Don’t Meddle with the Kettle
The following is a read aloud story for August 2004. This is one in a series of stories especially for Awana Clubs, homeschoolers, Sunday school classes, DVBS, mission conferences, or just reading them for fun. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others. Use them. God bless! The Culina Madirra people, one of many great Amazon Rain Forest indigenous tribal nations, have often had to deal with tragedy and death. This is a story based on an actual little Indian girl who lost her life because she “meddled with the kettle”. But, in our story the little girl survives and we wish we could write “good endings” to all of the terrible accidents that happen deep in the forest where our world never sees.
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
Missionary/ culture observer among the Culina Madirra for many years
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, FL
The cows were laying all around the village center. They were a noisy lot and yet the People had grown used to their nightly visits and their bad odors and manners. A few years ago no one worried about cows sleeping in your yard, but when the Madirra were told by river traders that they no longer would buy their wild pig and alligator skins the People had to find a way to get money for salt, fishhooks, ammunition for their guns and other necessities. Cows and pigs were introduced to them as something they could grow and sell. But, oh what a mess they made in the village!!
“Sobida! (Sow-bee-DAH) Wake up! Wake up! The sun is rising and the sky is getting clear and you must chase the cows out of the village! It’s your turn this morning…remember? Go! Wake up!” her mother shouted from the hammock just above where Sobida lay sleeping on the shelter floor. Then when she didn’t respond…a hand hit her hard and brought her wide awake. “Let me sleep, Ami (Ah-ME mother)! Just let me sleep a little longer!” “SOBIDA! NOW! It is your turn to chase them off and clean up their mess! Do it or I will put a smoldering stick from the fire in your bed!”
A little wisp of a girl with long black uncombed hair and a dress that had not been washed in many weeks and had since turned grey. This was the dwarfed figure walking among the cattle with a stick from the fire and shouting, Hooway! Hooway! as the cows got to their feet and began to lazily move off towards the forest. They had very little pasture, as the ones who brought the people the cows had not mentioned that they need fields and pastures. The cattle roamed at will eating wherever they could. Hooway! Hooway! One enormous bull looked at the little apparition with the smoking stick and gave some thoughts of challenging her before he turned and followed the cows out away from the awakening village.
And so began Sobida’s day. Other mothers from other shelters sent their children out to help clean the village center from the assortment of smelly deposits that the cows had left. And soon the whole village was alive and the cooking fires were blazing and good smells were coming from the pots and kettles hanging black and hot over the flames.
Sobida yawned and began the climb up the five rung ladder to get in her shelter. She was just a bit too small for that last step and her hand went out as always to find something to get a hold of and pull herself up. There was always a kettle of water from the spring there, so she reached up and grabbed it as her support. “Sobida!” her big sister shouted from the cooking fire, “Don’t pull yourself up by grabbing the water kettle!! We have told you so many times, Sobida, that it might be a hot kettle and you would pull it down on you!’ Sobida had been scolded and warned many times about this habit she had. But, it was always just cold water when she put her fingers in it to get a grip and pull herself up. “OH, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” she retorted with a loudness that even half startled her. “Just leave me alone! I won’t put my hand in a hot kettle! What do you think I am.. a dumb toucan bird?!” “I only wish,” her sister answered, “at least the toucan has a long beak and keeps it shut!”
Habits are hard to overcome. Sometimes we think our habits don’t hurt anyone so why worry about them? Sobida was not used to pondering any thing that complex, but she was growing weary of her family constantly warning her to be careful and not to grab any kettle without thinking.
She was carrying her baby brother on her hip when she heard a great fuss coming from the shelter of her aunt. A new baby had been born!! Sliding the little brother off her hip and forcing him on another girl, she raced to her aunt’s house and shouted, “Is it a boy or a girl? Is it a boy or a girl?” and up the ladder she went. Her hand went out automatically to grab the water kettle, but this time it was a kettle of boiling hot fish and potatoes in fish broth!! In her excitement she had forgotten the danger and also had forgotten that she was going up a different ladder and into a different shelter. AAIIEEEE! The kettle slopped over and scalding hot fish broth splashed down her chest and stomach. Poor Sobida! She tumbled down the ladder in agony and rolled on the ground crying bitterly at the terrible hurt. “Sobida! I warned you! Your ears are stopped up! See, now you have burned yourself!! Why don’t you listen and be careful of what you grab??” the big sister kept scolding as she ran to her side and lifted Sobida up. Others came running. People were shouting on all sides, but Sobida just knew that she was burning up with a terrible pain down her front. She was carried to the medicine house and laid on a bed. Soon they were putting cold strips of cloth on her chest and stomach. And some soothing medicine. She cried and cried, but she also promised herself that never again would she thoughtlessly grab at a kettle to pull herself up the ladder!! Sobida had finally learned to not meddle with the kettle!!
Do you have a “bad habit”? Is there something that you continually do without thinking that will someday get you in trouble? Try to think of what bad habits you have. Can you think of any? Lying can become a really bad habit. Sassing your mother. Arguing with your brothers and sisters. Hitting your playmates when you get frustrated and angry with them. Stealing little things and toys that belong to someone else. When kids get bigger they get in a bad habit of smoking cigarets…just to be cool!! Bad habits are like hot kettles…and you will get burned if you don’t learn to not meddle with the kettle!!
Don’t Wake the Snake
The following is a read aloud story for April 2004. This is one in a series of stories especially for Awana Clubs, homeschoolers, Sunday school classes, DVBS, mission conferences, or just reading them for fun. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others. Use them. God bless! This month I tell the story of two Culina girls and their adventures in the great Tropical Rain Forest of the Amazon River of Brasil. If curiosity killed the cat, it almost scared these two girls witless.
