Why we do it !

John Schroeder quotes Justin Taylor quoting Tullian Tchividjian, quoting his forthcoming book, with this:

There’s a major difference between having a tribal mindset and a missionary mindset. The highest value of a tribally minded person is self-protection. They ask questions like: Since I feel the safest around those who are just like me, how can I protect myself from those who are different than I am? So they intentionally surround themselves with people who think the way they think, like the things they like, and despise the things they despise. As a result, they live with a sense of superiority, looking down on those who are not like them (for half my life I was convinced that surfers like me were far cooler than anyone on the face of this earth).

In contrast to a tribal minded person, the highest value of a missionary minded person is not self-protection but self-sacrifice. A missionary minded person is a person that exists, not primarily for himself but for others. He is a person that is willing to set aside personal preferences in service to those whose preferences are different than his. Missionaries are people who are willing to be inconvenienced, discomforted, and spent for the well-being of others. The Gospel of Jesus Christ demands that we be missionary minded, because the gospel is the story of God sacrificing himself for others.

Quote from: JOLLYBLOGGER

Stitching up an ax wound.



Hiking to a Panare village.

Setting up camp while traveling to a Pemon village.

Providing medical aid to a remote Ye'kwana village.

Raising children in a mud hut.


What makes it all worth while?

Yekwanaman and Victor doing Biblical translation.

Wanaadi tameedä soto cumjumma'to jooje, chääjäcäinchädäiñe Tönnedö yäätonno 'jemjönö tu'ene'jödöödä. Iiñedö ecaanö’nei annamjö'da na'de, yeichö töwaatamemjönö töweiye na.

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

Porque de tal manera amó Dios al mundo, que ha dado a su Hijo unigénito, para que todo aquel que en él cree, no se pierda, mas tenga vida eterna.

What is their value to you?
God thought they were worth the life of His only son.

Happy Birthday to my SISTER !

My Big Sister!

You taught me...

How to be neat and wash my feet before getting in to bed!

How to fake a fever to skip school by placing my face over the heat vent! (Yes, you did!)

How to put on mascara!

How to harmonize!

How to wash dishes! Especially since getting your hands wet always sent you to the you know what!

How to babysit and have patience with little ones!

How to laugh and cry at the same time!

How to make Banana Pudding!

How to shop till you drop!

How to scream on a roller coaster!

Hot to take sermon notes during church!

How to clean a bathroom that would pass any ones inspection! (Even Monk on TV!)

How to spy on boys !

How to open locked diaries!!! (Ooops! UH...yeah, sorry about that!)

How to use a CB radio! To flirt with guys!! He he!

How to annoy my brother!( I think I would have figured that our on my own eventually!)

How to love Southern Gospel Quartet Music! ( Especially the Cathedrals)

How to love God and put Him first in my life!

In Mexico! We were SOOOOOO young!



Still lookin' good girl!

The Importance of Literature

(Although I originally wrote this for home schoolers, it would be easily implemented by any parent and child in any educational system.)

I have never been able to use a 'packaged' curriculum . There are some great ones available, but I find them all, a little ...stale. Exciting as eating chalk! I have used syllabi of publishers to see if I was on track with my children, but, until High School , it is pointless.


One day I realized that I have taught my way through High School five times, and now for the sixth, and I might know a thing or two about it myself! What freedom! It seems to me that if a student graduates and has a love of learning, can read with discernment, write something that another person is willing to read...he's a success! No packaged books , no boring texts! Real books about real life!!! And there was my son who read his way through the encyclopedias...

I have home schooled six, including my two Ye'kwana children, I have tried to set up my goals in such a way that the child will become a 'student for life'. I don't want to spoon feed information to the child and have the student regurgitate it back to me. In real life we are rarely given the answers to problems but must spend time and thought to figure out for ourselves the answers. So... if you want to see a teacher who stands up and lectures all day, don't come to my house!!! I do not enjoy work books, although they have their place.

Certain subjects require the,' line upon line, precept upon precept' approach, such as Mathematics and the upper level sciences. In most cases, once the basics are down, the student can apply knowledge learned towards understanding new concepts and rarely needs input but rather a sounding board to listen to ideas and give feed back.

All students need to know they are being held accountable and that their work will be seen and judged! I can tell very quickly, usually just at a glance, whether the student has given me something done lazily or if time and thought went into the work. Content is not all that matters. Many bright students learn early on that since things come easily to them, they need not apply them self to get a good grade. Grades are not the point or purpose of learning. The student must apply his self and present to me a knowledgeable presentation of what they have learned. Being a home school mom allows me to push each child according to his ability and not be tied down to the restraints of the class as a whole.


I usually give my child a book to read, or when younger I would read to them, then we discuss it informally. Depending on the age of the child, I will ask for a project or paper. This has worked well. Four of my children have gone on to higher education without any problems. (|Dhangwa, Woodi, Jackie, and Josh. We raised two ye'kwana indians and both went to college in the US.)

Literature can not be left out of the students life. I am amazed at the lack of quality literature in most High School curriculum. Our children are being raised with out the wonderful advantage of all the learning available to us on the written page. Pages written by great minds! What a waste of time for the student to be studying 'fluff' when there is so much more to delve into!

My children are all avid readers. I am as well, so is their father. From a very early age, I began reading aloud to the children and carry on to this day. Their father also read aloud to them. My children each have a book for 'pleasure reading' on their own time and a list of required reading for school. No one has ever complained about the reading. Some of my children have a book for each room of the house! We often share with each other what we are reading.

