Day 4 in Chos

To finally wrap up the series on our trip to Chos Malal, here's a final post on Day 4.

[Day 1, 2, 3]

Since I deleted the only pictures I took our last day from my cell phone (it was just lunch, a talk and travel really), I'll just have to tell you what a great last day it was.

We found Nutella in a local supermarket. Need I say more? It was the sign of a good day. It doesn't take much to make us happy. I think we bought their whole supply. We realize the Hand of God when we see it, you know? We had Nutella on bread for breakfast. And for lunch. And for about the entire week thereafter. We even left a jar for the native missionaries there - they had never tried it before and liked it! Why we can't find it in our city of 300,000 - but in a random small town six hours from anywhere close to Chile... well, that will remain a mystery. Either way, God is good.

Highlight #2 was planning a return trip to this area that we loved so much.

Day 4 We sat down over a bowl of pasta with missionaries and church planters Damian and Marta and organized an evangelistic event for May. They need help, we want to help, so let's do it, was the consensus. They pulled out their hand-drawn map of the area with the mountain families they still have yet to reach, we talked about the needs of the area, and together we wrote up a plan for the weekend. So far we have volleyball, soccer, preaching for kids and adults, the JESUS film, and a used clothes fair on the books. All of this in a little village an hour's drive outside of town, many kilometers out a gravel road, very near where the conference was held. But you'll have to wait til May to see how it went. Praying God brings all the details together.

Damian, Tony, and Daniel

Lately I feel I've been posting too many pictures of poverty, wondering if people get bored with seeing it, post after post. I guess it can be depressing, although - strangely - I don't find it to be. It just is. It's a lot of what we do and why we are here. But, just in case you're tired of seeing pictures of rough neighborhoods and the slums, here are some nice pictures to wrap up our long weekend in Chos Malal, northern Neuquén Province, Patagonia, Argentina. Enjoy.

busyness, drunkeness, and other general weirdness

Life is busy here. And sometimes a whole lot of weird. I feel like my head's going to explode trying to process it all sometimes.

Good Friday, Tony spent all day in the slums while I took the kids on a nature walk - our first "official" nature walk in Patagonia - complete with list of things to look for. Since I had spent the entire week with visions of public school dancing in my head, I figured it was time to get out before somebody {Mommy} lost it.

Tony came home from a draining day, hoping to rest and eat something before we quickly headed out again to a meeting then a movie showing, only to get a call from the slums about an altercation with a drunk. Someone (we know) had shown up to "help" one of the families rebuild, but he showed up so drunk he could barely talk. He claims he's a Christian, he was insisting he was there to help, proceeded to walk around the site "praying" in a loud voice, continuing to insist he was there to help and to "do the Lord's work". All he succeeded in doing was making the families really, really mad. One of the dads called Tony asking him to come back and remove the guy before he killed him. We didn't put it past him, so back Tony went. One incident like that, someone showing up wearing the name "Christian" but acting really not, could completely ruin everything we've been trying to build for months.



drunk guy {in the red hat} - sometimes he's sober, like here


That's another new thing for us... flagrantly alcoholic church-goers. Slaves to alcohol who have no self control, but claim to know and love Jesus while getting rip-roaring drunk, all the while not seeming to think this is anything to really be alarmed about. The next day after a binge, they are "doing well, all is well, I'm well, God is good, and Praise the Lord!". It's kinda weird, definately new. At least people in the States who go to church and claim to know Christ but who are really raging drunks know better than to shout it from the mountaintops, at least in my experience. A certain level of shame is a good thing - it means you might have a clue that something is not. quite. right.

We have not-so-infrequent run-ins with inebriated people. It's the nature of the beast. I'm nobody's judge, but I am certainly learning to not answer my cell phone depending on who it is - and definately not after midnight {always bad news}, because then I can never get off the phone. Drunk people just go on and on and on in usually beligerent drunken stupors. There's no reasoning with them. I have better things to do with my time than to talk to someone who isn't listening anyway. Tony's really good with drunks, though. He keeps his calm and is able to take control of the situation; I just get annoyed and kick myself for answering the phone, vowing not to next time I see the number. The last time Pedro called I just told him the truth - You are a slave to alcohol and you need Jesus to set you free. He's the only One who can help you. I must have said goodbye and told him Tony would call him at least ten times. All he wanted to do was ask me how I was doing over and over again and put me on the phone with his grandmother (sweet lady that she is). Six months ago that would have been really awkward. I still think it's weird. But now, it's just kinda normal.

Pedro, Tony, Raul, and Alberto [Pedro was let go for drinking on the job, so returned to his little town up north. He still calls us.]

