Mostly I've Recieved

As this year comes to a furiously fast close, I’m forced to review my time here.  I’m desperately trying to slow down, find closure, and not just skip to the part of, “I’M HOME!”. As the countdown gets to the teens and now single digits, I’m realizing my restlessness more and more.  I know great change is on the horizon. I can see it. I can feel it. I’ve had an expiration date from the beginning and so as it draws nearer my restlessness and longing for home grows. The more I closely examine my time here and the more I attempt to find closure, the more I find I’m not ready.  Sure, my brain has known this day would come.  I knew change was inevitable, but how could I measure or anticipate that 10 months ago? I’m torn.  Part of me longs and dreams of going home, and the other part desperately clings to staying.  Perhaps the hardest part is knowing these goodbyes I’m saying could very well be final. I’ve been asked over and over by my local friends, “Are you coming back?”, and all I can say is, “I don’t know. I want to return someday, but Saya tidak tau [I don’t know]”. 

When I step off the plane next Thursday, May 11, don’t expect me to be the same as when I left 10 months ago. Don’t expect me to your “normal”.  I’ve experienced far more than I can possibly explain and you will not be able to relate. And you know what? That’s ok. I know you won’t be able to really get my story, to comprehend the extent of my experience. Please, don’t try and pretend like you do. I’d rather be told, “Wow, you know I really cannot relate or understand your experience but praise the Lord, He [God] can.” Or maybe “That’s a beautiful experience! I’m so glad you thrived there.” I will try my best to be humble and loving towards everyone but I ask forgiveness in advance for any short temper I show. For any foul attitude I may throw your way.  Please be gentle with me. I wish I could explain what culture shock is like, the stress it inflicts on me emotionally, and mentally. But unless you’ve walked through it, it’s impossible to describe. Honestly, you can’t go wrong with wrapping me in a bear hug.  No words are even needed, just showing that you care is enough.  But if you want to ask questions, some appropriate questions would be:

 “How are you adjusting to life and culture here in America?” I know I will struggle tremendously with American culture. The fashion, the apathy, the politics, the individualistic lifestyle, the selfishness, the list goes on and on. Everything is so different compared to here.

Or ask, “I’d love to hear about life in Indonesia! How about we go to a café and chat? Does _[Insert day/time here] work?”

If you would like to see more appropriate questions, go to Paige’s blog post titled: Asking all the wrong questions, and how to ask the right ones. Go to writtenpaigesite.wordpress.com

I desperately want to share my stories and my experiences so please don’t hesitate in asking to hear my stories! But also be aware, I can’t possibly sum up 10 months into 5 minutes of small talk at church, or if you run into me wandering overwhelmed at Walmart. So if you ask, “How was it?” I may just blankly stare at you and croak, “...Fine…” (see above for better questions).

And to any previous student missionary that may be reading this, I’m sorry for my attitude towards you when you returned home. I know I did exactly what I’m asking people to avoid.  And even after this year, I can only relate slightly to what your experience was like. Thank you for being patient with me when I asked you all the wrong questions, or when my apathy towards your mission life made your culture shock worse.

So as an attempt to find closure and to help people back home understand the thoughts that are swirling in my head I wrote this poem, if you will. It captures, in a very small nutshell, my experiences here.  

Mostly I’ve Received

I've lived with plenty

I’ve lived with nothing

I've knocked down barriers

I've survived in luxury

I've thrived in poverty

I’ve been continuously outside my comfort zone

I've been spared through earthquakes

I’ve been protected from drunk men

I've see the mouths of snakes closed

I've made mistakes

I've been forgiven

I've tasted Amazing Grace

I've shared God

I’ve been shown God

I've poured prayer over demon possession

I've heard the Trinity

I've felt Jesus’ hands

I've seen the Holy Spirit and witnessed Him moving

I've seen Angels

I've seen the demons of my past and present

I've casted out strongholds and broken soul ties

I’ve pulled deep rooted evils from my heart

I've been redeemed

I’ve been set free

I've been baptized in water

I've been baptized in Spirit

I've planted

I've harvested

I've had sleepless nights

I’ve had weary days

I've pushed my body to the limit

I've been fed when I was hungry and given drink when I was thirsty

I’ve been proud

I’ve been humbled

I've been up front and in the crowd

I've loved

I've hated

I've been in extreme pain

I've found extreme joy

I've taught, nursed, served, and given, but mostly

I’ve received.