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
Missionary/ culture observer among the Culina Madirra for many years
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, FL
Rarro (Raw-HOE) closed her black eyes and smelled the awesome odor of the fat rat-like creature she was roasting on her little mound of red hot coals. She and Doro (Doe-ROW) had been walking through the large field just hours after the men had set fire to it. Like other children they were scouting to see what animals had not escaped the holocaust and were scorched to death in the fire. Lizards, mice, and here and there a fat rat. Whenever someone found a smoldering piece of meat they would shout it out and all the others would search more intensely for their prize. It was sort of a Culina Easter egg hunt. Rarro’s rat had not cooked enough in the burning, so she got some coals together and was finishing barbecuing the succulent treat. Doro still looked for her find. “OCCA!” she shouted loudly! “This is MINE!” and she held up a hot little turtle for all to see!
The smoke was slowly dissipating and the field had burned well. With rat juice staining their chins the girls raced back in the forest to their trail. They laughed and teased and the whole world seemed to be a beautiful song. Life did not get better than this.
The trail went along the bank of the river for some miles and would eventually break off to a larger more well-used path that led to their shelters in the village. They skipped, they jumped, they stopped to swing on the everpresent vines and now and then they took off their dirty dresses and plunged in the cool stream and swam around like two little naked mermaids and then came back to the trail giggling and chasing each other. Suddenly Doro stopped! “Rarro, do you hear that noise? What is it?”
“Perhaps it is an old cow fish calling her calf!” Rarro teased.
There it was again! ZZZZZZZ.
The girls looked around and saw nothing. ZZZZZZ. What? It was coming from the ground just a few feet in front of them. They cautiously stepped forward all alert. ZZZZZZ. It was coming from right under them! The noise was muffled at times, but then it got louder and trailed off. Where was it coming from? Doro looked out in the river and saw nothing, but she did take note that there was a cave going back under the river bank and right under their trail. Something was in that cave. Sleeping! Something was snoring loudly!
ZZZZZZ. “Doro, DON’T WAKE THE SNAKE!!” Rarro shouted nervously trying to reason with her friend. ZZZZZZ. A giant sucuriju water snake was in the hole under the trail sleeping! That was it! ZZZZZZ. The girls started to run away, but then curiosity got the best of them. They tried to lay on their stomachs and peer under the bank, but the hole was too deep and dark to see anything. “Rarro, let’s dig down and poke it on the head!”
“I don’t think that is a good idea at all. He will get very mad!” Rarro reasoned.
“Oh, come on, let’s see if we can find him. He won’t awaken, he is sleeping too soundly!”
The girls found some pointed sticks and got to work digging in the sand on the trail and their hole got deeper and deeper. And then…GISH…the stick went right through into the hole. ZZZZZZZ. The snoring was louder now. They widened their hole and sure enough they could see a greyish green bulk, but they did not know where the snoring head was located. “Doro, let’s go!”, Rarro pleaded, “Don’t wake the snake!”
Doro lifted her stick and plunged it down with all the force she could muster and she felt it hit the snake’s body penetrating it’s flesh forcefully. Then all of creation began to roar and roll and go on a rampage! The girls stood terrified as the giant water snake, perhaps 25 feet in length, gave an ear splitting cry of war! It uncoiled from the hole and hit the water causing the entire river to suddenly boil with rage. The girls finally got their legs to function and were preparing to run for their lives! WHOSH…an ugly head came rushing up out of the river and they were looking in the two small evil eyes of death itself! Rarro nearly passed out with fright and Doro was screaming! The girls seemed to have been jet propelled as they raced down the trail towards the village screaming and crying. Had they glanced back they would have seen the gigantum serpant easily slither up on the trail and begin to whip after them. But the snake had been wounded by the stick and it stopped it’s pursuit to explore the source of it’s pain…and with a tumultuous splash it dove back in the river forgetting the girls entirely.
Has curiosity ever gotten you in trouble? Have you ever done something very foolish and dangerous? Have you ever awakened a snake and regretted it? Those snakes can be the bad things that you watch on television. Or, taking a peek at those magazines in the store that your parents have expressly forbidden you to ever open! Curiosity. It nearly cost the lives of Rarro and Doro, it has killed children as well as cats. Jesus has told us to walk circumspectly. That is a big word meaning to walk CAREFULLY, CAUTIOUSLY, and WISELY. Don’t mess with sin! Don’t dabble with what you know is very, very wrong. Don’t experiment with things older kids give you to taste, or try, or smoke, or do. It’s a giant snake that’ll get you! Walk circumspectly with Jesus all the time!
Don’t Spill the Blood
The following is a read aloud story for April 2005. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about children in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who have children and would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God! The Asheninca people, one of the many great Amazon Rain Forest tribes, have lived for centuries in a world of superstition and fear. The following months of stories, as I catch up, will be based around the actual observations I made while living in Ridge Village, on the Breu River, with the Asheninca people. Mo-SEE-ro, is an actual 10-year-old girl whom I watched and she has become the main character in this series of stories.
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
Black eyes searched the forest and looked for fruit. Mosiro brushed back her black hair and scratched automatically at the bites and itches she felt on her scalp. She had never known a time that she hadn’t had lice in her hair and like all of her people it had just become a way of life to endure the little bites. There were, of course, those times when someone would have her sit just so they could search her hair for the lice and their eggs and then catch one and crack its back in their teeth. She hadn’t anyone right now to “crack lice”, so she just scratched and went on looking for fruit.
“Eenspockie! Eenspockie!” someone called from another part of the forest and everyone crashed through the brush to get there. EenSPAqui is a wonderful fruit that hangs down from trees in long pods and quite often the pods are so fat that they burst. Inside are seeds encased in a sweet white cottony fruit…in fact some call Eenspaqui “God’s cotton candy”. The delicious white fruit seemed to melt in Mosiro’s mouth and it was so good. She forgot her head lice for a few enjoyable minutes!