It is good mental stimulation to have several books going on at the same time. You learn to store information and will find your self comparing ideas from one book, to another that perhaps are not seen as related, but you will begin to see that so much in the world is connected! Cause and effect. History repeating. Think outside of the box! Or as my daughter says, "Box!? What box?"

It is important to realize that when reading aloud to a child, make sure you are choosing books above their own reading ability. Children can comprehend much more than they are able to read for themselves. Choose classics, choose books you can make come alive for them and leave them wanting more! If you are not enjoying the book, the child probably is not either! A true work of literature can be enjoyed by all ages and is timeless.

The child who reads will learn to compare information to related concepts in his memory. This will give him the mental flexibility to come up with new possibilities. By seeing these patterns of information, the child will then be able to ask questions , develop mental schemes, and realize there is often more than one correct answer to many problems. This child will be a THINKER! That is my goal.

Aside from our indian friends, the thing which most bothers me concerning having to have left the jungle so quickly, is the fact that we were forced to leave behind our library. Books are like friends and to think of the many volumes sitting and molding with out use is sad. To this day, I find myself searching my book shelves for a title only to recall it was left behind.

C.S. Lewis says… read old books!

Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books. All contemporary writers share to some extent the contemporary outlook - even those, like myself, who seem most opposed to it. Nothing strikes me more when I read the controversies of past ages than the fact that both sides were usually assuming without question a good deal which we should now absolutely deny. They thought that they were as completely opposed as two sides could be, but in fact they were all the time secretly united - united with each other and against earlier and later ages - by a great mass of common assumptions. We may be sure that the characteristic blindness of the twentieth century - the blindness about which posterity will ask, “But how could they have thought that?” - lies where we have never suspected it, and concerns something about which there is untroubled agreement between Hitler and President Roosevelt or between Mr. H. G. Wells and Karl Barth. None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books. Where they are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill. The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books. Not, of course, that there is any magic about the past. People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as we. But not the same mistakes. They will not flatter us in the errors we are already committing; and their own errors, being now open and palpable, will not endanger us. Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction. To be sure, the books of the future would be just as good a corrective as the books of the past, but unfortunately we cannot get at them.

Up Your Nose with a Rubber Hose!

I don't know if any others will remember that common play yard threat which we threw around in my youth. I never expected for it to actually happen to me, by someone I love, or that I would perform the same upon another.

But happen it did! My husband and I were receiving our Missionary Medical Intensive training and as it would be, we were often one another's lab partners. We had lab work most of the afternoons and would practice the procedures we had been taught.

It started out lame enough, taking histories, blood pressure and such. Then we began injections and stitches and other procedures.

One morning we were taught how to make our own NG feeding tubes out of VI tubing. OK cool! This procedures is needed to be able to feed patients who are unable to self feed. Or to give meds without an IV. It involves plastic IV tube about a meter long which is placed in the nostril, fed down the throat, carefully avoiding the lungs, and on into the stomach. Then one can begin feeding with a syringe through the tube, directly into the stomach.

It is not that complicated and many parents learn to put them in for their children, but one does need practice and to learn how to avoid the lungs. So...

Yeah, there I was, head tilted back as my loving husband held a long plastic tube which he intended to place 'up my nose'. And I was going to allow him to do so. I began to practice my Lamaze breathing which I remembered from labor! You girls know, pick a focal point, breath slowly ...basically, zone out!

OK, so it was not so bad. He did it quickly and correctly as he does most things. He is a quick study and very confident and unafraid to try new things. My husband can pretty much do anything he sets his mind to. Later, in the jungle, this would be invaluable in our small dispensary. He has delivered over 50 babies, placed many stitches, removed arrows from people, placed feeding tubes, catheters, pulled teeth, done biopsies, even helped with an amputation.

After he inserted and removed the tube a few times, it was now my turn. I needed to do this as well because I might be alone one day and be required to place a feeding tube in a patient. Or perhaps I would need to place one in my husband, so...

Now he was the one with his head tilted back, great fear in his eyes, as I held the tube and fully intended to place it 'up his nose'. I just wanted to get it over with! Although, later in the jungle I did have to do many things, like deliver babies, put in stitches and the like, I never enjoyed it!!!

And so, I carefully measured the tubing I would need, cut it off, put in the holes, melt down the sharp edges of the tubing, sterilize, and began to feed the tube up my husbands nostril. He began to gag, which is common as one reaches a certain spot. This is helped by having the patient swallow water if able. I offered the water, my husband, pushed my hands aside and continued gagging. Loudly!

Everyone was soon watching us because he was gagging and squirming. So I continued to feed the tube, until...he opened his mouth! The tube was going up the nostril, down the back of his throat and now out of his mouth!!!! Not knowing what else to do, I quickly hauled back on the tube and pulled mightily! It came ripping out. Along with a fair amount of blood and a murderous glare from my husband!

That maneuver became known as the 'Briggs and Stratton' maneuver! You know, how you haul back and pull the rip cord to start a motor? Or lawn mower?It really should not be used to remove an NG tube. The patient would much prefer a calmer removal as there will be less blood involved.

Of course, I still needed to successfully place the NG tube. So we did it again, and again, until it was done properly and I could do it easily. That was not my husband's favorite day of our marriage. Although he had been taught many things in the Marine Corps, Lamaze was not one of them ,so he had difficulty with the 'zoning out' part. All the males seemed to find the procedure much easier to give than to receive.

I am very glad we did learn the procedure as we were able to use it in the jungle for patients who could not eat.

I never did need to put another tube up my husbands nose, though, for which I am sure he is most grateful!

