Chapter 30: Traveling the Marañon and Pastaza Rivers
We continue exploring the area and making contact with people. We also find a place to live!
AS TOLD BY JOHNAGERSTEN
Traveling downstream on the Marañon from Morona
As we entered the Marañon River from the Morona, it seemed like a lake. From here the Marañon is wide and winds its way eastward until it is joined by the Ucayali River. At this junction, the river changes name to Amazon, one of the longest rivers in the world and the largest in the volume of water.
Here, at the mouth of Morona, we could still catch glimpses of the Andes mountains in the west where the river originated. The jungle was like a wall of trees and undergrowth on each bank with occasional clearings with huts and small villages as we made our way downriver. We stopped at one of these small villages, bought some bananas and yucca (manioc), talked for a little while with the few people who were home, and gave out some tracts. Most people were out in their fields at this time of day, so we did not stay long.
Continuing downriver, our next planned stop was Barranca. At this military base, we had obtained permission to travel in the Morona region, and we wanted permission to travel up the Pastaza River next. We would then return to Yurimaguas for Christmas. After that, we planned to come back and visit these villages on the Marañon between Morona and Pastaza. But as we were passing a village on our way to Barranca, I felt like a voice was telling me to not wait but to visit this village now. I turned the boat against the current and drove toward the bank. I docked outside a hut, which turned out to be the village school. The teacher and a flock of curious students came to the riverbank to greet us as I tied up the boat. After introducing ourselves, we gave him some tracts along with a simple presentation of the Gospel. He read for a little while, then invited us to meet in the schoolhouse that evening. He also told us the name of the village was Tigre Playa. This was a Spanish-speaking village as are most along the Marañon.
It was still early in the afternoon, but several people had returned from their fields, so the teacher went with us to the different houses and invited people to the meeting. We then returned to the boat to eat and prepare for the service. Pretty much everyone in the village showed up and the one-room schoolhouse was full. There were around a hundred people in attendance. Everyone listened intently to the message of the Gospel of Jesus, Light of the World, and Saviour. The children learned the choruses quickly and participated in the singing with enthusiasm. We ended up staying in Tigre Playa for four days and held several services both in the schoolhouse and in the open area outside the boat. To our great joy, two young men came forward at the end of one of the services and wanted to be saved.
As we entered the Marañon River from the Morona, it seemed like a lake. From here the Marañon is wide and winds its way eastward until it is joined by the Ucayali River. At this junction, the river changes name to Amazon, one of the longest rivers in the world and the largest in the volume of water.
Here, at the mouth of Morona, we could still catch glimpses of the Andes mountains in the west where the river originated. The jungle was like a wall of trees and undergrowth on each bank with occasional clearings with huts and small villages as we made our way downriver. We stopped at one of these small villages, bought some bananas and yucca (manioc), talked for a little while with the few people who were home, and gave out some tracts. Most people were out in their fields at this time of day, so we did not stay long.
Continuing downriver, our next planned stop was Barranca. At this military base, we had obtained permission to travel in the Morona region, and we wanted permission to travel up the Pastaza River next. We would then return to Yurimaguas for Christmas. After that, we planned to come back and visit these villages on the Marañon between Morona and Pastaza. But as we were passing a village on our way to Barranca, I felt like a voice was telling me to not wait but to visit this village now. I turned the boat against the current and drove toward the bank. I docked outside a hut, which turned out to be the village school. The teacher and a flock of curious students came to the riverbank to greet us as I tied up the boat. After introducing ourselves, we gave him some tracts along with a simple presentation of the Gospel. He read for a little while, then invited us to meet in the schoolhouse that evening. He also told us the name of the village was Tigre Playa. This was a Spanish-speaking village as are most along the Marañon.
It was still early in the afternoon, but several people had returned from their fields, so the teacher went with us to the different houses and invited people to the meeting. We then returned to the boat to eat and prepare for the service. Pretty much everyone in the village showed up and the one-room schoolhouse was full. There were around a hundred people in attendance. Everyone listened intently to the message of the Gospel of Jesus, Light of the World, and Saviour. The children learned the choruses quickly and participated in the singing with enthusiasm. We ended up staying in Tigre Playa for four days and held several services both in the schoolhouse and in the open area outside the boat. To our great joy, two young men came forward at the end of one of the services and wanted to be saved.
