The Elusive Jaguar

Ever since setting foot in Guyana I have been longing to see a jaguar in the wild, at a safe distance, of course. I have seen their footprints nearly everywhere: under our dorm, on the trail to Bethany or Mashabo, elsewhere around campus, taunting me. I have even heard stories of jaguar sightings, walking down the trail a little ahead of one of the villagers, up in a tree in the jungle, and various other locations. Yet somehow these beautiful cats have remained elusive to my fovea centralis.

There are several of us in this little jungle clearing, who are intent on spotting a “tiger” as the locals refer to them. We have threatened to camp out on the airstrip, where we see their tracks repeatedly, or jokingly suggested using Lulu, the campus dog as bait to attract them into view. But so far, none of us have been in the least bit successful. In fact many times it seems as though we are alone in the jungle, with only birds, monkeys, lizards, a multitude of unique, and sometimes loathsome, insects, and the occasional tropical rodent or small mammal. I feel entirely safe wandering the jungle, sometimes even at night (for which I have been properly chastised by my dear mother=)

Yet after 6 long months of eagerly watching and waiting to view the big beautiful cat, I am still waiting and hoping…

Then, one night when least expected, it happened. I was lying in my bed, in that hazy grey expanse between wakefulness and sleep, when suddenly a voice jolted me awake “Liz, wake up, they just saw a jaguar!” Suffice it to say that I rapidly exited my bed, and attempted to untangle myself from my mosquito net without further prodding. There stood my sister, in an excited voice, telling me a tale of a jaguar sighting that yet again I had missed.

It seems that this particular evening, after our staff meeting, where one item of discussion was our broken pump and our hive of bees sitting serenely on top, two of the male staff members decided upon a plan, they would venture down to the creek in the dark mantle of night to move the bee hive while the bees were slumbering. Although this sounded like a curious spectacle to behold, I decided that my pillow took precedence after a long day, so I hastened back to my humble abode for the night. After I left, the troops convened for counsel before heading down to the creek and the waiting bees.

As they trudged down the hill toward the creek, pushing their way between the branches of jungle bushes, they heard an odd sound. It could only be described as a grunting snarl, and they quickly swung their light in the direction of the sound. There in their flashlight beams, only 20 yards away, stood a jaguar, his eye flashing back green in the light.

As soon as they caught sight of him they quickly decided that the bees could wait for another day, especially when he growled again and began walking toward them slowly. These two young men turned on their heels and began walking rather quickly back in the direction from whence they had come. They returned from the creek laughing loudly and telling their story…a story that I had to chide myself for missing.

Water-less

Since the night of the girls clandestine mission to the boys dorm, the little clearing in the jungle has been without running water. While it was clear that the problem was with the pump, and not the power source, the masculine occupants of this clearing were unable to access the inner recesses of the water pumping apparatus due to the location of a hive of honey bees. It seems that back in November when these bees were purchased and a location was being scouted for their residence, the water pump appeared to be the ideal location. It was not in the area of the creek where humans usually frequented, it was near some lovely banana trees which the bees would appreciate, and it put the bees very near to water. In hindsight, as is usually the case in such circumstances, that idea proved to be a very poor plan.

Now if the only problem was the location of the bees, that could be easily remedied by moving their hive to a more suitable location, but there was also another problem. The only articles of bee-keeping clothing that was available when the bees were purchased was the hat and the mask. While wearing these items would definitely keep one from sustaining stings to the face, it would not afford much protection for any other body parts. Moving the bees at night was suggested, and even attempted, but the result of that expedition is another story. Shall we simply say that it ended in a rapid exodus on the part of two particular gentleman for good reason.

To fast-forward through the gory details, the pump was finally accessed with only a swollen left hand on the part of Michael due to several bee stings. After examination it was found that a part of the pump, I will not even pretend to understand, was wet so it was disassembled, dried and then reassembled. It was then discovered that another part was broken, and despite many heroic attempts on the part of several men, a solution was not forthcoming. The company who manufactured the water pump was contacted in an attempt to secure a replacement part. That’s when the trouble worsened.

It seems that their pumps are so well acclaimed, that it is commonly believed that they will not break, hence they do not sell replacement parts. At first they were unbelieving that our pump could possible be broken, after much assurance that it was very much broken, they insisted that we send it to them for inspection. Although it was carefully explained to the company representative the location of the pump, and the distance that location happens to be from their company headquarters, they were unimpressed and continued to insist that the pump be returned. I suggested that we inform them that their representative was perfectly welcome to travel to our jungle home and assess the pump for himself, but for some reason they did not think it prudent to include that in their communications with the company. The end result of the encounter was that our pump was broken, there was no way to acquire a replacement part, and the pump itself would be rather difficult to get to the States. It would appear that we are without relief from our water-less existence.