Personal Update

We have all been busy getting involved in the people around us and learning more about our new home. My husband made another trip, this time to the Chaco of Paraguay. My daughter and son in law also went. I stayed home with the grand daughters which was fun, and tiring!

Once again, I find my house littered with the toys and mess of little children and it is wonderful! We sang and read and watched way too many Barney DVD's.

Aren't they the cutest?????

My husband brought back some goodies that they discovered in the grocery stores there that are not available here in Asunción. Mainly, chocolate chips!!! And marshmallows, honey roasted peanuts, and real sour cream! It seems that when overseas we always check out new areas for goodies, never knowing what may show up.

He has also been able to do more preaching and teaching. This was mission month at our church and he shared the ministry we had in Venezuela as well as taught on Faith Promise mission giving. It is exciting to see the church here also involved in mission work.

We had a Paraguayan missionary from Cuidad del Este over for an American breakfast. He specifically requested that! So we had pancakes and made maple syrup...the works. We also met a Uruguayan couple starting a work in Uruguay.

I mentioned a few weeks ago that my husband had been able to visit and hand out Bibles on the Air Force base. Last week we had 4 airmen visit the Sunday service and today there were 12!!!

My husband is part of a small group of men meeting each Monday night for Bible study, and I will begin meeting with a group of ladies this Thursday. My oldest daughter Jackie hosts a small group of ladies at her home on Tuesdays. The two girls meet with teens for a small group on Thursdays. On Friday night Jayde has been attending an English youth group and Saturday they meet at church for a teen Bible study, again with my son in law. Jewel is also discipling a young teen girl and Jayde is singing every Sunday. I need to get busy!


So we are becoming more involved. Right now we are in the process of trying to get the necessary details for starting a Bible Institute for pastoral training with the proper accreditation. This requires lots of research and information gathering, but is necessary in the long run.

We are finishing up our school year here. I have decided to keep the Paraguayan school schedule so that Jayde has the same time off as the other children so that she can participate in summer camps and other activities. This means we are coming up on summer break here, over Christmas. We will start the new school year in January. Since we were behind due to the move, this is working out well for us.

Please keep us in your prayers!

Trick or Treat

I wanted to find a picture I had posted awhile ago of a Yanomami witch doctor. I have so many photo files, I decided it would be faster to just google, 'photo of Yanomami witch doctor'.

I did! Guess whose picture was the third one across the top????

MINE! Yep, a picture of me and my kids holding a sloth.

I might be many things, but I am neither a Yanomami nor a witch doctor!

Hmmppphhh!....

...as the demons danced upon our roof

Many times in the jungle one is confronted with the reality of the spirit world. I know that in our modern society, many do not believe in witches, demons, angels or even God, but this is not the case with the indian cultures. They know good and evil spirits exist and even interact with us mere humans.

The Ye'kwana culture is replete with myths and lores of the spirit world. Some are based on historical events and what their ancestors observed.

There are spirit beings as lowly as wee folk who play annoying pranks hiding things from you or troubling the hunting dogs all the way up to "Canaima" who is the embodiment of our "Boogey Man". There is the often seen "wiyu". This is a spirit which comes after someone has died and tries to trick another person into accompanying the dead one. They even have a mermaid! And don't forget the terrible" macuchis"! My children even sang a song about the macuchis to tease each other.

The macuchis gonna get you if you start to pout!
The macuchis gonna get you if you don't watch out!


Whatever the case me be, I have seen and experienced things that I often do not share as I fear people will think I have lost my mind. I have seen people who were visited by Canaima appear to be in a trance and die a few days later with mysterious bruises and bleeding. I have been touched by a demon possessed person, only to wake up hours later with the print of their hand burned into my flesh. I have awakened at times with a smothering feeling of heaviness only to find my husband awake and experiencing the same. Talk about a cold chill, to wake up at night and feel as if an elephant is sitting on your chest and the night is so black you can not see your own hand, but you know there is a presence there. At times like these, the only relief comes from calling out to God !

After building our house and finally getting a small generator to replace our Coleman lanterns, we learned of an interesting event that had taken place. We learned of it in a most unusual way.

One night, we were both awoken simultaneously by a strange rustling sound which seemed to surround our house. We arose from our hammocks to investigate and found our house to be totally encircled by indians. More importantly, chirstian indians!

My husband went out side and asked what was going on. Shyly, they explained that they were watching out for us as they had observed "spirits" dancing upon our palm roof. Then they proceeded to tell us of a story that had unfolded several years before our arrival.

The old witch doctor of the village, Manweda, had snorted the hallucinogenic drug which the witch doctors use to enhance their visions, and after several hours of being in a trance, he awakened to tell the village a prophecy.

In his vision, he said he had seen a strange, strong light glowing out of a building upon the small hill which arose at the edge of the village. No one lived there and it was not even cleared yet, but he said he heard a loud noise which came from the house as well as the light.

As is often the case, the villagers discussed what this could mean and had not a clue. Until we showed up and asked if we might build our house upon that very hill. However, we only used Coleman lanterns and had no generator or loud noises coming form our house for several months.

Until that night!

The whole village, unbeknownst to us, had met to discuss if this was the fulfillment of Manweda's vision. As they ventured out to see, the unbelievers were frightened by what they saw around our house.

Spirits dancing on the roof!

The Christians feared for us and bravely decided to confront the spirits on our behalf, knowing we were not knowledgeable or aware of the great danger we were in, due to the nature of the evil demons and the fact that we were so reckless as to have built our house with HUGE windows in every room. Surely, Canaima would come for us one night!

