Stories from the Amazon - The time I almost became an Indian...
Ok, maybe not quite an Indian but almost! But let me start from the beginning.
My parents were missionaries to Brazil. They went there in 1974 (I think) and their objective was to work with native Brazilian Indian groups to translate the Bible into those languages. After working for several years with several hostile Indian groups (a story for another day), they were finally assigned to work with a very small group called the Banawa and my dad had gone on a few trips into the village without the rest of us to start making contact with the people. This Indian group was very excited to have us come live with them and they eagerly started building us a house and we started preparing for a long boat trip and a long stay with them. Now you have to put out of your mind any sort of modern luxury or convenience and think of America in the 1800's or something like that. There were no toilets, no stores, no doctors, no running water, nothing anyone of us today is used to. But my parents loved God and wanted to share the word of God with these people so they were willing to give it all up and go to the middle of the deep Amazonian jungle. I was 10, and my brothers were 8 and 1.
We packed up everything we thought we needed for 6 months in the jungle, into a small aluminum boat with an outboard motor. I took my cat and my parakeet. Actually, more like begged until they finally got tired of me and said yes. The cat traveled in a pillow case at our feet. Every night she would get let free to hunt mice and use the bathroom. Apparently we always found her again since she made it all the way to the village with us. We carried large amounts of medicine for every tropical disease and problem we could imagine.
With lots of prayers, excitement and wondering what this new adventure would bring us, we set off on our journey. My dad had detailed maps of the rivers which he had gotten from the government and we had extra fuel and were piled high with everything. Around mid afternoon of the first day I began to wonder where we might sleep that night. My parents just kept saying not to worry and that God would provide a place. And indeed, God provided! Right before dark we came to a little house on the side of the river. The people there were so happy to see us and they gave us a place to hang our hammocks and something to eat. Every night for the 10 days of the trip there was a place to stay right at dark. We would go all day in the boat and not see a soul until it was time to find a place to rest at night. In exchange we would pass out malaria medicine, treat wounds, bring news from the outside, etc. At one stop my baby brother drank some bad water and ended up very sick the next day. We stayed a couple days in one place for him to recover. At another stop the people we stayed with stole most of our supply of eggs. And at another stop the people were so thankful for the medicine we gave them that they offered us a pair of live chickens. I was very excited about that gift. We named them Henny Penny and Chicken Little. They made it to the village with us. Other people gifted us with pineapples and bananas in exchange for the medicines or the visit.
At one point, my dad got confused with the map because he thought we were on a different section of river than we actually were and there was an island. Eventually he got it figured out and we passed some other Indians in their boat. They invited us to spend the night in their village. We followed them and they led us through the jungle. We could do this because it was the middle of rainy season and the jungles alongside the rivers were flooded. While we were following them, a branch snatched my parakeet cage and tossed it into the boat. It had been sitting on the bench next to me so the bird could catch the view. Instead of being smart and leaving it down, I put it back up next to me again and again a branch snagged it. This time however, it threw the bird cage, with my dear little parakeet, into the water. Try as I might, I couldn't catch the cage in time and that was the end of my pet. I cried bitterly. That was one of my first lessons in learning to hear God's voice. If I had left the cage where it had gotten tossed the first time I wouldn't have lost my precious little bird.
We went down so many different rivers, each one so beautiful. Finally we came to the last river which would take us to the village. It was a small river, actually a creek by Amazon standards. But because it was rainy season the water was high and we were able to take out boat up it. The villagers were so happy to see us. They hadn't quite finished our little house yet so they let us stay in someone else's house for the meantime. All the Indian children were fascinated by us, and we tried to learn how to communicate with them. We learned a few words and ate bananas with them. My mom cooked simple meals over the fire. We took our baths in the river like everyone else. We slept in hammocks with mosquito nets.
My parents began the long process of learning the Banawa language. To learn a language like that first you have to learn the individual words and then try to figure out how they put sentences together, learn the verbs if there are any and so on and so forth. Lots of times the Indians would just laugh at us but some of them seemed to like helping us learn their language. My brothers and I mostly just explored, imagined, played, ate bananas, swam in the creek and played more. It was a wonderful time. Until, after a couple weeks, my dad became gravely ill with Malaria. He started taking the medicine but it wasn't working. There are two types of Malaria and evidently he had gotten the worse of the two and he wasn't responding to anything.
