For over a month, we heard rumors of a potential strike
by the people in our area who grow the coca plant. These people are called “Cocaleros.” Dependable
news from the community was impossible. I don’t know how many times they
scheduled the strike, canceled the strike, and then rescheduled it for a future
date. It really seemed like the strike would never start. Some in town said it
would never happen. Others said it would eventually happen and that it would
last three days. And yet others said it would be indefinite. We never received
anything close to consistent information.
Finally, we heard that the strike was set for the 7th
or 8th of October and that at least we could be certain that it
would definitely not start before then! We had received word from one of our
church attenders. He’s not faithful to church, but it seemed like he really
knew what was going on. Finally we could finally start making some needed
travel plans. Our niece and her husband, who are part of our ministry team,
were expecting their second child, and she needed to be in Cusco in order to
make the preparations for the birth, especially since she would need to have a
C-section. We urgently needed to get them to Cusco, in case the strike lasted
longer than expected.
*****
In light of what we thought was reliable news, Flor,
Alex, their daughter Melody, and Bob planned to leave on Monday, October 5th
at the reasonable time of 4am (ha!). They would head to the home of Becky’s
sister in Arin, which is located in the Sacred Valley of the Incas. The trip is
a grueling seven hours of jungle and mountain roads. Flor and Alex plan to stay
there for about three months, for both the birth and the recovery process.
After the long, hard trip, they arrived in Arin and
after unloading Flor and Alex’s belongings, Bob immediately drove another
twenty minutes to Urubamba, where he would pick up our funds. Then he drove
another hour and a half to the city of Cusco. He spent the day furiously making
needed purchases for the jungle. He arrived back in Arin at nine that evening,
where he spent the night.
*****
The following morning, Tuesday, he left at 4:30am and
drove as hard and fast as he could safely manage, in order to arrive home in
Pilcopata, just in case the strike began early. He arrived into Patria, the
closest town to Pilcopata, in a record time of 5 hours (usually 7 hours with
stops). So, by now, it is only 9:30am and guess what he sees ahead. That’s
right…a roadblock. He is only 15 minutes from home. Only 15 minutes from a good
breakfast, a nice nap, and a wonderfully, cold shower!
Bob parked and immediately went over to the roadblock.
As of yet, everyone was calm. He asked for the church attender who had given us
the dates for the strike. He was not at this roadblock but was rather at the
roadblock in Pilcopata. Bob spent a few minutes joking with some people in the
crowd and told them that he was the pastor of the Baptist church in Pilcopata.
He asked if they would make an exception for a preacher of God’s Word and allow
him to pass the roadblock and go home. He was met with this response from a
large and very vocal Quechua lady, “You’re a pastor? Then pastor us here at the
strike!” So he asked her, “Are you ready and willing to obey the Word of God
and all that God says in His Word?” She stared at him for what seemed like
forever and then replied, “You cannot pass! Nobody can pass!!!” She then
stormed off down the street.
After much searching, Bob was able to get the phone
number for the church attender, our “reliable source” for the strike and called
him. He asked why he hadn’t informed us of the changes, as he knew of the
importance of our trip to Cusco. Bob asked for his help, as he had purchased a
lot of perishables which are now in the hot truck. These items included a large
amount of fresh meat, that he purchased in Cusco. All of this food was going to
spoil, if left for too long. The man said he would help get Bob through the
roadblocks. Bob would just need to wait. Over an hour later, Bob called him
back and heard the words he dreaded once again, “You cannot go through. You
will just have to wait with everyone else.” He then hung up on Bob.
*****
So, there’s Bob, stuck with no water and no food and
because of all the travels, he hadn’t slept more than three hours over the last
two days. He was exhausted. He had to keep reminding himself, “I’m a pastor
here. HERE, you are a pastor!”