,On the second day, we took a stroll through the village visiting people who had not left for their fields or gone fishing. The houses were in a row along the riverbank on both sides of the schoolhouse. We noticed an empty house about midway, built in the traditional way on stilts with a palm-leaf roof and bamboo walls. It had another hut behind it which could be accessed by a small bridge from the main building. It served as the kitchen. The house stood on a pretty large clearing with several orange and lemon trees and other fruit trees we were not familiar with. The thought hit us that maybe this would be a place we could live. Maybe the Lord wanted us to settle in and work from Tigre Playa. We asked about the plot and the empty house. We were told the owner now lived in a small tributary across the river but they would send him a message to come talk to us about it.
While we waited to hear from the owner, we prayed for wisdom, certainty, and peace if this was to be the base for our ministry. Looking at the map we could see that the village was situated between the Morona and the Pastaza rivers coming from the north, and the smaller tributaries Potro and Cahuapanas entering from the south. Five different tribes with their own languages live along these smaller rivers, and along the larger Marañon, there are mainly Spanish-speaking villages. It looked like an ideal, central base for the area we felt called to work in.
The owner of the hut we had looked at came after a couple of days. He was willing to sell us the house for what would correspond to about $20. We were told that the land itself belonged to the state, but that whoever clears it and uses it has a right to it as long as he lives there. If he moves, then anybody can take over the land. So in that respect, we were only buying the house itself and we would have free use of the land. We did need to obtain permission from the local government official and the military commander in Barranca to settle here. This permission was readily given so nothing was hindering us from purchasing the house in Tigre Playa.
While we waited to hear from the owner, we prayed for wisdom, certainty, and peace if this was to be the base for our ministry. Looking at the map we could see that the village was situated between the Morona and the Pastaza rivers coming from the north, and the smaller tributaries Potro and Cahuapanas entering from the south. Five different tribes with their own languages live along these smaller rivers, and along the larger Marañon, there are mainly Spanish-speaking villages. It looked like an ideal, central base for the area we felt called to work in.
The owner of the hut we had looked at came after a couple of days. He was willing to sell us the house for what would correspond to about $20. We were told that the land itself belonged to the state, but that whoever clears it and uses it has a right to it as long as he lives there. If he moves, then anybody can take over the land. So in that respect, we were only buying the house itself and we would have free use of the land. We did need to obtain permission from the local government official and the military commander in Barranca to settle here. This permission was readily given so nothing was hindering us from purchasing the house in Tigre Playa.
We felt at peace about it and bought the house. Before we left we made an arrangement with some of the people who lived there to make some needed repairs on the house and gave them some money as a deposit. The repairs were to be completed before we returned around the new year. We realized that living in the bamboo hut would not be a permanent solution if we were to live here for several years. Gro wrote home from Yurimaguas: “We hope to start building a better, and more permanent house soon, but it will be better to live in the bamboo hut rather than on the boat while we build. The boat is narrow and cramped, and also very hot. The hut will not be as hot, there will be more room, and be safer, especially for the children. It will also be nice to not have to squeeze through oil and gasoline barrels in order to get water or do laundry at the back of the boat. We feel at peace about this decision.”
Continuing to the Pastaza River
We were almost sad to leave Tigre Playa, but we had to continue our journey. After about an hour's travel, we made a short stop in Barranca. Another hour downriver brought us past the larger village of San Lorenzo, and after yet another hour we found ourselves at the mouth of the Pastaza River.
We turned into the Pastaza and continued upriver until we hit a log standing upright under the water level. One of the propeller parts broke, so we had to paddle to shore where I was able to fix the problem with a part from the supply we carried with us. We continued traveling and found that Pastaza was harder to navigate than the Morona due to shallow areas, rapids, and logs in the river. Late afternoon we arrived at a small village. We visited with the inhabitants for a while and bought some fish before we settled in for the night. We were told that we did not have far to go before reaching the military base at the mouth of Lake Rimachi. We had heard of the lake before and understood that it was a fairly large one with islands and channels, and it was fed by several smaller tributaries. The Kandoshi tribe populate this area. They speak the same language as the Chapra tribe on the Morona.
As we reached the military base the next morning, a couple of soldiers told us the sergeant was ill. I followed them to the house where he was lying. He had a large boil in his groin and one of his big toes was very infected. The boil looked like it was about to burst and he was in a lot of pain. He wanted me to lance the boil to let the pus out. I was hesitant but wanted to help, so we sterilized a razor blade and made the attempt. I didn’t dare cut very deep, but the pus was further in. I gave him some pain medicine and some antibiotics and promised to check on him on our way back out of the lake.
