GOD IN THE RAINFOREST

1955

An Indian runner emerged from the setting sun along the path into Sunset Village.  He came to a panting halt directly in front of me and gave me an envelope.  It had my name on it,  in my wife’s handwriting.  At least she is fine, I thought; well enough to write a letter.

“When did my wife give you this letter?”  I anxiously asked him.

“Ariki, she did not give it to me.”  He replied, using my Indian name.  “Another runner gave it to me to take to you just two days ago.”

“Did the other runner say anything about my family?”  I enquired of him.

“No, he didn’t tell me anything except that your wife told him to get the letter to you as fast as possible.  I paddled as fast as I could and when I took to the trail I ran all the way.”

“Thank you very much.  Now I’ll see what it says.”

Nervously, I opened the green and yellow envelope. 

1952

We set sail to Brazil on the MV TRIBESMAN, a submarine chaser which had been converted to a passenger ship.  It was owned by New Tribes Mission and was anchored  in Mobile, Alabama.  When we arrived we were informed the sailing date had been postponed, so we boarded and waited on the boat. 

Days went by.  Then weeks turned into a month and we became considerably anxious because the due date of the birth of our second child was fast approaching. 

During this time our entry visas to Brazil had expired and we had to make new applications.  The departure date was fast approaching and our visas had not arrived.

God, however, worked and the new visas arrived just in time to begin the journey across the Caribbean Sea into the Atlantic Ocean.

As we were nearing South America, the captain of the ship announced that at a certain hour we would cross the equator.  In the evening when the first mate read the sextant he discovered he had made an error the evening before.  We were still north of the equator!  That meant we would have the thrill of crossing the equator twice!  Not only that, the first-mate’s error placed us farther away from land than we really were, so we sailed over some shallow water where the mighty Amazon has been depositing silt for millenniums.  The water was shallow and the tide was going down, so the captain ordered the anchor to be dropped.  As a result the boat had an unusual rocking motion all night long.

In the morning new sextant readings were made, and soon we were on our way to the mouth of the Amazon.  This was no small river!  It is over 90 miles wide at the mouth with a 4,000 mile long body to give it enough volume to spew between 3 and 7 million cubic feet of water per second.  This water is drained from nearly half of the South American continent as a result of an annual rainfall of over one hundred inches.  The ocean tide reaches over four hundred miles inland.

There were miles and miles of beaches on the coast.  Farther into the mouth we saw small settlements with sailboats lining the sea-side ports.  Then around another bend we saw a large two-story colonial building right in the center of a fair-sized town near the water’s edge.  The name of the town was Icoaraci.  Within a few days we moved into that same two storied mansion for the duration of the Portuguese language course.

1956

(Susanne Plett, had come to visit us at our station when she became very sick.)

“What do you think, Joaquim?  Shall we take Susanne to the mouth of the Isana River to go for medical help?”  “I don’t know what to think, Ariki, she is very sick,”  he replied.  Then he added, “If you think you should take her then I will help you.”  That settled it. 

Traveling around bend after bend I wondered if we would be able to pass the last rapids before dark.  The sun was quite low when Elizabeth called me to come quickly.

“Henry,”  she said tearfully.  “Susanne is going!”  I quickly put my fingers to her wrist and found her pulse was fading away.  And then she was gone!

Since it was my bo