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| isote trip |
It is supposedly the dry season but the rain has paid no attention to what is ‘supposed to be’. Rain and cold has been in the cards for the last three days and the roads are a muddy mess. Jaime, a missionary from Matazano, has hiked in to spend the night. Tonight after supper he is teaching Dylan the chords on the guitar, as well as, several Spanish worship songs. I’ve climbed up in my top bunk and listen to their strumming as I try to get some sleep. At 4am a group of 7 of us and a load of oranges are scheduled to meet at my apartment to head down the mountain. The plan is to drop off the oranges with the family at the market in Zacapa and the rest of us will continue for another 6 hours on the road. Jaime will serve as navigator to an isote farm in the rain forest near Coban. Once there he will be my translator in communicating between the farmers. With the constant sound of rain on the window sleep doesn’t come easy. I toss over in my mind how best to prepare for the dangers of the road. In the morning I’ll have to load an extra shovel, some rope, a couple rain suits, an extra mud chain, along with some wire and wire cutters to help hold the chains snug. At 3:30am I am up with coffee going. I’ve have had little sleep and the rain is coming down harder. By 4:15 we decide to wait until mid-morning in order to give the roads a chance to dry. It is now 1:30 in the afternoon and the rain has stopped. If we are going to go we have to try now. With it now mid-January none of the missionaries have returned from the states so I’ll be leaving Dylan, Cassidy, and Austin alone at the mission for several days. I pray there are no emergencies that arise. Dylan has already left with shovel in hand carrying a backpack loaded with pipe and other plumbing supplies preparing for the hour hike up into the rain-forest to fix the water supply with Julio. With hard rains such as we have just had branches and other debris clog the line and must be removed in order for any water to be had in the village. Sometime in the middle of the night we lost our water. We had barely left the mission when the rain started once again. I recalled Dylan was not wearing any raingear when he left. I knew it would be freezing where he was heading and even more so in these nasty conditions. It wasn’t long before we had our first encounter with a mud patch and found ourselves sliding in different directions. It was time for Jaime and I to get in the mud and install the chains. The next half hour would have us sliding toward the edge of a cliff followed by us sliding nearly into the wall of the mountain. For those who live in Central Florida the feeling is similar to having your foot in the gas as you slide around the turns at the Lil 500 flat track. The consequences here are a little more drastic than sliding into one of the barrier tires lining the track. Here you can either find yourself over the cliff or into the side of the mountain. You have to accelerate whether on an incline or going into a decline, whether heading into the wall of the mountain or heading toward the edge of a cliff. It all surely seems abnormal but it is the only way to maintain some resemblance of control. The brakes are useless in the mud. By the time we’ve made it to the river most of the passengers are white knuckled.
Four hours later we have again left pavement behind and are on the clay and gravel roads that have been dynamited out of the side of the mountains leading a path through the rain forest. As we approach our destination it is nearly 10pm. We have come around a corner of the mountain to a spectacular view. The moon, the size of a basketball, is full and bright. It is at eye level and sitting on a pillow of clouds that it illuminates while perched between two mountain peaks. Only God could do something so beautiful!!!
Our host is Bart Biddle. He has spent the last 9 years preaching and converting the Indigenous peoples of this area. He has built a church with his house above it. A small generator noisily sputters on the second story. As we tromp through the mud and climb the outside stairs the clouds and the moon are now below us. The inside of Bart’s house is partially finished. An extension chord extends from the generator to inside the door where half a dozen other chords are plugged into it powering other lights (the words--- ‘fire hazard’ would serve as an understatement). Beside the bed there is a toilet that is connected to absolutely nothing. If you need the use of a bathroom Bart points outside about 50 feet down a muddy slippery slope to a two seat outhouse with its door hanging precariously off a post. There is no need for fans since even with the door closed there was a nice draft blowing through We grabbed mattresses and lay them on the floor. As I replay the ordeal of getting here I have to chuckle at the Man upstairs that pulls all the strings. If it wasn’t for all that rain I would have already finished here and have been heading back to Pinalito. As it now stood I would finish up early enough tomorrow with enough time to help my Brother Bart. It wasn’t long before we were all asleep.
The next morning I wake up and assess the situation. Now Bart is a tall former collegiate wrestler. He is nearly 2 heads taller than most of the Indians and as outdoorsy as the best of them. His surroundings mean little to him, but the following week his wife, Pam, will be leading a team of doctors from the states to stay at this very house. There is not much I can do about the plumbing. There are too many missing supplies. The outhouse will only make them appreciate their bathrooms at home that much more. But the fire hazard, I can remedy. Before I leave I’ll make sure we rig up some lights and outlets and remove the maze of extension chords. We won’t have to read in a Guatemalan newspaper of the Missionary Doctors that were burnt up at the Biddle home if I can help it.
It is time to sit down to a tortilla, bean, and egg breakfast. Marcus, a pastor and isote farmer, has graciously supplied the tortillas. He’ll be our teacher for the next 4 hours. David, one of the village farmers from Pinalito, and I take notes. Jaime interprets for me as we precede form one field to another. It wasn’t until after our training that I realized why God had postponed our trip. The timing and planning were not what I had laid out but His perfect plan would all make sense in another 24 hours. With it still being early in the day and the isote lesson over, Marcus asked us if we might look at a generator in a nearby village. He was hosting a revival that evening. On the way to the village he enlightened us on the Indians we were about to meet. Only one of the villagers spoke Spanish. The others spoke a unique Mayan dialect. Marcus explained that these same people, we were about to meet, a few years ago had threatened to light him on fire if he did not stop preaching. They had done the same to Bart. A particular time they had Marcus tied up for 18 hours while Bart and others prayed for his release. It sounded quite similar to the story of Peter in prison. The conclusion to the story was the village was now almost completely converted to Christianity and having a revival tonight. Marcus and Bart are now held in the highest regard. After fixing the generator, the gracious villagers sat us down to a feast of tamales, chicken soup, coffee and cookies. As we are saying our good-byes, we step aside as a parade of villagers haul large speakers and other bulky sound equipment up the same steep muddy slippery trail we are about to descend. It is pretty obvious that there footing was much better than ours. We would slip and slide and have fingers loaded with mud as we attempted to catch ourselves by grabbing at anything with the resemblance of sturdiness.
The rest of the day had the three of us pretending to be electricians as we wrestled to remove the maize of extension chords strewn across the Biddle home. That evening, Jaime and I would stay behind to read and get some rest while David and Bart attended the revival. Around midnight I was awakened to hear the excited voice of David returning from the revival. It had been the best revival he had ever attended. He was very inspired.
Bart is up early the next morning. On the way off the mountain, after replacing a flat tire, we would run into him standing in the river. The revival had produced a harvest of 12 converts who Bart was now preparing to baptize. All the rain delays had changed OUR plan of a quick trip into GOD’S plan. I smiled as I realized He did it again. His plan had been far superior to ours. God had brought the rain---- that caused the delays---- that allowed the three of us to remove Bart’s fire hazard. More importantly He used our hands to fix the generator that helped a revival harvest 12 new believers. It was just another confirmation of who is in control.
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