Where will this goofy puppy go?

Then...

Now...

God cares even about the little, seemingly insignificant details of our lives… This past weekend we had to give away our little Mister.  He wasn’t much to look at. His body couldn’t decide if it wanted long hair or short hair so it grew both. He’d sometimes hold his ears flat to the side making him look like Yoda. He had a hard time gaining weight so he was a joyous little sack of bones.  Honestly, he was just your stereotypical 3^rd world mutt.  But oh, how we loved that mischievous Yoda dog!

As our time here rapidly comes to a close, we knew we had to find Mister a loving new family willing to care for him long term. Paige and I kept putting off writing the expatriate community an email mostly because we wanted to keep denying that we had to get rid of our Mister. But finally, we could avoid it no longer.  So Wednesday, Paige wrote up the dreaded email advertisement.

Let me back up slightly. A few weeks ago I prayed a simple prayer.  Something like, “God you know how much we love this goofy puppy.  Please help us to find him a good home; a loving home!” Fast-forward, to Wednesday, not even an hour after sending out the email we got a call. Then texts, and other emails! At least 4 families were asking to meet Mister to see if he was a good fit.  I was absolutely blown away!  I was preparing myself to be begging people to take him but to have so many texts and emails, Paige and I were beautifully overwhelming.  That alone, was an answer to prayer.

However, in my little experience when God aligns something it’s bigger than we originally think. The family that contacted us first was our God sent, the Lynn’s.   They are a middle-aged couple living in Wamena (about an hour flight).  Their children are grown and it’s just them at home.  They’ve had several break-ins, the most recent being last week.  Beth Lynn was home alone when a man tried to break in, grabbing at her through the shattered window.  Luckily their house has bars on the windows (like most houses here) and she was able to retreat into the house and escape out a different door.  She ran to the neighbor’s house and within minutes there were dozens of local Papuan women running through the yard chasing the intruder.  The women chased him quite a ways down the road before he slipped away into the night.  [No one calls the police here.  They will do whatever it takes not to get the police involved because they are so extremely corrupt.  And 9-1-1 does not exist]

So Beth began praying that the Lord would send her and her husband a dog. Not a big dog that would attack to kill, but a dog that would bark to let her know someone was there.  Also they have many stray dogs that visit from time to time so they needed a dog that could play nice with others.  She had been praying the morning our email went out and knew Mister was perfect for her.  He has always guarded our gate faithfully! Even if that meant barking and howling at 3am when people would loiter outside.  But he also loved playing with the Boyd’s golden retrievers, and Snoop (Mister’s best friend in our neighborhood). 

The Lynn’s are a God sent match. Without a doubt they will love and care for him! 

Once again I am humbled by how much God cares. Even for the small worries of where will this goofy puppy go?

“The Lord keeps you from all harm, and watches over your life.  The Lord keeps watch as you come and go both now and forever. “ ~Ps. 121:7, 8

Day 1 with Mister

Day 1 What a face!!

He always sat funky...

Yoda dog!

First time at the docks...

Adventurous Mister

Adventurous even if we have to force him...

 

Me, Erin, Nathan, Mister, Paige, and Oliver at the docks

Enjoying naps just inside the door

Paige has help bathing him

Last car ride...

About to meet Pilot Kevin Lynn

About to board the plane

"Do I have to?"

Hello?

New home!

Happy Family Photo

If you want to read the story from a different perspective, and to see MORE adorable photos go to writtenpaigesite.wordpress.com!

When the Doc's Away the Nurses will Play

Caution, this post contains graphic images and videos of medical techniques. It's not for the faint of heart, or stomach.

It all started one muggy Sunday evening.... 

Just about every week people from the community meet up at HIS for Sunday night soccer. Paige and I just recently started joining them. Please note we are no where near their level!! Most of them played soccer growing up or/and in college, and all of them are extremely fit. I am for sure out of my league but they are all so encouraging and simply a blast to play with! 