Back the happy wanderers went to their village on the crest of a ridge. They had made leaf baskets to carry the eenspaqui back home. As they approached the village they could hear old Ahoni (Ah-HOE-knee) shouting angrily! Oh dear, what had happened? Others were also shouting and as the little group of fruit-gatherers entered the village they saw everyone standing around the old mother pig. Ahoni had his bow and arrows in his hand, but the pig had already felt the arrow plunged through its heart.
Ahoni was truly upset and shouting out great curses on the pig. It became clear soon that the mother pig had taken her family of seven or eight little pigs on a trail that lead to the Asheninca gardens. Mother pig, like the Asheninca children, had been just foraging for food, and when she got in that potato garden she put her nose down and plowed up piles of potatoes for her family! But it is OK for children to go looking for fruit in the forest and it is definitely not acceptable for pigs to be pigs!!! Ahoni caught her in her crime and soon passed the death sentence on her!!! Now she would be pork in the pot!
Mosiro stood near the dead pig and watched with wide eyes as Ahoni drew a knife and was preparing to slit the pig’s throat. “Mosiro! Get a dish for the blood! Go quickly!” Off she raced to the nearest house and came back with bowl-like dish. In went the knife and the blood spurted out and into her bowl. “Mosiro! Don’t spill the blood! Walk carefully with it! Don’t spill the blood!”
There she stood. The bowl was full of pig blood to it’s rim and she was hanging on with both hands and trying to walk as carefully as possible to the house. And the lice were biting! Oh dear, how they were making her head itch. But she couldn’t raise her hand or she would spill the blood! She couldn’t hurry either or she would stumble and then Ahoni would be as mad at her as he was with mother pig. How her head itched! She slowly walked across the yard and never spilled a drop of that blood. Then she sat and scratched and scratched and scratched at those nasty lice who never let her alone.
Blood! What were the Asheninca people going to do with that bowl of blood? They use about everything imaginable in their meals, so the blood would undoubtedly be a savory dish of some kind. Blood pudding? The Bible talks a lot about blood too. But the most precious passages speak of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ that was shed on the Cross for our sins! And we love to sing that old hymn, “There is Power in the blood!” The writer of the book of Hebrews in the Bible tells us in chapter 9 verses 13 and 14 that the blood of bulls, and goats…and definitely pigs…cannot save us. But he says that the blood of Christ can transform our lives and make us children of God! Mosiro has NEVER heard that the blood of Jesus was “spilled” on the Cross for her sins. No one has told her that yet in her language. Pray for this little girl of the jungles that she might grow up to to know about the blood of Jesus, her redeemer.
Gobbing the Grubs
The following is a read aloud story for May 2005. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about children in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who have children and would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God! The Asheninca people, one of the many great Amazon Rain Forest tribes, have lived for centuries in a world of superstition and fear. The following months of stories, as I catch up, will be based around the actual observations I made while living in Ridge Village, on the Breu River, with the Asheninca people. Mo-SEE-ro, is an actual 10-year-old girl whom I watched and she has become the main character in this series of stories.
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
She raced down the ridge trail, her dirty little robe bobbing and swaying as her little legs carried her to the banks of the Breu River. The School Boat was coming!! Mosiro could hear the loud bang-bang of the motor and she could hear the children shouting and laughing on the open boat, but she was not going to school on that boat! In fact, at the moment, she was running away from it. She dove in thick grass and reeds and lay there breathing deeply with her heart throbbing in her throat…at least it felt like that was what was happening. The boat paused at the little trail that lead up the ridge to her village and people were shouting “Mosiro! Mosiro!”, but she lay low and quiet. The boat chugged on down the river to the Brasilian community of Breu where there was a school for children.
Poor Mosiro. She’d never been to school in her life. It was scary. And she didn’t speak that strange tongue all the local people spoke…Portuguese. But the school officials had visited her village and insisted she must join the other children who lived on the Breu and go to school every day on the School Boat. Her own people just laughed about it, they’d never been to school before either! They really didn’t care if she went or not. She was an Asheninca and she spoke Asheninca…and why in the world would an Asheninca child ever need to go to school? They just agreed with the school official to make him happy, but they weren’t forcing any of their children to go to school.
But that afternoon the school official was back…he talked and talked. The People understood about a tenth of what he was saying. “Little Mike”, the village leader, knew a bit more Portuguese and suddenly he just made this great declaration loud and boldly, “MOSIRO IS GOING TO SCHOOL!!” And everyone just stared and Mosiro felt like the death sentence had been passed on her! But the chief had spoken. He was trying to be nice to the school official.
The next morning Mosiro, quivering with fright, was accompanied by Little Mike, who was also her grandfather, to the river’s edge and then put on the School Boat. There she sat with the boys and girls all giggling and making fun of her “quitarensi” (key-tah-REN-see), the robes that all Asheninca wear. Tears welled in her eyes. She just looked down at the boat floor as they rounded bend after bend and finally arrived at the school.
“Class, we have a brand new student this morning!” The teacher was all smiles, “Mo…mo..oh, how DO you pronounce that name? Oh, well, class, it is just an Indian name, we will call her ‘Maria’!! Maria, you are welcome to our class!” Mosiro sat behind her desk and hadn’t a clue what this woman was talking about. But she didn’t like the kids staring at her and she didn’t like anything at all about this school. She blew her nose loudly and wiped the fluid on her quitarensi sleeve! That got everyone’s attention! Then she belched loudly and laid her head down on the desk to try and sleep as the children giggled and the teacher droned on and on in that language she could not understand.