A few minutes later, a police truck pulled up and five
officers got out of the truck. Now, the 50-60 people sitting near the roadblock
started getting a little worked up. After five minutes or so of this, the
policemen got back into the truck and just sat there. The crowd calmed down and
went back to sitting in the shade. Bob decided to approach the police truck and
introduced himself as Pastor Roberto of the Baptist church in Pilcopata. He
explained his situation to them and that he has responsibilities to his church
in Pilcopata. They explained that they, too, are from Pilcopata. The Sr.
Officer told Bob, “Pastor, right now, we cannot do anything without causing a
riot and people WILL get hurt. We will be back at 6 this afternoon to help get
you through. If we can’t get everyone through, we will at least get you
through. Please just be patient, Pastor. This situation is going to be hard on everyone.”
So,
Bob followed their example, and returned to sit in his truck, only to find that
the extreme temperatures of over 100* had converted the truck into an oven! He
had to find some way to keep cool! He’s now starting to get hungry, too. So, during
one of the many meetings held by the Cocaleros that morning, Bob nonchalantly
crossed the roadblock, in order to look for food and water. He walked over two
kilometers around the whole town, but each and every store was boarded up and
if the store owner happened to be there, he or she wouldn’t sell anything for
fear they would be attacked. That’s when he learned that during the strikes, no
one is allowed to sell food or water at all.
Finally sick from the heat, Bob
convinced one fearful store owner to sell him some water, although she would
only do so after a large group of protestors passed by the store. After they
passed, she lifted her store door, which looks like a small garage door that
raises and lowers like a scroll. She quickly ducked down to tell Bob the price
for the water through the small opening. She then threw the bottle of water under
the door and reached her hand out to receive payment. It was a stark
realization of how serious the situation really was.
*****
Bob and I had been able to talk throughout the day, as
the events unfolded. However, I was able to do so from the safety and comfort
of our house in Pilcopata. I was able to contact one of our church members and pleaded
with him to take Bob a large bottle of water. So, at great risk to himself,
this man got on his motorcycle and ran through the roadblock of Pilcopata and
made it to Patria, where he had to leave his motorcycle at a different
roadblock at the southern end of Patria. He then had to walk a full kilometer
to where Bob was waiting at the truck.
After taking a few gulps of water, Bob and this kind
man carried the cooler full of meat on the verge of spoiling, all the way back
through town, dodging the angry protesters, to the motorcycle. Thankfully, all
they received along the way were a few angry shouts. They quickly secured the
large cooler to the back of his motorcycle and Bob watched him speed away, as Bob
stood in the middle of the street. Suddenly he realized he was not alone but
had been standing in front of about 100 protesters, who were keeping cool in
the shade. Quickly, and with singular focus, he began his quick return to his
truck. He marched right through the middle of the street, all the way through
town, almost in an attitude of defiance of the protesters who had already
caused so much discomfort both to himself and to the other people in the
community.
As he walked through town this time, he realized that
the attitude of people was changing. Things were heating up and I don’t mean
the weather. People were getting riled up. So, he made a quick, deliberate dash
to the ditch and pushed his way through the thick jungle grass that stood about
seven feet tall. He made it all the way to the other side of the roadblock
before he reentered the road, startling a driver who was sleeping on the side
of the road in the shade of the grass.
*****
It was now one in the afternoon and the sun was beating
down everyone. One of our other church members, who lives in Patria, emerged
from the crowd. She exclaimed, “Pastor, lock up your truck and come with me. My
mom (who is also a member of the church, along with her husband) has prepared
lunch for you. You are also welcome to take a cool shower to get refreshed!” By
this point, Bob was literally at the point of heat exhaustion, so he quickly
obeyed her orders! They passed back through town, once again without harm, as
her father has considerable pull in the community. This, however, would not
protect him during later events.
Bob spent the next three house in the house of some of
the dearest believers we know here! They fed Bob so well and allowed Bob to
drink all the clean water he needed. He said he probably drank a gallon of
water, during his short time at their home. He also stood under the cold shower
for well over thirty minutes. He was beginning to feel human again!