And so the occupants of the clearing in the jungle have resigned themselves to their fate of creek bathing and laundering, water hauling for cleaning and toilet purposes, and praying for rain since rainwater is significantly preferred as drinking water at the moment without the pump and filter.

Thus far, as soon as our rainwater 500 gallon tank nears empty, the skies have never failed to open up and pour down a glorious liquid. I am learning to pray for, and be thankful for rain. Most of all, when we finally get a pump again, whenever that may be, I will be immensely thankful for the beauty of running water. Afterall, we are very blessed to have such things as running water and electricity at the chool, and I think we take it for granted far too often.

Random Happenings

Learning to drive an outboard 40hp, 2-stroke engine...now I can drive vehicles land, air and sea Alexis and Anca on the boat

Passing the boat...man she drives with speed =)Rainbow over the Sisson's house after a shower that we were thankful for since it replenished our drinking water
Some howler monkeys in the jungle behind the girls dorm

A group of us after AY one Sabbath evening My sister with the pumpkins...doesn't she look so proud A cute little boa that caught a bird in our bora one morning
I wanted to keep him!

Sabbath afternoon lay activities =)

Stealthy Night Ops

The inky blackness of night had long since settled on the clearing in the jungle. The only light to be seen spilled out of several buildings, but was quickly swallowed up in the pervasive darkness of a moonless night. Had someone been looking closely, they may have chanced to see two shadows creeping along silently in the night, intent on a covert operation. Thankfully, however, not a soul witnessed the two shadows as they successfully accomplished their mission before vanishing again into the veil of night.

Who were these two shadows? What secretive mission were they so intent on? In order to properly answer these questions we must traverse backward in time for a moment…

Once upon a time, away over in our jungle home, lived a lovely solar powered water pump that we loved dearly. Obviously, we had ulterior motives for loving this little pump, for it delivered a delightful liquid substance into large water barrels that were then piped into our buildings. This fluid was especially ideal for such things as showers, drinking, washing dishes, and flushing toilets.

Nevertheless, from time-to-time, our water barrels would run dry, usually because someone had forgotten to turn off the water in the garden, or there had not been adequate sun that day to power the pump to fill our precious barrels. On occasions such as these, the girls dorm would be the first to run out of water, courtesy of dear old gravity and the fact that their dorm was at the top of a slight hill. The boys dorm, at the bottom of the incline, would continue to have water awhile longer, until the long, thick, pipe relinquished its last drop.

Then one day, the barrels ran dry while the sun was shining, so some of the jungle dwellers ventured down to the trusty water pump to see what the trouble was. The checked the pipes, the wires, the solar panels, and even tried running the pump on the generator, without any success. It appeared that the pump was the faulty one, but the solution was not forth-coming. Sadly, it appeared that the occupants of the little jungle clearing would be without running water until the problem could be identified and then fixed.

That morning the girls dorm rain out of water, then the kitchen ran out of water, but down the hill the boys dorm still had running water. The gentlemen (who hardly merit the word at times) were not in the least sympathetic, and loudly proclaimed how “blessed” they were as the ladies trekked down to the creek for their evening bath. They bragged of flushing toilets, running showers, and all the water necessary for doing their laundry, and as they talked the ladies decided that something must be done.

Two of the young ladies, Vilissa, and some white girl, discussed what should be done with the haughty boys, and quickly agreed upon a brilliant plan. They decided to wait for night to fall, before venturing down to the boys dormitory to shut off the water valve beneath the building. This would stop the arrogant claims of the boys once and for all.

As darkness fell, they hastened to carry out their mission. First they made sure all the boys were otherwise occupied, before sneaking down the hill, through some tall grass, and under the dorm. After straining to find the water valve in the darkness, they were finally successful and turned it into the “off” position. As they slipped away into the night they couldn’t help but laugh to themselves about their triumph. Their mission was complete and the boys would not have reason to boast any longer.

Miscellaneous Pictures

Soursop. My favorite new fruit that I've tried since I've been here Learning how to suture on oranges. Not sure what I was examining so closely

Learning suturing on oranges, the right set of sutures is a horizontal mattress suture, the one on the left is a figure eight suture
Believe it or not, the social worker showed the RN up on suturing! That's what I get for not being the one who sews things regularly like Alexis does.
My sister's pet that she has been crying for since she arrived. The cat has not been named as of yet. Although Mephibosheth was suggested because he keeps falling off things and huting his legs.
Since the frog didn't turn into my prince I decided to try a crab that we found. Needless to say, it wasn't sucessful either!

