Saturday Post -- 8/8/15

No, not our canoe, but they were just lying around for the use of whoever
needed them. See 'Simplicity', below.

I can still remember the first time like it was yesterday. And boy, did I not enjoy it.

It was the very last morning of my first stint in Trinidad 15 years ago. My roommate and I had been asked a few days earlier if we there were any final items we’d hoped to tick off our checklist before heading home. Strangely, despite having lived in the Beni for almost a year, we had not yet been fishing, something of an aberration given the quality and quantity of the rivers which criss-cross the region.

Despite being July (the peak of the so-called ‘dry season’), we woke up that morning to the heaviest of downpours, which was not to abate (so much so that the afternoon saw another better-late-than-never moment, as I paid my first visit to a local dry-cleaners’ in a last-ditch attempt to get my sodden clothes in a suitable state for travel). For reasons I cannot now remember, our Bolivian companions reckoned our best chance of success was to be had by standing waist-deep in the river at which we eventually settled. Seemingly, piranhas don’t care one jot for limbs – it’s your digits they’re really after. Which explained the impassioned shrieks of “¡No! ¡No!” when I absentmindedly sought to recover some bait I’d dropped in the water.

Wet and miserable, we made it back to Trinidad, and I doubt we snared more than ten of the blighters between us (well, it sounds better than confessing that I personally caught none!). The smaller-than-expected breakfast was enjoyable enough, but by that point, I’d have been happy to leave any future fishing expeditions to the experts.

In fact, my piranha-yanking days had only just begun. For I was to return to live in Trinidad many years later, wife in tow, only to discover that most of the people we were getting friendly with were ardent fisher-folk. Indeed, indulging in the pastime is something of an inevitability here, given the general lack of recreational activities, and the aforementioned range of local rivers; quite frankly, I’m now somewhat staggered that I somehow went the whole of that first year without a fishing trip.

Nowadays, fishing is one of those things for me like washing my golf clubs or reading a copy of The Economist on a long-haul flight: I don’t tend to experience it all that much, but when I do, I seriously wonder why I don’t do it more.

Thursday's well-chosen spot.

Well, Thursday’s Bolivian independence day taking place in early August (i.e., with things still relatively arid and, in turn, the rivers at their most accessible), there was only one way I and a bunch of friends were going to spend our day off, in which the reminders of the joys of this very Beniano of pursuits came thick and fast.

The Economics

Permits? Schmermits! The local waterways give totally unrestricted access to whoever gets there first. Hook, line and sinkers can be acquired for under a tenner (rods are an unnecessary extravagance). And the bait comes – only, ever and always – in the form of beef, as plentiful in this corner of the world as the rain is in mine. 80p got me a more-than-sufficient quarter-kilo.

The Drive

With no need to go too far to find good casting here, even your fuel costs are relatively meagre. That said, there’s no harm in going that extra distance, as we did as the sun rose on Thursday. And to do so at that particular time of day – the best for fishing – is to buy a ticket to the nature show. And as there’s so little variety in the local foliage (it’s essentially a case of identifying the various shades of green), the golden hours are particularly vital for getting a different angle on plant-life here.

Not only that, but in the relatively shady conditions of those early daylight hours, the wildlife round these parts is usually making the most of things – even by the side of the road. And so, as well as the usual range of exotic birds, the capybaras and alligators out on their morning rounds became so ubiquitous that we eventually stopped pointing them out.

The Camaraderie/Tranquillity

The shared pursuit of that day’s lunch has a knack of bringing one’s companions together. Good-natured banter thus abounds by the shoreline. That said, with each member of the party necessarily making plenty of space for their neighbour, and minds concentrated on the task ahead, occasional solitude-seekers such as myself needn’t look far for occasional bouts of alone-time. It is at such moments, again, that nature takes centre stage (well, the audio version at least).

Happily, our old friend David McColl (right) was paying a flying visit
to Trinidad, before he finally leaves Bolivia next Friday.

The Glorious Simplicity Of It All!

Swing. Hurl. Plop. Bite. Yank for one’s life. OK, it doesn’t always work out that way, but if you manage to tap into a particularly rich vein round these parts, as we did on Thursday, then the blame for any failure to pull in a haul for the ages lies squarely at the feet of the angler in question (needless to say, I finished bottom of the rankings having barely made double-figures – the horror!).