Feeling well-fed and
refreshed, he returned to the blockade somewhere around four that afternoon.
For the next hour and a half, he was able to get to know some of the other
people who were also trapped at the same roadblock. He got to ask them about
where they lived, what they do for work, and about how each of them got caught
at the strike. They all commented about how glad they were that a pastor was
with them. Bob remembers thinking that he was not really sure whether he was
glad about it but that it was nice to hear that they thought so!
The conversations were good, but they kept getting
distracted by the protesters, who were again getting frazzled. Then a few police
officers show up from Paucartambo, a town about four hours away from us,
traveling toward Cusco. As soon as the policemen saw Bob, they made a bee-line
for him. They didn’t know him personally, but recognized that he was a gringo. They
wanted to know why he was there and asked to see some identification. Bob
showed them his Peruvian ID, called a 'Carnet de Extranjería,' which also states that Bob has a
religious visa. Bob quickly told them that he is a pastor in the neighboring
town. They, too, agreed that the protesters should let Bob through, so that he
can return to his important job of seeing to people’s spiritual needs. The
policemen quickly move forward to the mob, who is increasingly growing more
angry, because their leader has decided to permit the caravan of vehicles,
including Bob, to go through the roadblock. The mob decide to replace the
leader with someone else and negotiations between the mob and the police start
from scratch.
Much to Bob’s surprise, the police from our town,
Pilcopata, returned as promised at six that evening. This time eight officers
came, probably the entirety of the police force, and were sporting long rifles
and hand guns. The protesters were not happy about this. All of a sudden, out
from nowhere, the Sr. Officer cried out, “Where’s the Gringo Baptist Pastor
from Pilcopata?” Bob steps out from the crowd, where the officer could see him
and waves at him. The officer pushed through the crowd to make it over to where
Bob was standing. He took his hand and gave him a firm handshake. The officer
asked if Bob was ok, to which Bob could honestly say he was doing well, thanks
to our church members. The officer replied, “Give us a few minutes. We are
taking everyone through the roadblocks.” Bob quickly spread the word to the
other drivers and they slowly retreat, each to their own vehicle.
*****
At
about seven, Bob heard one officer loudly exclaim, “Well, there ARE
consequences for your actions!” Bob can’t see what is going on, because of the
crowd; however, the police suddenly turn on their lights and everyone in the
caravan started to move. Slowly but deliberately, the caravan of vehicles crept
along, as if in a parade, leaving minimal space between each vehicle. They pass
the first roadblock and drove the kilometer through town to the next roadblock,
where they were met with a much larger number of people, whom are also much
angrier that the first group. The caravan of vehicles had no option but to
stop, as the road was full of debris and burning tires. The group quickly
realize that the police are no longer there and were replaced by angry shouts by
the protesters at their windows. They had to endure this horror for about
twenty minutes, each minute wondering whose window would be smashed first. Most
of the drivers abandoned their vehicles and retreated together into the darkness
of the night.
For some odd reason,
the crowd dispersed and returned to the blockade, where a very large and very
drunk woman was yelling loudly. Honestly, Bob nor his comrades-in-arms could
understand anything she was saying. Moments later, one police truck with two
officers appeared to speak with those of who were stuck at the roadblock. They
admitted that they were not going to be able to break up this second group of
protesters enough to get the caravan of vehicles through the roadblock that
night. The crowd was just too crazy!
