Peru '22, chapter four
Travel Journal, 119
I recently spent some time in the Peruvian jungle. I worked with a medical team, bringing healthcare and the Gospel to a people who need both. Here’s a few tales.
The weeklong medical campaign along the Las Piedras River near Puerto Maldonado did not begin with clinic setups or patient registrations. Before any other that could happen, the team had to get where it was going. The medical team, along with support staff, loaded onto a long, long boat and traveled many hours up the river. The first day consisted of about six hours on the boat. We landed at a small village, hosted our first clinic (40 patients), and stayed the night.
But further up the river lay the settlement of Monte Salvado. Getting to this place is not easy or quick. The second day of our journey would require us to log some major boat time. The boat crew thought it might take 12 hours. My handwritten journal for that day simply says, “Long boat trip, 14.75 hours.” It might sound boring—and it was sometimes. But I’d like to fill in those gaps. So, to give you an idea of what it’s like to sit on a wooden bench on a long boat on a river in the jungle for a really long time, I give you:
Fifteen Hours…the finally.
Hour 9: Dark clouds threaten. Rain can build and pour at the drop of a sombrero. A couple of us struggle and wrestle the enormous tarp to cover the gear not protected by the canopy. But with the wind blowing and the movement of the boat, it feels like we’re on an episode of Candid Camera. At one point I had to jump onto the tarp. We just can’t get it to cover the gear without trying to fly away. It’s just so unwieldly. Like the raft on the Dick Van Dyke Show.2 We finally get it right before a rain.
Hour 10: We can’t make it. It is decided that we have to stop along a sandbank to use the, uh, facilities. The Hoop of Hope isn’t going to cut it. The driver brings the boat to the shore. While some are in the trees, I strip to the waist and kick off the sandals for a dip. This water has fish of all sorts (including piranha), snakes, and caiman (a small gator). But those things rarely bother anybody. The water may be muddy, but it’s cool and refreshing. Our stop lasts for less then 15 minutes. We roll down the river once more.
Hour 11: There’s some discussion by the boat crew. It seems that the river is running too fast for us to make it to Monte Salvado in 12 hours. Should we stop early? Go on? It will be getting dark soon. No fear, it’s decided that we shall carry on and drive through the darkness should we need. I’m puzzled. I don’t see a rack of floodlights anywhere. How is the boat driver to see?
Hour 12: I try to nap. The sun makes the day hot. I throw myself onto some backpacks and doze for twenty minutes or so. This day is getting long.
Hour 13: When we first started the day the sighting of a Macaw turned every head and drew every camera. Now, not so much. “Oh, look, a parrot. Oh, look another one. Oh, there’s two. There’s a dozen or more.” You can hear them before you see them—bright, beautiful, red, and loud.
Hour 14: The sun has set. And above all the animals and noises of the jungle, the darkness is the loudest thing our here. And since Peru sits so close to the equator, when the sun goes down it gets dark quickly. Two Peruvian lads wander to the front of the boat with flashlights. They light the way for the boat. Everybody is quiet. This seems dangerous, and it is, but “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear though the earth gives way…though its waters roar and foam.”3
Hour 15: Operating this kind of boat, under these conditions, with this many people, in the deep jungle-dark, is, we are told, not very safe but not unheard of. But as the hour passes, we see lights along the shore ahead of us. Every person rumbles with excitement. The last outpost of Monte Salvado lay before us. No person is permitted to go beyond this settlement. For this is the boundary of a National Reserve, protecting isolated and yet uncontacted people. The boat lands and we begin the unloading process. It feels like coming home. I haven’t been in this place for two years. We throw up the tents quickly. One of the residents of Monte has asked that we hold a service. It’s hot, wet, late, and we’ve been up forever. But Buddy (missionary unhindered by such things) grabs his Bible. A few of us agree to go to the service. The others crash onto their sleeping mat. The service begins in song of three languages: Yine, Spanish, and English. Buddy brings the Word. Three quarters of the way through, I nod off. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, except I’m sitting on a treacherously narrow bench. One of the guys I’m with throws their hand behind my back, catching me. “Antonio! Esta bien?!” or “Bro, you okay?!”
What more to tell? Other than sleep came quickly that night. And we rose the next day, for yet another clinic along the Las Peidras River.
anthony forrest
- Proud Mary by Creedence Clearwater Revival, John Fogerty 1969
- The Dick Van Dyke Show, Season 1 episode 16, 1962
- Psalm 46, ESV
Check out the other stories in this series: