Aurimi - Part 2 - Jungle Thanksgiving

Thursday, November 24, 2016– Thanksgiving Day

           

            Time seemed to stand still in Aurimi. By the time Thanksgiving Day came it felt as if we had been in the village for weeks. I woke on Thursday morning to Paige and Ashley saying, “Happy Thanksgiving!” and still being groggy it took me a few seconds to register that it was actually a holiday back home.  I laid there for a little bit thinking; “Never in a million years would I have pictured myself laying under a mosquito net deep in the jungle on Thanksgiving Day.”

            The morning proceeded as usual, but with added excitement.  Today was the day of our jungle adventure!  The group wanted to go over to a neighboring village in order to tell them about the evangelistic meetings and pray with them.  Rain had kept us from attempting the journey the day before, so today was the day.  We tried to radio Adventist Aviation to let them know of our plans but the man with the key had left the village early that morning; therefore, the key to the radio room was somewhere deep in the jungle. 

            Braids were being given and breakfast was cooking when a father and daughter (who was maybe 1 ½ years old) showed up on our front porch. With a lot of motions and slow Indonesian, Pastor Yeri tells us the gist of what happened. He sticks his left hand out and then with his right  makes chopping motions over his fingers. The father begins pulling the girls hand out form under her bloody sleeve and my stomach immediately drops to my feet.  I brace myself to see mangled and/or missing fingers….. Check out the nursing post for the rest of the story!

            After a breakfast of rice, cooked greens, and Ruth’s amazing granola our group, of approximately 15 people, set out for the next village.  We had been told that we would go to a canoe and ride to the next village. Let’s just say I greatly over estimated how much canoe time there would be and severely under estimated how much walking there would be. So let the adventure begin!

            By Thursday I knew the general lay out of the village.  I knew which direction was the river, and where the church and other houses were.  So as we begin walking I’m assuming to head down the trail that leads to the river, but to my surprise we go in the opposite direction of the river.  This was my first clue that today was not going to be anything I had previously expected. Our group headed down a small smooth path that weaved through the village and passed houses we had visited earlier that week.  People would stop and stare as we walked, and occasionally ask where we were headed. 

            We very quickly ran out of the smooth trails that interconnected the village. It continually got more and more muddy, and the trail turned into more of an abstract idea than a concrete thing, at least that I could see.  As the trail disintegrated so did the trees over head.  We entered a long stretch of land that had obviously been destroyed by man. The trees had been chopped down but left where they landed, and the jungle was slowly attempting to reclaim what had been taken. I can only describe it as a tornado zone.  Even the smell of the rotting trees and swampy land took me back to the destruction Apison had several years ago.

Just a glimpse of the "tornado zone"

            With all the trees gone, we were left with zero shade, hundreds of logs to scurry over, and thick underbrush to wade through.  The sun beat down and seemed to radiate off the swamp and mud.  Not 10 minutes into climbing and balancing on the fallen logs I found the Achilles heel of Chacos.  Wading through the swamp ment mud would slosh between my feet and the base of my shoes.  So when I would step my shoe would grip and stay put, but my foot would slide from the slippery mud killing any remaining balance.  But to my rescue came the sturdy hands of the men we traveled with.  Most of them walked barefoot and with such ease.  I’m sure us 3 girls looked like a fish out of water. 

            There was one time in particular that stuck with me.  I was following a Papuan guy named Carl.  To the right was a small log over ankle deep mud and slop.  Carl grabbed my hand and started walking through the mud. Trusting that he knew what was best I followed behind. He then realized I was following his exact path and stopped saying, “No no!” He pointed to the log beside us and still holding my hand he walked through the murky water so that he could help me safely walk across the log.  All the guys we traveled with were so kind and so tough! They were the only reason we made it through without injury.

            After at least an hour of tumbling through the logged area we came to a narrow path that entered the jungle.  This dense jungle path only got muddier but there were no logs in the way so I could manage without too much help.  By this point our group had dwindled from 15 to more like 8.  Kathleen and some others had decided to take a different way to the village.  While Ashley had been much faster and more agile than me so after a while she and 2 other Papuans were so far ahead we could no longer see or hear them.  As we walked Paige and I both knew we would eventually meet up with Ashley but silently prayed she was ok.