One of the officers, a small,
young negotiator, entered into the middle of the crowd in order to talk to
them. Bob thought the large, vocal, angry woman might eat him alive, but he
finally emerged from the crowd, about an hour later, shaking his head. He said,
“Well, that didn’t go well. We will definitely not be getting through the
roadblock tonight. They are already way
too drunk to reason with.” The crowd began lighting more tires on fire, this
time close to the police truck. Bob asked the officers if it would be safe for
him, a gringo, to stay there or should he take his truck to a safer place in
town. The officers told Bob that if he
decided to stay there, the police would have to stay by his truck the whole
night, to ensure that the group would not attack Bob. It was not a safe
situation. Bob decided immediately to give the officers an opportunity to sleep
that night and drove the truck to the church family’s home where he would park
it for the night. He grabbed a few things and headed back down the cross the
blockade in order to head home to Pilcopata. He knew his options were walking
all the way home or riding a motorcycle with someone, which was a much
preferable method!
When he made it to the town center, about half a
kilometer from the roadblock, he encountered a group of about 300 people
chanting and running through the street. Bob ducked into the shadows and stood
next to a man sitting on a park wall, who seemed to trying to be discrete, as
well. He briefly looked at Bob and then looked back at the crowd and asked Bob
where he was trying to go that night. Bob told him that he was trying to get
home in Pilcopata, where he is a pastor. The man grimaced a bit and told Bob to
sit down on the wall with him for a minute, so Bob sat down. All of a sudden the
crowd decided to attack a store that had opened to sell some food and water to
people. The man leaned over and told Bob that he should leave immediately and
that he should stay in the shadows. Bob agreed. The man quietly said, “God
bless you, Pastor!”
Bob takes the man’s advice and
walked against the building to stay as hidden as possible until he reached the
point where the other drivers remain trapped. Bob explained to them where he
was going and that if he made it home that night, he would return in the
morning with food and water. They explained that several of them had tried to
cross the blockade in order to purchase food in Pilcopata, but that the
protesters would not let them through. Together they decide to create a
diversion, in order to help Bob get across. They made a human wall with Bob
hidden behind them and a few of them began arguing with the protesters. All the
attention was drawn to the two sneaky drivers and the other drivers shoved Bob
across the blockade.
*****
As he was briskly walked in the
darkness, he realized that someone was following closely behind him. The man
quickly caught up with Bob and Bob asked him if he had a motorcycle. He said
that he did, to which Bob asked if he was going to Pilcopata. The man shook his
head in agreement and Bob quickly pled for a ride home. The man agreed and they
headed down to Pilcopata! At this point, Bob has a large flashlight in his
hand, his backpack, and a small knife in his pocket. He started to wonder if
the man was part of the group of protestors and that he might try to kidnap
Bob. So to ease his mind, Bob began to talk with the man. Bob told him that he
is the pastor of the Baptist church in Pilcopata and asked the man where he is
from. The man replied that he was from Puerto Maldonado. Bob asked if he was in
town for the strike and the man immediately exclaimed, “No!!!” He, too, was
frustrated because the strike was keeping him from going home. At his moment,
Bob felt comfortable enough to put his pocket knife away!
The two weary travelers finally
arrive into Pilcopata and were surprised that the roadblock in Pilcopata had
been abandoned. The streets were quiet and calm. Bob got home just in time to
get a good meal, some cool water, a shower, and finally fell into bed!
Early
the next morning, Tuesday, the 6th, Bob went to our friendly
neighborhood store owner, who decided to risk opening her store for a few
minutes. Bob bought almost all the bread she had. At home, he packed his
backpack with the bread, several Bibles, as well as some water and immediately
headed back to Patria. As he was on the edge of town, he was met by a group of
about 60 people, blocking the road and protesting. They were not letting any
motorcycles leave town and as Bob tried to pass, they grabbed him and started
yelling, “TOURISTS CAN’T PASS! GRINGOS CAN’T PASS!” Bob pulled arms from their
hands and told them, “I live here. I’m your neighbor and I’m the pastor of the
Baptist church in town. You will let me pass!” He then walked right passed
them.
As he walked out of town, Bob noticed that there were
no signs of any motorcycles coming or going. So determined to deliver what he
had promised to the other drivers, he began the six kilometer walk to Patria.