Lunch break! Everyone lined up for crackers and a cup of milk. Mosiro watched the children getting their snack, but she didn’t care much for crackers and she’d never drank milk before. Suddenly she remembered the little packet on a string around her neck and hidden under her robe. Her moa. (mow-AH) Reaching down inside the robe she brought out the leaf packet and opened it before the eyes of several very curious girls. Then there were loud screams and shouts! The moa are fat white grub worms with brown heads and black beady eyes! She had about six in her packet and carried them around for snacks. All the children came around her to see the moa. They were wriggling and trying to crawl. She took one in her fingers and held it up. The teacher had come to see what was causing the commotion and just stood there with big round eyes and her mouth quivering in a big O. Mosiro suddenly enjoyed the attention. Maybe that was why she slowly put the moa between her teeth with a big smile on her face. Everyone gasped. And then she bit down and a greenish fluid came down her bottom lip…which she quickly licked away. She chewed her moa with such great pleasure. Kids were screaming and gagging and the teacher nearly fainted dead away.
The school official told Little Mike that Mosiro did not need to come to school anymore.
Do you like school? I’m sure that you do! I remember when I was a little boy and in school that I was so shy that all I would do was cry if the teacher even looked at me! But, teachers really aren’t all that scary, are they? They are wonderful people who love children and want to teach children many, many interesting things. Jesus was a teacher. He was the Great Teacher. The best. He is God, so what he taught was Truth and from God. Jesus wants to teach the Asheninca people, and little girls like Mosiro, all about his Father God. But Jesus needs people who will learn the Asheninca tongue and teach the children in a language that is their language and they understand. How would you like to do that? I think Jesus would even eat a moa with Mosiro. What do you think? Pray with us as we begin a school in Ridge Village soon that will teach the Asheninca boys and girls in their own language and have moas for snacks. Well, maybe.
Catching the Cat
The following is a read aloud story for June 2005. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about children in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who have children and would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God! The Asheninca people, one of the many great Amazon Rain Forest tribes, have lived for centuries in a world of superstition and fear. The following months of stories, as I catch up, will be based around the actual observations I made while living in Ridge Village, on the Breu River, with the Asheninca people. Mo-SEE-ro, is an actual 10-year-old girl whom I watched and she has become the main character in this series of stories.
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
Stumble. Fumble. Tumble. Crumble! And there was most likely a “mumble” as Mosiro lay in the middle of mud and grass and vines tangled around her bare feet. She had been racing down from the ridge to the river and did not see the root sticking up to grab her toes. Oh, it hurt so! The sudden crash into the earth had also left her a little breathless! And dizzy. The great white clouds were spinning around and around! She reached up and grabbed her head and almost started to cry. But…wait…Asheninca girls don’t cry! So, she just sat there waiting for the world to get all balanced once again…and she rubbed her sore toes.
Slowly she was able to stand once more and continue down the ridge to the river. Other children were there and splashing and crashing and having such a good time! Soon she had flung off her long robe and joined them. Nearby were older people who had been catfishing. The big striped catfish were trying to make their way down the Breu River because it was drying up more and more every day. Dry Season had come and there had been no rain in weeks. The fish were going from one deep pool to another as they migrated down to the big river. That meant that the Ridge Village people would be spearing them. Mosiro walked up the beach to where “Little Mike”, the village leader, was thrusting his spear into a deep pool…but hitting only sunken logs and sticks. “Mosiro! Dive down in the pool and feel around for a catfish!” And with that silly little smile, she immediately jumped in the water and was gone! Mosiro was a good swimmer. She went to the bottom and felt here and there, but nothing moved…and when she needed to come up for air, quite suddenly there was motion and something powerful under her hand! “Grab it!” Her brain was shouting at her, but also another voice was saying, “What exactly is it?” What if it was not a catfish? A sting ray fish? A WATER SNAKE? “Grab it!” Her lungs needed air badly. Oh my, what was Mosiro going to do? Her need of air answered for her! Up she went with quite a splash and startled Little Mike and his friends.
“Something BIG is down there!” she gasped hurriedly. Little Mike started thrusting his spear with renewed vigor, but he never hit anything. It must be under the log down there. “Mosiro! Go back down and get it!” Little Mike shouted. And now more people had come and all the children and they were all shouting, “Go get it! Go get it!” But what was it? Mosiro was not afraid, but she was cautious. She had seen people stung by sting rays or shocked by electric eels. There were many hurtful fish in the water. But…what could she do? They shouted and shouted for her to dive. So, taking in a big lungful of air, down she went again! Carefully…slowly…she felt under the log and way back inside found the fish laying there as it had been before. Oh my, will it bite me? Will it attack me? What is it? She softly ran her hand down the fish body and sensed the fish was ready to bolt away. The body narrowed and she knew she could grasp it’s tail in her hand. She got up her courage and GRABBED it! Then the fish began to fight. It swirled and curled and tried desparately to pull itself loose. Mosiro hung on for dear life. Up and up she went! AIR! She was greeted by great cheers from her family and friends. And there in her hand was the biggest catfish anyone had caught that day! Oh how good Mosiro felt!
The catfish was carried back up the ridge for a big meal. Mosiro’s heroics were soon forgotten. She was tired and her toes still hurt. Mosiro got out her pipe and lit it and just leaned back against a tree and smoked. What a day!
Would you have gone down and grabbed something if you did not know what it was? I hope not. Did Mosiro do something heroic, or did she actually do something very foolish? What if it had been an electric eel? What a shock that would have been! But you and I often do not use good judgment either…do we? I remember as a little boy being challenged by my friends to steal candy from the grocery store. They had successfully done it and gotten out of the store. So should I or shouldn’t I? That’s called “peer pressure”, and simply means doing something because everyone else is doing it. I grabbed some candy and put it in my coat pocket and ran out. I was a hero to my little friends. But my father and mother didn’t think it was so heroic, and they made me go back and tell the store man I had stolen the candy and now would like to pay for it! The Bible says we should “walk carefully”. Don’t do things without first thinking them through. Will it harm me? Is it right? Let Jesus guide you. And don’t smoke a pipe either!! Pray for Mosiro to know Jesus someday.