            As we weaved under dense brush and through the mud a loud click filled the jungle.  It was so loud I jumped and searched to see what in the world made that sound! It happened again and I realized that it was Carl!  I wish I could better describe what he did, but he somehow would click his tongue in his mouth. The sound would reverberate through the jungle.  It was incredible! Paige and I attempted to copy him but failed miserably, and all the locals almost died laughing. Carl continued to do it and soon we heard an answer.  The same clicking sound echoed back to us from the rest of our group!

Edge of the dock looking back towards the trail

            Rather suddenly the docks appeared in front of us and there was Ashley to greet us. I turned around to see where we had come from and I could just barely see the trail before the jungle swallowed it up. We were standing on this wooden dock taking pictures and enjoying the rest when someone pointed down at our feet.  We all looked down to find leeches!! I’ve never seen leeches like these before.  They were tiny and moved like inchworms.  We quickly flicked them off before they attached themselves.  We decided we better take off our shoes to check more thoroughly.  Sure enough there were MORE! Except these were big!! One had attached itself right under my toe where it meets the ball of my foot and another had attached to my ankle under my Chaco strap! Neither Paige nor I could pull them off of ourselves; the feeling of them was too gut wrenching! Pastor Desmond was our hero (after he snapped some photos).

PC: Pastor Desmond

Tired, bloody, but leech free!

            From the docks we got into canoe’s to cross the river.  The river reminded me of something seen on an Amazon documentary; murky brown, jungle on both sides, moving swiftly, and no clue of what creatures swam just under the surface. The canoe itself was a narrow dug out log.   In order to get to the waters edge, we had to slip and slide down the knee deep mud bank.  My feet went from dirty and still bleeding from the leeches to solid black.  It looked like we were wearing boots.

Bye Ashley! (PC: Pastor Desmond)

Elder of the village as our guide (PC: Pastor Desmond)

            Crossing the river was very nerve racking! Not just because there may or may not be crocs in the water (we never got a clear answer to that question), but the slightest movement from the passengers could tip the canoe at any moment. I kept telling myself, “KD it’s ok. Your camera is in a plastic zip lock. If you flip just swim as fast as you can!”

            Thankfully, no one flipped and we made it safely across the swift current. Once across, I assumed we would follow the mud beach for a ways, but again my assumptions were all wrong.  We headed straight into what looked like a giantantic muddy cornfield (except the plants were not corn).  The plants were easily twice as tall as American corn and the leaves were razor sharp.  We soon traded the super corn for deep dense jungle.  I thought I had been in the jungle before, but that earlier trail paled in comparison to this new trek. There were many times I couldn’t see my feet as I walked because the under growth! Several times I’d trip over vines or stumble over a log because I simply could not see what my feet were running into.  We passed so many new and exciting plants! One of my favorites looked like a giant pineapple plant.  It had long arching leaves stemming 8-10 feet from the center, almost reminded me of an enormous green spider.  However, this wasn’t even the largest foliage we saw.  Some palm fronds were larger than doors, and the trunk that held them was just as massive.  The jungle has a way of making you feel so small!

            As we traveled Paige, Pastor Desmond, and myself began taking photos and would fall behind slightly.  Some of our group continued at their own pace but most would patiently wait. Probably to make sure Paige and I didn’t wander onto the wrong path and get ourselves lost.

PC: Paige

PC: Paige

  

PC: Paige

     

PC: Pastor Desmond

               








       After a very long, very humid walk we suddenly came upon the village.  It appeared almost so suddenly that if I had been looking down I could've smacked right into a house.  I then hear Paige say, “Civilization!” We both started laughing because we realized how relative that was.

            This jungle village was not what I expected at all, but then again nothing else had been either.  It was, however, just as hot as I had anticipated.  These villagers didn’t live in Honai’s. Instead, the government had sent groups of carpenters to build houses on stilts.  This group of carpenters were the 3rd group sent in (the first 2 had failed to finish).  The result of the building project was a long row of wooden stilted houses, with tin roofs, and all painted bright blue (but only on the front).  

Carpenter's house

            We took a break on the carpenter’s front porch sharing a few crackers and resting our dirty feet.  However, we didn’t stay long.   Come to find out all the villagers, except 3-4 and the builders, were gone hunting or to another village. The sky was beginning to darken as rain clouds swiftly moved in. We knew that if we didn’t cross the river in time the current would become too dangerous and we would be stuck.  We quickly prayed with the carpenters, and I silently prayed for water (at this point in the trek I had finished my liter and did not know when I’d have a chance to filter more). 