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be monkeys!

One of the mission planes taking off from the airstrip on campus. I can't wait until the pilot and his wife and daughter who are going to live in the house on our airstrip move down here so we will have a pilot flying out of our campus.

A young iguana. These little rascals like to get into our garden and eat up our food, so we catch them when we can and relocate them far, far away
My sister and I at the January birthday celebration for Rondell and Kimberly. We always have yummy food on birthdays, this time we had homemade mango ice cream, good stuff!

A premature baby boy that was miscarried. The intrecuit features were amazing in a baby that tiny!

World War Bats

Almost since I first arrived here in my jungle abode, we have had several house guests living in the far reaches of our rafters. An invitation to inhabit our roof was never secured by these individuals. They moved in without consulting anyone, brought several family members with them, and proceeded to prove themselves to be most unwelcome. But I suppose not much more can be expected from them, since after all, they are just bats.

In the beginning, they were able to dwell in our midst with little interference. Only from time-to-time would we hear the scurrying of little feet on the rafters above us, or perhaps an occasional squeak would echo down to those of us living down below. A few times they came down to investigate those of us who occupied the lower quadrant of their building, and once I attempted to catch one of the little creatures for closer examination but he managed to escape.

As time went on however, these little creatures became more at home, and soon began to go beyond the boundaries of what is considered proper etiquette for cohabitation.

Each night, after the sun would set, and darkness hastened to settle its cloak on our jungle home, these little creatures would begin to stir from their long, hard day of sleeping. Now any normal bat knows that with night, comes the responsibility of exiting their daytime sleeping quarters and venturing forth to devour pesky insects. These bats, however, appeared to be delinquents. As night fell and they yawned and stretched, instead of leaving they found great pleasure in holding midnight rafter parties and inviting their many delinquent friends to join them.

While the rightful occupants of the jungle home below tucked in their mosquito nets and shut their eyes in an attempt to sleep, the upstairs delinquents would begin to create quite the racket. They would chatter loudly amongst themselves, and inevitably before the night was over involve themselves in loud debates that sometimes progressed to all out wing-to-wing combat. Other times, judging by the sounds issuing forth from above, I would wonder to myself if they were perhaps attempting to further populate our rafters with their offspring.

In an attempt to apologize for any inconvenience, these creatures would leave peace offerings on the floor each night for their lower neighbors to discover in the morning. But they quickly found that their offerings were not appreciated properly, so they began to leave the ungrateful individuals below even more of their presents to spite them. They would hear the other occupants mutter to themselves about the mess they were leaving below, and they even heard threats of removing them from their delightful living accommodations. But after many days of hearing such threats with nothing happening, they grew complacent and continued their nightly parties.
Then one day, the individuals who lived below decided that enough was enough and immediate action must be taken. So two of these occupants procured a ladder, a broom, and a generous helping of thorny branches and hastened to evict their unwelcome house guests.

The ladder was erected, battle lines were drawn, one climbed the ladder equipped with the broom while the other shimmied up the window and took up post in the rafters, the little creatures were surrounded, and chased toward the only exit. Despite several attempts on the part of the delinquents to hide themselves and avoid being evicted, the lower occupants prevailed.

One-by-one, the delinquent bats were spurred to hasty flight, and thorns were placed at the entrance to the roof to prevent re-population. Finally, on the other end of the roof peak more thorns were placed as well to prevent any sneak entries through back entrances.

And the lower occupants are hoping to live happily ever after, free from midnight bat squabbles, and floors covered in bat guano.

Old Jungle Tales

For as far back as I can recall, I have loved stories. I was so anxious to start reading that, when my mom said I was too young to learn to read at the age of four, my older sister started “playing school” with me and teaching my how to read the curious black strokes found in books. When I surprised my mom a few months later by picking up one of those old reading primers and loudly reciting the words from off its pages, she was finally convinced to continue my literary education. Since that time I will ravenously devour in record time any book that I find to be interesting.