Making Choices
The following is a read aloud story for August 2005. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about children in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who have children and would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God! The Asheninca people, one of the many great Amazon Rain Forest tribes, have lived for centuries in a world of superstition and fear. The following months of stories, as I catch up, will be based around the actual observations I made while living in Ridge Village, on the Breu River, with the Asheninca people. Mo-SEE-ro, is an actual 10-year-old girl whom I watched and she has become the main character in this series of stories.
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
It was so hot. So humid. So sweaty. Mosiro just wished she was home and could run down the banks and jump in the Breu River. But she wasn’t. She was with some other villagers far back in the forest on a trail leading through a small part of Peru. Of course Mosiro never knew when she was in Peru or when she was in Brasil. In fact she hardly even knew the two countries meant anything. It was just ALL Asheninca land to her and her people. Mosiro didn’t know anything about world events. Her world was confined to Ridge Village and jungle trails. As far as she knew the whole world was about 10 square miles wide, long, or whatever. She was so thirsty.
Then she remembered the big red and yellow bell-shaped cashew fruits in her leaf basket. She and some other girls had walked through the yard of some “uirachocha” people. They were the non-Indian residents of that area. They had planted cashew trees and it was the time of the year for the fruit. The girls had taken several really nice ones to put in their “cantsiri” baskets and eat later. Now, was later! Mosiro got a large glistening orange cashew fruit and felt it’s soft smooth skin…oh, she could hardly wait! CRUNCH! Cashew juice squirted in all directions and was staining her robe. But she didn’t care…the robe was so stained already by so many different things! The juice was not sweet, but not sour either, just kind of an acidy strange taste…but, oh so good! She very carefully picked off the small, kidney-shaped edible cashew nut and put it back in her cantsiri basket. She would roast it on the coals later. You had to be careful of those cashew nuts because until they are roasted they are poisonous and you better not put a non-roasted nut in your mouth!!!
Finally, just at sundown, they marched through their old fields and up the ridge to the village. Home sweet home. Soon a big meal of meat and “caniri” potatoes was greedily gobbled down. Then as darkness fell over Ridge Village everyone collapsed in their hammocks.
Everyone but Little Mike, the chief, who was the witchdoctor shaman. He had stayed home and spent the day brewing up a pot of jungle vines. Big pieces of vine had been boiling for hours. The vine brew was very nasty tasting, but it was used by many different tribes because it was halucinogenic. It made those people who drank it see visions and wild animals and it was kind of like having a weird television in your head. All kinds of strange colorful scenes ran across your mind. God never meant for people to drink it, but Satan taught the Indians all about it…and when the shaman drank the “tea” he would hallucinate and then see devils and demons. Mosiro was so tired. She was trying to sleep just a few feet from Little Mike and his chanting and snorting and drinking and jabbering.
“HEY! HEY! CHANA! CHANA!” he was singing into the dark. “HEY! HEY! CHANA! CHANA!” and his wife would sing background music in a falsetto voice. Mosiro never questioned the drinking of the tea. She never questioned the appearing of demons and devils to whom Little Mike would talk and whisper to. She just wished that she could sleep. The chanting echoed in her mind. Her eyes got drowsy. She soon was lost in a world of her own filled with big cashew fruits loaded with juice. She was sound asleep with Little Mike chanting and jabbering just a few feet away.
Cashew juice or jungle vine tea? Mosiro had to make many choices. Which would she choose? Good or evil?
That was a day in the life of a 10-year-old Asheninca girl. It is a lot different from your day…isn’t it? Aren’t you glad you are so loved and so sheltered and so “taken care of” by your dad and mom and others? How would you like to exchange places with Mosiro? Just for one day? You can’t do it, but you can pray for her that as missionaries come to live in Ridge Village she will hear about Jesus and His love for her. Missionaries right now are attempting to learn her language. Pray for them. Mosiro may be playing with the sons of the missionaries as they are about her age. What new influences and choices is she going to make? Cashew juice or Drugs? Satan or Jesus? Will you pray for Mosiro and all the Asheninca children of Ridge Village that they will make the right choice? CHOOSE JESUS!
Naughty Natures
The following is a read aloud story for September 2005. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about children in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who have children and would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God! The Asheninca people, one of the many great Amazon Rain Forest tribes, have lived for centuries in a world of superstition and fear. This the final story based around the actual observations I made while living in Ridge Village, on the Breu River, with the Asheninca people. Mo-SEE-ro, is an actual 10-year-old girl whom I watched and she has become the main character in this series of stories. I am returning to Ridge Village and will be seeing Mosiro again and gathering more stories!
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
“Shoo, you pigs! SHOO!” And shoo they did with squeals and snorts and pushing and shoving one another. Mosiro ran after them with a stick in her hand trying to whack one of them on it’s fat back, but they dodged and darted here and there and out of her reach. She had been appointed the “camp protector”…”shooer of the pigs”. While everyone else was out in their gardens or down at the river, Mosiro was to make sure the many pigs did not get in the shelters and eat the potatoes and other food laying around. It got boring at times. She dug in the dirt with her toe and lazily scratched her head to see if she could catch a louse. They were hard to catch. The pigs were gone for the moment. “People are coming! Strangers are coming!” the shout came from Xiji (She-jee) who raced up from the river. Mosiro had fallen asleep and now was startled awake and looking right at a pig eating the potatoes just a few feet from her! “SHOO!” she shouted and raced after it, her stick flailing in the air threateningly. Foreigners? People who did not speak Asheninca? Who were they? Wide-eyed with curiosity, but also being very cautious she watched them come into the village. The regular villagers came too, to meet their guests. And the “white people”, the visiters, looked so pale and sickly without any red dye on them. Mosiro pondered why “outsiders” never wanted to look good! She was glad that she had applied a lot of red dye to her face that morning.