            To try and beat the, rain we decided to go back a different route (the route Kathleen and Pastor Yeri had taken).  It started to sprinkle as we began wading through another massive cornfield (or a razor-leaf field).   After no time at all we burst out onto the steep riverbank.  This time, in order to cross the river, we had to take an even smaller canoe over the now rising current. The canoe was so small it could only fit the owner, and 2 others.  My partner was Pastor Edo (one of the men that walked with Pastor Desmond).  I awkwardly scurried down the bank and immediately sank to my knees in mud. The mud was so thick my feet became stuck! So stuck in fact, that when I tried to lift my leg I was afraid my Chaco strap would snap.  In order to dislodge my feet I had to reach down and break the suction to avoid destroying my shoes.  Finally free, I shakily climb into the canoe but I some how ended up facing the wrong way. So proceeded to turn around without tipping the boat. Once situated in the canoe I attempted to wash my feet in the river but because of the awkward way I was sitting I was very obviously struggling.  So Pastor Edo bends over and begins washing my feet.  I felt so childlike and so helpless but his kindness burned deep, humbling me once again.

            We shakily crossed the river again through the rain and swift current.  The other shore was no better than the one we had just left.  I clambered up the bank and was surprised to find more stilted buildings.  They were other homes of the villagers.  Here, we waited patiently for the others to cross the river.  By this point, I was becoming extremely dehydrated and so far past the point of hunger I just wanted to sleep.  My feet felt like iron and I was dreading the walk back.   Yet, God provides.

Waiting for the others to cross the river...

            One of the men who lived on that side of the river began chopping down coconuts for us.  Pastor Edo grabbed a machete and skillfully opened one handing it to Paige and I (Ashley and Kathleen were napping in one of the open shelters).  The coconut was massive! It held probably close to 2 liters of milk.  I’ve had fresh coconut milk before, but never have I tasted one as good as this! Just as soon as we had the open coconut Pastor Yeri come down the trail smiling ear to ear.  In his hands were 2 small stalks of perfectly ripe bananas.  They were all the best shade of yellow.  I took and opened the brilliant fruit… I believe I have now tasted heaven.  I may never again find its equal, and I’m ok with that! Then someone broke open a fresh jungle Papaya.  Again, I was blown away!  I’m usually not a big fan of papaya, but this too was heavenly.  Our Thanksgiving meal may not have had all the staples like turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and the assortment of pies, but it feast nonetheless. (Ashley and Kathleen eventually joined us for the feast!)

Our feast!

            Once we were all re-energized we hit the trail again. Along the way we passed under dozens of banana and Papaya trees.  Pastor Desmond began whistling the hymn, “Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go.” This simple tune filled my heart with joy and that surprised me.  On past mission trips I would hear this exact song and simply roll my eyes, but now it was different. 

            The trail got more and more muddy as we went along but the group was still all together.   I was walking in the middle of the group, 5-6 people ahead of me and 5-6 behind.   We all came to an abrupt halt as Kathleen pointed out a dead Death Adder.  Her group had come across this extremely venomous snake on the journey to the village and had killed it.  The locals say that one bite from a Death Adder and a person has approximately 15 minutes left.  I leaned close to snap a few shots and was especially grateful that it was dead!  The locals were giggling and trying hard not to freak out over the silver Death Adder. It was obvious how scared they are of snakes (but they have good reason to be).  

Death Adder

            We continued on our way laughing off the nervous energy of seeing the (dead) Death Adder.  I still walked in the middle of the group and was fumbling with my camera trying to tuck it back into my bag.  I wasn’t necessarily watching where I was going but I was looking down focused on my bag.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a stick and go to step on it when God opened my eyes.  What I assumed was a stick came into focus as a snake! At the last possible moment my guardian angel pulled my foot back and there I was standing toe to toe with this perfectly camouflaged creature.  I’m not sure if I screamed, “Snake!” or if perhaps my angel said it for me.  I honestly don’t remember saying anything but some how every one knew immediately there was a snake on the path. It felt like an eternity that I was frozen in front of this deadly creature.  But within a fraction of a seconded of stopping and saying the words, Pastor Edo grabbed my arm wrenching me backwards towards safety.  People behind me began saying, “JUMP! Jump over the snake!”  I turned around saying, “NO!!” I may do some crazy things but there was no way I was about jump over a snake! I was willing to sit there all day until the dude decided he wanted to mosey back into the jungle before I’d jump.   