Growing up, one of my favorite stories, were the old classics by “Dr. Rabbit” better known as Eric B. Hare. I loved to listen to my mothers voice as she read the exciting tales of jungle tooth extractions, men who were bored by elephants requiring emergency reassembly of intestines and other organs, and many other breath-taking tales that inspired my young mind. I remember the oft repeated phrase “Please! Just one more chapter!” and how that “one more chapter” often times turned into two or three. Looking back, I think that these stories were probably one of the first things to inspire me to want to do medical work in the jungle one day.

So here I am, living my long ago dream of jungle work, and the stories of my childhood have surfaced again. One day as I was browsing the small selection of books that makes up our school library, I chanced upon a such a prized treasure. A book entitled “Treasure from the Haunted Pagoda” by “Dr. Rabbit.” Delighted by my discovery I then hatched a brilliant idea to have a 15-20 minute story time each night with my girls to read to them some of the stories that I fell in love with so many years ago.

The first night, after reading chapter one, I too heard the familiar cry “Please! Just one more chapter!” and I smiled to myself recalling my own story times so long ago. As I read through these familiar stories, I find it hard to believe that now, more than 10 years later I am living the experiences that I dreamed of so long ago.

Another Medical Mission

Our morning of visitations and Bible studies were over, and we had managed to obtain a ride up the river in the direction of the school without much waiting. As we motored along on the water the skies that had been intermittently pouring rain all morning only released a soft sprinkling of liquid. Some of the occupants of the jungle homes we passed could be seen washing clothes in the river, or performing other daily activities.

Passing one such house, we were waved over by an young girl. I was not surprised since many times people will solicit rides up or down the river as motorboats pass by their docks. When we reached her, however, she quickly said to our driver, who was the husband of the village health worker: “Tell Mona that mama lost her baby the bleeding won’t stop because the afterbirth hasn’t come out!”

Our boat began heading up the river again, this time a little faster than before. Then, around the next bend in the river, we saw another boat heading in our direction and upon seeing me in the boat the occupants began to shout at me. As they drew closer I recognized Ramona, the health worker, my sister, and two of my students who had been working in the clinic for the day, along with a young girl, who had been sent to the clinic to give Ramona the same message we had just been given.

Quickly I jumped ship and headed back in the direction we had just come from, back to the little jungle house to see what we might find. Ramona told me she had brought along an injection to help stop the bleeding, and blood pressure cuff and a single pair of gloves. I hoped we wouldn’t need much more.

As we docked at the house Ramona and I quickly headed up the bank, up the stairs, removed our shoes, then entered the small wooden structure. “Where’s Roxy?” she asked the daughter, and we were pointed to a small bedroom. Pushing open the door I saw her. Lying on the far side of the room in the small space between the bed and the wall, facing the corner in only a shirt with a couple rags thrown down between her legs to catch the blood.

She looked up at us as Ramona greeted her and began to ask her a barrage questions: about how long ago she had lost the baby -- 2 hours; how far along her pregnancy was -- 3 months; was she still having contractions -- no; and other such queries that we medical persons enjoy hurling at people.

Meanwhile I donned the gloves and positioned myself in the corner between her legs in order to assess her and visualize what we were up against. I noted that, thankfully, the pool of blood on the wooden floor was not excessive, her color was still good, and she was coherent and talking without difficulty. I gave Noelia, one of my students, the task of taking her blood pressure, and was happy to find that it was normal. I didn’t see any sign of the afterbirth, but noticing some bleeding I began to massage her uterus hoping to encourage her uterus to begin contracting again in order to spur the exit of the placenta. I asked Alexis to position herself with Roxy’s head on her lap so I could have her assist me by pushing, and then requested that Natoya, my other student, offer a prayer for help in our efforts.

Soon it appeared that our efforts were being rewarded as I saw part of the umbilical cord emerge, but since the rest of the placenta was not forthcoming, I moved on to plan B. I had Alexis massage her uterus, and while she pushed, I gave the cord some small tugs, still nothing. I tried to visualize the placenta, but couldn’t. I tried to feel the placenta, but couldn’t. I was really beginning to wish for a speculum, and perhaps, based on what I found, a pair of forceps. We continued our current method without success. Then suddenly, the small portion of cord that I had to work with tore, and I was left with nothing.

By this time the bleeding seemed to be worsening, so I had Ramona give the injection. I began again to try to get a better visual of the location of the elusive placenta, wishing even more for the assistance of a speculum. I attempted to improvise with my two index fingers serving as the speculum, but they served me very poorly. I asked for a light, and after nearly 10 minutes was brought a flashlight, but upon turning it on all that was revealed was a nearly dead battery.

