Dengue, death from a mosquito bite

I have decided to share this although I am still profoundly sad. It seems to highlight the post I did yesterday and I hope it will give a more human face to the life and death situation of the indian. I hope you will see them as they are, real people, not just a statistic, or something to be used in a political power play.Leaving them in their"pristine condition" and patting ourselves on the back for doing something lofty, means leaving them to die unnecessarily.

I have just received a call from an indian friend. She was calling from Ciudad Bolivar. Her uncle, my friend, Jorge Cortez, died in the hospital there last Saturday. They had tried to get him medical attention, but since there are no longer any mission planes in the area, the trip by canoe took too long. Jorge had lost too much blood and they could not help him as they were not able to do a transfusion at the hospital there in Ciudad Bolivar, at least not for an indian.

I am so sad and also a bit angry. We lost no one to dengue in all our years there, we fumigated, provided mosquito nets, IV fluids, and quick evacuations by plane when needed, and now they allow this to happen...

I know that all is in God's hands. God will give the family grace to handle the loss of their provider. Jorge was the best hunter in the village and one of the few who still hunted often with blow gun and bow and arrow. He was a very smart man. He spoke his language, Ye'kwana , as well as Sanema, Spanish and even picked up some English. He leaves behind 10 children and several grand children.

I trust we will see Jorge in heaven. He did make a profession of faith, but often struggled with the Christian life. Each time he faltered, he would show great remorse and regret. God alone looks upon the heart. I can not judge.

Jorge had a great sense of humor. He and I had a running game of trying to throw water on each other during Carneval season. He usually won, being much faster and nimbler, and would douse me with water each year. But one year, I tricked him. He was in charge of turning on the village generator. I managed to get a spare key and hid inside the generator shack with a bucket of water, waiting. I had allowed myself to be locked in as it was a pad lock. I knew he would be down at dusk to start up the generator and seeing the pad lock still on the door, would not expect anyone to be inside. Sure enough, he unlocked the door and I met him with a bucket full of water. . . he left running away saying he had seen a spirit.

He told that story over and over again! Always with a laugh. He loved to wear funny hats and strange clothing and especially enjoyed playing the part of "dumb" indian around people who did not realize he spoke Spanish.

Jorge ,wearing a wig and getting folks to laugh at his antics.

I hope and pray that our service in Chajurana made a difference in his life. I pray his children will walk in the steps of the Lord and grow in grace. I especially pray for his mother, Petra, as she faces yet again, the death of one of her children.

John 11:25 Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

Upon a life I did not live,
upon a death I did not die;
anothers life, anothers death,
I stake my whole eternity.
-Horatius Bonar