Now, in case you don't know much about Malaria, let me explain: It's HORRIBLE! It is actually a parasite that feeds on your red blood cells. You feel flu-like symptoms but let me tell you, it's way worse than any flu you can imagine (unless of course you've had Malaria) You get chills so bad that even 20 blankets can't warm you, then fever so bad you feel like you'll melt into a puddle. And back and forth. And don't even let me get started on the body aches. If not treated you can die.
So, my dad was in the hammock with all this. Then a day or so after my dad's symptoms started, my mom also came down with it! They started trying to radio back to home base and tell the other missionaries what was happening, but the radio wouldn't work. My dad was so weak by that time and he couldn't get it to work at all. My mom wasn't quite as bad but she was still also very sick. My brothers and I were sitting under a banana tree one day eating bananas and talking to each other about what would happen. Honestly, being the oldest I was very scared that my parents were going to die and we would live for the rest of our lives being raised by the Indian people and never see our home or friends or family again. It was a very scary thought, although when you are 10 and 8 and 1 you don't fully grasp the magnitude of something like that.
It must have been later that same banana eating day when we all together as a family prayed for the radio to work and be able to call for help and my dad tried it once more and miraculously it worked long enough for him to tell the folks at the mission base our dilemma. They said that they would contact another missionary from a different organization who had a float plane and he would meet us at the bigger river, which was 2 rivers away from the one we were one. That was the closest river that the plane could land on. They arranged the time, which was the following day around noon or so. We packed up a few things, just what we could carry in a small bag. We left most of the stuff there. The next morning the Indians saw how weak my dad was. He couldn't even hold the handle of the outboard motor. He had to lay in the bottom of the boat. They offered to help us get down the river to the bigger river. I'm so thankful they did.
The problem now is that the river had gone down a bit since it was the end of rainy season now and all the rivers go down. It was very difficult to get the aluminum boat around all the fallen trees and branches. A few times we had to duck all the way down in the boat and the sides scraped on the trees as we snuck under. A few times we had to all get out of the boat and they dragged the boat over a low tree. A few times my dad was able to muster up enough strength to pull the string to the motor and use that to gain a bit of time. We finally made it to the meeting place. We left our boat with the river people and the float plane arrived. Benny Da Merchant was the pilot. He was known as being a very crazy pilot, taking risks and doing things most normal people wouldn't do. I guess maybe that's what made him a good missionary pilot. His float plane was small and we all crammed in it along with another missionary pilot from our own mission base. Us kids had to sit on the floor. The floor which you could see the river through the holes in it. I don't really remember that part too much, but I do remember hoping we wouldn't fall out somewhere over the jungle and also that the old plane would make it into the air with all of us aboard. Benny had to take the plane around a curve in the river in order to have enough room to get up the speed to get airborne. It was quite a ride, but we made it safely back to the mission base and my parents got the treatment they needed to live and not die. And best of all, we didn't have to become Indians!
(story subject to editing whenever anyone who knows more details reads it and corrects me! lol)
My parents were missionaries to Brazil. They went there in 1974 (I think) and their objective was to work with native Brazilian Indian groups to translate the Bible into those languages. After working for several years with several hostile Indian groups (a story for another day), they were finally assigned to work with a very small group called the Banawa and my dad had gone on a few trips into the village without the rest of us to start making contact with the people. This Indian group was very excited to have us come live with them and they eagerly started building us a house and we started preparing for a long boat trip and a long stay with them. Now you have to put out of your mind any sort of modern luxury or convenience and think of America in the 1800's or something like that. There were no toilets, no stores, no doctors, no running water, nothing anyone of us today is used to. But my parents loved God and wanted to share the word of God with these people so they were willing to give it all up and go to the middle of the deep Amazonian jungle. I was 10, and my brothers were 8 and 1.