Running out of ideas with our present tools (or lack thereof) Ramona asked her husband, who had joined us again by this time, to take the boat back up to the clinic to gather a working light, and the tray of surgical instruments that would include forceps. The rest of us waited, and waited, and waited, for what seemed like an eternity to me.

I was happy to see that the bleeding had decreased again, and Roxy’s blood pressure remained stable. While we waited, we discussed our next plan. Natoya would hold the light, either Ramona or I would act as the make-shift speculum while the other used the forceps to remove the placenta if need be. I decided that if we moved Roxy up on the bed it might make it easier for us to work, so plastic was laid down over the foam mattress, and she stood up and repositioned herself on the bed.
By the time, the boat was finally back, with our desired instruments, and we got ready to implement our plan of action. The light illuminated our labors, and I readied myself to act as speculum, but this time, when I placed my fingers into the birth canal I felt something obstructing my way. There, ready to be delivered, was the placenta. Apparently, as Roxy moved from the floor to the bed gravity aided us in detaching the placenta from the uterine wall and carrying it toward its exit.

After two more pushed by Roxy, and a little coaxing with my hand, the troublesome placenta was out at last, and the bleeding still remained minimal. I sent up a prayer of thanks to God, as I examined the placenta to be sure that it was intact, and no pieces remained to cause further bleeding and trouble. We cleaned up Roxy and the bed as best we could, and re-checked her blood pressure, which remained perfectly normal.

As we were preparing to leave, Roxy’s daughter brought in a tiny bundle, the premature stillborn baby boy. As I gazed at this miniature wonder of human life, I was amazed yet again at how truly amazing God is. To see the perfectly formed, hands, toes, knee cap, bones, nose, and everything else in such small proportions reminded me of the words of David “I will praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”While my heart aches for the loss of this mothers unborn baby boy, I can’t help but be filled with awe at this revelation of God’s handiwork. Yet I look forward to the day when “God shall wipe away all from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

Random News and Happenings

~This past week we had 6 people from the States on campus for a couple days. Two couples who both had a little daughter, and two other guys. All the guys are pilots and one of the couples is planning to come down to live on campus and fly out of our airstrip as soon as their house sells. Its been nice having them all here, and I hope Kyle, Shelly, and their daughter Nova come soon. I've really realized how much I miss flying.

~Today on the taxi ride back from G-town, where I was picking up another volunteer, I got a rather extensive cooking lesson from our little East Indian driver. I'm planning to try some of the recipes out that he verbalized to me. He was such a nice guy, one of the nicest taxi drivers I've met yet.

~We've finally been reaping the fruits (and vegetables) of our labors recently in the garden. The last 2 weeks we have been picking the sweet corn we planted, it has been excellent. We've been having lots of bora (long green bean like vegetables) recently, makes a nice addition to soups, and sauces, and even steamed and seasoned. The pumpkins are growing, and soon we will be having pumpkins coming out of our ears. Soon we should be having cabbage, lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers. I just wish the fruit trees would start bearing soon. They've been planted for several years and just this year we got about 4 pineapples...I would like them to hurry it up a little.

~I really miss playing the piano. Electrical keyboards aren't the same, and don't quilify. I think by the time I finally have a piano to play regularly I will forget most everything that I ever knew.

~Every time I go into G-town, it just helps me to appreciate more the peace of our campus. Although the internet is wonderful, the city gets old very quickly. The interior is such a wonderful place to be.

~Traveling to other countries and different cultures is such a wonderful experience, and also a learning experience. I think everyone should try it, and chances are it will get in your blood and you won't be able to stop.

~The second Bible worker for Mashabo just got here today. I'm so happy that we'll have full-time workers there now, the village will really benefit from them. Now we just need a mission house for them to stay in, hopefully a group will be coming to help build it in March.

~Having my sister here with me is the so nice. She really likes the campus, and everyone is glad that she is here, but most of all I am glad that she is here. I like to crawl into her mosquito net at night right before I go to bed so we can talk for awhile. Its nice to be with her since we've been in such different places for the last few years and barely get to see each other.

~Rainy season is almost over. Its nice that we are starting to have more sun during the day to charge our batteries for the electrical system, and to pump our water. It does mean, however, that we will have to start watering the garden again sometime soon. Thankfully Michael is working on quite the watering system design.

Prince Charming that Wasn't to be

Once upon a time, away over in our jungle home, we stumbled across an enormous toad in the dark of night. As we examined his warty exterior, snatches of old fairy tales flitted through our mind. This was the result...

