Another Angel in Heaven

Another Angel in Heaven

We’ve been told upon arriving in Guatemala City that it would be impossible to make it up the mountain. The rain clouds surround the city and we scramble to find plastic to cover our luggage in the back of the truck. We drive as far as Teculatan to get directions and a phone number for nuns that have a nutrition center in San Jose. There is no need to drive any further it would be both dangerous and fruitless to head up the mountain tonight.

There is urgency in our desire to make it to Pinalito. One of Pula’s daughters is very weak. The parents have refused to allow Nathan to bring her to the hospital in Pinalito. The thought is if she were to die off the mountain her spirit could not find its way back.

It rained quite a bit last night but we are hoping that by afternoon the roads will have ample time to dry. Thursday morning will be spent picking up groceries and supplies for the mission and Pula’s daughter. Nathan and Dylan would fill the propane tanks while Cassidy, Austin, and I drive ahead to our rendezvous place at the river. During the rainy season we must come up the backside of the mountain. The distance is twice as long and a riverbed serves as part of the road. The tremendous amount of rain this year had shifted the riverbed. Cassidy, Austin, and I would spend nearly an hour walking the river searching out deep holes and removing large rocks while waiting for Nathan and Dylan. The river crossing was tight in spots but we made it through fairly easy. The real obstacles, a couple of miles further, would be the mud, washouts, and fallen trees. We would spend hours trying to get past a 50 foot patch of mud. At first we shoveled fresh dirt on top of the mud, next we tried to dig out the mud—but there was no bottom, finally we chopped branches, shrubs, and used several planks of wood for tracks but all to no avail. My dodge truck is making a clanking noise and the 4 wheel drive is slipping. My mud chains were unnoticeable under the thick mire covering the tires. Both were missing. Dylan stumbled upon one of them in a deep trench left behind by one of the many attempts. The second chain we found wrapped around the inside rear axle. It was now 5:30. It was starting to sprinkle and soon it would be dark. With my 4 wheel drive now in question it was time to turn back. We managed to turn around. I would only engage the 4 wheel when there was no other choice for fear of either sliding off the mountain or into the face of it. On the other side of the river I had Dylan and Nathan takes my flashlight and see if they can locate the source of the noise. There is nothing obvious. Deciding to continue on, Dylan and Nathan go back to Nathan’s truck still parked in the river only to find the battery dead. Nathan will stay with the truck as we drive to several villages searching for jumper cables. There are no cables to be found. Nathan will spend the night in the river. Par for the trip that night will include a torrential downpour most of the night. Friday morning Dylan and I locate cables and are off to rescue our fellow missionary. The roads that were questionable the day before were now terrible. It would require using the 4 wheel drive to even get close to Nathan. I engaged it expecting to hear the horrendous clanking but there was no sound. The 4 wheel drive worked perfectly. Five hours later we are back at the hotel with Nathan.

Friday evening again brought us rain. A Saturday attempt up the mountain would be useless. I had consumed over $80 in gas in the two trips to the mountain. It was time to fill up again. The beauty of this gas station was for another $3 I could have a couple of guys pressure wash my truck. Maybe I could take another look under the truck. Even though I did not discover the previous problem with the 4 wheel drive mechanism it was quite evident that my rear tires were torn to shreds from the rock. They were smooth and not much better than slicks. With new tires and the 4 wheel drive working fine, Sunday morning’s plan would be to drive up the other side of the mountain and hike in with the supplies for Pula’s daughter from the lower mission in Mantasano.

It is Sunday afternoon and I’m finishing this blog. We had loaded up infamil, peanut butter, honey and other supplies to give to Pula. I had just locked in the 4 wheel drive at the foot of the mountain and started to climb up the washout roads when the clanking came back with a vengeance. We turned back around and put the truck in 2 wheel drive but still the clanking continued. The new plan is to drive to the job site and continue the trip in Nathan’s truck. Nathan is finally able to reach a teacher named Max in Pinalito. We’ve been informed that Pula’s daughter had died last evening. Everyone in the vehicle is stoic. I search Cassidy’s face and see tears forming in her eyes. It is just one more day in the lives of these people. There will be one more angel under the age of five added to the countless others watching over this forgotten part of the world.

Packing for Guatemala

As we prepare for our return to Guatemala the kids and I are busy prioritizing our packing. Since winter will soon be upon us the shorts and short sleeve shirts will have to be taken on a future trip. Now the main concern will be warm clothes, shoes, seeds and baby formula. Since we have been back in the States we have been informed that someone has thrown rocks that have cracked the tile roof above our apartment creating a leak, cracked a solar panel, dug up a half dozen fence post concrete and all from around the mission, dug up 90 twenty foot sections of PVC pipe supplying water to two of the villagers, and finally broke into a lower apartments and stole our two baby parrots---Skittles and Pringles. These heartbreaks did not hold a candle to the news that Pula’s babies are doing poorly. The twins are less than two years old but their size is that of a child less than a year of age. They both have had diarrhea and have lost most of their hair. The smaller of the two is not eating and is of great concern. We are loaded down with baby formula and hope that will do the trick. The Father will not allow the baby to be brought to the hospital. The Indians are not treated well usually and are often neglected. If the formula does not work we will be left with no alternative but to convince the Father of the need or face another infant mortality on the mountain. We have been with this baby since she was born. Cassidy and Chelsea, every Sunday would bath the twins while Pula prepared herself for church. It would be a sad day for all of us but one that is all too familiar to the parents on this mountain where each family normally experiences the loss of two of their children before the age of five.