Fast forward Easter morning. As I was in the bathroom getting ready for church, I heard a gunshot. I heard Tony from the other room, "Did you just hear that?" Uh, yeah. Sure did. The weird thing is, everyone here says we live in a "nice" neighborhood. That wasn't my impression when we first arrived here. But, all things being relative, it is a "nice" neighborhood. For here. A nice neighborhood with gunshots. Yeah... 

Gunshots were just never on my radar, but hey, I guess they are now.

Easter afternoon we spent at the children's home.

But let me preface this with a little rant first- may I? Just humor me.

PARENTS: Don't leave your kids with anybody. Let me repeat myself... DON'T LEAVE YOUR CHILDREN WITH ANYONE. If you heard some of these stories we hear, if you knew... REALLY KNEW... that 90% of sexual abuse cases are perpetrated by someone who knows the victim... you wouldn't ever leave your kids with anyone. Family, friends, your trusted church friends. An.y.one.

Okay, I'm done. Ignore me if you want. It's just some statistics with a suggestion. I'm sure there are people in the world we can trust, surely.

So, I was finally able to go to the Children's Home {where all the kids have a story like above}, now that visitations are up and running again after summer break. We had a great time with the kids - we played Duck, Duck, Goose; Red Light, Green Light; and Freeze Tag - Argentinian versions, of course. Some of the young adults from church shared the Resurrection story as we sat around an outside table talking with the kids. I was amazed that most of the kids had never even heard of the Resurrection before. They thought Easter was about eggs. I took my daughter with me on our visit; she loved it and asks me all the time when we are going back.

my friend Keren with one of the sweeties from the children's home

There's more that's been going on, some that makes me nervous. Like Tony beginning a new ministry in another home for older kids... 13 and up. Kids aging out of the other home with nowhere to go. No one visiting them. No one sharing love and the gospel with them. I asked Tony if he really thinks this is a good idea. I mean, people get knifed in homes for older kids; they are bigger and they have bigger problems. Kids are extremely street smart here, more than most adults I know. A guy that used to work in one of these homes recently showed Tony his scars. So, really, Tony... don't you think maybe we should just forget this one? He doesn't think so.

And there are other things that are happening that are weird, well, more like extremely disturbing. Things that are just unbloggable. Things that remind me why I don't like having neighbors, and why I don't trust anyone. Things that make me shudder and remember that this is a yucky, fallen world. Things that remind me that yes, indeed, this is a battle. A WAR (Ephesians 6). Things that remind me of the very reason we are here. Things that, once you begin to fight them, wake up the someone who doesn't want to lose any ground. Not an inch.

I've been reminded, uncomfortably, this Resurrection week of the Truth in 1 Peter 5:8...

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil walks about like a roaring lion,

seeking whom he may devour."

Feelin' it. Hoping next week is better.

Good Friday

Good Friday showing of the Gospel of John {at church}...

We should have viewed it before we showed it. A wonderful, powerful movie, full of Scripture - but we had to put subtitles on and could only listen to it in English. Distracting. I felt even worse about that when someone told us later that there was a couple in the audience who can't read. And then, of course, the little kids that can't read ... argh. Learning. I think we were all still blessed, though.

Easter Eve moonrise

Good Friday sunset



Day 3: Cancha Huinganco

  So, as I was saying about that pastor's conference we attended... [Day 1, Day 2]

Day 3, of the four we spent in Chos Malal, was a particularly blessed day. Sunday morning service lasted at least three hours... worship and prayer just went on and on and on... a sweet time. Hearts softened, cleansed, healed, renewed, strengthened for things ahead.



camping out in the van



Then... chivo patagonico was on the menu. Free-roaming goat cooked over burning embers for lunch, the big meal of the day.

The dead goat sat out on a table all weekend, under a sheet (notice fly). One just begins to shrug at some point on the relaxed food preservation thing. Ya have to.



Cost of food for the weekend?


US$12 per person, for two days. At least something is cheap here, the food was at least this weekend. (It certainly isn't in the city.)

We had to all pitch in with preparing what we ate. No catering here. Here is Tony acting like he always helps out in the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, I do this all the time...!"

suuure ya do

After lunch and saying goodbyes to old friends and new contacts, everyone left. But we headed back to the to church in Cancha with the local missionaries who have worked here for 10 years - they have discovered a place in the hills where you can find fossils. Tons of fossils.

church

"You're the one that likes rocks, right?" they had asked me earlier. I don't admit my passion for rocks often because it's just, well, weird. But they soon discovered that yes, indeed, I do love me some good rocks. So off we set, across a field of boulders and up a ridge in search of fossils - a motley crew of adults and children.


looking back down the field of boulders towards the church (in the upper right grove of trees)



looking up towards the ridge

No one had water but us. We soon discovered there is no need to carry water. Just drink from the mountain-fed streams. (Um, they did. I didn't. Too chicken. No upset tummies though, so I guess it's fine.)
 