But this night, the christians surrounded our house and joined in prayer to God for our protection. They were amazed that we could all sleep through the night with the demons dancing above our heads. We finally awoke from hearing their muffled prayers on our behalf.

As we spoke to them, we were told of the prophecy the witch doctor had made of our arrival with the lights and loud noise coming from a non-existent house on this exact spot.

Could God use a witch doctor to foretell of our coming? I don't know, but he has used stranger things...such as Balaam's donkey!

Whatever the reason, the people of Chajudaña had welcomed us unanimously and the new christians were greatly encouraged that we were not bothered by the spirits. Soon they were opening up their houses with larger windows to allow for better light and air flow, no longer so afraid of the spirits!

No longer were they bound in the darkness and superstition that had enslaved them and caused them to live in unhealthy smoke filled, dark houses cowering in fear!

CSI: Jungle

The Ye'kwana people are very superstitious, as are many tribal people. The stories are their way to explain the unknown. Some of the beliefs are expected and one can understand why the have the belief. Other's are not so easily comprehended and one has to wait until it makes sense to you, or someone in the tribe can reveal it to you in a way that a western mind can grasp. Whichever comes first.

One thing that seems universal among the tribes, is that death is never from a natural cause. Whether the death is of a new born or elder, the death was inevitably caused by witchcraft. You can explain that the baby died from dehydration caused by vomiting and diarrhea and they will believe you. They also will set out to discover WHO caused the curse of sickness to be placed upon the child, or the elder, or the healthy young man who dies from malaria complications. Someone sent a curse.

And that is when things get interesting! There are so many ways to go about discovering the murderer. Many tests to run, much evidence to study. Many, many hours of discussions around the evening fires. Eventually, it will be discovered.

We once lost a man to yellow fever. He had been very healthy until his bout with the fever. He died one night, quite suddenly. The family was devastated and it was all complicated by the fact that he was from another village. A village where there was a very powerful witch doctor related to the man. This could not be good.

The witch doctor decided there was only one way to determine the killer. The dead man's finger was cut off of the corpse and placed in a kettle of water hung over the cooking fire. A representative of each clan was called to sit in a circle around the fire. As the water began to boil, the severed finger of the dead man began to spin and tumble. This was watched very closely and with baited breath!

Finally, the water boiled off and the finger came to rest on the bottom of the pot. NOW one could clearly see who was guilty for cursing the dead man by sending the yellow fever, for the finger was pointing to the guilty party! Not the actual person, but a member of the clan. NOW the witch doctor would know which village to seek for revenge, which family was the perpetrator. He would be very busy!

The representative of the clan was not guilty as she had married into our clan many years before and could not have been involved, but she was shamed!

The next day the shortwave radio crackled with the news of the results of the finger test. Many denials, many threats, but everyone felt so much better knowing that the yellow fever was sent as a curse and unless they had an enemy, they could relax about becoming sick.

The clan that had been blamed was angered greatly by this accusation, so they requested another test. This required a family member to travel to their village to be present. Interestingly enough, I heard that this test revealed the same guilty party! So another test was to be done. This process could go on for years much as our court system allows for appeals.

Eventually, the family of the dead one will lose interest in the pursuit, send a few hexes out to pay back the murderers, and move on. The anger of the accused will slowly die down, and they will move on. It is all part of the way they deal with their grief. They need to be able to transfer their emotions to another subject in order to get through their days. If it were a Sanema, it would be a very different story as this could be traced back for generations! The family might decide to wait another generation or two before seeking revenge. But rest assured, revenge would be sought!

I witnessed many interesting procedures used in the jungle to determine the guilty parties. I should probably offer my services to the police as an expert to advise the investigators! I have observed how to examine the placenta to determine the biological father of a new born, what is used in a 'love potion', how to curse someone just by using their foot print, and other handy information.

I was even trusted with the evidence and was once asked to freeze the finger of a dead man so that his family could walk over from their village for the boiling finger test...


So, did I, or didn't I ?????

BBQ??? Parrilla??? Asado???

Whatever you call it, Paraguay has got it!

Last week end Paraguay earned entrance into the Guinness World Book of Records for consuming the most meat in an open air BBQ.

26,145 kilos of meat was consumed in 6 hours! This was eaten by 42,000 guests, 6,000 volunteers and 1,800 police!




The newspapers reported that notihng was left, not even a bone for the dogs!

We had our own BBQ here at the house. In Venezuela, we call it a 'parrilla' , here it is an 'asado'.

Either way, the meat is great! We ate ours with yucca, here it is called mandioca. I also prepared Venezuelan guasacaca, no parrilla is complete without it! The Paraguayans do not approve of the guasacaca, something to do with avacado only being eaten as a sweet.

You know what that means, don't you???? MORE for US!

GUASACACA (Venezuelan steak sauce!)
1 Med. Onion chopped
2 green peppers chopped
2 ripe avocados
2 cloves of garlic
1/2 bunch of cilantro
1/2 bunch of parsley
1/3 cup of vinegar
1 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. pepper
1. cup of olive oil


* Throw all these ingredients in your blender, EXCEPT the olive oil. Add the olive oil slowly as it is blending. Let the flavors blend for an hour. Serve with steak, sausage, chicken, potatos, yucca..

Ye'kwana Basket Weaving

Imagine my daughter's surprise when she ran across this add in the Simple Magazine!!!



After all, she grew up surrounded by Ye'kwana Baskets!

She has even made a few of her own!

Floors

Jungle Mom and friends enjoying the cement floor.

Before living in the jungle, I had never put much thought into the making or care of dirt floors. I assumed they would be care free! Not so.