    One game my feet get tangled with another player's and their heel comes down hard on my left foot. After the play they apologized for walking on me but in my mind it's apart of the risks when playing, no apologies necessary. 

     The night continued, and the pain in my foot increased and began to localize to my big toe. By the time I got home it was throbbing and hurt to walk. I knew I had probably bruised the nail (I had nail polish on and couldn't see it) but I wasn't too worried. I've been stepped on many times by horses and my nails never bruised. So what could a person's heel do? 

    Well let me tell ya, 130-150lbs coming down on one toe is a lot different than 1,800lbs spread out over the entire foot (plus boots help). The pressure under my nail only increased as the days passed. Until finally, I took off the nail polish to have a look at the damage. *I know, I know not good nursing practice* To my surprise, the nail bed was a nasty gray-ish color. Paige, being the awesome nurse she is, told me she had a plan to relieve the pain.  I was all in! We found a large needle and got it red hot and burned holes through the nail. Almost immediately, ooze started coming out of the holes (Serosanguineous for all you medical professionals). And just like that, the pain decreased significantly!! I could walk without limping and actually wear shoes! I knew the nail would fall off on its own, just a waiting game at that point. 

     Fast forward to the Outdoor Education trip. Long story short (as told in OE Part III) I hiked through the Papuan highlands like Pocohontas. Barefoot most of the time. As I was half pulled, half crawling up the steepest terrain I've ever hiked I could feel my toe nail being pull and snagged. But what was worse was that I knew mud and pig feces (yes! Pig poo! I know, I know aweful nursing practice) was getting packed under the nail and there was nothing I could do about it. 

    Fast forward again, I survived OE and was back in Wamena waiting for my flight to Sentani the following morning. That's when I noticed my nail oozing and smelling quite foul! I knew without a shadow of doubt the nail bed was now infected. How could it not be?! There wasn't much that could be done in the short amount of time in Wamena so I decided to wait until I got back to Sentani and in touch the medical team I know and trust. 

     So jump ahead some more, I'm back home and it's getting worse. Increased pain, increased odor and ooze (becoming slightly more purulent and Sanguineous), and my toe is red, hot, swollen. OH! And the nail was now a sickly black-green-gray-yellow color. Nasty is what it was!! But to make matters worse, every single doctor we have on our medical team was out of the country at a medical conference. Everyone. Even most of the nurses were gone!! We could, however, message them. So from hundreds of miles away I was told the dreaded news,"The nail has to be pulled ASAP." 

    But a new problem arose. Neither Ruth, Wendy, Paige, nor myself (all of us RN's) had ever given a nerve block. We'd only watched the procedure! So what do you do when there are no doctors around? YouTube, of course! No joke. Ruth and Paige watched YouTube videos. After 2 or 3 they had a good enough idea. The video showed the general idea of where to put the anesthesia but it didn't answer questions like, how deep does one go? If we hit the nerve, with the needle, could there be permanent damage? Etc...  So we figured, if we hit bone then they've gone to far and we'll pray about the nerve damage part. 

     So Ruth started it off with lidocaine (without Epi!) aiming for the 2 nerves that ran on the top of the toe. It stung like a wasp but soon the lidocaine started doing its job, thankfully! Paige and Wendy both got turns at pumping my toe with lidocaine. And we did accidentally go to far... How do I know? Well when the needle sticks out the other side of your toe and lidocaine squirts the opposite wall, you've gone too far (yes that did actually happen). 

    Ruth got the honor of actually pulling it. Although I don't know if she saw it as an honor at the time. Most of the nail was completely detached, but there was one bit that was still very fleshy and hanging on! After quite a bit of tug-o-war, Ruth won and off came my nail. Praise the Lord the nerve block worked through out the procedure!! 

Right after OE, my toe wasn't looking so great...

Disclaimer: Watch these videos with caution. They are unedited and very raw. Also know that I completely, 100%, volunteered and was glad to be a guinea pig [even if some back home squirm at the idea] becuase I trust the amazing medical team we have here. So, if you too want to learn how to take off a toe nail, enjoy!