We packed up everything we thought we needed for 6 months in the jungle, into a small aluminum boat with an outboard motor. I took my cat and my parakeet. Actually, more like begged until they finally got tired of me and said yes. The cat traveled in a pillow case at our feet. Every night she would get let free to hunt mice and use the bathroom. Apparently we always found her again since she made it all the way to the village with us. We carried large amounts of medicine for every tropical disease and problem we could imagine.
With lots of prayers, excitement and wondering what this new adventure would bring us, we set off on our journey. My dad had detailed maps of the rivers which he had gotten from the government and we had extra fuel and were piled high with everything. Around mid afternoon of the first day I began to wonder where we might sleep that night. My parents just kept saying not to worry and that God would provide a place. And indeed, God provided! Right before dark we came to a little house on the side of the river. The people there were so happy to see us and they gave us a place to hang our hammocks and something to eat. Every night for the 10 days of the trip there was a place to stay right at dark. We would go all day in the boat and not see a soul until it was time to find a place to rest at night. In exchange we would pass out malaria medicine, treat wounds, bring news from the outside, etc. At one stop my baby brother drank some bad water and ended up very sick the next day. We stayed a couple days in one place for him to recover. At another stop the people we stayed with stole most of our supply of eggs. And at another stop the people were so thankful for the medicine we gave them that they offered us a pair of live chickens. I was very excited about that gift. We named them Henny Penny and Chicken Little. They made it to the village with us. Other people gifted us with pineapples and bananas in exchange for the medicines or the visit.
At one point, my dad got confused with the map because he thought we were on a different section of river than we actually were and there was an island. Eventually he got it figured out and we passed some other Indians in their boat. They invited us to spend the night in their village. We followed them and they led us through the jungle. We could do this because it was the middle of rainy season and the jungles alongside the rivers were flooded. While we were following them, a branch snatched my parakeet cage and tossed it into the boat. It had been sitting on the bench next to me so the bird could catch the view. Instead of being smart and leaving it down, I put it back up next to me again and again a branch snagged it. This time however, it threw the bird cage, with my dear little parakeet, into the water. Try as I might, I couldn't catch the cage in time and that was the end of my pet. I cried bitterly. That was one of my first lessons in learning to hear God's voice. If I had left the cage where it had gotten tossed the first time I wouldn't have lost my precious little bird.
We went down so many different rivers, each one so beautiful. Finally we came to the last river which would take us to the village. It was a small river, actually a creek by Amazon standards. But because it was rainy season the water was high and we were able to take out boat up it. The villagers were so happy to see us. They hadn't quite finished our little house yet so they let us stay in someone else's house for the meantime. All the Indian children were fascinated by us, and we tried to learn how to communicate with them. We learned a few words and ate bananas with them. My mom cooked simple meals over the fire. We took our baths in the river like everyone else. We slept in hammocks with mosquito nets.
My parents began the long process of learning the Banawa language. To learn a language like that first you have to learn the individual words and then try to figure out how they put sentences together, learn the verbs if there are any and so on and so forth. Lots of times the Indians would just laugh at us but some of them seemed to like helping us learn their language. My brothers and I mostly just explored, imagined, played, ate bananas, swam in the creek and played more. It was a wonderful time. Until, after a couple weeks, my dad became gravely ill with Malaria. He started taking the medicine but it wasn't working. There are two types of Malaria and evidently he had gotten the worse of the two and he wasn't responding to anything.
Now, in case you don't know much about Malaria, let me explain: It's HORRIBLE! It is actually a parasite that feeds on your red blood cells. You feel flu-like symptoms but let me tell you, it's way worse than any flu you can imagine (unless of course you've had Malaria) You get chills so bad that even 20 blankets can't warm you, then fever so bad you feel like you'll melt into a puddle. And back and forth. And don't even let me get started on the body aches. If not treated you can die.