The first few years in the village, we only had dirt floors. This is because the cost of flying cement out to the village by plane was very expensive. And then, the fact that all the sand and gravel had to be dug out of the river bed during dry season when the river is at its most shallow, carried up to the village and hand mixed with water which you also hand carry, bucket by bucket, slows down the process greatly.

So, dirt floors it was! When making a dirt floor, the first step is to dig down and level the floor as much as possible. Then, using water and a heavy tamp, you begin to pound away!!! You must use enough water to dampen the floor, without actually making mud. This process goes on for several days in each room.

After the floor is deemed "finished", you may then begin to use the room. Dirt floors do need to be swept daily. Lint, thread, and other debris does accumulate just as on any floor. Each day the floor is swept with a handmade broom. Once all debris is removed, you sweep the floor yet again, this time adding water to the floor as you sweep.

This is to settle the dust which comes from walking on and sweeping of the floor. If you do not keep the floor dampened, it will turn to dust and everything in the room, including small children, will be dusty. The dirt is of a high clay content and leaves an orange stain on everything. I had orange feet for years!!

Dirt floors do not show dirt, but it is amazing how trash, such as paper and such, will show up! The other problem with dirt floors is when you have accidents, such as spills. How to clean it up? There are many vermin and insects and if you leave anything organic, you will be overcome!

I learned this when we first arrived and our children were all still small. We all came down with malaria and had several bouts of vomiting. How do you clean that up??? With a shovel!!! Then you bring in fresh dirt to fill in the holes.

I did learn that by occasionally adding kerosene to the water I used on the floors, I was able to keep many insects at bay.

We finally laid a cement floor in the main room after about a year and a half . It took us several days to carry up all the water we needed for the cement. We had been collecting the sand and gravel from the river for a few weeks and we were excited to finally lay the floor, by hand. What a job!

Once it was dry, we prepared a concoction for sealing the floor. I heated kerosene on the stove and melted candles into it. We then applied this while still hot to the floor. It worked great! I kept the floor polished by adding 1/4 cup kerosene to each mop bucket. Again, to fight the bugs as well as add shine.

We slowly added floors to the house and eventually added up our costs to be nearly $15,000 US!!! For rough, hand laid cement floors. The floors helped our children's health by cutting down on parasites and also the ever present "nigua".

A "nigua" is a small burrowing tick which lives in the jungle dirt. They especially like to burrow into the toes and even under the toe nails. They are barely visible to the naked eye, but once under the skin, the nigua lays an egg sack which grows and grows and grows... until the eggs hatch and all the new baby niguas begin to reproduce!!! Not fun. Neither is it fun to dig them out of the tender nail bed.

I once had to remove an entire nail of my toe to get to an egg sack under the nail. OUCH!!! And, of course, any opening in the skin is likely to become infected.So the floors, though expensive, were needed and greatly appreciated.We would eventually come to the point of feeling the small niguas before they even burrowed!!

A new problem occurred when we laid the first floor. The Sanema chew tobacco. They keep a large plug of it under their lower lip at all times. This produces a green ,slimy spittle. The Sanema generally spit a lot! They spit out the nasty spittle. On my floors.On my walls. It was a constant source of irritation to me.

I finally had to come to accept it. I did keep a spray bottle of bleach and paper towels handy and taught them to clean it themselves. The bleach was also needed to clean up after the many diaperless babies that came to visit each and every day.

Needless to say, our only furniture was wood or plastic so that it could be cleaned and disinfected daily. I felt it was better to have things I did not mind them using, than to have nice things, but perhaps worry that it would be damaged. I did not want 'things' to come between me and the people I was there to serve.

On the other hand, I did feel it was wise to teach them what behavior would be expected of them by the Venezuelans in town. After gaining their confidence, I was able to teach them that spitting would not be acceptable in town. Nor would babies without diapers! Nor looking inside through windows...nor using yards as an out house... nor walking in unannounced ... nor burping loudly at the table...and many other activities deemed perfectly acceptable in their own culture.

A visitor with her baby.

Learning to Love Again

A frequent reader here asked me the following question;

Findalis said...Each nation and sometimes regions of nations have their own customs. You never said which one you prefer better. I'd like to know.

I was reminded of the following post, which I wrote last year while here in Paraguay on a survey visit. I still think it best describes how I feel about the countries where I have spent most of my life.

I have been trying to comprehend my feelings of love. Emotions of love I have for more than one country. Perhaps you think that I can not love many places equally, or that in loving one, I love the other less. But that is not the case for me.

As a mother, I love each of my four children equally. But differently. Each occupies a place in my heart that no other can fill.

My first born daughter, Jackie, was born a very independent child. She was mature and handled everything easily. She was quickly to become my friend. My best friend. My love for her is shown in that way.

Along came son, Joshua. He was a serious minded child. Content to play alone, but in need of my presence for security. As he has gotten older, it seems our roles have changed. He now cares for me and brings me security. He does his own thing still, but likes to have loved ones nearby for comfort. I show him my love by being available.

Jewel! She quickly revealed a strength of character we had not yet seen in any child. Strong willed, independent, and very loyal. The life of any party! My role with her was often to be a boundary setter as she knew no limits and thought she could do anything. She usually could, but at times to the detriment of others or endangerment of herself. She is now a young lady of 18 and still is a strong minded individual but has learned to be considerate of others. I show my love by supporting her in her endeavors.

Then the baby, Jayde. She is the social butterfly. She thrives on attention. She does not like to be left to her own devices and prefers to be part of a group. To show her love, is to look her in the eye and communicate. A lot!!!