            The snake just sat there in the trail, perfectly still.  I breathed a sigh of relief thinking, “Oh good, it’s dead.”  One of the Indonesian men came around with a large stick and started poking at the snake. With lightening speed the snake came to life! Immediately going into a striking position.  The man eventually took the stick and flung the snake head over tail into the underbrush.  As soon as Pastor Edo saw the snake fly into the jungle, he grabbed my arm and dragged me behind as he full on sprinted to get as much distance between the vile creature and us!

Find the snake....

            As the reality of the situation began to sink in my adrenaline was quickly replaced by a heavy sickening feeling. I was 5^th or 6^th in line.  That means every single person in front of me, Papuans, local villagers, Paige, Ashley, everyone walked over the snake.  No one was wearing boots; everyone was either barefoot or wearing sandals. We had no protection from our knees down.  We had no medical access that deep in the jungle. No anti-venom, we did have a first aid kit but a band-aid would not necessarily fix a snake bit. It was at least an hour’s walk to the nearest radio, which meant we had no way of getting a timely medical evacuation.  There was no possible way the snake slithered onto the trail between Paige and myself.  There simply was no time.  I was not miles behind her; I was just a few feet. Plus, human eyes are attracted to areas of movement so someone would’ve seen it moving.  How could I (or Ashley and Paige) possibly make a radio call about loosing a fellow SM in the jungle on Thanksgiving?!  

There’s only one explanation.   God closed the mouth of the snake. He closed the mouth of the loins for Daniel; I fully believe that he did the same for us. He sent an extra angel to pull my foot back at the last possible moment and kept the snake calm enough to allow 6 other people walk over unharmed.

{Before there’s a flood of worried messages exploding my inbox let me finish!}

As I continued to think about the sickening radio call and the extremes of our circumstances, I remembered the lyrics to the song Pastor Desmond had whistled. “Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go. Anywhere He leads me in this world below…Anywhere, anywhere! Fear I cannot know. Anywhere with Jesus I can safely go.”

The weight I was carrying was quickly exchanged with pure thanksgiving.

Soon after the snake, the trail went from being muddy to extreme swamp goo! Again, the Achilles heel of Chacos came in. I was slipping and slidding all over the trail.  I lost my shoes several times.  Do you know how hard it is to slip out of tightened Chacos? Let me tell you, it’s hard!  I was so tired and so uncoordinated that I began uncontrollably giggling.  I knew that if I looked half as goofy as I felt it would be a hysterical sight. The only thing I could say was, “I feel like a baby giraffe!”  I can know empathize with baby giraffe’s in their struggle to stand and walk on their towering legs.

After tramping through the slop, we made it to slow moving creeks. We ended up have to wade through them. Sometimes ankle deep, sometimes waist deep. Somewhere between the refreshing water crossings and the mud banks I began thinking about home.  And just how much I missed my family.  I began thinking of old traditions.  All the good and weird traditions that make Thanksgiving what it is. One of the weird traditions I love so much is a song called, “Alice’s Restaurant”.  Every Thanksgiving my family plays this goofy song on repeat. The jungle was soon filled with this strange song as I began retelling the entire story of Alice’s Restaurant to Paige.  She kindly listened to me ramble and embellish the story. Unless she sprinted down the trail, which was unlikely because she was rubbing blisters, she didn’t have much of a choice.

Ages later, we emerged in the tornado zone again.  It was an amazing site to see! Our showers were much deserved, and much needed! We ended thanksgiving with Rice, Tempe, cooked greens, pineapple, and a strawberry cake. Ruth had sent it for us to enjoy and have a special Thanksgiving.

 

We survived!

And so that’s the story of our Jungle Thanksgiving.  It was a Thanksgiving that couldn’t be beat!

Our Indonesian strawberry cake!

Thanksgiving super

Aurimi - Part 1

"Everything is so different here. The people are different. The culture is different. The language is different. The food is different. The houses are different. The weather is different. The trees and plants.... And the list goes on. But the love? The love is the same." -Ashley Wilkens

The general area of Aurimi

Aurimi is a small low land village about an hour flight west of Sentani. It was decided rather suddenly that all 3 of us would spend the week of Thanksgiving in this beautifully swampy village. Our mission? To assist Kathleen in any nursing opportunity and to help Pastor Desmond in the KKR (evangelistic meetings) held in their church every night. I couldn't tell if we were actually helping or hindering the project but what I do know is God works in mysterious ways and I'm thankful He sent us.

