Chapter 48: A Suspensful Visit to a Chapra Village
AS TOLD BY JOHN AGERSTEN
NOTE: No photos were taken during this trip. All the photos were taken on other trips to this area.
An Impulse to Visit Shoroya Cocha in Morona
Throughout all the years spent in the jungles of Peru, we have gathered numerous experiences that have etched themselves into my memory. In the 1970s and early 1980s, we undertook many extensive journeys in the region surrounding Tigre Playa to visit the villages along the Marañon and its tributaries. The journey I wish to recount now stands out vividly in my mind, both for its beginning and the unique experiences encountered along the way.
Throughout all the years spent in the jungles of Peru, we have gathered numerous experiences that have etched themselves into my memory. In the 1970s and early 1980s, we undertook many extensive journeys in the region surrounding Tigre Playa to visit the villages along the Marañon and its tributaries. The journey I wish to recount now stands out vividly in my mind, both for its beginning and the unique experiences encountered along the way.
|
One morning, as I was attending to some work at our home, my thoughts wandered to a Chapra village by the Morona River. The image of the village chief, Tariri, kept resurfacing in my mind. We had visited him several times at his home in Shoroya Cocha. Several months ago, Tariri and his family had come to Tigre Playa during the Bible Week. He had undergone a profound conversion several years before we began our work in the jungle, a transformation brought about by missionaries from Wycliffe who were engaged in translating the New Testament into the Chapra language. During this period, the missionaries spent most of the year at their base, Yarina Cocha, by the Ucayali River, with shorter stays in Shoroya. Tariri's son, Tsirimpo, was leading the small group of Christians in the village. Gradually, others came to faith, and some were baptized during visits to the Bible Weeks at Tigre Playa.
|
|
This morning, I sensed that something significant was unfolding, and that I needed to travel to Shoroya Cocha as soon as possible. We already had a trip planned to Morona with our houseboat, Alli Shungo, in the near future, along with the whole family. Thus, I attempted to push away thoughts of Tariri and refocused on the work at hand. Yet, I could not shake this feeling of urgency. I set down my tools and prayed silently. Was this a message from God? After a while, it became clear to me that I needed to go to Shoroya as quickly as possible. I walked inside to Gro and shared my thoughts with her. We both agreed that this impulse was from the Lord and that I should leave the very next day by speedboat—a small aluminum boat equipped with a 40 hp outboard motor. I would need a barrel of gasoline for this journey. It had to be mixed with oil, and the boat needed to be prepared, in addition to packing clothes, some food items, and “the bed.” Even with the speedboat, the trip would take many hours. We got busy getting everything ready for departure the following day.
Departure to the Chapra Village in Morona
Early the next morning, I set off with a young boy from the congregation to assist me.We were heavily laden with gasoline but carrying light baggage. The heaviest item was my sleeping bundle, which consisted of an air mattress, a couple of sheets, a pillow, and mosquito netting. We turned northward into the Morona River after an hour’s journey up the Marañon. Shortly after the mouth of the river, we passed the village Puerto America. After another four hours, we arrived at the small village of Pincha Cocha, not far below Shoroya.
A mestizo man and his workers lived in a cluster of houses atop a hill. He raised cattle and also had a small shop where the Chapra people would come to buy or exchange goods. We stopped there to rest. The owner, whom I recognized from previous visits, inquired about my destination. When I told him we were going to visit Tariri, he became very agitated. “You must not go there now,” he said. “There is a full state of war between Tariri’s group and another Chapra group from a tributary of the Morona just upstream of Shoroya.” It became clear to me that something serious was unfolding, and this was the reason I had felt compelled by the Lord to embark on this journey.
Early the next morning, I set off with a young boy from the congregation to assist me.We were heavily laden with gasoline but carrying light baggage. The heaviest item was my sleeping bundle, which consisted of an air mattress, a couple of sheets, a pillow, and mosquito netting. We turned northward into the Morona River after an hour’s journey up the Marañon. Shortly after the mouth of the river, we passed the village Puerto America. After another four hours, we arrived at the small village of Pincha Cocha, not far below Shoroya.
A mestizo man and his workers lived in a cluster of houses atop a hill. He raised cattle and also had a small shop where the Chapra people would come to buy or exchange goods. We stopped there to rest. The owner, whom I recognized from previous visits, inquired about my destination. When I told him we were going to visit Tariri, he became very agitated. “You must not go there now,” he said. “There is a full state of war between Tariri’s group and another Chapra group from a tributary of the Morona just upstream of Shoroya.” It became clear to me that something serious was unfolding, and this was the reason I had felt compelled by the Lord to embark on this journey.
