It is now July 5^th. I am writing this a bit after the fact as we have been out of town. Hopefully, I will remember the essence of the events over the last week.

On Saturday, June 26^th we met Martha Perrot at Churrasquería Paulista near the intersection of Mariscal Lopez and Republica de Argentina. I think that’s the name of the second street. Martha and I attended Asunción Christian Academy from ’74-’76 together. When we graduated in ’76, there were five us: Martha, Dave Green [who is in Paraguay but out in the “campania” [back country], Howard [we called him “Howie”] Blount, Libby [or was it Libia? I can’t remember her last name.] and me. So we had a class reunion without the others. You can do that when you have such a small class J

It was fun to get reacquainted. God’s loving touch is there as he weaves our stories, sometimes together and sometimes far apart, but always, always fully understood and purposeful. Each thread is chosen and used with his infinite love and wisdom. Never is there heard from his lips: “Oops, I wasn’t expecting that!” From our earthly perspective it doesn’t always feel that way, does it? What fun it will be to see the finished product some day!

Thanks for the fun time together Martha!

On Sunday, June 27^th Bjarne Fostervold came to our place for breakfast. For those who do not know…Bjarne and his wife Rosalva andtheir children [Brian, Radar and Silvia] and Rosalva’s niece, Blanca, live out in Naranjal, a town about an hour from Ciudad del Este. They work with the Ache Indians.

After breakfast we drove out to Roque Alonso for the Maka Sunday morning service. It was nice to introduce Bjarne to the folk there. He did know a few of the people, like Tsemheyi. A number of years ago Bjarne and several Ache Indians accompanied Tsemheyi and a few Makas to a meeting of Indigenous people groups in Mexico City. I had looked forward to having Bjarne see how things were with the Maka and to get his view on the state of things. A fresh look from someone who had his experience might be most helpful.

Bjarne seemed especially taken by the music and the singingof two men’s groups. He took out his cellphone and dialed someone and held up the phone so they could hear. Interesting to think back of when virtually the only music heard was the ping…ping of the drum played by a chosen few young men hour after hour in a trance-like state. Times have certainly changed. The drum, flute, guitar and tambourine and the choruses are Maka through and through. Praise God!

Tsemheyi spoke briefly, thanking the Wycliff translators, Matt and RoseMary Ulrich, for their work on the Maka New Testament. The Ulriches were to leave the next day for a two month furlough in the USA. They hope to have the N.T. completed soon and printed in 2011. Please pray for them as they complete this work and the finances necessary for the printing of it. The enemy has been at work trying to stop the completion.

After the service Leanne was asked to come and see a baby that was ill. Suggestions were given and we learned yesterday that the child was doing well now. “Ana”, Leanne, seems to amaze the Indians. I have heard them several times make comments like “Boy! She really knows her stuff!” [In Maka it sounds a bit different J]

Then we went back to the guesthouse and made lunch.After eating we went back out to the village to watch the Maka play soccer. They were playing one of their last games in a tournament against local Paraguayan teams. The game was played at the field in the village. The field now has a fence around it and it had been lined with “cal” [lime]. It looked nicer than I remember it from several years ago. But it was still basically all dirt/sand with just a bit of grass on the edges. Paraguayan spectators lined the side closest to the cobblestoned road and the Maka were in the majority around the rest of the field. It was fun to just watch people, especially the children, and to just soak in the “ambiente” [atmosphere]. The “chipa” man walked about tempting all with the wonderful smell coming from his basket balanced on his head. There were several other Paraguayan folk selling different food items too. The men sat mostly in chairs near the fence while the women and children were back away from the sides, more in the shade. Kids played about. Two in front of us played soccer with what appeared to be a seed about the size of a peach-pit. They were having a blast, trying to kick and “dribble” this miniature “ball”. One time I saw one of them pick up the pit with his toes and try to go by his “opponent”. Of course to make things even more realistic, they often acted with great skill like they had been fouled, rolling on the ground grimacing in “pain”. They were most entertaining!

We arrived too late to watch much of the younger guys’ game, but the Maka won handily. Eva’s husband played well, scoring several goals. The ending score was 5-0. The older guys’ team was less successful, losing in the final half 0-2. But I was impressed with the effort and determination to do their best. Again, there are probably issues involving poor nutrition, inadequate conditioning, poor sleep habits…which effect their performance. Skill is not the problem.