One rather large lady was making all kinds of motions. She seemed fascinated with everything she found in the shelter…picking up gourds and eggs and baskets and examining them all with such enthusiasm. Little Mike, the chief, knew enough Portuguese to carry on a somewhat intelligent conversation. The woman wanted to go back in the forest and see the red dye pods on their bush. She was very curious about them. Why did Indians paint their faces?
“Mosiro! Can you take this stranger back to see the red dye pods? You know where there are some good ones!” Mosiro jumped down and the lady was practically trampling her in her eagerness to go back into the brush on this mission. As she walked, Mosiro suddenly smiled big. Little Mike was chattering away in broken Portuguese distracting the lady. He was not paying attention to Mosiro’s trail which she knew was going to lead right into a low-hanging bees nest. Mosiro almost chuckled out loud. As she ducked under the branch where the bees nest dangled from it, she bumped it just enough to make the hornets angry. The lady was close behind unaware of her peril! Suddenly Little Mike grabbed the startled lady! He motioned to her to not go on. Stop. Come back. The poor woman looked around in confusion as the chief waved back towards camp. And then the lady saw the dog. Oh, the chief was warning her about a rabid dog! And to Mosiro’s comoplete delight the woman charged forward right into the hornet’s nest! And then all bedlam broke out! Bee’s attacked and stung and everyone was charging every direction. And Mosiro just sat and laughed and laughed. A very sore and stung-up lady left their village that day never knowing Mosiro’s naughty nature had caused her plight!
The Bible says we should “be kind one to another”. But every last one of us was born with a sinful, naughty nature! Have you ever noticed that? Did your mother teach your little brother to lay down and kick and have a flying fit? Who taught him to do that? Who taught you to want to be mean to your sisters? Why do you get a strong urge to pull someone’s hair? Where does that urge to be naughty come from? Well, like Mosiro, you were born with a naughty nature. You were born to be mischievious. To disobey. To fight. To want to hurt people sometimes. To Mosiro it was just a painful prank, but she didn’t realize she had a naughty nature that stank. She doesn’t know that she needs to invite Jesus into her heart and to become “born again”, a NEW person in the Lord Jesus. Have you done that yet? DO IT TODAY!
Dodo’s Delimma
The following is a read aloud story for March 2006. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about children in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who have children and would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God. People now and then write and ask me…did you write that story or find it somewhere else? Yes, I confess, it sort of stews in my head and then boils over into a story. I honestly DO write them from scratch. Well, actually, from “bones”. I hear a story and it is from that “bone” that I construct the entire dinosaur! Like the smart dinosaurologists do. This month’s story is mostly fiction, but I did hear once something very close to it. How the Culinas in one part of the jungle first met civilized people about 80 years ago!
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
Dodo (dough-DOUGH) was not a dodo (the clumsy, flightless, extinct birds related to pigeons). No, she certainly was not! She stood up from her earthen stove and turned the meat on the coals. She had no recollection of how fire was ever introduced to her people, but she wasn’t a dodo…she knew perfectly good and well you had to keep that fire going and burning and NEVER let it die out!! She had no matches. She had no cigaret lighter. She didn’t even have flint to make sparks…or sticks to rub together until they smoked and burst into flames. She just had fire…and she had to NEVER let that fire go out. NEVER! She rubbed the black ashes on her body. It seemed to help keep the bugs from biting. She wore no clothes. Who needed clothes? None of her people wore clothes, but you did have to do something when the bugs were bad. So, there Dodo stood putting another stick on the fire and looking for all the world like a long-haired black spook. Her world was very simple and very complicated too…especially if that fire ever burned out!
“Dodo!” came an excited cry as her husband entered the big grass house they lived in. “Woman, we have seen the ‘strange ones’ and they are very, very scary. They walk funny. They talk funny. They have hanging stuff on them (clothes) and you can’t see their skins! Are they people? What are they doing in our land?” The news of the foreigners getting ever closer to their village was indeed scary. Dodo and her people had never seen people with clothes on and they just assumed every strange people would eventually attack them and kill them. It was indeed disturbing.
Frightened by the report, the villagers agreed to move farther up the little river they lived on. At least two days farther. And so the months passed and no one saw “the people who wear big leaves”. The day came when Dodo and her family had gone deep in the forest looking for pupunha.,..a palm fruit that is delicious when boiled. The fruit grew in large clusters far up tall palm trees and was red and yellow. They had brought fire with them…down through the years they had learned about special types of wood that will smolder and never burst into flame unless fanned. So the Indians carried these smoldering, smoking sticks on their fruit forages. Dodo got a fire going on the ground and then she lay down in her wild cotton hammock and it was so pleasant that she was almost asleep. People were around other fires and eating. They were all unaware that some hunters had come to that area and smelled the campfire smoke. They were Brasilian settlers and had wanted to make peace with the wild Indians because they feared their arrows and spears. And one of the hunters was especially bold. He decided to just march right into the wild Indian camp and make friends! And that was how it happened…entirely without any warning…Dodo was in her hammock nearly asleep and suddenly a wild looking man wearing leaves came into the camp shouting out in a language no one understood!