So, my dad was in the hammock with all this. Then a day or so after my dad's symptoms started, my mom also came down with it! They started trying to radio back to home base and tell the other missionaries what was happening, but the radio wouldn't work. My dad was so weak by that time and he couldn't get it to work at all. My mom wasn't quite as bad but she was still also very sick. My brothers and I were sitting under a banana tree one day eating bananas and talking to each other about what would happen. Honestly, being the oldest I was very scared that my parents were going to die and we would live for the rest of our lives being raised by the Indian people and never see our home or friends or family again. It was a very scary thought, although when you are 10 and 8 and 1 you don't fully grasp the magnitude of something like that.
It must have been later that same banana eating day when we all together as a family prayed for the radio to work and be able to call for help and my dad tried it once more and miraculously it worked long enough for him to tell the folks at the mission base our dilemma. They said that they would contact another missionary from a different organization who had a float plane and he would meet us at the bigger river, which was 2 rivers away from the one we were one. That was the closest river that the plane could land on. They arranged the time, which was the following day around noon or so. We packed up a few things, just what we could carry in a small bag. We left most of the stuff there. The next morning the Indians saw how weak my dad was. He couldn't even hold the handle of the outboard motor. He had to lay in the bottom of the boat. They offered to help us get down the river to the bigger river. I'm so thankful they did.
The problem now is that the river had gone down a bit since it was the end of rainy season now and all the rivers go down. It was very difficult to get the aluminum boat around all the fallen trees and branches. A few times we had to duck all the way down in the boat and the sides scraped on the trees as we snuck under. A few times we had to all get out of the boat and they dragged the boat over a low tree. A few times my dad was able to muster up enough strength to pull the string to the motor and use that to gain a bit of time. We finally made it to the meeting place. We left our boat with the river people and the float plane arrived. Benny Da Merchant was the pilot. He was known as being a very crazy pilot, taking risks and doing things most normal people wouldn't do. I guess maybe that's what made him a good missionary pilot. His float plane was small and we all crammed in it along with another missionary pilot from our own mission base. Us kids had to sit on the floor. The floor which you could see the river through the holes in it. I don't really remember that part too much, but I do remember hoping we wouldn't fall out somewhere over the jungle and also that the old plane would make it into the air with all of us aboard. Benny had to take the plane around a curve in the river in order to have enough room to get up the speed to get airborne. It was quite a ride, but we made it safely back to the mission base and my parents got the treatment they needed to live and not die. And best of all, we didn't have to become Indians!
(story subject to editing whenever anyone who knows more details reads it and corrects me! lol)
Wow! Hard to imagine we lived that story. Well told!
ReplyDeleteWow! I have a friend who is a nurse. He and his family went to Brazil to travel up and down the Amazon providing nursing care 2 villages along the river. I thought it sounded like an amazingly exciting thing to do and told him I might come join him for a few weeks. Now after reading your story I'm not sure I need that much excitement at my age!
ReplyDeleteYou left out the part where we came to a fallen tree too big to go over, too low to go under, and a swift current going around the roots of the tree. There was no way I could see in my weakened state. I thought we would be late to meet Benny's plane on the Piranha River. But the two indians who were helping us get down to the larger river began chopping at the roots in the front, and digging into the bank with their machetes. Somehow, miraculously that 21 foot aluminum boat suddenly managed to curve around the ball of tree roots and muddy bank. To this day I don't know how it was possible. Then we were really late. I was so weak I could not manage the outboard motor. But we prayed and immediately I felt strong enough to pull the cord and navigate the boat all the way to the mouth of the Banawa creek. That involved standing while holding the throttle, and gunning the motor every time we came to a fallen tree. After 6 hours we finally made it to the Piranha river where Benny Da Merchant plus two men from our mission who would take our boat back to Canutama, plus our land-plane pilot, Don Eagan, who had met Benny in our mission plane. What took us 10 days of river travel took 15 minutes in the float plane. I had said "I hope I never have to fly with Benny." but he saved our lives, and our pilot Don said that there was no one with as much experience flying float planes in the Amazon as Benny. That was very comforting as we slowly climbed above the trees. We landed in Canutama on the Purus River, but the 50 foot high banks were very difficult for us to climb up in our weak state. Then we had to walk to the airstrip. I had to stop about every 100 feet and sit down. Everyone said I was as white as a sheet. But we made it to our plane and flew back to Porto Velho.
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