Finally as afternoon approaches Eleven, Mirni and I are dropped deep in the jungle. Hours up the side of steep hills, along narrower roads. There are cocoa trees along the hillside.
Butterflies everywhere! Seriously, there are like 30 species that I see on campus everyday. A black on with white and iridescent blue spots just flew by me.
At the first river, we get out of the car, roll up our pants and cross. A man is crossing down river from me and catches my flip flop which is dislodged in the current. Who is this person? At the other side on top of the hill there are four motorcycles waiting for us. I say- this isn’t safe. I can walk. It’s just rained and my bag is too big to balance on the back of a motorcycle. Sister Eleven says they’ll be safe, it’s very far. I am not convinced but get on the back of a one. We struggle up a hill and nearly tip onto the wet and badly eroded patch which has many very sharp looking rocks on it. I hop off and just as I get off I watch in slow motion as Sister Eleven’s motorcycle zips by and slips. She and her driver go down, she is trapped under the bike. She doesn’t call out but makes this horrible ‘Ouch!’ face as her hip is smashed on rocks. I don’t really know how I got over there, but a second later I am holding her bags asking over and over ‘Are you okay??!’ she lies and says she’s fine. Her ankle is bleeding, her pants and bag are covered in mud. So we walk.
Later on the walk Sister Serepina drives by on a motorcycle. Stops to ask what happened. She goes on with out us. In the dense jungle, I imagine myself backpacking. A nature exploring writing a piece on the disappearing tropical jungle. Everything is GREEN!!!! I forget there are people following me and suddenly I see newness. Around me bugs, birds, and animals call out. Leaves are moving down trunks. Decay is so fast I can almost see it as it happens. A light rain mists my face. Up hills and down, there are coffee, banana, cocoa, and palm everywhere. The canopy is so thick, my eyes are shocked when it opens up at a river. On my right, maybe twenty feet away a seven foot long three inch thick boa crosses. I freeze in anticipation (I am oddly not afraid, just in awe) I watch it as the whole thing starting with it’s head rises out of the water and onto the bank. So graceful, it is unbelievably powerful. When it has disappeared I slowly come out of my trance, as if coming out of sleep. I look back and the others are making their way down the hill. I shout that I’ve just seen a snake. Allan responds “I like snakes.” You would.
At the top of another hill Sister Serepina is waiting for us at a house. Next door six men are under a large truck, fixing it. Across the path at a house/store younger men and older me sit watching me struggle with a way too large bag. We are greeted at the house by a man who invites us to sit on his porch. We have some water. I go back down to the second to the river.
The river is the color and consistency of thick hot chocolate that has cooled. It is rushing fast. A tree truck at least as big as a grown man rushes by. Sister Eleven says the people on the other side are not going to cross for at least another hour. Everyone expects the river to lower because the torrential downpour upstream seems to have stopped. I look a the hills above us and see it is still raining there. We wait an hour and a half at the house. I read Pride and Prejudice aware of how much of an imperial jerk I must look. This fat, well dressed American reading instead of talking with the locals. But I am kinda pissed that I have to cross a rushing river. Also, it’s an exciting adventure. Now THIS is being a missionary, crossing rivers, facing dangerous animals, and meeting new people. Taking all kinds of transportation to bring the good news. I would love it even if it weren’t for the missionary part. I just love adventure.
At six-thirty I convince Eleven that we ought to cross because it’s getting dark and I’ve just seen an old lady drag a small child across. Though the depth is the same as ever, the current is slower. The water comes up to me waist and nearly to the others chest. She is dubious. She says we can wait longer and the people will help us with lanterns. I press her. Finally, she agrees to cross. We send out bags across on the back of a young man. I am ashamed I cannot carry my own bag. WHY did I pack so much? The current is very fast and very strong. How did that women and child not get carried away? A man holds my arm as I struggle to cross. It takes about half an hour to get me across. Thank God the water is warm. Everyone gets across safely but Sister Eleven’s face says she is not amused. I start to laugh when we all get to the bank. Marni joins me and the men, too. We stand there laughing in the dusk, soaking wet.