Continuing to the Pastaza River
We were almost sad to leave Tigre Playa, but we had to continue our journey. After about an hour's travel, we made a short stop in Barranca. Another hour downriver brought us past the larger village of San Lorenzo, and after yet another hour we found ourselves at the mouth of the Pastaza River.
We turned into the Pastaza and continued upriver until we hit a log standing upright under the water level. One of the propeller parts broke, so we had to paddle to shore where I was able to fix the problem with a part from the supply we carried with us. We continued traveling and found that Pastaza was harder to navigate than the Morona due to shallow areas, rapids, and logs in the river. Late afternoon we arrived at a small village. We visited with the inhabitants for a while and bought some fish before we settled in for the night. We were told that we did not have far to go before reaching the military base at the mouth of Lake Rimachi. We had heard of the lake before and understood that it was a fairly large one with islands and channels, and it was fed by several smaller tributaries. The Kandoshi tribe populate this area. They speak the same language as the Chapra tribe on the Morona.
As we reached the military base the next morning, a couple of soldiers told us the sergeant was ill. I followed them to the house where he was lying. He had a large boil in his groin and one of his big toes was very infected. The boil looked like it was about to burst and he was in a lot of pain. He wanted me to lance the boil to let the pus out. I was hesitant but wanted to help, so we sterilized a razor blade and made the attempt. I didn’t dare cut very deep, but the pus was further in. I gave him some pain medicine and some antibiotics and promised to check on him on our way back out of the lake.
Lake Rimachi
The following morning we set course for the inlet leading to Rimachi. It didn't take long before the narrow channel opened up into a wide lake. The landscape that met us was almost indescribably beautiful and special. The water was crystal clear and we could see fishes swimming in and out of plants and vines below the surface of the water. The clouds and the forest were mirrored on the calm surface. There were channels flowing quietly between the islands where large trees towered over us. We could hear howler monkeys screaming in the treetops, and alligators splashing into the water disturbed by our engine. It felt like we had entered a primordial landscape. Our engine was not the first one to disturb the alligators, however. Traders had started to come here in the later years to buy wild boar meat and pelts. Other goods were also tempting, including the big fish, paiche, which has both gills and lungs. It has to rise to the surface every now and then for a mouthful of air. A grown paiche can reach 7 feet or so in length and weigh 200 - 400 pounds and has very good meat.
The following morning we set course for the inlet leading to Rimachi. It didn't take long before the narrow channel opened up into a wide lake. The landscape that met us was almost indescribably beautiful and special. The water was crystal clear and we could see fishes swimming in and out of plants and vines below the surface of the water. The clouds and the forest were mirrored on the calm surface. There were channels flowing quietly between the islands where large trees towered over us. We could hear howler monkeys screaming in the treetops, and alligators splashing into the water disturbed by our engine. It felt like we had entered a primordial landscape. Our engine was not the first one to disturb the alligators, however. Traders had started to come here in the later years to buy wild boar meat and pelts. Other goods were also tempting, including the big fish, paiche, which has both gills and lungs. It has to rise to the surface every now and then for a mouthful of air. A grown paiche can reach 7 feet or so in length and weigh 200 - 400 pounds and has very good meat.
A little further in we passed some indigenous people spearfishing from a canoe. They were wearing a type of skirt bound around their waist, the lower part of their faces was painted in a bluish-black pattern, and their long black hair flowed down their back. They seemed to be watching us as curiously as we were watching them, but they soon returned to their fishing. We found out later that the face painting was a sign of mourning. A man in their group had died unexpectedly which they believed was due to witchcraft.
Soon after passing the fishermen, we came to a narrow passage that looked almost impassable. We turned off the engine and started to paddle forward. It turned out that the growth that seemed to block the way was a type of seaweed or grass just floating on the surface so it easily moved to the side as the boat came through. When the channel widened, we could see a group of houses on a hill on the other side.
As soon as we docked the boat, several villagers came to meet us. Some of them came right into the boat and started looking at, touching, and smelling pretty much everything in there. Our refrigerator was of particular interest, especially when we let them touch some of the ice formed in the freezer compartment. They gesticulated and talked loudly over each other in their language. None of them spoke Spanish. Gro had already prepared lunch, so when it appeared they were not planning to leave the boat anytime soon, we sat down to eat. It was the first time we had eaten with an audience and they seemed to find our way of eating quite funny. They finally left when they heard voices and movement outside the boat. We looked out to see what was happening. The fishermen had returned and had been successful; they had a big paiche in their canoe.
Soon after passing the fishermen, we came to a narrow passage that looked almost impassable. We turned off the engine and started to paddle forward. It turned out that the growth that seemed to block the way was a type of seaweed or grass just floating on the surface so it easily moved to the side as the boat came through. When the channel widened, we could see a group of houses on a hill on the other side.
As soon as we docked the boat, several villagers came to meet us. Some of them came right into the boat and started looking at, touching, and smelling pretty much everything in there. Our refrigerator was of particular interest, especially when we let them touch some of the ice formed in the freezer compartment. They gesticulated and talked loudly over each other in their language. None of them spoke Spanish. Gro had already prepared lunch, so when it appeared they were not planning to leave the boat anytime soon, we sat down to eat. It was the first time we had eaten with an audience and they seemed to find our way of eating quite funny. They finally left when they heard voices and movement outside the boat. We looked out to see what was happening. The fishermen had returned and had been successful; they had a big paiche in their canoe.
While the villagers were admiring the fish, a white woman came down to the water. She was from the Wycliffe Bible Translator group and she had come to this village several years ago with a female colleague. She was currently back at the Wycliffe base in Yarina Cocha. The Wycliffe missionaries had made a huge impact both here and in other villages of tribes that used to be warlike. Visitors had been strongly discouraged in the area both by the tribes themselves and the military.
The next day we were invited for coffee in the missionary’s simple hut. She was working on translating parts of the Bible to Candoshi, a dialect of the Chapra language that Wycliffe had learned in Morona. She was also working on textbooks for the schools they had started in a couple of villages. A couple of the young men from the tribe were attending a summer school at the Wycliffe base to become teachers for the village schools. The missionary told us that there were more Candoshi villages along the tributaries of the lake, and she had not been able to visit all of them. The missionaries stay in the village for two-three months a couple of times a year, The rest of the year they live on the Wycliff base working on the translations. They are taken back and forth with small pontoon planes and stay in contact with the base with ham radios.
The next day we were invited for coffee in the missionary’s simple hut. She was working on translating parts of the Bible to Candoshi, a dialect of the Chapra language that Wycliffe had learned in Morona. She was also working on textbooks for the schools they had started in a couple of villages. A couple of the young men from the tribe were attending a summer school at the Wycliffe base to become teachers for the village schools. The missionary told us that there were more Candoshi villages along the tributaries of the lake, and she had not been able to visit all of them. The missionaries stay in the village for two-three months a couple of times a year, The rest of the year they live on the Wycliff base working on the translations. They are taken back and forth with small pontoon planes and stay in contact with the base with ham radios.
After visiting with her, we strolled around the village. A few of the men could speak a little Spanish. We watched them work making baskets, weaving belts and hairbands, and cooking, including preparing masato. Later that day we had a service in one of the huts. We sang some songs in Candoshi, and then the missionary gave a word in their language. It was good to return to the boat, without extra visitors this time, We were pretty tired after two eventful days in Rimachi. Tomorrow we would be headed back to the military base and the Pastaza River.
Back to the Marañon River and on to Yurimaguas
Back at the military base, the sergeant met us at the boat. He was feeling much better and very grateful for the medication. We continued on our way and stopped for a couple of hours at a village where we passed out tracts and Bible portions. Late in the afternoon, we reached the village Recreo. We spent the night here and held a service that evening at the schoolhouse. There were about 60 people present. Everybody wanted tracts and Bible portions. Not everyone could read, but some of the younger men and the schoolchildren could read it for them. When they realized we were leaving the following morning, they implored us to return. They wanted to hear more.
After breakfast the next morning we set off again, and it did not take long to reach the Marañon River. It was even wider now that the Pastaza had joined it. We continued downriver to the mouth of Huallaga and spent the night at a clearing with a hut there. We talked for a while with the people who lived in the house, but it was already late and we were tired after many hours traveling, so we headed to bed shortly thereafter.
Back to the Marañon River and on to Yurimaguas
Back at the military base, the sergeant met us at the boat. He was feeling much better and very grateful for the medication. We continued on our way and stopped for a couple of hours at a village where we passed out tracts and Bible portions. Late in the afternoon, we reached the village Recreo. We spent the night here and held a service that evening at the schoolhouse. There were about 60 people present. Everybody wanted tracts and Bible portions. Not everyone could read, but some of the younger men and the schoolchildren could read it for them. When they realized we were leaving the following morning, they implored us to return. They wanted to hear more.
After breakfast the next morning we set off again, and it did not take long to reach the Marañon River. It was even wider now that the Pastaza had joined it. We continued downriver to the mouth of Huallaga and spent the night at a clearing with a hut there. We talked for a while with the people who lived in the house, but it was already late and we were tired after many hours traveling, so we headed to bed shortly thereafter.
The next day we reached the larger village of Lagunas. We wanted to visit some American missionaries. The older couple had started their work in Yurimaguas but later moved here. They had built a church and also ministered in villages in the area. Some children we met at the waterfront led us to the missionary's house. The couple had heard about us from the Elliots in Yurimaguas and we were warmly welcomed. We also got to meet a younger missionary couple that was working with them. The younger couple returned with us to the boat where we had a lovely visit while drinking coffee and discussing our experiences and also hearing about their work. That evening we were also able to participate in a service at their church.
In the morning we continued toward Yurimaguas. The current in the Huallaga is pretty strong, so the boat did not move very fast with just the little outboard motor. We traveled all day, and it was getting dark as we docked at a small village. People came from the closest houses to see who we were. One of the men wanted me to follow him and look at his son's foot. I followed with my bag of medicines, and in the light of a small paraffin lamp and a flashlight, I could see that the little boy had a big infected boil between his toes. One of his toes was standing straight up as the infection had eaten through one of the tendons. I cleaned the wound, applied antibiotic cream, then bandaged it. I gave the cleaning solution, cream, and bandages to the dad for him to continue the treatment. We had to keep going upriver the next morning, so all I could do was hope they would continue to treat it.
Huallaga was getting narrower and the twists and turns were countless. Finally, we could see Yurimaguas around the bend. It was afternoon on December 12th, 1969 when we reached the harbor area, and we found a quiet spot to dock a little apart from the main trafficked part of the harbor. I hurried up to Elliot's house. They had been getting our mail for us from the post box I had rented about two and a half months ago. It was nice to meet them again, and they invited us to come to visit when they heard we would be staying till after Christmas.
Right now we were pouring over the news from Norway that had come in the mail both in the form of newspapers and letters. The newspapers were quickly looked over, but most letters were read at least twice. The next morning we spent writing letters back. Our families would be anxious to hear from us after our weeks on the rivers. As we wrote, we were very grateful to our Lord for all that we had experienced and for keeping all four of us safe. It felt good to be back in civilization, even if it was still just a large village in the jungle.
In the morning we continued toward Yurimaguas. The current in the Huallaga is pretty strong, so the boat did not move very fast with just the little outboard motor. We traveled all day, and it was getting dark as we docked at a small village. People came from the closest houses to see who we were. One of the men wanted me to follow him and look at his son's foot. I followed with my bag of medicines, and in the light of a small paraffin lamp and a flashlight, I could see that the little boy had a big infected boil between his toes. One of his toes was standing straight up as the infection had eaten through one of the tendons. I cleaned the wound, applied antibiotic cream, then bandaged it. I gave the cleaning solution, cream, and bandages to the dad for him to continue the treatment. We had to keep going upriver the next morning, so all I could do was hope they would continue to treat it.
Huallaga was getting narrower and the twists and turns were countless. Finally, we could see Yurimaguas around the bend. It was afternoon on December 12th, 1969 when we reached the harbor area, and we found a quiet spot to dock a little apart from the main trafficked part of the harbor. I hurried up to Elliot's house. They had been getting our mail for us from the post box I had rented about two and a half months ago. It was nice to meet them again, and they invited us to come to visit when they heard we would be staying till after Christmas.
Right now we were pouring over the news from Norway that had come in the mail both in the form of newspapers and letters. The newspapers were quickly looked over, but most letters were read at least twice. The next morning we spent writing letters back. Our families would be anxious to hear from us after our weeks on the rivers. As we wrote, we were very grateful to our Lord for all that we had experienced and for keeping all four of us safe. It felt good to be back in civilization, even if it was still just a large village in the jungle.
