In the trunk with chickens
When we woke up Sabbath morning Jenni had already divided us into small groups to attend the various small churches in the Tarapoto area. I was assigned to go to Pachacutec with Jackson and Hermano Domingo, one of our Peruvian Bible workers.
(Domingo's love for Jesus is contagious. He just joined our team this past week, and when I introduced myself to him on the first day of clinic he said, "My little sister, I don't know your name, or the names of the other missionaries, but already you have been in my prayers.")
The road to Pachacutec is very steep and rocky, and the moto drivers we waved down refused to take us. We finally took a moto to another part of town where we climbed into a dusty taxi which was a little more mountain worthy. Jackson sat in the front with Peruvian lady. Domingo squished in the backseat with three other women and two kids. And I got in the trunk, with another small boy. These taxis are the station wagon type; although riding in the trunk isn't exactly comfortable, at least you can see out.
After the trunk door had been closed one of the ladies tossed a few live chickens in the back with us, all squawking and flapping their wings. I coughed and laughed. The poor birds couldn't move much because their feet were tied together, but they could still flap a great deal.
We arrived at the church about twenty minutes later. I tumbled out of the trunk and made a failed attempt to shake the dust out of my skirt and hair.
The church was made of mud bricks, with a powdery dirt floor and a rippled tin roof. As we entered the front door, church members jumped up from their seats to greet us and kiss our cheeks in welcome. I felt at home immediately.
(Domingo's love for Jesus is contagious. He just joined our team this past week, and when I introduced myself to him on the first day of clinic he said, "My little sister, I don't know your name, or the names of the other missionaries, but already you have been in my prayers.")
The road to Pachacutec is very steep and rocky, and the moto drivers we waved down refused to take us. We finally took a moto to another part of town where we climbed into a dusty taxi which was a little more mountain worthy. Jackson sat in the front with Peruvian lady. Domingo squished in the backseat with three other women and two kids. And I got in the trunk, with another small boy. These taxis are the station wagon type; although riding in the trunk isn't exactly comfortable, at least you can see out.
After the trunk door had been closed one of the ladies tossed a few live chickens in the back with us, all squawking and flapping their wings. I coughed and laughed. The poor birds couldn't move much because their feet were tied together, but they could still flap a great deal.
We arrived at the church about twenty minutes later. I tumbled out of the trunk and made a failed attempt to shake the dust out of my skirt and hair.
The church was made of mud bricks, with a powdery dirt floor and a rippled tin roof. As we entered the front door, church members jumped up from their seats to greet us and kiss our cheeks in welcome. I felt at home immediately.
posted by Ansley at 6:15 PM
3 Comments:
How I would have loved to ride with you and the chickens. My most recent happy ride was to the airport in Harare in the back of the truck sitting on the luggage with all the orphans.
I wish I could have seen you get out of that trunk...
I just LOVE the title of this post!!!
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