Lunch

They say that, as a race, the greater the disconnect between our work and its tangible rewards has grown, the less contented we have become. I don’t know about that, but there can be few things more satisfying than shrieking, “Honey, I’m home!”, dumping the fruit of one’s labour (dare I call it that?) on the table, and savouring the day’s big meal. (As it happens, Amanda leaves the cooking to the community’s piscatorial cooking experts – typically, the morning’s participants will sample the catch as a group – but the results remain well worth the wait!)

Alan in mid-gut.

And the piranhas themselves? Keep your hands in your pockets and you’ll be just fine.

Prayer

• After a few days of readjustment to Trinidad, things are moving again on the prospective adoption. Now that we are registered, we are free to investigate any potential leads that might come up – and have been doing so already. Pray for wisdom and guidance from the LORD.
• Keep Craig in your prayers as he continues to preach this month – tomorrow it’s 1 Kings 8:1-21.
• Amanda and I have been involved in the volunteer programme this year, and Americans Haley, Brittany and Juliana, who arrived for a two-month stint in June, are coming into their last week here. Pray for a meaningful final few days.

 Praise

• For the rest afforded by Thursday’s day off.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 30/05/15

An impromptu photoshoot up at Cristo de la Concordia. 

Last year as we visited one church after another to report on our work, I tended to dust down the same line to describe the topography of the Beni region: "The street on which this building sits has a greater incline than anything in the Beni for hundreds of miles." And I wasn't exaggerating. It's gotten to the stage now that, when we're out in the car and we approach an elevated bridge on the road, we're practically reaching for the sick bucket just in case, so accustomed have we become to the flatness around us.

But our travels around Scotland last year also confirmed that our hearts were in the Highlands, and so, when the opportunity arose to visit some friends in Cochabamba, we enthusiastically headed for the high lands.

Feeding time in the main plaza.

Cochabamba is known in Bolivia as 'the city of the eternal spring' and is widely considered to have Bolivia's best, least punishing climate. Sitting at an elevation of 2,500 metres, the air is permanently fresh and the sky (almost) permanently blue, with daytime temperatures never reaching any higher than around 25 celsius and the nights offering a pleasing coolness. It is rather like a less exacting La Paz (altitude: 3,650 metres), and unlike Bolivia's de facto capital, the hills are mostly restricted to the surrounding valley ('shop till you drop' would not be an unfair tagline for La Paz's souvenir district).

John 14:6 and 15:12 are inscribed on the Bible.

Since the mid-1990s, Cochabamba's most famous landmark is the Cristo de la Concordia statue, which towers above the city and (gospel illustration ahoy!) is pretty much unavoidable wherever you are, even confronting you as you leave the airport. There is a walkway to the top of the 265-metre hill, but given that visitors are confronted with a sign saying 'In order to avoid getting mugged, we recommend not to use the stairs', I took one look at my bulging camera case and plumped for the cable-car instead. We were rewarded for our, er, efforts, with great views over the city. The statue, by the way, is a full four metres taller than its far more famous Brazilian counterpart, though seemingly Poland have recently taken the whole Christ-statue thing to whole new levels; mind you, it only beats Bolivia's because they ingeniously gave him a three metre-high crown.

Just to reiterate my response to one of my Facebook friends, no, these
are not bullet-holes.

The city itself is perfectly acceptable, though for an area of such outstanding natural beauty, the centre does not really distinguish itself. A couple of pretty plazas are basically all you get. That aside, the sprawl of shops and markets wasn't much different from what you'll find in Trinidad (albeit on a much bigger scale). In fairness, though, Bolivia's major cities are all largely devoid of architectural fascination, with the glowing exception of Sucre (much smaller, though still the official capital), where colonial architecture is all around, and the buildings, by law, have to be painted white once a year (told you it was glowing). 

Another view of the city.