To Shoroya and Beyond to the Pushaga Tributary
We continued on to Shoroya Cocha, nestled deep within the jungle, a short distance further up the Morona River. There, where the path into the village begins, we secured the speedboat and embarked on the arduous half-hour trek through the dense jungle to the village and Tariri's home. However, upon our arrival, there were no people to be seen outside. The women and children were hiding in their huts. They recognized me but appeared fearful and did not communicate. They did not speak Spanish, though a few understood some of it.
Eventually, we encountered an older man who informed us that everyone had gone to a nearby village on the Pushaga tributary. We quickly retraced our steps back to the river and proceeded upstream on the Morona. Before long, we reached the small river where we turned in. Here, we had to navigate slowly, as the river was narrow and winding, and it became quite shallow further in. In some places, we had to drag the boat over fallen trees that lay across the river at the water's edge.
By late afternoon, we arrived at the village perched on a height above the river. Yet, no one appeared on the hill, which was unusual, as people typically come out to greet the sound of a boat motor.
We moored the boat and ascended the steep path to the village. Not a soul was in sight in the nearby houses. A few children were running around, and I gradually caught glimpses of women peering curiously from windows and doorways. We continued deeper into the village among the palm thatched huts, and soon I heard the sound of voices that grew stronger as we approached. As we neared a large house on the outskirts of the village, I realized the voices were coming from there.
When we rounded the corner of the house, we were met with an unexpected and frightening sight. The house was filled with men who were shouting and screaming over one another. Most of them had painted faces. Some wore feathered headdresses, and all were armed with machetes and rifles, with bandoliers filled with cartridges slung across their chests.
We continued on to Shoroya Cocha, nestled deep within the jungle, a short distance further up the Morona River. There, where the path into the village begins, we secured the speedboat and embarked on the arduous half-hour trek through the dense jungle to the village and Tariri's home. However, upon our arrival, there were no people to be seen outside. The women and children were hiding in their huts. They recognized me but appeared fearful and did not communicate. They did not speak Spanish, though a few understood some of it.
Eventually, we encountered an older man who informed us that everyone had gone to a nearby village on the Pushaga tributary. We quickly retraced our steps back to the river and proceeded upstream on the Morona. Before long, we reached the small river where we turned in. Here, we had to navigate slowly, as the river was narrow and winding, and it became quite shallow further in. In some places, we had to drag the boat over fallen trees that lay across the river at the water's edge.
By late afternoon, we arrived at the village perched on a height above the river. Yet, no one appeared on the hill, which was unusual, as people typically come out to greet the sound of a boat motor.
We moored the boat and ascended the steep path to the village. Not a soul was in sight in the nearby houses. A few children were running around, and I gradually caught glimpses of women peering curiously from windows and doorways. We continued deeper into the village among the palm thatched huts, and soon I heard the sound of voices that grew stronger as we approached. As we neared a large house on the outskirts of the village, I realized the voices were coming from there.
When we rounded the corner of the house, we were met with an unexpected and frightening sight. The house was filled with men who were shouting and screaming over one another. Most of them had painted faces. Some wore feathered headdresses, and all were armed with machetes and rifles, with bandoliers filled with cartridges slung across their chests.
Gathering of Chapras in Pushaga – A Young Woman Abducted
It suddenly fell silent as they caught sight of us. When I asked what was happening, at first no one would speak. I recognized many of them from previous visits to the village and from Shoroya. Some had come to us at Tigre Playa with sick individuals in need of help, and among them were a few believers. After an oppressive silence, Tariri finally spoke. He welcomed me and continued in Spanish. "It is God who has sent you," he said, then proceeded to explain the situation.
"A young woman has been abducted from one of the families here in the village by men from a village on the Siquanga tributary." This river flows into the Morona just above Pushaga. The residents there are also of the Chapra tribe, but they have long been in ongoing feuds with the villagers in Pushaga and Shoroya. All these villages are connected by trails through the forest, in addition to the waterways. Tariri went on to excplain: “This young girl is the daughter of the man whose house we are gathered in. Envoys from Pushaga have contacted the village in Siquanga to negotiate for her return, but they are met only with harsh words and threats. Traditionally, it is considered a grave crime among our people to abduct a woman without seeking her father's permission.”
Tariri further explained that some from Pushaga had come and asked them to join in discussions on what should be done and to offer their support in this difficult matter. When the group from Shoroya arrived earlier that day, the patience of the men in the village had already worn thin. They had just made the decision and were prepared to shoot the man who had kidnapped the girl, along with his entire family, as punishment for what they believed to be a crime. This would mean war and bloodshed. As we approached the house and heard the loud debate, it was Tariri and some of the others who attempted one last effort to sway them, despite being met with vociferous protests.