Tony sucking up some water

I enjoyed sharing my geologic observations as we hiked up the foothills, explaining the possible causes of the field of boulders, gullies, ridges, streams, and various striations in the rocks along the way. Everyone seemed interested as we talked about the layers of sedimentary rocks, the fossils we soon found imbedded within, and Noah's Flood versus millions of years. Fascinating stuff.

searching in a fossiliferous gully

We had hiked several miles, up, up, up. Then we headed down, down, down with pocketsful of fossils.


bingo

I was so thankful for this fun little reprieve for the kids. They, too, have sacrificed everything to come here. We try, when we can, to make living here fun for them. They loved fossil hunting so much that we decided to make it a tradition every time we come back to this place. 

We then stopped back in at the rural church for a potty break. There is no running water, so you have to dump a bucketful of water down the toilet to flush. The bucket fills up slowly outside under the trickle of water that drips from the spigot. The water supply is low at this time of year, having dried up considerably after a long, hot summer in the dry mountains. We set up the projector and showed a few more movies to our tired gang, had a snack, then went to visit the neighbors: Dona Luisa and her man (that's supposed to be an n with a little squiggly over it, but my computer acts funny sometimes here in Argentina and won't let me do it).

Dona Luisa was born and raised in this remote place. 77 years she lived in a primitive little house with the outhouse located a few steps further down towards the river. Her chickens and geese and dogs and horse and cows all share her yard. Two years ago the government built her a new house. She now "lives well". She has two bare bulbs and no other bills to pay but the electricity, which is about five dollars a month. I envy her life - so simple, so healthy, so quiet. Visiting her was one of the highlights of the whole weekend for me. As we sat in her little kitchen, her man smelling of horse and earth and well, dirty feet... I thought, "This is it. This is what we came here to do. I love this." It helped that I left the kids with Tony and went with the missionary's wife... just the ladies, a real treat. Wish it could have lasted longer. We emerged from Luisa's little house, the stars stretching as far as the eye could see, and walked contented back to the church in the cool air, a night as black as I've ever seen.

my stellar IT abilities and my poor deprived children

I just deleted ALL our cell phone pictures from our computer. The dangers of the digital age. And of leaving Chris in charge of all our IT issues. I never said I was qualified for this. Fortunately, we take most of our pictures with the regular camera. Like this one, which I like just because.

Chasing a flock of wild turkeys in the remote Patagonian wild. Because somebody's got to do it.

Day 2: Somewhere, Patagonia

"There are no safe paths in this part of the world.
Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now,

and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go." 
-The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

After meeting up with everyone who was attending the conference, we left Chos Malal in caravan for the place where the conference actually was - 70 more kilometers up in the mountains. 20 on paved roads...

...then 50km more on gravel.

We turned off the paved road onto the gravel, kicking up a trail of dirt.

We continued across the valley...

and when we lost the caravan , we just followed the trail of dust.

  crossing rickety bridges...

(respecting the plethora of traffic signs and lights and lines painted down the middle of the road, of course - that's a joke.)

We turned at the sanitation post in downtown Cancha Huinganco...

my kind of downtown :) lol

more downtown

saw some parakeets...

 (they are very noisy and social and make all sorts of racket flying around in their little noisy social groups)

stopped to rest at the church...

then continued on down a hill towards the river...

and a into grove of poplars to a rural school.

A little place not on the map, but which the locals call Cajon de Curileuvu. That's Mapuche for something. One day I will know what.

No Internet. No cell phone signal. No TV. No land line. Remote is the perfect word. People communicate by radio if they need a doctor, the police, or the fire department. Or they get on their horse and ride.

Fortunately we did have electricity, running water, flushing toilets, and showers where we stayed. I kept thinking the entire weekend of the Christian conferences back in the States, with their comfy climate-controlled hotels, fun engaging activities, high tech light and sound and video technology, and readily available food and convenience stores to meet your every need. Ah, now that's a retreat!, I thought. This was not like that. If you didn't bring it in, you didn't have it. Even if you did bring it in, it might still be useless. It was about being with those who are doing hard work in hard places, seeking God together, worshipping, learning from His Word, and being reminded that the gospel is about sacrifice, not comfort. I was reminded of that the entire time, then we all were when we lost electricity right at dusk. The testimonies and preaching just kept going, though, even though we could barely see each other. (It did come back on a few hours later.)



The sign says: "Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow,

will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them." ~Psalm 126:6