish by the time he got here. When we picked him up from the airport, Trent found two strangers and told Andrew to tell his stories to them. And he did it, very well.

Andrew went out on two trips and worked harder than most people will ever work, all to prepare for others to come along after him and plant a church in this community. Amazingly, Andrew even told a whole Bible story in Quechua (and it went perfectly we hear) to a man in the community. We couldn’t have been more pleased with our first summer missionary.

Now that Graham is without a partner, we are expecting Efrain, a young man from Columbia, to join our team. We weren’t sure when Efrain would be coming, but we thought sometime in September. The same night that Andrew left, Efrain called and said he was getting on a bus to come to us the next day.

Efrain has served with the Xtreme Team for over two years. He and one of our North American missionaries, Bobby, planted a church in a very remote jungle village in Peru. Their new church plant just sent out its first missionary. 

We don’t know Efrain all that well yet, but we know that he is reserved, has a great sense of humor, and has proven that he is up to the task. We can’t wait for this new addition to our team.

It Rained Last Night

I know that sounds insignificant, but since we moved to Sucre in mid-March, it has only rained once when we have been here. It is odd living in a rainy season/dry season climate. The weather doesn’t vary that much throughout the year except for the rain. I miss the seasons, but it is also nice to have predictable weather. I never watch the forecast here because you can pretty much guess that it will be like the day before.

It’s so hard to explain the weather here in Sucre. Almost as hard to explain what the weather is like in the States when a taxi driver asks that question, but not quite that hard. It gets cold when the sun goes down and is normally in the high 30s in the morning. By the time the sun is high in the sky, it around 70 degrees, but the sun is so hot that it feels about 90 if you’re standing in it. So you have to layer, layer, layer.

We haven’t lived through a rainy season in the mountains yet, but if it’s anything like the jungle, I’m sure it will make up for the lack of rain. Here is a video of the rainy season during training.

So That’s Why They Invented 4-Wheel Drive

We have had a lot of cars since we’ve been married, and one of them was a used Toyota Corolla–good gas mileage, reliable, and perfect for our situation. One holiday weekend we went to the beach where the car got stuck and had to get pulled out by some college guy’s huge truck. That’s when I learned another thing about being married to a true-blooded Texan: a Texan never, ever gets his car stuck and certainly not twice. Before I knew it we owned two 4-wheel drive vehicles to help us brave the streets of Fort Worth, Texas. I can remember looking for places to get stuck just so that we could use it.

The ironic thing is that countless people own 4-wheel drive vehicles in the States where the roads are smooth and pristine (I promise I won’t go off on a tangent again about the beautiful roads in the States). And hardly anyone in Bolivia can afford them where the roads are, well, none of those things.

Since we’ve been in South America we have learned why they invented 4-wheel drive. And let me put all of you at ease who own one of these vehicles but who only use it once a year when there is a small chance that there is ice on the road. These vehicles can drive through anything. We have been on jungle roads in Peru where there was no road anymore and we were basically driving on mud and water. The truck simply keeps going. One time we were sure we were going to get stuck when going down nothing more than a path that had been washed out by a month’s worth of rain. We were sloshing around, running into vines and knocking over flimsy palm trees. One of the guys from the Shipebo tribe in the jungle was sitting in the back of the truck and said in Spanish, “It’s 4 x 4. It has to do it.” And it did.

Trent had one more opportunity to find out why 4-wheel drive is so great. Once he had us out of his hair at the roadblock, he felt like he could take a few more risks. He turned around and went back the way we came, picking up Quechua walkers along the way and asking if there was a road around the roadblock to Sucre. Quechua people are notorious for not giving you a straight answer, so they would say things like, “Over that way,” or “Where the water is. You know, the water.”

Finally, Trent got a man to point out the specific road to him, but the man didn’t want to ride along. Trent looked down at his gas tank and saw that he had just enough gas to drive back to the closest gas station (not blocked) or to go on the road, according to how long the Quechua man said it would take. He decided to go for it.

He started driving, mostly in the water, picking people up along the way to show him which way to go when the road split. He passed a truck that was stuck and helped them get out. The gas tank kept getting lower and lower. When he finally popped out just past the blockades, his tank was on “empty” and he barely made it home.

He busted through the front door like he had been gone for a year and we greeted him accordingly. We were so happy to be together. I think this family trips moves to the top of the list as one of the most interesting and unique of all.

Why Is Hiking a Hobby?

To pick up where I left off yesterday, my parents, Trent, and I found ourselves stuck at a roadblock right outside of Sucre. It was about 8 p.m. so we decided to settle in for the night. We always try to have provisions when we are on a trip in case we get stranded, so we were pretty prepared with water and food. We made sandwiches and then tried to sleep; but getting comfortable with four people in a truck that is already packed is difficult. Plus, the later it got, the colder it got.

The next morning as soon as the sun came up people started walking by. You can walk past the roadblocks, but you can’t drive. We had our truck full to the rim, so we couldn’t leave it behind unattended. Trent decided that the three of us should go ahead and walk past the roadblock until we could find a taxi and he would stay with the truck. So away we went, pulling a small suitcase and a couple of bags. 

Thousands of people were around, walking or waiting; families with small children, old ladies walking slowly, young boys taking advantage of an economic opportunity by carrying bags on dollies. Lines and lines of abandoned trucks filled the streets. We reached the first roadblock, rows of rocks and burning debris surrounded by hundreds of people. Not angry looking or violent people, just people, men, women, and children. They were standing around talking, as if they had just decided to hang out. Oh yeah, and block the road so that no one could get anything done. We nervously walked by without even a glance from any of them.

There were several more roadblocks along the way. Trent had called Jeff, one of the guys on our team, to come meet us and see us safely home. He met us halfway and took the bags, encouraging us by saying we only had about two and a half miles to go. All in all, we walked about 4 miles before we found a taxi that took us to the house.

Walking up a mountain at 9,000 feet dragging a suitcase makes for an interesting hike. We commented about how lots of people go on vacation to hike and Bolivia is a popular place to do this. From my experience hiking, I haven’t figured out why you would do this for fun.

Of course, Trent was still left behind with the truck. I’ll fill you in on what he did tomorrow.

A Bolivian Experience

We wanted my parents to have a taste of Bolivia while they were here. Ever heard of that saying, “Be careful what you wish for?” Instead of a taste it was more like a huge bite shoved down their throats. Let me explain.

Mom and dad flew into Cochabamba, a city about a 7 hour drive from our home, Sucre. We had some business to do there and thought it would be a good chance for them to see another city in Bolivia. The plan was for us to drive to Cochabamba, meet them there, stay a few days, and then drive home to Sucre. The day we had planned to drive home we met a road blockade outside of Cochabamba, which we knew was a possibility. The teachers are mad about something having to do with their retirement funds so they block the road until the government gives in to their demands. Happens all the time. We stayed flexible, found a hotel room, and enjoyed another day in a nice city.

The next morning we heard the road blockades were lifted in Cochabamba but not right outside of Sucre. Finally, we talked to 2 reliable sources who told us the roads were open. So we packed up and headed out. The trip was great but by about 6 hours into it, hungry and tired, we started counting down the minutes until we got home. We figured we had about 15 minutes left when traffic came to a screeching halt.

We could see the lights of the city but couldn’t get home. We talked to some of our friends on the phone who said there was no way around and some Bolivians in the same situation as us who said the road had been this way for 4 days. It looked like the only thing to do was settle in for the night on the side of the road in the truck. More on that adventure tomorrow.