It went something like this..."Guys ( my group of 18) we need to go to Imde to show the Jesus film, even if we can't spend the night there we should at least show up with the film." Everyone was thrilled with the idea and I was prepping them in how to be careful on the trail, when they should be back and what to do if..scenarios. It was then I realized that I needed to go with them because the group staying back was much more secure then the group leaving. If I had known before we went what the trail was like....we would not have gone. The first hour of the trek we went straight down. It was slippery and wet and if the nationals had not been there to hold us up we would have invented the first slippery slide made of rocks, mud and tangled underbursh. It took us an hour to manouver our way down to the river and then we had to start climbing up. Imde is right across from Lumdankna...the village we were camped in, right across the valley. We could see the smoke from their huts...so close but so very far away. I began to mutter under my breath at each turn of the path..."where is that stupid village". Every turn we were told it was just around the next...maybe they don't like telling the truth or maybe they think we are so worthless as hikers that they need to give us continual hope to keep us walking. We finally made the last turn and began to show the Jesus film...all the while I am thinking of alternatives to the same way back. I could not imagine climbing back up what we had so successfully slid down. It was not to be..there were no other viable alternatives and we had to go back the same way we came.
Sorry to tell you all this but I had reached my limit on the way back down. My legs were sore, my arms were sore...and I had not even started to go up from the going down. I started to cry. I was so tired and so overwhelmed with all that had transpired to that point that for the sheer weight of the stress of it all, my soul needed to weep its relief. Unbeknownst to me...the national people do not cry at all for anything. In fact...they will beat their children when they are crying until they stop so when they saw me begin to cry it got very quiet and very serious right away. One of the men ran up to one of my studetnts to let her know in Indonesian that the guru(teacher, me) was sick and weak and we needed to stop. They were far ahead of me and stopped to wait and see what was to be done...I came alongside and said as simply as I could. "I am exhausted..I am sore..I can't imagine climbing back up and the tears are just an expression of stress. Nothing to be concerned about...just my body relieving its stress in a natural way". The students understood...the nationals on the other hand put two strong men on either side of me and literally pulled me up the slipery slope. We made it...I made it and so had Scott. He had hiked to our village with a fever but wanted to be with us the last day. Imde had taken it out of me...but being with group 57 put it all back in.
1 comment:
Heidi - This time your description of your experience was almost too much - scary. As I was reading it (and do keep on being graphic and detailed!!), I found myself hoping that God had put it on someone's heart to pray for you. I hope if I was the one that was being called on, that I was obedient.
By the way, what is the time difference between Sentani and S'toon - I can't seem to figure it out.
Looking forward to the next item on your OE event. - LEW
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