A Couple Comparisons

Our group champa, hand built. That’s Anne with a friend, making breakfast. Skirts were worn for cultural sensitivity. That’s me with machete off to the right. (Click photos for larger view.)

Times are tough. But in many ways, they’re easy. I think of that some mornings, like today, rainy and gray, with hopes for any change somewhere beyond the clouds. But first, I go stoke the fire, which for me, means pushing the preset button on the thermostat in the hall. The house begins to warm. And I make the coffee, which means pushing another button. Oh, somewhere in there’s the bathroom. Easy. Flush.

Some mornings like this I remember our days in Jungle Camp. That was a months-long training course we did in Chiapas (southern Mexico) back in the 70s not long after joining Wycliffe Bible Translators.

There were several levels to it, each phase becoming more primitive. One was called “Advanced Base” (pictured above) where, teaming up with a number of others, we built our own camp, pretty much from scratch. Even the poles were cut from the ever-lush rain forest surrounding. We built our own mud oven in which we cooked all our meals. We built the tables, the benches, the shelves, our beds . . . all from poles lashed with twine . . . the only tool, a machete. The plastic for the roof and a few other items were carried in, not much else. Oh, and for a bathroom? Just a camp shovel.

We lived this way for about a month, rain and shine. And sometimes the rain came in buckets, testing that roof.

There was more, including another phase where we were individually abandoned in the wilderness for some days and nights with nothing but a canteen, a few matches, a bit of plastic, and the ever-handy machete (to make a bed of sticks). It was great!

But that’s not what I was going to talk about here. Rather it was the experience when we as a family spent the night as guests of an Indian family living in the area. Our family then was Anne and me with little Allison, age 3, and baby Cambria, just 3 months. It was to sensitize us to how people in these parts live.

That’s little Allison, with me and a couple of village kids, shucking corn. The chickens and the turkey, plus any underfed dogs, were part of the environment everywhere. (Plus roosters, which don’t call at dawn, rather all night long!)

They gave us their best. Though this was an extended family of a dozen or two (I could never tell how many) there seemed to be just one bed, that in one of the huts. They gave it to us, apparently sleeping elsewhere. It was of wood planks, no mattress. At least it was off the ground. The fleas apparently didn’t like the dirt floor either and spent the night with us. It was one room, no light, no chair, a plank door that wouldn’t altogether close, and animal sounds just outside all hours. Suffice to say, that turned out to be one of our most memorable nights, and without sleep, we remember it all.

When dawn came there was the fire to build out in the pit. Then, coffee to make . . . very strong (though coffee trees abound here, these people don’t get the good stuff). Breakfast was refried beans, some rice, a few tortillas. There was little conversation, actually none, Spanish not being the first language for either us or them.

For us, it was a brief experience; for them, every day life. But it was good for us. For a long time after, back in “civilization,” I’d come into a room, flick on a switch at the wall and say, “Wow, lights!”

And that’s how it is for us. Whatever may be difficult in these days, there’s a whole lot that’s easy.

It’s a good reminder for me.

Allison with her new sister, just two months old when we entered Jungle Camp training. She’d been born in Guatemala City.

Here’s our personal camp, with Allison dressed for the heat, and baby Cambria napping. We all slept on that wide bed, constructed of poles, twine and machete, by me. Note the mosquito net and the plastic roof (which gave out one night in a downpour and drenched us and all our bedding). It’s all more to be thankful for, walls, floors, and a roof that doesn’t leak in the rain.