The first reaction of one young lady bordered on disgust and repulsion. She quickly cast the animal aside and left it to the others...Upon seeing the rather ugly toad, the next young lady (I wouldn't want to stretch this tale by calling her a princess=) eagerly snatched it into her hands. She was overjoyed to have found such an animal. Immediately she wondered if this could be her handsome prince...

Before much further adeue she decided to find out if it was in fact a handsome prince disguised as an ugly toad...
As her lips touched those of the toad...well quite frankly, nothing happened. All too soon her hopes were so cruely dashed, she couldn't help but wonder what might have been...
You can be sure that this young lady will not be so quick to believe fairy tale's in the future, prince charming is probably not even out there...

The End

A Tippy Canoe and Mashabo Too

It is Thursday morning, outreach day, the first since school resumed last week after the break. The choice of which village to spend the day in was unceremoniously left up to each individual’s discretion. The result: all but three individuals opted to go to the nearer village of Bethany. The irony: they would be riding the tractor the shorter distance of two miles. Our story, however, is not about the other ease loving individuals, Alexis included, but rather about the three who walked the longer trail of five miles to Mashabo.

Since it is rainy season out in the jungle, it was no surprise when, ten minutes into their walk the saturated clouds began to unload some of their liquid burden. These three simply procured their umbrellas, or rain jackets, as they continued their hike, chatting amiably about their Christmas vacations.

The rain stopped just before their arrival in Mashabo, where they were greeted with friendly waves, hugs, happy greetings, and cries of pleasure at their return from weeks away.
Then one of the young ladies decided that the only logical thing to do would be to cross over the lake that intersected the village, dividing it into two parts. After careful consideration it was decided by the three that if there was a boat available to take them across they would cross the lake, if not they would visit the houses on this side of the lake.

To the delight of the three young ladies, there was in fact an engine boat down on the lakeshore, preparing to cross over to the other side. They quickly secured passage, and soon were safely on the other sandy shore. These three young ladies proceeded to the houses of some of their friends in this side of the village, sharing words of encouragement, small talk about how the holidays were spent, and prayers.

Too soon it was time to begin the hour-and-a-half walk back to the school, so that Kimberly would not miss her class in the afternoon, and off they trekked back to the lakeshore. They quickly discovered that there was not a single boat to be seen. Unless, that is, you counted the large boat sitting half pulled up to shore that was half filled with water with a gaping hole in the side. It was decided that one of the ladies would go back up to the nearest house to inquire if a boat might be coming soon, but that proved to be fruitless since no one was home.

As the three sat pondering what to do, they saw two small school boys paddling out on the lake in a small dugout canoe. Then they saw the two boys heading in their direction. When the boys were closer they pulled into some reeds and emerged each in their own canoe, one of the two paddling his canoe with his hands since they only had one paddle between them. The three young ladies were to be rescued by two small boys!

One of the canoes was larger, and everyone thought it would be the best possible option to fit everyone. Even though the dugout’s stability appeared somewhat questionable, two of the young ladies climbed aboard, sitting on the only two small seats, ant the third gave the canoe a healthy push from shore before climbing into the bow of the second small craft.

Before the boat had traversed more than two feet, almost in slow motion, it unceremoniously tipped over. While two of the young ladies managed to jump to their feet without getting too wet, since the water was still only knee deep, the third received a thorough dousing to her backside. The little boy sitting in the stern nearly fell over with laughter. It appeared that the group must take a different approach.

The boat was dragged ashore, its hull-full of water dumped out, and it was made ready for crossing yet again. This time it was decided that one of the young ladies would cross in the other, smaller, canoe with the other boy, and two of them would attempt to cross in the same boat again. As the boat was being emptied the smaller boat seemed to have much success, although the small boy was paddling with his hands, they made progress rather rapidly toward the other shore.

Meanwhile, the other two were preparing to embark yet again on their journey to the other shore, somehow thinking that swimming across might be much faster and easier. One of the girls climbed into the boat, while the other, again, began to push the boat away from shore. The boat made it a whole two feet further this time before again lurching to the same side and filling with water, delivering another wetting to the already wet young lady.

Again the boat was dragged onto the shore, and the process of expelling water from the interior was repeated. Then, as the two young ladies were deciding what to do next, their dialogue was interrupted by a high pitched scream, followed by a splash. There, in the middle of the lake, they saw two heads bobbing up-and-down, attempting to flip their boat back over, and Kimberly holding her bag over head in an attempt to keep its already wet contents from getting any wetter. Despite their sympathy, the other three sailors on the safety of shore, couldn’t help but burst out into laughter until their sides began to ache.