Did we care? Not as long as we had a plate of fresh sushi/chicken wings/crepes/burgers/pizza in front of us. Which we often did, and mostly do not in Trinidad, due to lack of availability/resemblance to the dictionary definition of said platters. Let's just say that by Monday morning, I was seriously considering re-sending my measurements to the kilt-hire shop for my sister's upcoming nuptials.

With the McColls.

And such dining experiences were mostly enjoyed, of course, in the company of friends old and new(ish). Of course, we spent much of that time with our hosts, David & Jennifer McColl, whom we had been determined to visit before their looming exit from Bolivia. Dave and Jenn are something of a curiosity for us, having charted a not inconsiderably similar path to our own as a couple (which wasn't exactly normal in the first place). Dave, just like me, came out to Trinidad many years ago for a gap-year. He then, just like me, returned several years later, whereupon he met Jenn, a Canadian on a summer team. They were married in Toronto in 2012 and now Jenn, a first-generation Canuck, is blessed with a top-drawer Scottish husband. Just like Amanda.

So we all had a most enjoyable time catching up with each other while comparing and contrasting family-culture-clash experiences. And speaking of mixed marriages, we spent en evening in the company of Eduardo & Rachel Rojas. Eduardo, you may remember, is my contact from Langham Bolivia; indeed, that preaching conference begins this coming Thursday (see below). We had hosted Eduardo for a brief visit to Trinidad in February and were delighted to meet him and get to know his American wife, Rachel (in one of the several restaurants Eduardo had recommended to us, naturally). 

(L-R) Paulo, Ruddy and Enoc.

Cochabamba is also now the base for several young people from our own church, who have gone there to pursue work and/or studies. At church on Sunday morning we touched base with four of them: Ruddy and Paulo (Miguel-Ángel's sons), Alan (Elías's stepson) and Enoc, and a more tight-knit bunch of mates you would struggle to find. The four are now in their early-to-mid-20s, and we were greatly encouraged to touch base with them and see how they are maturing in their faith. 

Alan accompanied us on a pleasant walk last
Saturday.

Indeed, something we will be praying for is for someone in Cochabamba to fill Dave's shoes, as his living room has become something of a home-from-home for them, not least for Sunday afternoon FIFA sessions. The quartet came round for a barbecue on Sunday evening and as we caught up, it was evident just how much they look up to Dave as an older believer. 

Perhaps I should go and take up the mantle. Or perhaps I'm just looking for any excuse to breathe that fresh mountain air again. A fine little break.

Prayer

• It was back to the grindstone on Tuesday and, in the evening, a meeting with the Langham committee, where we received confirmation that, in fact, we will be getting fed at the conference (see last week's PDF update)! There are still a few final details to iron out before Thursday, so we would appreciate your prayers for the coming days. In terms of the schedule, the bus leaves Trinidad early afternoon on Thursday, to arrive at the retreat centre later that afternoon, when the first teaching session will take place. There is teaching all the way until the final session on Sunday afternoon, though there are plenty of breaks in between as well. Please pray that the event would be of help to the participants in their work of teaching and preaching,  that positive new relationships would be formed, and that the event's impact would last beyond the weekend. 
• Amanda is once again in charge of the teaching tonight at the youth group, looking at Moses. It's her last teaching slot before our break in July; pray that she might finish well!
• Dr. López, the Foundation's ENT surgeon, saw his last patient yesterday after two years of service here. His prospective replacement is attending to a little necessary housekeeping before he can begin work with us. Pray that this might go smoothly.

Praise

• For a refreshing, energising, encouraging long weekend in Cochabamba. 

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 23/06/12

Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!    

Romans 11:33

Thursday being Aymara New Year and all (the winter solstice is a holiday which nobody in this part of Bolivia could care less for -- but, hey, 'tis a holiday), I headed out with some friends for a spot of fishing. A meagre three bite-sized piranhas constituted my catch, but I had slightly better luck with the camera.

This discerning capyvara only frequents the drinking
establishments where there are birds to be found.

For this part of Bolivia, that's a very green tree.

Ranchers at work. 

A tiddler and a small fish.

As the Incas celebrate their New Year, I've had occasion of late to chew over 2012's half-term report. As regular readers will know, the year thus far has had its fair share of challenges. The seemingly interminable issues regarding our house and sundry land complications, and the emotional stress of family planning, have re-surfaced time and again. Rare has been the week in which we did not have some kind of psychological break from either of these matters.