Although I have to admit flying makes me a little nervous, the raw beauty of Papua makes it worth it! Not 5 minutes out of Doyo Baru, the roads have disappeared and there's nothing but jungle for miles. We followed the coast basically the entire way to Aurimi. The sapphire waters were so striking against the emerald jungle. 

 

View of the ocean and jungle

Bird's eye view of Aurimi

As we began to descend into Aurimi, its tropical beauty immediately blew me away! From our birds eye view the tin roofs gleamed, and white cockatoos fled their tree top nest.  We landed on the muddy airstrip and as the doors slid open we were greeted by a wave of humidity and tears of joy.  It had been over a year since the people of Aurimi had any missionaries or outside visitors. The new Pastor, Yeri, and his family were probably the most excited to see us.  As of recently, they only had enough food to feed their 2-year-old daughter Gracia, and were desperately praying for help. So God sent us, a strange hodgepodge team of 8 Papuan men, 1 Indonesian nurse, and 3 Americans. Yet, brought the physical nourishment they so desperately prayed for and Pastor Desmond brought the spiritual nourishment we all needed.

We girls (Paige, Ashley, Kathleen, and myself) stayed with Pastor Yeri, Mam Martha and Gracia (who very quickly had everyone wrapped around her finger). All the houses in Aurimi are built up on stilts to protect them from the frequent torrential down pours and flood waters.

Later Sunday afternoon Pastor Desmond and his posse showed up. Let me explain a little about his story:

Desmond Sirami is a Papuan pastor and ex-missionary (but once a missionary, always a missionary!).  He is all around a man's man with a big laugh and a bigger heart. He didn't fly into the village like we did instead he walked.  He and 2-3 others began the long trek Monday, November 14, from a larger village called Sarimi. They hiked through the jungle stopping at villages, and surging down swift rivers on a bamboo rafts.  As he walked he accumulated more travel companions, 8 men in total arrived in Aurimi. The trek took just under a week to complete.  For the past 3 years, Pastor Desmond has done this same hike and most of the men that arrived in Aurimi have done it before as well. Pastor Desmond uses this walk as a ministry opportunity.  He loves visiting with the people but most importantly to share the Word with anyone and everyone. The men that came with him have experienced his genuine Christ-like love first hand and have become Adventists as the result. At first the guys were all very shy and many barriers separated us (like culture and language), but by the end of the week we were all close (even though the language was still hard).

Our home for a week

 

Our room...

Village trails

Dinning room

Our general day to day activities generally went as follows. I won't add times because it was a very flexible schedule.  My value of time as an American is very different from most villagers.  Mornings were especially hard for me and not just because greatly dislike mornings but I somehow found all the comfortable positions  on my thin mat in the morning. Even with that being said, I loved waking up to hymns being sung on our front porch. Every morning Pastor Desmond, Kathleen, and some of the guys would get up very early (5am) and have personal devotions and sing together.

After our personal devotion time we would do visitations. This was basically time for us to visit personally with families and invite them to the meetings. However, since I was with all the nurses this also meant we would visit the sick and help them to the best of our knowledge and available supplies (more nursing stories to come).

Following visitations we (Kathleen, Paige, Ashley, and myself) would scury off to the radio room. We all looked forward to contacting Wendy and Cherise back at Adventist Aviation. However, in true mission fashion our plans had to adapt to the ever-changing circumstances. On Monday we attempted to call but there was so much radio traffic that Wendy could barely hear us. Tuesday, and Wednesday we had to use a different radio but it worked so much better! Thursday the man who had the key to the radio room had gone into the jungle (with the key) so we could not contact home on Thanksgiving.  Friday we were put on standby (or hold) as Wendy delivered a message to Gary for is. We sat there waiting for her reply but after 45 minutes we gave up. Come to find out she tried calling us back but for whatever reason we couldn’t hear her. Sunday the man with the key again left the village early so we just prayed that we hadn't  been bumped from the flight schedule by another emergency and that Gary would eventually come to retrieve us.

So the time spent at the radio greatly fluctuated depending on the day which meant the time for breakfast changed daily.  Flexibility seems to be the theme of this year for me.    

Martha and her sister-in-law prepared all of our meals. I honestly can't complain about the food! We had far more than I expected.  Things like rice, noodles, cooked greens, Tempe, bananas, and papaya. Although it varied slightly, one thing was for sure, every meal had white rice and cooked greens.