As we were driving out of the village, Barbosa again stopped us to greet us. He came right up to the car. He asked that next time we take pictures of his family. We’ll have to use wide-angle to get them all in J We took Bjarne over to their mission’s guest house where he was staying. This would prove useful in finding it again the next day.

In the evening we got ready for our trip up to visit the Fostervolds’.

On Monday, June 28^th I woke up at 3:30 a.m. with a really bad headache. After taking medicine and not really feeling much better, I just got up and took a shower. I had plenty to do anyway. I had to go change some money first, so headed over to place I had done it a week before. Only this time I was without Steve Jackson from New Tribes Mission to guide me and my head was not exactly feeling too connected or maybe it was that it felt like it was a bit over-sized that morning. I remember thinking, “I know it was here last time I was here!” and around the blocks I’d go again to see if I could find it the next time. On one particular trip around I found myself going airborne over a Paraguayan speed-bump. In case you haven’t had that experience before…These speed-bumps are twice or three times as big as the U.S. variety. And remember my head is KILLING ME! After ascertaining that the front axle was still up front and that my head had not protruded up through the roof, I managed to gather my wits and try one last time to find the “casa de cambio”. And miraculously there one was, a different one, but one none the less. I even found a place to park. I was hoping the two guards by the door were not looking too closely at this “gringo” who looked a bit strange. Have you ever had a migraine before? I felt like my knees were knocking and my eyes were cross-eyed and there was a spike sticking in my neck. So, I was relieved when they let me go.

From there I went to grocery store to pick up a couple items for the bus ride. Then I drove back to the car rental place, praying that they would not charge me an arm and a leg [I would have gladly given them my head!!] for the small bump/scratch I put on the front bumper the first day we got the car. I was tempted not to tell them about it, but thought that would not be right. Having a conscience is sometimes a drag J But the folk there were very kind and let me go without charging me any additional fee. PTL! So, having returned the car, I walked back to the NTM guest house.

Around 9 a.m. we took a taxi over to Bjarne’s mission’s guest house. After a brief time there, we headed in another taxi out to the bus terminal. We barely got there in time to board the bus. Fortunately Bjarne had purchased the tickets earlier. The bus was fairly nice, seats reclined and it had a bathroom, sort of. The bus began its meandering through some backstreets and finally back onto the main highway headed towards Ciudad del Este and Brazil. By the time we made it out by Fernando de la Mora and San Lorenzo, I could swear the sun had almost set. [a slight exaggeration! Probably only two hours!] Start, stop, start, stop…Bumper to bumper traffic, picking up passenger after passenger…Folks were standing in the aisles now. Remember that spike I spoke of earlier? It kept reminding me that it was still there. As we left behind San Lorenzo [I think it was], more and more country began to appear outside the windows. We left behind us Itagua, where we bought the ñanduti weavings. And stopped in what we called Chipa Town when we were kids. A lady got on the bus with a big basket piled high with hot, hot chipa. Leanne adds, “It was a sight to behold how she balanced the huge basket, handed out chipa and made change all while wearing a very short, tight skirt, nylons and dress shoes. She did all this while the bus bumped and rolled on to the next town, never losing her balance or cool.” Leanne bought one for herself, but my stomach was feeling very uneasy. A boy and his mother got on at some point. She sat in front of us while he stood in the aisle. He got hungry too, so his mother gave him a “milanesa” sandwich. He held onto the seat in front of me with one hand and held the sandwich with the other. He leaned against my leg to help keep himself upright while his crumbs rained down on my lap. It was now dark. Caaguazu then Coronel Oviedo…A man got on holding a leather work bag. I imagine it was heavy because he wanted to take the strain off his arms. So while standing next to my seat, he set it on my headrest. The spike was still digging into my head and neck!!! So I asked him once, then again if he would remove the bag, please. He did. Finally, we arrived at the crossroads to Naranjal. When we got off the bus, it was 7:00 p.m. or there abouts, cool and drizzley. I felt like my knees were going to buckle getting off the bus. Lights were doing weird things and my stomach was feeling weaker still, kind of a cross between feeling very hungry and very sick. Brian Fostervold met us soon with the truck and we bounced our way over cobblestone roads into Naranjal. Every bounce hurt. It was good to finally arrive at the Fostervolds! I headed to bed after eating a little bit of broth. Leanne stayed up with the family. The kids had asked for some American chocolate bars, so, when Leanne unpacked several bags of them, they discussed ways to make them last as long as possible.