In the middle of the mêlée a larger paddle boat was seen moving toward the two flailing individuals. It picked up the young lady before heading toward the other two on shore, leaving the poor boy to climb back into the small canoe, half filled with water, and begin to paddle back to shore with his little hands.

When the boat arrived, it transported the three young ladies across the lake, without anymore watery incidents. We arrived on the opposite shore an hour after we should have started our trek back to school. As the three waved goodbye to their small rescuers they had no doubt that the two boys would have quite the story to amuse their schoolmates with about trying to cross the lake with the white girls.

Our trip in Pictures

We missed our flight in Miami so we had to spend the day there. Let me tell you, it took alot of self control for me to "have" to go to the beach, but somehow I managed =)

My sister feeding the seagulls the leftovers of our yummy Cuban food lunch
My sister enjoying a yummy mango the day that some of the school went to pick some free mangos that a church member offered us. Tropical fruit is delicious!

Our afternoon spent in Supanaam waiting the head up to the school

Two of the Amerindian girls from church

One of the friendly visitors that resides in our bathroom. Isn't he adorable?

Footsteps into Guyana...again

As we stepped off the plane into the blackness of the night, I could smell the familiar scent of rain hanging in the air around me. The wet pavement glistened with water in the light escaping from the plane behind me. As I breathed in the clean smell of the air, while feeling exhausted from little sleep and travel, I couldn't help but also feel entirely happy to be back in this country, that in three short months has stolen my heart.

Behind me, my sister struggled with her heavy backpack, and I wondered what she would think of this country with all its varied people, landscapes, and nuances. I thought about how this arrival was so different than my first introduction to Guyana. Rather than watch from the windows as we passed green fields, local houses, emense rivers, and richly green trees, all we could see out of our windows was blackness until suddenly the lights of the runway appeared beneath us. I was happy that she was here with me, and I hoped that she would enjoy her experience.

We quickly passed through customs, collected our bags, and found a taxi. As we hurdled down the road toward Georgetown, and the mission house where we would spend the night, I couldn't help but recall my first encounter with driving here. Now, nothing usually phased me, as we drove in the darkness toward our destination. The spedomitor on the car hung at zero, so I had no idea how fast we were driving as we whipped around curves, and drove mostly in the middle of the road since there was little traffic at 3am.

Finally we arrived at the mission house. I was praying that someone was staying there, and that the door would be left open since I hadn't had the chance to make a copy of the key for myself before leaving in December. My prayer was abundantly answered, not only were people staying at the mission house, but both rooms were full, and someone was asleep in the larger living/dining room/kitchen area. I managed to quietly procure the last matress from one of the rooms along with a mosquito net (which we quickly decided against using since it was so hot) without waking the slumbering occupants. So my sister and I both crowded onto a single mattress for what remained of the night.

The next morning she was introduced to the fun of the market place as we bought some fruit for breakfast, and I suggested some delicious roti and channa (seasoned chick peas in a tortilla-like fried bread) she was immediatly hooked. Another hit was the cold coconut water that can be purchased on street corners. All-in-all we had a delicious breakfast, then it was time to head out to the school.

A bumpy mini bus ride, followed by an even more bumpy river crossing brought us to the village of Supenaam where we met some staff and students from the school. Then we proceded, in perfect Guyanese fashion, to wait the rest of the afternoon and into the hours of darkness for the rest of our enturage to arrive before we could head up the remaining river to the school. It seems to be a trend to make this journey in the pitch black of night for all new individuals traveling to these parts for the first time, and this time proved no different. After we arrived at the dock, we discovered that the tide was too high so our tractor would not be able to make it over the bridge for several more hours so either we would have to wait, or we would have to walk the 2 miles to school. Since it was already nearly 9pm we decided to walk, so after leaving our suitcases at some church members house in the village, we set out with our backpacks. It appears that my sister would get an even more thourough initiation into jungle living that even I did on my first day arriving.

Go Light Your World...

Here's a video I made about my school.

Journeys to Georgetown

Today I am back in Georgetown, it is my first trip back here since I arrived in September. Anca, Kurt and I came for a 2 day ASI lay evangelism training program, our objective: free DVD players that we can use and donate to the different villages in our area that need them.