Generally our afternoons were spent preparing and hosting a children's program before the main meetings began. Then attending the main meetings. By the end of the day I was exhausted. Not necessarily from a long day but more from the heat.  But thankfully several days were super rainy and just about every evening it would downpour. The rain would significantly cool it down and would provide drinking water, on the flip side though the paths would turn to complete mud.  

I hope this gives you an idea of Aurimi.  Check out the other parts to this blog for more interesting stories! And sorry for the lack of pictures those are still in process too :)

Baby Gracia

SDA Church and School.  (L-R: Pastor Yeri, Mam Martha, Gracia, Ashley, KD, Paige, Kathleen, Pastor Desmond)

Ripples

What is culture shock?  To be honest, I have no idea.  I know I’m experiencing it, but I still can’t fully describe what those two words mean.  But I can tell you a lot about culture shock. Like it hits everyone differently, at different times, for different lengths, in different intensities, expressed in different ways and through different avenues... 

I was warned in the Student Missions class about this little beast. I was cautioned again and again by those who’ve gone before me, but even they could not fully explain what lay ahead.  This blog is something that has been set on replay in my head and is far past due that I post it. So I’ll try my best to be open and real without sounding pitiful. Please do not read this and feel the need jump on the next flight and come to my rescue. I simply write this for my own sanity.  I’m not a damsel in distress; I’m a damsel trying to survive a year constantly living out side of my comfort zone.

            The best way I can describe culture shock is a toy boat floating along in a calm pond. Peaceful right? No worries. Then imagine a child begins to throw rocks into the pond.  You see the ripples on the horizon but never know how they will hit you, a plastic vessel. When the waves do finally come it’s all you can do to stay afloat.   

            These past couple of weeks have been the hardest I’ve experienced here so far. There is never one massive tidal wave, but rather a constant ache. The waves of culture shock mixed with homesickness have hit my boat far more frequently than when I first arrived.  We are now settled into a routine and perhaps that the problem.  Before, I was so topsy-turvy I didn’t have time to think about home.  Everything was still so new; I was more excited about the adventure here than what was happening stateside.  Now the tides have turned. Ripples.

Life is growing more mundane and yet more stressful at the same time. All of us stress about the classes we’re teaching.  We stress about lesson planning.  I can’t help but think, “This was not part of my nursing curriculum. How do I survive this wave?!”. We stress about our students grades, and take it personally when they do not perform at the level we want.  Another ripple. We bend over backwards for some students whose apathy towards their grades is ready to break us. How do I motivate someone who has no desire for what I have to offer?  Another ripple.

Please don’t misunderstand me I do love teaching! I love my students and I thoroughly enjoy A&P.  Yet, I desperately miss nursing.  Nursing is my passion. It’s why I dedicated 3 years of my life to the insane pressure of nursing school.  It’s why I was ok with all the stress of getting those 2 little letters behind my name.  I worry that I may be losing the skills I worked so hard on. Yet, another ripple crashes.

I’m also torn.  I want to connect with the locals here, but when I do I feel another wave start to form.  Their worldview is so different from my own.  It’s hard to understand them when I know they don’t understand me. I want to connect with those I love back home, but when I do another wave crashes on my boat. I’m reminded that life continues to turn. The lack of my physical presence will not cause their lives to go on hold, and for that I’m genuinely happy! I want them to live to the fullest, go to weddings and dedications,  make new friends, and go on crazy fun adventures whether I’m involved or not.  Yet when the ripple hits, a part of me aches to be with them.  A long distance relationship with friends and family is harder than I imagined!

With all of that being said, just like a rock thrown into a pond there are times of great peace and happiness between the ripples. I do love Papua! I love the people I’ve met and the relationships I’m forming with both the locals and my fellow student missionaries. I love HIS, and the students here. I love the Boyd family beyond words, and I am SO grateful for their endless support.  I love the adventure of living in a different country and the uncertainty that surrounds our daily lives. And I love seeing God work on my heart! 

This weekend (Oct. 8-9) was a time between the waves. Erin invited us to her church in Abe just over an hours drive away. Her church is tucked between crowded apartments and dirty streets, which were just wide enough for 2 cars to pass. It is a fairly large building considering the location, with high white ceilings and bright purple drapes around the pulpit. After a very long service, we had Indonesian potluck! They had food like Nasi kuning (yellow rice), Nasi putih (white rice) Pisang goreng (fried bananas), boiled ubi leaves, other veggies, fried corn, ayam (chicken), tofu, and fresh fish.  So fresh in fact, they still had heads and eyes.  I was not brave enough try the fish, but everything else was amazing! 

Erin’s parents graciously drove us there and back.  Later that evening, we met up with the Boyd’s for a bon fire and snacks.  Ruth’s parents were in town and to welcome them Darron had arranged for a surprise visit from some seminary students. They welcomed them with a tribal dance!  It may not have been the most authentic native dance, instead of a drum the leader used on a 5-gallon water jug, and instead of wearing only gourds they remained in shorts or boxers, but nonetheless it was exciting.

On Sunday, we all went to church. Again. This time to Newman’s chapel where most of the expatriates attend.  It is hard to describe just how much of a blessing it was to be at a place of worship where I fully understand the songs and sermon! I enjoy worshiping on Sabbath in the Indonesian churches but there is just something about being able to worship in my own language that rejuvenates the soul.

We ended the day at the beach collecting coral, sea glass, and eating iced fruit salad. On our way home it began to sprinkle; the type of rain that needs to be danced in.  So we all climbed out of the car and in the headlights we awkwardly twirled and skipped barefoot across a long wooden bridge. After all the excitement of the day we were famished! Paige and I convinced Aubrey and Andrew to take us to get some authentic Indonesian cuisine (aka street food). We all ordered some kind of rice with meat or veggies. So good and spicy!  It was nice to just sit and share laughs with new friends.  Oh, how I love the calm between waves.

First Violin Lesson!

       Last week, Ruth came to us and brought up the subject of individuality. She encouraged each of us to think of a way we could do something without the others, to simply be independent individual SM's. Away from the PAK. It was a light bulb moment for me. It never crossed my mind to try to do something away from the other girls.  I had just come to terms with doing everything with this little family for the next 9 months. Cooking, cleaning, sharing 1 bathroom, school, pasar, Mister, language learning, nursing, sharing a bedroom… everything!  So each of us has been praying that God would open the doors to our individuality.  And He has in many ways.

One door opened yesterday. I was surprised with the opportunity to teach a spontaneous violin lesson! I had been asked if I would be willing to teach a guy who lives at Adventist Aviation. But yesterday he showed up (very Indonesian style) when I was at the Boyd’s house. Surprise!  But of course, I was happy to try and teach (more like tutor) him and walk through my individuality door. 

I knew language would be an issue but I was not prepared for how big that barrier would be.  For example, the names of the open strings on the violin are “G, D, A, and E”. Ok, makes since in English.  But in Indonesian they have slightly different sounds for their letters.  It goes G = Gay, and  D = Deh. No big deal so far, right? A = Aw, E = Eh (like hay without the “h”).  Basically, their “E” sounds like how we would say “A” in English. See the confusion?  I would say play on the A-string and he would start playing on the E-string (highest string), AND the very little Indonesian that I speak has nothing to do with music!     

Praise the Lord though, I had Ryan to help translate.  Ryan is a new friend we’ve met while being here.  He’s a high schooler at the local Adventist school in Sentani who’s family just moved here from the Philippines.  But he’s completely fluent in both English and Indonesian.  Plus, he plays clarinet and trumpet so he knows the musical terms. I was so grateful to have him there!

Jonathon (my student) doesn’t read music but plays by ear.  So any suggestions of a way to teach site reading with little talking (since I may not always have a translator) would be greatly appreciated! I have a feeling these lessons will be a lot of pointing and possibly a little charades.

Comic Relief

This pretty much sums up the past few weeks in one picture... Hope it makes you laugh as hard as I did when I made it