This first one is after they had blocked the top 2 nerves that feed the toe, but the bottom 2 nerves were still needing anesthesia. And... they may have gone a bit too far, but hey at least the nerve block was working!
https://goo.gl/photos/mn7RZdCrbC8Zce9x7
 Time to remove it!
 https://goo.gl/photos/Vymb2mdcc9SDCs1VA

Yay! It's off!

This is before we cleaned it.  The left (my left) corner is obviously where the infection was, with all the black sludge.  

After cleaning and looking SO much better!

Happy toe! 

April Countdown Days 4-5

April Countdown - 4 - Something Green

Again, we rush around. 3 schools: HIS, SPH, STTAP. 3 hand hygiene sessions for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd graders. 1 first aid class teaching seminary students what to do when they are in the jungle and have zero medical supplies. And, of course, the scurrying in between. But unlike yesterday I was looking, slowing down here and there to find 'something green'. Living in a tropical environment makes this prompt an overwhelmingly easy one because quite literally everything is green! One of my favorite green things though, are the banana trees blowing in the breeze.  I always find myself looking expectantly into the branches looking for the delicious fruit. When I don't see a stalk, I'm surprised at how disappointed I am. 

April Countdown - 5 - From a High Angle

We leave for Bali Friday and we desperatly need to do laundry!! But without fail, it rains on our much needed laundry day. So solution? Hang everything inside, put 5 fans on it, and pray the is no power outage! But on the flip side the rain brings cooler temperatures! So cool in fact that our puppy sneaks inside the doorway to stay dry and get "warm". 

OE - Hike of a Lifetime - Part III

Before OE, I prided myself as being a fairly good hiker. I'm not the extremely fit thru-hiker, but I'm not the back of the pack gasping for air either.... Until I attempted the Papuan highlands!

On OE, every small group of students is assigned a specific small interior village. I joined the groups 'Him' (strength in Korean), and 'S.W.A.G.' (saved with amazing grace) knowing I was in for a great adventure. I knew from looking at the terrain it would be challenging and I assumed I was up for it. But what I experienced was so far removed from any imagined expectations that it's hard to properly describe!

We left base camp Monday (Feb. 13) morning around 11 am, which was far later than I would have liked but we had to wait on our guides.  We began hiking up the main dirt road, which is extremely steep, and after a little bit turned off to the left onto a tiny path barely visible from even the road.

Now let me back up slightly.  The village we were hiking to, Tipalok, was actually visible from Ibele. Monday morning Uncle Tod (missionary serving in Ibele) points out over the valley that separates Ibele and Tipalok and says, "See that smoke rising from the top of that ridge? That's where you're going, and that smoke is the Bakar Batu they are already preparing for you now."  [Bakar Batu - burnt rock, is a basically a big traditional feast held to welcome honored people or in celebration.]  So, in my head I think, "Ok, as the crow flies it's maybe 3-4 miles.  No big deal really.  Sure it's obvious they are at a higher elevation than Ibele but I can handle a few steep hills." Oh how wrong I was!!

As soon as we turned off the main road the path quickly turned to thick ankle deep mud! The only shoes I brought on OE was my Chacos.  Partly, because we only were allowed 10kg for luggage and partly because my other hiking shoes were completely destroyed over Christmas in Heberima.  So here I am attempting to hike through this terribly thick mud in Chacos and having flashbacks to Aurimi (view other blog to understand this reference).  Let's just say, I used to believe that Chacos could handle any terrain minus snow.... Nope. Papua has shown me that Chacos can really only handle about 80% of all terrain.

I started out in the middle to front half of the group.  I could look up from slipping and sliding along the mud path and see our guides, or briefly look back and see the end of the group.  But after a while it got to where I was quite alone.  I'd look up and see the backpack of the person in front of me slide around trees a few yards ahead and then look around and not see (or hear) anyone behind me.  Every once in a while we'd take a break and wait for the people in the back to catch up so we wouldn't lose them in the dense jungle. Several times we had to walk across big fallen logs.  The thick underbrush grew right up under it so it was impossible to tell if the ground was 5 inches away or 15 feet away. We crossed carefully as all of our shoes where slick with mud. One of the logs ended up breaking under the weight of us all but no one was injured, thankfully!