The ride across the immense Essequibo river was the roughest I’ve yet to encounter. I’ve discovered since my arrival here that there is no need for roller coasters or water parks in the mission field, at least not here in Guyana. We climbed up and dropped down waves on the choppy water so many times that I was sure my liver and stomach changed places several times, before coming to rest on the opposite side of my abdomen from whence they began. Along with each rise and fall of the boat I inevitably got wet, whether it was just a little spray, or a total dousing of water in my face. Thankfully the canvass provided in such boats helped to some extent, but by the time we arrived at our destination I had already had my shower for the day. Looking on the bright side, it will save me time later tonight!

Then came the always entertaining experience of driving from the river to Georgetown. Along with the usual clutter of vehicles, pedestrians, donkeys, mopeds, cows, geese, horse drawn carts, bicycles, goats, and school children to dodge in the streets. It never ceases to amaze me, as we weave in and out to avoid the many obstructions on the street, that I still haven’t seen any accidents take place. I love watching the people and the interesting city happenings as we drive. We stop at a school crossing, and the school kids stare at us “white people” then smile and wave, I return the smile. We drive past roadside vendors with carts piled high with oranges, mangoes, bananas, and coconut. I see Hindu temples with their colorful shrines out front, an Islamic high school with a courtyard full of young ladies in uniforms with white hijabs covering their heads, and even pass a sign that states “SDA church.”

Finally we arrive in the marketplace where we’ll catch our last minibus to the mission house. It is crowded with people, animals, motorcycles, and of course many minibuses painted ever color imaginable. We try to stay together in the jostling crowd of people as vendors shout at us the value of their wares, and taxi drivers yell and try to get us into their vehicles. We pass several men loading huge pieces of freshly cut cows into the back of a truck, nearby the entire cow hide, including the tails are draped over a trailer, the underside still red with blood. We continue past other carts with fresh fruits piled high, and carts carrying baked goods and other foodstuffs, my stomach rumbles hungrily since I didn’t eat lunch, but we continue on. Finally we board a minibus going in the proper direction, and we are off. Stopping at random intervals to pick up and drop off passengers, alternating between being crammed in tightly and actually having a little space as people come and go.

At last we arrive at the mission house where we’ll spend the night. We unload our things, clean up from our travels, and meet some other missionaries from another village who are also here for ASI. Then, wonder of wonders, for the last 45 minutes before we leave for the meeting I get the wonderful experience of high-speed (what is that again??) free internet from the hotel next door. Internet is such a beautiful thing, especially when it is working

River Travels

In our part of Guyana, the river is an integral part of our lives. It is our interstate, many times the only way to get from one point to another; or at the very least the shortest way. Cars are nearly non-existent in this area, instead families own boats. Something I discovered early on, is that the river rises and falls with the tide. When I first arrived I was able to step from the boat directly onto the dock, but the next time I was down at the river I was surprised to see the water so low that we had to climb down the steps onto another boarded ramp to get into the boat.

Riding up or down the river in our mission boat we pass smaller wooden dugout boats with dinky outboard motors, young school children paddling together to school, large lumbering flat barge type boats carrying logs down river to the sawmill, and many other miscellaneous boats being paddled or motored up and down the river. Some carrying goods to the market, others returning from the larger village with supplies, boats carrying families, or being paddled by a single individual, boats of many different shapes and sizes.
As we travel the river we are greeted by friendly waves from the passing boats. The shore is interspersed with stilted wooden houses, some with tin roofs and others with thatched roofs, but all with docks leading up from the river. At many homes the members can be seen bathing off the docks, or washing their clothes on the steps of the dock that lead down into the water, they always wave to us as well.

During our trips on the river we may glide along the glassy, unbroken water that stretches out before us, perfectly reflecting the trees and clouds, other times we bounce and jolt over wakes caused by other motorboats. We may travel in the cool mist of the morning before the sun has broken over the green canopy for the day, or head home in the gathering darkness after the sun has long since set. We travel on large rivers where the distant shore appears almost absent on the horizon, on smaller rivers that are lined with coconut trees, houses, and thicker jungle, and at times up even smaller rivers where we seem to be enveloped in jungle above and on either side or us. At times we see beautiful displays of color in sunsets, other times all that is visible above is menacing clouds and we hope we arrive at our destination before the next deluge of rain begins to pouring from the skies above.

Many times we are not lucky enough to evade the rain, so everyone quickly ducks under canvass coverings trying to keep their belongings dry, and as many body parts as possible out of the pouring rain. Then as the rain stops heads begin to emerge from under the canvass and sometimes are greeted by a brilliant rainbow as we continue our journey along the river that seems to stretch endlessly ahead, promising some new discovery around the next bend. Or perhaps just the arrival at our destination.