Bananas

    This is a story for those who have a strong stomach. If you do not fit into that category continue at your own risk. So bananas. Everyone loves a good banana, right? We all need the potassium. Here in Papua we have 2-3 major types of bananas. One very closely resembles the lady fingers we have in the states. Another looks like a smaller version of the typical bananas. And lastly, there are green bananas (which even when they are fully ripe they stay green).
      When we first started buying our food here we were warned about finding unwanted guests feasting both on and in our produce. Which is one of the many reasons why we bleach our market veggies, and freeze our flour and sugar before using it (killing any critters ). But there are some things we don't bleach. For example, bananas. We quickly learned about banana bugs (basically, a long black earwig) one morning as it came scurrying out from between two bananas. Paige so far has been the man of the house and took our unwanted guest out back.
     Yet, giant earwigs aren't even the worst part. The other day Ashley and I were taking the slightly over ripe bananas and preparing them for freezing. We were peeling rather quickly until out of the corner of my eye I saw something moving. I bring the mushy banana close to look and nothing. I shrug and begin putting the it in the freezer bag when again I think I see something. Once more, I look closely for a few seconds. Suddenly my eyes focus on the culprit. Maggots! Dozens of tiny white maggots squirming around in the banana and that's when I feel them starting to crawl on to my hands! I couldn't wash my hands fast enough!! We then had to go back through the bag and double check all the peeled bananas.  Unfortunately, we found more maggots in the bag!
     Needless to say, every time I open a banana now I can't help but stare for awhile just to be sure.  

Language Learning

September 15, 2016

            Learning Indonesian has become part of our daily routine. Thanks to the patience of Erin (our roommate).  Recently, I have found that not all language learning has to be done in a classroom.  In fact, the days I find most interesting and the most fun are the days we put our big girl panties on and attempt to have conversations with local people. 

Tuesday, I was needing of more pulsa (the equivalent to minutes).  So after learning the phrases for buying it we headed out into the sprinkling rain and muddy streets.  We walked to a stand which is only a block or so away from our house.  I timidly said my new phrase and the man replied a mile a minute.  Thank goodness for Erin!  The stand ended up not having any pulsa. So we thanked him and returned to dogging puddles and pointing to things we knew in Indonesian. 

“Anjing! (dog)” “Hijau! (green)” “Kiri, Kanan! (left, right)” “Merah! (red)”

We walked to the main 4-lane road learning new words along the way.  We crossed the jalan (street) to a small grocery store.  Again, no pulsa.  We jokingly talked about learning how to ride a taxi when Erin says, “Let’s do it!”  The only problem is sometimes taxis are few are far between.  The agreement was if we took the long way home and no taxi passed by the time we needed to turn, we would go home. Just as we reached the dirt road to go home a taxi pulled over.  We all took a deep breath and jumped in. As my luck goes, the only seat available for me was up by the driver.  It was now my responsibility to get the driver to stop at our destination.  *Big gulp* I saw the phone store coming up and with much pointing and one word sentences, got him to pull over and let us out.  We paid him, thanked him, and were left in a cloud of exhaust. 

Thankfully, this store had the pulsa we needed. Soon we were back on the street trying to hail another taxi and do the process in reverse. We made it back safely, but all thanks to Erin!

Thursday, our brains were so overflowing with new words and phrases we couldn’t possibly learn anything more.  So Erin decided to take us for a walk. We would meet people along the way and say our greetings, but it took a bit more nudging from her to get us to have a conversation.   We all eventually had a turn at attempting a conversation with an unsuspecting victim. There were many awkward pauses as I either glanced at my notes or tried to force my tongues to form the strange words.  But more than the awkward pauses there was laughter.  They would laugh at my thick accent and misuse of a word, and I would laugh at myself for… well … being so foreign.  Many of the kids we tried to talk to were oh so shy! Even just looking at them would cause them to hide behind their friend or run back into their home.

As we continued to walk around, many people would stop and stare.  Some would point and talk to their group of friends, some would greet us with big smiles and giggles, and some would call out any English saying they knew (even if it didn’t make since).  The best one we’ve heard yet is, “Hey mister wanita!!” Which directly translates to, “Hey mister woman!!” We soon noticed a girl holding her phone in an awkward way.  Paige immediately turned to me and said, “She’s trying to take a secret photo of us!” We all laughed but didn’t think anything of it.  Not 2 minutes later the same girl and her friend came running up behind us saying (in perfect English), “Miss! Miss! May I take a photo with you?”  We huddled close and took several selfies.  They had already left when it hit us! We should tell them to practice Indonesian with us and we should practice English with them! So we chased them down and invited them to our house. 

On the way home with are 2 new friends, Karisma and April, we stopped by a house full of women and children.  They were so excited to talk with us, and practice their English! We were soon encircled with women and children with only 1 translator.  Erin had her work cut out for her!

All in all, it was a great few days.  We made our first friends in the neighborhood and are becoming more confident in our Indonesian. Perhaps by May, we can walk around BTN (our neighborhood) and not need Erin’s constant assistance.