We trudged through the mud for what seemed like hours! Every once in a while the students would look back and ask me, "How are you doing? You can't die on us because then we'd have no nurse!"  I'd just roll my eyes and laugh, "Thanks guys, I'm glad you'd save me even if it's just because I have 'nurse' attached to my name."

Then the rain set in.  Not just the light summer rain shower. NO, this was a full on jungle down pour!! And to make matters worse, I decided a white shirt was good attire *eye roll*. We continued to descend through the now mud streams towards the valley floor. Eventually we came to an open plateau.  Soaked, we debated if we should wait for the rest of the group here in the open or find shelter further down.  We saw a honai (hut) a ways down and decided we could at least wait under the shelter of their short trees.  The local people were of course surprised to see a large group of white people, but they wasted no time in being hospitable.  They invited us in to get warm by the fire but the need to keep pushing forward forced us to decline.Once the rest of the group caught up we pushed on.  Crossing a small creek my feet went from dirt brown to white and Chaco red again, but needless to say, they didn't stay like that for very long. 

We stopped on a completely bare ridge and ate lunch in the now drizzling rain.  We had to eat quick so our food wouldn't become soggy. From this small ridge we could see where we had come from and just how far we still needed to go. It was clear now that we were going to have to hike to the valley floor and then regain all the elevation lost plus some to reach the village. It was slightly daunting to say the least.

Soon after we started marching again, the sun came out and warmed our chilled bodies.  However, the damage was already done to the trail.  The dirt and grass paths had been turned into a complete mud slide! Everyone slid and slipped down the incredibly steep ridge. Even the locals were having some difficulties! After seeing me fall several times some Ibu's (Mamas) came over and grabbed my hands.  They walked with me, pointing to where I should step. I felt more like a captive than a visitor from the death grip they had on my wrists, but I was still grateful for their kindness.  Yet with my balance, I was destined to fall even with help.  I was walking down the steep slide doing 'ok' when suddenly both feet fly out from underneath me and because the Mamas had both wrists I could not catch or even slow my fall.  I landed hard, directly on my backpack and heard a *cccrraaack!*. My first thought was, "OH NO! My camera!" But have no fear, it was NOT my camera but I did find my plastic bowl in about 50 different pieces.  Of course everyone saw the rather grace-less wipe out but one of the students (Josea) came quickly down the slope yelling, "Don't worry nurse the doctor is coming!" No sooner had the words left his mouth then both feet flew out from under him and he too landed hard on back.  It took a few minutes for everyone to stop roaring with laughter so we could keep going, even the locals were doubled over.

After we finally composed ourselves enough to keep moving, believe it or not, the mud became thicker and deeper! I sank calf deep and when I wrenched my feet up, *PLOP* both shoes were sucked off.  An adorable village girl squatted and dug through the mud.  She eventually found both shoes and I continued for a long ways like a native Papuan. Barefoot. I knew the mud was undoubtedly filled with animal feces but it was easier to go barefoot than to slip around in my Chacos.  I thoroughly enjoyed walking hand in hand, and barefoot with the locals!  All of a sudden I found myself humming, "Coming run the hidden pine trails of the forest.  Come taste the sun sweet berries of the earth. Come roll in all the riches all around you, and for once never wonder what they're worth!" Pocahontas is and was my favorite Disney Princess. I remember running around the back yard barefoot, pretending I was just like her.  And now here I was actually walking hidden trails that only the locals knew, basking in the marvelous beauty all around, and 'running' barefoot.  I couldn't help but feel I was fulfilling a childhood dream.

Long long story shortened slightly, we crossed many raging rivers on our way down to the valley floor.  At each crossing I carefully balanced across the mossy log bridges trying not to be intimidated by the foaming water beneath. We continued to hike through the jagged terrain until finally, we were at the base of our last ascent. Another heavier rain storm had caught us, but this time with added rolls of thunder.  We huddled under an large unfinished honai, only the support beams and roof were built.  A kind woman built us a small fire to help us warm up but we soon realized the monstrous ascent looming behind us wasn't getting any smaller and the sun was sinking lower behind the dark rain clouds. 