I love them all greatly, but differently, just as I love my different countries equally and yet completely.

My home land, the USA, is the land of my birth. The land of my heritage. It is where I feel safe and secure. A refuge. The land of my mother tongue, of my sheltered childhood. I could not love another place more!

Venezuela is my adopted country. A place I chose to love and a people who returned my love, mostly. Just as a young bride leaves the home of her parents to begin a new life with her husband, I chose to begin a new life in Venezuela. I gave Venezuela my unconditional love. Yes, I know her faults and difficulties, but I love her still. I could not love another place more!

Then the Ye'kwana tribe. I love them with a passion! My time with them was the culmination of a life long dream. Our lives were filled with excitement and adventure. Emotionally draining at times, but very fulfilling! I could not love another people more!

Now, I am opening my heart to Paraguay. Just as a young person first in love, tentatively, shyly even, I am reaching out to see if that love is returned or spurned. It is exciting and yet terrifying! It could break my heart! Or , bring great joy!

Yes, I have a great love for more than one place, more than one people. One will never replace the other and all will be part of what makes me feel whole and gives me purpose in this life and the one to come.

1 John4:21 And this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also.

My children.
(Abby, Jackie, Jewel, Jayde, Naomy, and Josh.)

Random Observations

Paraguay

The people here are different than the Venezuelans. It is a subtle difference and I am sure that in my short time here I am only aware of a few of those differences and may even have some very incorrect impressions. So these are merely put forth here as 'impressions'.

They are more casual. Especially in dress. In Venezuela, personal appearance is very important and one does not leave the house with out dressing to the nines! When leaving work, the manual laborer will change into nice clothes before catching the bus home. Even very poor people will try and have something nice that they will wear out in public and if one did not know, they would never guess they lived in a tin shack. You do not just run to the store in flip flops! But here, the people are seen at the grocery store dressed very casually. I have been asked why I am so dressed up all the time. I'm not really...

They are soft spoken and reserved. ( Except about soccer!) Which Venezuelans are not prone to be. Especially in regards to government and politics, it is very hard to get a read on the people. I try not to discuss politics while overseas as a guest in a foreign country. I know how I get annoyed by foreigners telling me how my government should be and what my country should do, so I try not to do that to them here. I have been told that this reserve was learned during the days of the last dictator when it was not wise to voice opinions as one could disappear. There are places still remembered for the torture that went on there. This was not that long ago, so people still remember personal accounts of these happenings.

Women drive motorcycles! Women in suits and high heels! Very strange for me. I do not recall ever seeing women driving motorcycles in Venezuela. Riding with a driver , yes, driving them, and in HEELS..NO!

The neighborhoods are more mixed than in Venezuela. In Venezuela one would know the economic level of a person just by their address. Here, the rich, middle class, and poor seem to be very integrated. A large quinta will be next to a humble earth walled house. The neighbors will visit each evening by pulling chairs out and sitting on the side walk. No one seems to care if their neighbor is a have or a have not. I find this refreshing! It was pointed out to me that people also treat their maids as friends and even will hire family as house help. I never saw this in Venezuela.

Kissy, kissy! In Venezuela the traditional greeting is a kiss on the cheek, which is more a touching of the cheeks with an air kiss. Here, it is a real kiss on both cheeks. Very important for one not to forget the second kiss or you will find yourself in the awkward situation of being face to face, at close proximity, as they are turning for the second kiss. At church I start to get dizzy from so much kissy, kissy!

Paraguayans are a bit snobbish about food. They seem to not like to try new things and have a lot of strange rules about when to eat certain foods, and what foods may be eaten together and which ones can not. Apparently, avocado is only to be eaten as a sweet.

And so, I am learning! I also have seen a few things that I found rather odd.

On the way home from church Sunday, as we drove by the main gate of the Air Force base, a soldier, dressed in camo fatigues, was riding a horse and herding cows that were grazing on the air base grounds. A soldier cowboy!

Today, I watched a Hummer drive past a horse drawn cart in downtown Asunción.

The Theory of Devolution

As hypothesized by my son, Joshua. Joshua spent two years in the dorms and was the R.A. He was married this summer and sent the following words of advice to his friend who is now the R.A. of the dorm.

Yeah dorm life is , how do I say this correctly. OK here we go, I think that since so many people were bothered by the whole water boarding issue that instead ,these terrorist, war criminals should live in dorm rooms with American 18year olds which tend to be at the same IQ level as the Gold fish Version of Forest Gump. I must admit that the dorm convinced me of Devolution. I fear that in maybe two generations we will revert back to ape like status and eventual turning into some form of primordial ooze, we see early signs of this in Micheal Moore.

One need only to smell the toxic fumes emitted from a boys dorm to know that the male body is devolving at a more rapid pace, at least physically. We are not sure how bad the young girls are devolving since Plaster of Paris and other forms of makeup are skewing our scientific research.

I could not let myself be contaminated by this dreadful process and escaped, for a piece of heaven on Earth called marriage. I will say this ,friend, you have found one of the non devolved women on the planet! A rarity whose price is far above rubies, it will get better very soon.

So I say this in closing, continue to shower on a daily basis and wrap your head in tin foil.
The showering will fight of the ape degeneration gene from your body, while the tin foil will deflect any IQ point subtracting rays from your brain. You will make it out alive and there are lots of loving friends and family here to help you through recovery and rehabilitation.

Your friend Josh

My Angel

Let me tell you about Petra.

I first met Petra when we arrived in the village. I did not speak her language and she does not speak Spanish. At the time, we were living in a borrowed indian house while we built our own house. My youngest was not yet walking, and I also had a 3 year old, a 7 year old and a 10 year old. We still had our indian daughter with us at the time. She was 16.