He arrived about two hours later, exhausted and thirsty himself, and now faced
with an even bigger and angrier crowd. Unfortunately, there is no brush to duck
into in order to avoid the crowd. Besides, they had already seen him. He
quickly prayed and asked God to protect him. He put his head down and head
right into the middle of the crowd. He doesn’t even get passed the first person
before several people grabbed him. The protesters started pushing Bob and
holding onto both arms. They yanked on his backpack, demanding to see what was
inside. He knew they would confiscate the bag’s contents, so he refused to show
them. He is now fully expecting to be beat for refusing their demands, but
praise God that did not happen.
Instead, they continued yelling,
as he sternly informed them that he is a pastor and that he has church members
in town that he needs to attend to them, as well as others. He says he is there
to do his pastoral duties and that they WILL let him pass! Everyone except one
person let go of him, but that one man’s grip continued to get tighter and
tighter around Bob’s arm. Bob can still smell the foul stench of the homemade
liquor on his breath and can see in his eyes that he is still drunk from the
night before. Bob looked him straight into the eyes and almost yelled, in order
for the whole crowd to hear, “You’re going to attack a pastor, a preacher of
the Word of God, a man of God? How dare you! Shame on you!” Bob then yanked his
arm from his death grip and with great determination, marched right through the
middle of the angry mob. No one else laid a hand on Bob, but rather looked on
silently as he passed by.
*****
Right on the other side of the roadblock, Bob
encountered the first truck driver and asked if he had eaten anything
yet. He quietly answered that he had not yet been able to get anything to eat.
So Bob opened his backpack in front of the entire group and handed the driver
some food and water. Bob told him to then get into his truck to eat. No one
from the angry mob said a word. Bob went from truck to truck until each person
had received something to eat and drink.
After eating, the drivers, along with Bob, sat down in
a shady area together. The whole time, Bob had been looking for an opportunity
to speak about spiritual things and had been praying that God would show him
the right time to do so! Out of nowhere, one of the men said, “Well, pastor,
you fed us and gave us water. You met our physical need. Now all we are missing
is to be fed spiritually.” Smiling, Bob replied, “Well, I came prepared for
that, too!” Once again he opened his backpack, but this time, he pulled out the
Word of God, the Bread of Life, and gave one to each person there. Before
accepting the Bible, one person in the group asked how much the Bible cost. Bob
stated that they were a free gift, which was a perfect segue into Ephesians
2:8-10!
Bob spent the next two hours preaching to these ten
lost souls on the love of God, about the sacrifice He gave for their sins. He
explained how the free gift of God is available to all mankind, if we would
only accept it by faith! He talked together with them about how Jesus IS God
and how the Bible is our final and ultimate authority. He also shared with them
that works cannot save a person. As this special, God-ordained meeting was
going on, there were hundreds of protesters behind them who were yelling,
marching, and running around chaotically. This did not deter these ten from
intently listening. They were glued, fixed, as Bob shared the Word with them.
At the end, God saw fit to save seven souls, one a Mormon and one a Seventh-Day
Adventist.
*****
A short time after this blessed event, the driver that
was first in the line of the caravan was simply at his limit and he jumped in
his truck and broke the roadblock. Bob and the other drivers quickly got into
their vehicles and followed the first driver. They had been freed. Not only had
they been freed physically but for those seven new brothers and sisters in
Christ, they had been freed spiritually.
Through this experience, we now have contacts deep into
tribal areas of the jungle, where a person must have an invitation in order to
enter. We also have contact into our local municipality and police departments.
The Lord has already allowed us to have one of them into our home for dinner
and we pray we have many more opportunities like this one!
God allowed us to be a part of this amazing experience,
to be a part of His great work. This is not Bob and Becky’s doing. This is the
work of an Almighty God! As the missionaries of old would give God all the
honor and glory for the victories won, may we do the same!
PRAISE BE TO GOD!!!
Ephesians 2:8-10
For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:
Not of works, lest any man should boast.
For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.