Dodo screamed. People ran headlong into the forest grabbing sticks and whatever they could to use in self defense. Dodo screamed again and made a flying leap to get out of her hammock, but her foot had slipped between the wild cotten strings and she sprawled all silly like with her foot entangled and not letting her go. Frantically she tried to free herself, but the big brown-faced leaf covered man was right there shouting at her. He, of course, was shouting, “WE ARE FRIENDS! DON’T BE AFRAID! WE ARE FRIENDS!” But she only heard his roar and she shook with fear. Her people had not gone far and were watching from the cover of the forest. They were scared too, but they did not want to leave Dodo to the mercy of these leaf monsters. And as time passed Dodo calmed down. The monster gave her some food he had and continued shouting those unintelligible words, “WE ARE FRIENDS!”. And finally the men just sat down and talked and Dodo realized they wouldn’t hurt her. And that was how the Culina became friends with the first Brasilian settlers to appear in their area of the big woods. From that day on life began to change drastically and forever. Indians now wear the big leaves themselves. And they have real “fire water”(querosene), and matches…so making a fire is easy! But the biggest change came within a generation…Culinas began trusting Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior!
Fire and clothes. You take those things for granted, don’t you? Can you imagine living without fire and clothes? There are people today who live without clothes, but very few without fire. How did our first parents, Adam and Eve, live back in the Garden of Eden? Very much like the Culinas before they came into civilization. Remember the story of Adam and Eve making clothes from leaves for themselves? Gen.3:7? Do you think “foreigners” in your school or play ground are “weird” because they don’t dress like you or talk like you? Jesus came into our world to save sinners…and He wants to save sinners of all cultures, races, colors, and languages. He loves the naked Indian in his primitive forest home as well as the best dressed kid in your class!! Will you be a FRIEND to those who are so different from you?
Corned Beef
The following is a read aloud story for August 2006. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about people in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God. We are changing the pace a bit. For the next few months I want to share some true stories of people and events that have happened in the Amazon jungle. This story is bit comical. But if you are in a different world and a different culture…it does make you wonder about just what those long-legged white missionaries are really up too! Natives have studied the missionary’s culture for years and they probably could write books about the strange and weird things that missionary’s eat and do. This would be found in Eretete’s book!
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
He sat on the palm bark floor and watched the strangers as they were coming and going from their house. “Stranger” was the right word, these people got “stranger” every day! They don’t even speak an intelligible language like Culina, or Portuguese, but just that sneezing, sniffling, snorting language. Who could ever learn English? He was hearing the missionary shouting to his wife, “WASPS! WASPS! Look out for the wasps’ nest!” And it sounded like the long-legged white guy was blowing his nose or something!
Eretete (Eh-reh-teh-TEH) was a visitor to the Culina on the Jurua River. He and his wife, Nazare, (Nah-zah-REH) had traveled many weeks from their village in Peru. They had heard about the foreigners, who were living now with the Culina of Brasil, and he got there just in time to help with the work of clearing the forest for an airstrip. This was no small job, as giant trees had to be cut down by axe and then using the same axe you had to chop through them making short logs so you could finally roll the logs off to the side to let them dry in the sun and later be burned. Many, many sink holes had to be filled and tamped with dirt. The “howie”, the Culina name for trail, had to be leveled. Eretete came out for a few hours every day and sweat and strained and chopped until he had callouses on his hands. Meanwhile, the white people with the big straw hats would walk here and there checking everything and forever giving them advice that was hard to understand. This howie, they said, was so one of the big noisy birds could land on it and then fly off of it again! He had seen airplanes up close and they were pretty fascinating. To Eretete they looked like big tin milk cans with wings. He knew some of the Culina people had never seen an airplane up close in their lives…and they were always asking what the big birds were like. They were noisy creatures, that’s for sure. People crawled in the tin cans and went up in the clouds!
“Nazare, have you watched the white people?” Nazare was wrapping the potato root in leaves to let it roast on the coals. Yes, she was watching them closely too. “Nazare,” Eretete remarked, “did you notice that their little children have to wear cloth all around their bottoms? All the time!” He had no idea what diapers were all about. “It is a strange custom of theirs”, she replied, “they must collect the children’s droppings for some reason!” “Yes,” he replied, “I hope they don’t eat it! We just let our children go naked and drop their stuff wherever they want. That’s better!” They both laughed about how silly the white people were.
Day after day after day Eretete worked on the howie. Then came the day that a very old lady died and they had a major ceremony for her wrapping her in her hammock and burying her in an old canoe with a nailed down palm bark lid on it. Of course everyone kept alert and looked for her spirit to be walking around during the day. They were not sure where her spirit had gone or whether she was still trying to find the trail to the Culina afterworld. It was during this time that Eretete happened to see the big white foreigner open a can of meat. It was corned beef. But to Eretete it looked like a something that might be good to eat. “Can I buy a can of that meat for my dinner?” he asked one day, and the missionary gladly gave him a can. He was so curious about this meat that comes in a can. He went home and called Nazare and others to watch as he took his knife and dug out the meat from the can. Then everyone gasped. It was sort of stringy and looked an awful lot like ground human being! Everyone chattered. Were the white missionaries cannibals? Did they eat people? Yes, someone suggested, they dug up Grandma at night and they have ground her up and put her in a can! It was perfectly logical to the Indians. They just sat around and felt sick. Ground grandma. Disgusting.
The next day Eretete came to work and he acted a little angry and upset. “Eretete, did you like the corned beef? Did you eat it?” Then he just blurted out, “I know that was Grandma’s finger in that can! We could not eat Grandma! How could you do that to her?” The missionary just laughed and laughed. It was not funny. Would he eat more people? And for all the explanations about Corned Beef and how it comes from cows and is canned far away in Argentina…the people just could not accept it was not Grandma. From that day on the big white missionaries were very careful not to show the Indians canned meat. What in the world would they think of a can of Spam?