We reluctantly pulled ourselves away from the fire and into the cold pouring rain. We began our ascent of Mt. Everest, at least that's what it felt like. I started scaling the side of the mountain in my Chacos but soon ditched them because it was actually safer for me to climb barefoot than with my shoes on! Yes, safer. Not easier, not more comfortable, but safer. The mountain side was at least a 50-60% grade the entire time.  The trail may have been rough in dry weather but it would have been doable. But after raining all day? It felt near impossible. I've never hiked a more dangerous path. Several times I'd fall slipping to my hands and knees literally digging my fingernails into the mud or grabbing the razor grass to keep from slipping off the edge of the ridge. I would then have to crawl a ways before I could regain my feet.  Soon a faithful Ibu was by my side.  Part of me was thankful for her help, and part of me (the prideful part) didn't want her help.  But pride had to eat a slice of humble pie, because she was going to help me whether I liked it or not and she looked as though she could battle a lion without fear. 

She grabbed my wrist and dragged me along behind her.  I attempted to stop a few times just for a moment to catch my breath but she wouldn't dream of it.  She took me her own way. Sometimes forcing me to pass others in my group, sometimes making her own trail.  So I stumbled and slipped along behind her as best as I could.  I started out at the end of the group, but over the next several hours this woman dragged me to the front.  

There was one fall that is forever burned in my memory.  I was walking along ok, but then the grass pile I was on gave way and I slid down the hill a good 3 feet. Frustrated at losing all the ground I had just conquered, I tried to crawl back up but the mud was too slippery and once I moved I'd lose ground again. To my rescue came the angelic Ibus. 2 ladies grabbed my wrists and began pulling. Hard! I then feel 2-3 more pair of hands pushing on my butt! Never in my life have I related more to a heifer being dragged to a feast than that moment.  All I could do was laugh and try to regain my footing!

We climbed for what seemed like an eternity. It got to a point where all I could do was point one foot in front of the other. I knew I had cuts on my bare-feet from the razor grass and the jagged rocks in the mud but all I could feel was Mama's death grip on my wrists. All I could hear was the gusts of wind blowing up the side of the ridge, and all I could see was the ground before me. I know the scenery must have been breathtaking but I was too physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted to look anywhere but right in front of me. *there has to be a spiritual application in there somewhere ;)* 

FINALLY! We make it.  FINALLY, there is only one more pig fence to cross, only one more strip of muddy pig poo to wade through. I was one of the first few to arrive, only thanks to the ladies helping me.  They refused to let go until they were sure I was safe inside their village.  When they did finally release their grip I was sure I'd look down and see bruises but only mud covered my entire body. It was only through God's protection that all of us made it to the small village without injury.    

Our stay in the small village is one of my favorite memories of being here in Papua. The students ministered to the people truly as Christ did.  They ate with the people, held babies, played with the kids, and simply sat with them.  They performed a Jesus skit about salvation, and put on kids-clubs/VBS.  They loved each person so beautifully, and were loved by the people so deeply! It was worth every slippery step, every painful fall, and every cold rain storm!  After only 1 day and 2 nights in the village we had to head back to Ibele. We were given gifts of gratitude from the villagers, and they all wanted hugs.  

Thankfully, we took a different way home which was much MUCH easier and far safer. 

Aubrey's ready to go! PC: HIS

No, he did not end up carrying all this stuff :) 

One rain storm that did not actually get us... PC: HIS

Just a tad muddy and soaked, but still smiling! PC: Uncle Peter

Crossing rivers is no simple task... PC: Uncle Peter

PC: Uncle Peter

Our small village! Gorgeous to say the least -  PC: Megan

This is looking out to the edge of the ridge we crawled up the day before.  The long Honai to the far right is the kitchen/women's honai.  They have a small cooking fire and on end they have a pen to keep the pigs.  On the first evening we were all soaked and so cold! They invited us in to warm and dry off our stuff.  The smoke was so thick that if you sat up too straight your eyes would water and you felt like you were being choked.