Thankfully, in the face of such challenges, our marriage has held up remarkably and is stronger for the experiences. And our resolve to not get bitter about all of it has largely stood fast. We count our blessings and rejoice.

Some days, however, are easier than others, and we are oftentimes led to wonder where this is all going, what's the bigger picture. Does it even exist? Mercifully, God has used a ministry opportunity to address some of these issues in a mighty way.

Over the past few weeks, with the usual participants otherwise occupied, I've stepped in to chair the Bible studies on Thursday evenings at church. After two years (!) we have finally reached the end of our study in Genesis and I was instructed to simply move on into Exodus, where, in the early chapters at least, the Genesis narrative simply continues.

And as I've re-considered these passages, I have been reminded that God is indeed at work -- and emphatically so. These verses can be simply yet conclusively summed up in three words: God is faithful. Consider the following:

• On the face of it, Joseph's brothers sold him to Egypt. In fact, God sent him there to save Egypt and, as it turned out, Israel too.
• The language used in Exodus 1 to describe the affliction of the Israelites is precisely that used by God when revealing his plan for Israel to Abraham centuries earlier, in Genesis 15:13. Thus, the eagle-eyed Hebrew reader immediately recognises that in the midst of man's sordid schemes, God remains very much in the driving seat.
• While the Pharaoh 'who knew not Joseph' of the early chapters of Exodus obsessed over wiping out Israel's male population, God in fact used 'the weaker sex' to completely undermine a king. (am I alone in detecting a prominent strain of gallows humour in Exodus 1?)
• And while we're on the subject, Pharaoh couldn't even keep his own daughter under control, adopting Hebrew boys and what-not. 
• Finally, Moses' complaints at the burning bush that he is not cut out for leadership are seriously undermined not only by his lack of faith but in his life experiences. As Stephen reminds the Council in Acts 7:22, Moses, in his youth, was primed for officialdom. And where did this take place? At the very heart of Egyptian power. Egypt was unwittingly footing the bill for surely the most humiliating moment in its history.

A common thread uniting all of these processes is that the initial, faltering steps were taken many, many years before the true extent of the situation was made visible. And from this I draw great strength. We don't know what will take place tomorrow, let alone next week, and infinitely moreso in this culture than in our Western upbringings. But more than we can ask or imagine is currently being, and has already been, accomplished.

Prayer

• Our fifth anniversary is the 7th of July and, to celebrate, we've decided to treat ourselves to a long weekend at a favourite hotel in Santa Cruz. However, we're going a week in advance so that we can cross paths with Malcolm & Liz McGregor. Old friends of the Murdoch half of my family, Malcolm is SIM's International Director and we're excited about meeting them next weekend. We are planning to leave on Thursday evening and return to Trinidad on Wednesday morning, however, there have been a slew of road blockades over the past week. Please pray that we will be able to travel.
• While in Santa Cruz, we'll also be paying a visit to the clinic and meeting Emilixy (the girl from our church who was recently, and very suddenly, forced to move to Santa Cruz due to her father's incarceration). Pray for these weightier matters.

Praise

• Last Sunday's afternoon of service with the youth group was a great success, with the church gutted out and, God-willing, the youth leaving the big clean-up with a better idea of what it means to serve the church. Please pray that a seed might have been planted in their hearts.
• For the Lord's reminders this week, through his Word, that he has an unfathomably great plan for us.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

P.S. No post next weekend but our newsletter should be on its way soon. Let us know your email address if you'd like a copy.

Nature Calling (2)

Nature Calling (1)

Back in July, FT staged a 5-Day Club in the village of San Pedro, some 60km north of Trinidad. Since then, we've been back twice for one-off afternoon visits. However, one thing that cannot escape your notice as you drive the road north is the variety of wildlife on show, particularly the bird life. A shame, then, that we've always been in such a hurry to get to San Pedro and back.

So, this morning, my good friend Kenny Holt and I took a few hours off and set off bright and early, expected only to be home in time for lunch. Kenny very graciously lent me his zoom lens and here are some of the day's spoils.