Could you picture Eretete’s predicament? Do you know people who do strange things that are hard
for you to understand? Every culture is different. Peoples of other countries and nationalities eat things that we would never eat. Have you ever eaten a dog? Did you know some people from Asia find dog quite delicious? I have watched the Indians eat a live big white fluffy grubworm…live and wiggling! It must not taste bad because they didn’t even make a face! But, I cannot yet eat a grubworm. Can you? In the book of Acts we learn about giving thanks to God and eating all kinds of strange foods. Acts 10:11-16 God showed Peter “all manner of fourfooted beasts of the earth, and creeping things,and fowls of the air”. God ordered him to KILL AND EAT! Creeping things? No way! But if God asks you, or has to shout at you to just do it, then, JUST DO IT! Missionaries have had to learn this lesson all down through the years!
Don’t Kill Us!
The following is a read aloud story for July 2006. This is one of a series of stories especially written for Awana Clubs, home-schoolers, Sunday school classes, VBS, mission conferences, or just the fun of reading about people in a wild land called: “The Amazon Rain Forest”. Print them out. Collect them. E-mail them to others who would like to get these stories. Use them for the glory of God. We are changing the pace a bit. For the next few months I want to share some true stories of people and events that have happened in the Amazon jungle. The story you are about to read is absolutely true. I was there. God was there! It is just a fear-filled memory now as it happened July 8th and 9th, 1973. I was 34-years-old and Nadine and I were pioneering a new work with a new tribe in the deep isolated jungles of the Amazon. The Culina people were very primitive and killing one another all too frequently. And we were right in the middle of it!
The old story teller, Douemi (Dough-way-MEE)
(Missionary/cultural observer with the Amazon tribes for many years)
Serving with New Tribes Mission, Sanford, Florida
My journal entry for July 9, 1973 reads, “At midnight we were standing under a star-filled sky with a fattening moon slowly heading West. At our feet lay a dead man whose life was now past and whose eternal soul was forever gone…how dreadfully sad! Who knows the deep sorrow we feel at seeing a lifeless corpse of an Indian man who never knew Jesus personally. We gave him some Gospel, BUT PERHAPS TOO LITTLE TOO LATE!”
Isanaua. We had nicknamed this man “the gorilla”, as he was of larger stature than the average Culina. Stout. Thick. Strong. He was the brother of our village chief, Nodia, and he was a killer. Nodia, himself, had killed nine different Culina before he was 30-years-old, and Isanaua had killed his share. They were friendly to us and wanted us to live in their village, but they always had murder on their minds. Revenge killings for past crimes against their clan members. It was a vicious cycle of kill “them” because they had attacked and killed “us”. Interclan warfare.
But what happened on Sunday, July 8th, was not a revenge killing. Isanaua had two wives and yet when a new family came to the village with a teenage daughter, he wanted her for a wife too. He talked to the girl’s father, Iba, and apparently Iba accepted a payment for his daughter to be Isanaua’s third wife. Something was given in exchange. But the young lady decided she did not want to be wife # 3! And she certainly did not want to be married to a “gorilla”. So, Iba and his family took their daughter when Isanaua was not home and they fled up the jungle river to another village. When the man came home, he was humiliated and shamed by everyone knowing he had been rejected by the young teenager. He immediately put on the war paint…completely covering his face with red dye and got his grown sons to do the same. Off they raced by trail to kill Iba and his family!!
We were a young missionary team. Ray Mellott, a World War II veteran, had just flown in to spend a few days building his house and his wife, Lena, stayed out at the town. Mark Emsheimer, a young man in his 20s and single, was hosting Ray in Mark’s newly made house. And Nadine and I had small children at home, including a baby boy, Brad, who had just arrived in May. A young man from Oregon, Dan Danforth, was there to help us finish up our new house. We had never been in a situation like this before. The evening of July 8th Isanaua and his clan ambushed and murdered Iba as he was coming down the river in the dark to escape. They blasted him with shotguns. Fortunately, only Iba was killed in the ambush and the other members of his family escaped into the woods. But about 11:30 at night we were all awakened by the frantic shouts and screams and wailings of women outside our house, “YOUR PEOPLE HAVE KILLED MY HUSBAND! IBA IS DEAD! YOUR PEOPLE KILLED HIM!” Iba’s wife was frantic. Mark, Ray, and I decided to go over to the village and there we found the blasted body of the Indian man. Iba’s clan and family were just sure that Isanaua and his people were going to come in the night and kill them all. The women kept going down the trail and shouting, “DON’T KILL US! DON’T KILL US!” They would shout out our names into the dark telling the unseen enemy that we were also there!
Fear. Cold, clammy fear. Would they attack? Were they actually out there in the dark? How were Nadine and the children doing over at the house with Dan as their sole protector? Nadine admitted she slept very little. Ray and Mark and I sat by the body talking about eternal souls. Death is so final. No more hope to save this soul. He was in Hell. These are terrible realities to Bible-believing missionaries. We were just learning their tongue and we hadn’t the language well enough to tell them of Jesus and what He did for them on the Cross. How frustrating! We listened all night to the women wailing and shouting out “DON’T KILL US!” One time I heard a noise in the dark and I sprung up and walked down the trail a few feet and shouted, “ISANAUA, IT IS I!! IT IS DOUEMI! DON’T KILL US!” We learned later they had not even come to the village that night and were actually far, far away fleeing from the fear of avengers who would be after them!
Have you ever been in a fear filled circumstance? Your heart beats rapidly and you begin to sweat even on the coolest of nights. You keep repeating to yourself, “Fear not!”, but you keep fearing anyway. It is a human response. But God has promised to never leave us or forsake us…and He never does! When you get scared about something…a noise in the dark or whatever…just pray to God and He will calm your heart. He always does! Read Psalm 91 and especially verse 5 which says, “thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night”. Even if that “terror” is a wild, gorilla-like man!