We were up at 6 AM, too early for a Saturday morning. We were going with Sandy and Trish Toomer to Damointaro, where we would attend the dedication of a new Bible Institute. After a quick bite to eat, and covering ourselves with insect repellent, we were over at the MAF hanger by 7 AM. When we got there, we found out the weather at Damointaro wasn't good. Sandy had preflighted the plane, so we'd need to wait a while for the next weather check at 8 AM. I pulled out the video camera and took some video of the hanger, the MAF base, and the kids. I haven't used the video camera since we arrived here. In hindsight, I wish I wouldn't have taken so much video in Shell, because by the afternoon I ran out of battery.
After receiving a report of good weather at our destination, we left the ground at about 8:20 AM, with Dustin in the right front seat. Sandy's wife Trish, and Florence, a nurse with HCJB were with us. I flew in the back seat, with Florence beside me. Taylor sat on my lap with a seat belt extension. Ellyn and Trish sat in the middle seats. I don't think I've sat in the back seat of a 206 since I was about ten years old!Damointaro is deep in the rain forest, and we flew sixty miles through scattered clouds to reach the jungle village. After our thirty minute flight, Sandy banked the plane and flew once around the strip before beginning his final approach. The grass covered strip is only 400 meters, and when wet, is very slippery. He was thankful to see the strip was dry, with a slight headwind to slow us down on landing.
As the plane came to rest, we were surrounded by Waorani. I climbed out of the back seat and started my video camera. As soon as I did, one of the elder Waorani men came over and grabbed my hand, pulling the camera to his eye. It
was obvious he was happy to see us, as he tried repeating every word I said to him, even though they were in English. As we walked off the strip and into the village, we were greeted by Waorani women, singing and putting 'paint' on our faces. They didn't put any on Sandy, me, or Tay, because Taylor wouldn't let them. Ellyn found one of the discarded plants and added some to Taylor's face anyway.The service had already begun by the time we arrived. As we walked down the path, covered in whitewashed rocks, to the new Damointaro Bible Institute, we passed under a sign which read, "Instituto Biblico Waorani." Renaldo Bernal along with his wife, Blanca, and their three-year-old son, Michael, work with the Waorani (wow-RAH-nee) Indians. Renaldo is a native of Colombia, and has been a missionary to the Waorani for the past seven years.
The Waorani people invited Renaldo to come build the first Waorani Bible Institute. The purpose of the Institute is to prepare the Waorani with a knowledge of God's Word taught in their own language. (The Waorani have the Bible in their own language. It was translated by Wycliffe Bible Translator missionaries.) They will then be better equipped to reach their own people for Christ.
We would have liked to sneak in quietly and sit in the back, but they had saved a bench for us right in the middle. Men sat on the left, women on the right. The building was a two story building, made simply and with rough sawn logs. We sat
on low benches, and were able to look out over the low walls to the jungle which surrounded the village. Several men preached. At one point Tay asked, "What's he saying?" A missionary who works with Renaldo, Lloyd Rogers, was preaching in spanish, while one of the young Waorani students from the Bible Institute translated into Waorani. As far as Taylor was concerned, he couldn't understand what either man was saying, and didn't have clue why both of them were taking turns speaking.Finally, after about three speakers, and many songs, I took boys out. Ellyn stayed and took more pictures. Dustin and Taylor had sat for about forty-five minutes, and the service wasn't close to being over. We walked back to the plane for a drink and crackers. The boys sat on the tires and whittled sticks. Dustin said he didn't feel good. We walked back into the village. Some kids were playing a circle tag game, so Taylor and I joined in. The butterflies which swarmed around were beautiful, and the boys tried unsuccessfully to catch some. Watching them run around chasing butterflies reminded me of when I was small. Daniel and I used to chase pigs around the villages when we went to visit translator friends. This Ecuadorian village seems cleaner than a PNG village, but still very primitive. There was a small river running next to the village, and they boys took off their shirts, shoes, and socks to go for a swim.
At the end of the service everyone came outside to hold hands around the two buildings and pray. We then took pictures, one of them was of our family, all wearing a feather head dress. We waited a while for food, then ate with the people in the common eating room. The main dish was a soup with wild boar meat, yucca, and platano. Yucca is a starchy tuber much like a potato, and platano is a banana. Tay really liked the food, which was amazing to Ellyn and me. He is such a picky eater at home. Dustin enjoyed the food too. Sandy said the banana juice was
good, but there was no way I would try that. I don't like bananas very much, and the thought of banana juice was too much!After lunch Sandy went to look at the village radio, which had a bad connection on the transmitter switch. The radio is used to contact the MAF pilots when help is needed, or to give weather reports. I thought we'd be leaving by about 1 PM, but the rain came blowing in, and poured for thirty minutes. We waited in the school building for the rain to pass. The rain pounding on the tin roof of the school was loud, and reminded Ellyn and me of our houses at Ukarumpa.
Finally it was clear enough to go. Sandy took Florence, Tay, Dustin, and me to Toñempare first, a five minute flight from Damointaro. He then went back for Ellyn and Trish. Taylor flew in front seat on trip over, and had a blast 'flying' the plane. The reason for the shuttle was that the strip at Damointaro is too short to get us all out together. While waiting in Toñempare, I walked with Florence and boys to see Rachel Saint's grave and memorial plaque for the five missionaries murdered by the Waorani (Auca) at Palm Beach. When we flew out we flew over the Curaray and Palm Beach.
Taylor said his favorite part was flying. Before the short flight where he sat in the front seat, he had said it was the soup. Dustin's favorite part was the low, high speed pass over Toñempare on our way
home. Sandy buzzed the strip, then pulled the plane up hard.I felt incredibly privileged to go as family to the dedication, and to be with the Waorani. What a neat day! I think I was more touched by the experience my boys had than I was about the fact we got to see where Palm Beach was, or be with the "auca" people. The thought did cross my mind more than once that here we are in church, with sons and daughters of people who fifty years ago had never heard of Jesus, and would have speared me if I tried to go to their village!
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