On June 29^th I woke up pain free. PRAISE GOD! JJJ

This was the day that Paraguay was going to play Japan in the World Cup, so we all gathered over at the place where the translation of the Bible into Ache is taking place. Television reception wasn’t too good, but we all knew when Paraguay had won the game [barely!] in penalty kicks. Almost immediately the fireworks were rocking the air. We all piled into the Fostervolds’ pickup and drove off towards the center of Naranjal. By then there was an impromptu parade going…BEEP-BEEP-BEEP, BEEP—BEEP—BEEP [there were a few truck horns too!] The roads were full of flag-waving, fanatic kids and adults, some driving, some cheering from the sidewalks. Cars and motorcycles alike jockeyed for position as they paraded down the street. Not all who drove were of legal driving age. It was a blast to enjoy the moment with the people!

In the afternoon Leanne and I went with Bjarne to Puerto Barra to visit the Ache. The trip took about 30 minutes, driving first over rough cobblestone roads and then over smoother red dirt ones. We decided that we prefer the dirt roads, at least when they are dry. I hear they are as slick as ice when they are wet. Looking out the windows as we drove, you could see acre after acre of the most beautiful farmland sown in oats, field corn and soybean. There were smaller fields of “mandioca”, surgercane and yerba mate trees. Grain silos dotted the landscape. Some cattle. He pointed out how much of the area used to be jungle. For those uneasy with the cutting of rain forest…It would be good for them to see this. This land was being treated with utmost care. It was obvious these farmers loved the land and planned on making it as productive as possible for as long as possible. I suggest that at least some of what we see stateside in the press is a distortion of the truth. It is done to create fear.

As we got closer to Puerto Barra, Bjarne pointed out the land, which belonged to the Indians, and spoke of how it became the Indians’, the multitude of meetings with government officials, etc. This land too was being used. Some had been left relatively untouched [jungle]; the rest was being used to grow sugar cane, “mandioca” [some call it manioc or yucca], and oats. There was pastureland too.

As we walked up the path, some folk were meeting around a long picnic-like table. Bjarne joined them. I guess they were talking about some issue needing resolution. Soon an Ache woman came up to us and introduced herself as Juliana. She proceeded then to give a quick tour of the place. She did so with great pride. She told of her early days in Cerro Moroti; her relationship with some of the missionaries I knew there, the Stolzes, the Heckarts…She spoke of them with great affection, as if they were relatives. She told of her first marriage and the abuse there and how now with her new husband she was happy. After a later conversation with Bjarne, we found out that Juliana had come to Puerto Barra a mess. She had found the Lord here and was walking with Him.

One thing that became almost immediately clear, and was reinforced every time we visited the village, was that the Ache are very affectionate people [much more so than the Maka]. It didn’t take long and kids were walking next to us holding our hands. Adults would not just shake our hands, but hug us [maybe several times too]. Especially interesting was an older man we nicknamed Giggles [I think others called him Miagui, as in the old Karate Kid movie.] This guy just loves to giggle and hug folk. You couldn’t ask for a better greeter at church. Well, then again some of the gentler sex may frown on his friendliness. J His stature perfectly fit his early hunting days in the jungle. Any tall “gringo” could never hope to keep up with this great hunter. He’d be left strangled by the vines, which Giggles had ducked under.

We went over to Murray and Stephanie’s for tea. They are missionaries from New Zealand. They live in the village. There we met for the first time Laura, the girl who many of you prayed for when she was receiving medical help for her burns. She is staying with the missionaries temporarily so as to receive daily medical attention. She seems like such a sweet girl despite her tragic accident. I’ll talk more about Laura later.

Just before we left the village to return to Naranjal, we met Luis and Lilly, a Paraguayan couple who teach the Ache children. It was a brief time, but it was very obvious that they had a heart for God and these people. Their job is challenging as they seek to cross cultural barriers and teach the children concepts, which can be so radically different than those their parents have learned or experienced. They need our prayers.

I'll continue this tomorrow. Thanks for your prayers!