Clint was busy from sun up till sundown. Getting poles from the jungle, making adobe bricks, getting leaves for the roof. I was busy teaching all the children and carrying water, doing laundry in the river, washing dishes in the river, cooking over an open fire.

All was going well, until one day, indians began to get sick. We had over 80 cases of malaria in one month. We had no radio to call for outside help, so we were doing all the medical work ourselves.



One morning, I taught my 7 year old son his math lesson and left him to do his work sheet as I went to begin cooking . After a few minutes I went to check on how he was doing...I saw my son passed out at the table! He had been fine just 30 minutes earlier! I felt him and he was burning with fever.

He had contracted falciparum malaria. This is a cerebral malaria which comes on fast and strong. We had a microscope to do the blood work and we had the quinine to treat it. So we began his treatment. On the third day when he was finally able to talk and walk with our help, the 3 year old also came down with malaria. Hers was vivax malaria, though not as dangerous ,she was still very feverish and in a lot of pain. Next was our indian daughter, she also contracted falciparum malaria. Then...the baby! She came down with vivax malaria.

Quinine is the most bitter pill you can imagine! Trying to get it down a one year old is a real struggle, but we managed.

We had so many sick, we began to run short of medication. We still had quinine , but no analgesics for pain and fever. I began to crush up Tylenol for babies. I remember giving my last dose to one poor toddler.



That night, I began to feel achy! Then the fever. And a terrible head ache! Sure enough, I also had malaria. I developed a bad case of strep throat as well, from working with the sick children. We had no more antibiotics and no pain reliever.

At one point I began to hallucinate. I don't remember much. I remember worrying about my children. They were still sick.

Thankfully, my husband and Jackie somehow were spared malaria that time. We had to wait for the scheduled flight day to go out for help and the antibiotics I needed. I sort of remember the flight, but the fever was very high.

But...what I wanted to tell you is how Petra would come everyday and hold my sick baby. I was too weak to care for the little one, and Petra took it upon herself to come each day and stay most of the day. She was the one to make sure Jayde got all of the quinine down and kept it down. She made sure we had water in the house.

I couldn't speak to her much at the time, but later, she told me how she felt that she was led to care for us and the baby. Even when we returned, all healthy, she would come and sit in on our home school classes and entertain the baby for me.

She said she wanted to help me, so that after I finished teaching my kids for the day, I would have the time and energy to learn her language.

WHY? So I could teach her the Bible! She did all in her power to help me to learn the language so that I could begin a ladies Bible study.



It took a few years, but I did begin a ladies bible study twice a week...and I know Petra will be rewarded by God for her ministry to me and my family when we most needed it. She may not look beautiful to you, but to me....she is an angel!

Proverbs 17:17
A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.

Cacique...the Chief

Bertico is his name. He has been chief for the last 15 years, but is suffering from chronic bronchitis due to his excessive smoking. We used to provide him with guafatussin, and I worry about his coughing now. Who is giving him medicine for his terrible coughing??? No one.

Bertico and Yekwanaman were having a conversation in the village round house on the day this photo was snapped. Just talking about 'men stuff' which is genetic in all males, no matter the culture. Some things are universal.

Bertico is a friend but never became a Christian. I still pray for him and even though he was never interested in the gospel, he is a true friend. He has stood up for us against the false accusations made by military investigators, he has stood up for us when other Indigenous Advocate groups tried to force the removal of all missionaries from the tribes.

Bertico as chief is greatly respected. One does not belittle the chief or take undue privileges while speaking to him, or about him. He is the chief until he dies. Then another will be appointed but not necessarily a son of his.

Something you can not see in this photo is that much of his power comes through his practice as witch doctor. He is a shaman. His father was such a powerful witch doctor that upon his death, his head was saved. The head was cleaned down to the bones and wrapped in cloth for safe keeping. Bertico has his father's skull in his hut. Whenever he feels the need for wisdom, he will snort a local grown hallucinogenic ( having much the same effect as LSD) which will allow him to have visions. In these visions he will often see and converse with his' father', thus the need for the skull to be kept close by him for such times.

My children were never afraid of Bertico, but were often skittish when walking by his hut, just knowing the skull was in there made them nervous!

My husband once asked Bertico how old he was. His answer, after a long thoughtful pause, was, "I am very old."

I miss him!

A Younger Bertico with his son.
(This photo was taken and developed by a retired missionary)

Ciudad del Este

My husband and son-in-law just took a trip to Cuidad del Este where they spoke at a church and did some survey work. My husband described the city to me in this way,

"It's a small New York City. While walking down the sidewalk within a matter of half a block, I heard Arabic, Spanish, Guarani, Portuguese, German, and even Chinese!"

Twenty five different nationalities are represented in the small city.

They came back with lots of interesting stories and details, but more importantly...

DORITOS!

Yes, I know you are all as excited as we are! In order to procure such a dietary delight, they had to cross the border into Brazil. They drove across the river into Brazil to check out a store owned by Wal-Mart. Once there they discovered that it is closed on Sunday. My husband called me from Brazil to sadly report that he would not be able to purchase the zip lock baggies I so desperately wanted. Oh well.

Once they had returned to Paraguay, they were told of a store owned by Brazilians who had imported Doritos and Ruffles and cake mixes. No zip locks, but that's ok! Maybe next time, but in the meant time...we have ...