Even with using rain covers on my pack, everything was soaked when we reached the village. My sleeping bag, sleeping bag liner, clothes, Bible, everything was drenched (thankfully, I decided at the last minute to put my camera in a plastic zip-lock bag). The people graciously took our sleeping bags and hung them next to a fire so they were semi-dry to sleep in.  Then the following morning we hung everything on their pig fence.

Not having any mirrors, Megan and I were curious of how we looked following the ascent of 'Everest', and it being a good 48 hours of no showers.... Not too shabby, right? The pouring rain helped wash off most of the dirt and grime ;) 

Singing special music... PC: Uncle Peter

During our "church" time we were asked to sing special music, as it's customary for guests to sing songs for the locals and visa versa. During the service the students put on their salvation play, and other Jesus skits. There was also a full sermon from a local elder.  It was a long service... close to 4 hours! Also, this is the building where we slept and prepared our food.

Bakar Batu - PC: Megan

Eating a markisa aka passion fruit

Following the church service, the people provided us with another Bakar Batu!! This may seem insignificant to some but let me try to explain.  A Bakar Batu is probably the equivalent to an American Christmas dinner. It's a big deal! Even though there is not as much food as our Christmas or Thanksgiving feasts, it's a feast nonetheless.  So the fact that they gave us 2 feasts (one on arrival to the village and this one) blew us away.  Ubi and veggies can be scarce but their pigs are even more precious and yet they gave freely and loved so openly! 

Kenneth's candy shirt

After the Bakar Batu the students put on a kids club.  At the end they did a 'candy shirt'.  Basically, you glue candy to a shirt, put it on the fastest guy and tell the kids if you can catch him and grab the candy off his shirt it's yours.  It was quite literally a riot! The kids chased Kenneth through the rain and mud tackling him for the candy. 

All the women gave monster hugs! 

Even though we only knew each other for a brief moment in time, leaving was hard.  We were lined up and the people gave us each a gift.  Necklaces, nokens (traditional bag they make by hand), traditional grass skirts, etc. The pastor's wife prayed for us one last time and the women began to weep. We were told before, by Uncle Peter Seow, that this might happen.  Here in the highlands the weeping ceremonies are to show deep gratitude and are to be thought of as tears of joy. 

Last group selfie before hitting the trail!

Uncle Peter, Morgan, Josea, Kenneth, Jordan, Seun, Tehya, Joella, Monin, Abby, Me, Josiah, David, Megan, Jessie, Mortie, Sophie, Yali, Taylor, Daryl, Aubrey

Duty calls... 

Tehya and Taylor helping out

But before we even made it out of the village we were stopped by a man who had burns and infected cuts all over.  He told us (through translators) that he suffered from fits.  They said he would have seizures and sometimes fall into the fire. We prayed over him as a group, and I took out our first aid kit.  I knew that as soon as I opened the bag we'd be swamped with others showing me their cuts and complaints.  But I wasn't about to leave this man with nothing! About an hour later we were finally on the trail home. 

Hike home  PC: HIS

Here are Uncle Peter's stats on our hike: Starting at Ibele mission base (6,400 ft) to Tipalok (7,399 ft). The route took us downhill through a slick muddy trail through thick trees and undergrowth to the river. From the lowest point (6,233 ft) we then climbed 1,166 ft up a steep muddy mountain trail to Tipalok village. It took us nearly 5 and half hours to arrive at the destination! Total distance covered 4.3 km. For those who don't do the metric system that's 2.6 miles. It took us 5.5 hours to go 2.6 miles!! That tells you how rough the terrain was! Interesting fact: we actually climbed over 1,000 ft in the last 2 hours of our hike! 

Coming back, we made it in 3 and a half hours even though the route we took was 5.4 km (3.3 mi).  We added an extra kilometer, but shaved 2 hours off our time! That's how much easier the hike home was!! 

Flight back to Sentani PC: Uncle Peter

Exhausted but alive we headed back to Sentani. Beside two unfortunate souls, the entire plane was ours...