People in Paraguay

We have met the most interesting people since we arrived here! I must admit to having previously assumed that due to it's small population, Paraguay would be very provincial. I suppose outside of Asunción's that is the case, but here, we have met some of the most diverse, interesting people! Form everywhere.

For instance, a Canadian chiropractor. She came here 15 years ago, moved in with her boyfriend's sister. He was supposed to join her here 6 months later. He never showed up... she is still here. And part of the Bahia faith which is quite prominent here...who knew?

My Canadian doctor whose family drove all the way from Canada to Paraguay when he was a small child.

My daughter is attending a teen Bible study for English speaking children...most of them are Korean and Taiwanese!

I met an American man who speaks a little English, with an accent. His grand father came here, fell in love and married. This gentleman is in his 60's, is an American citizen and has never been to the USA.

I met the girl friend of the bass player for the very popular Spanish pop group, "Sin Banderas". We gave her a ride home one evening.

Then there is the Peruvian woman who has a ranch in the chaco. The Uruguayan man at church, OH! and the Brazilian couple I met at immigration who are moving here to be able to afford in vitro fertilization! I found that out in the waiting room. Latins are much more open about things like this.

We attended an election debate here in Asunción, sponsored by the embassy, and I met these two men;

Moses Mercado

Raul "Danny" Vargas, chairman of the Republican National Hispanic Assembly and a prominent businessman from Northern Virginia,

My husband got in the last question in regards to the Democrats responsibility of the financial crisis going back to Clinton and Carter, with the democrats blocking the reforms McCain called for two years ago. Danny Vargas finished with some 'zingers' on that! We did get to meet both men. Moses Mercado was saying that Obama would meet and talk with Chavez. All I wanted to know was, if he would give Obama a message for me, and ask Chavez if I could please go back and get my stuff!

My husband has met the Minister of Religion and Education as well as the commanding General of the Air Force.

Also, he has an interesting relationship with a little old lady who sells fruit at the intersection. He told her he should not buy so much of her fruit as he needed to diet. She proceeded to take his hand through the window and explain exactly what herbs he should add to his terere to help with weight loss. She even told him where he could buy the herbs. Imagine getting a nutritional consult from your fruit vendor on the street corner!

So... you just never know who you may meet in this country!

Personal Update

Today my husband had the privilege of translating for an American Reserve Marine Colonel (Ret.). They were able to give out 180 Bibles to Paraguayan Air Force enlisted men. Thirty of the men said they had never owned a Bible, some had never even held one!

Then they met with the Commanding General of the Paraguayan Air Force. While waiting to be ushered in to see him, my husband informed the Marine that he was nervous to be on a military base. The Col. asked him why, to which my husband replied, that the last time he was on a military base in South America (Venezuela) he was being 'detained'! Of course then he had to explain the circumstances.

The Commanding General was pleased to accept a Bible as well. A Major who attends our church here had already been having Bible discussions with him. The General was pleasant and they were invited to lunch on the base. The Paraguayan Major is interested in having my husband begin working with the men on base giving marriage seminars and counseling. This is a great open door as these men are from all over the country and will return to their home towns when discharged.

And where was I during all this? Getting a manicure! I know, it's a tough job, but somebody has to do it! I had a wonderful opportunity to chat with the girl, who works out of her home across the street from me, and I think she will be visiting church with me soon. Oh! And the mani/pedi cost me $4.50!

This weekend my husband and son in law will be traveling to Ciudad del Este and speaking at a church there. We are excited to begin the process of getting to know our new home better . It is always rewarding to find an area of need and be able to help in some way.

Please pray for us as we endeavor to serve the Lord here in this country.

The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance.

-- Cicero , 55 BC

Why raising chickens can be fun...

One morning the children and I were starting our home school day, Yekwanaman was starting his language studies, when we heard such a terrible sound! I can not describe it very well. It was weird.

Now, we were accustomed to hearing strange sounds in the village, witch doctors, old Sanema ladies fighting, children running and screaming, but this sound was unique! We all went out to investigate. The sound was coming from our chicken pen.

We tried several times to raise our own poultry. We did. But...between the ocelots and the vampire bats...we were not very successful at it. It seemed we were raising chickens to feed all the wild kingdom of the jungle but ourselves! Still, we tried!

Upon arriving at the chicken pen, we saw our rooster strutting his stuff! He was crowing like it was dawn, only, really off tune!!! And Loud. All the poor hens had their chicks off in a corner under their wings! Daddy Rooster was acting strangely!

We stood and watched for a half hour as this guy, danced around in circles, screaming his head off in what seemed to be a riotous crowing, until... he suddenly jerked himself straight, and toppled over! Stone cold!

We thought he had died of a heart attack! But, no, a few hours later, he was up on his feet, but a bit wobbly. Every time the other chickens clucked, he would bellow in rage! As much as a rooster can bellow!

It seems another missionary working with us at the time had decided to give our chickens a rotten pineapple. Fermented, none the less!

Have you ever seen a drunken roster?

The next day, we heard the rooster once again crowing loudly in the middle of the afternoon. We saw the other missionary walking by the pen with more scraps for the chickens. This time there were no fermented pineapples, but the rooster seemed quite eager to receive one!

After pecking through the scraps, he indignantly, clucked about angrily. I swear I saw him looking out of the corner of his eye with an, "I'll get you!" look at the other missionary!

From that time on, that missionary could not enter the chicken pen without being attacked! Unless he had a pineapple!

I am embarrassed to say that someone in my family would purposely save pineapples and allow them to ferment, just to see the rooster get drunk! Grant it, it was great entertainment for the whole village to watch the drunk rooster! But I always felt a bit sinful, aiding the guy in his binges!!!