Proposals for a Possible Solution to the Situation
As I listened to Tariri, I felt chills of fear wash over me. I began to pray to God for wisdom to provide the right advice. In that moment, a thought came to me. I am certain it was the Lord speaking directly into the situation. Everyone sat in silence, listening as Tariri spoke, and now they awaited my opinion on the matter.
I presented the idea that had just come to me: “Send a couple of men once more to the village where the woman is and make one last attempt for negotiation.” A state of near chaos erupted as the proposal was put forth. Many shouted and protested, but Tariri addressed them and managed to persuade them to heed the advice. “Choose two of the village’s most trusted men,” was Tariri’s succinct yet authoritative statement.
Two leaders from the village were selected to go. It was beginning to grow dark as they set off. They informed us that it would take 6 to 7 hours to traverse the dense, dark jungle! However, they were familiar with the paths and had their own markers to guide them.
Tense Waiting for the Return of the Envoys
The agreement was that if the envoys did not return by the same time the following afternoon, it would be taken as a sign that they had been killed. Retribution would be necessary, and war between the villages would become a reality. It was a restless night filled with prayer. Undoubtedly, it was a spiritual battle against forces that seek to murder, steal, and destroy.
The next day, a tense and oppressive atmosphere hung over the village as everyone awaited the envoys. The men gathered throughout the morning in the home of the father of the abducted woman. They were painted and ready for battle, armed with their weapons. Many of them drank deeply from the bowl of strong, alcoholic cassava beverage, masatto, which circulated among them. This contributed to a more charged atmosphere as the afternoon wore on.
The Envoys Return – An Unexpected Resolution
About an hour before the agreed-upon time, two weary men returned from their mission in Siquanga—but without the girl! The entire village gathered in the open square in front of the young woman's father's house to hear what had happened. They explained that they had spoken with the men in the village and the girl herself. She had told them that she had willingly run away with this man and wished to marry him. The envoys further conveyed that she said it was because her father had mistreated her for a long time and had been harsh with her. The chief of the Siquanga village was willing to send her back, but she refused to return.
It was entirely against the tribe’s customs and laws for a man to take a young girl to his home without an arrangement with her father, and even more so when it was a man from another village.
When the young woman’s father, one of the leaders in the village, heard what the envoys had reported, he vehemently denied the accusations. But then his wife stepped forward and shouted to him so everyone could hear: “What they say is true. You have always tormented her and made her life difficult. It is your fault she has run away with this man.”
What a courageous woman! The atmosphere shifted instantly. The people murmured among themselves, yet none rebuked the girl’s father or his wife. What they heard calmed the anger among the villagers, and slowly, people walked away, disheartened. Along with Tariri and other believers, we thanked God that the matter had been resolved, preventing further hatred and enmity, and most importantly, that lives had been spared.
I stayed there for two to three days. We had some good gatherings around the Word of God. Many came to listen, including some who had previously been opponents of this new message. A number expressed their desire to receive the gospel of salvation in Jesus Christ. This became a testimony for Tariri, the believers, and especially for us, that the Lord sees and speaks even today.
The agreement was that if the envoys did not return by the same time the following afternoon, it would be taken as a sign that they had been killed. Retribution would be necessary, and war between the villages would become a reality. It was a restless night filled with prayer. Undoubtedly, it was a spiritual battle against forces that seek to murder, steal, and destroy.
The next day, a tense and oppressive atmosphere hung over the village as everyone awaited the envoys. The men gathered throughout the morning in the home of the father of the abducted woman. They were painted and ready for battle, armed with their weapons. Many of them drank deeply from the bowl of strong, alcoholic cassava beverage, masatto, which circulated among them. This contributed to a more charged atmosphere as the afternoon wore on.
The Envoys Return – An Unexpected Resolution
About an hour before the agreed-upon time, two weary men returned from their mission in Siquanga—but without the girl! The entire village gathered in the open square in front of the young woman's father's house to hear what had happened. They explained that they had spoken with the men in the village and the girl herself. She had told them that she had willingly run away with this man and wished to marry him. The envoys further conveyed that she said it was because her father had mistreated her for a long time and had been harsh with her. The chief of the Siquanga village was willing to send her back, but she refused to return.
It was entirely against the tribe’s customs and laws for a man to take a young girl to his home without an arrangement with her father, and even more so when it was a man from another village.
When the young woman’s father, one of the leaders in the village, heard what the envoys had reported, he vehemently denied the accusations. But then his wife stepped forward and shouted to him so everyone could hear: “What they say is true. You have always tormented her and made her life difficult. It is your fault she has run away with this man.”
What a courageous woman! The atmosphere shifted instantly. The people murmured among themselves, yet none rebuked the girl’s father or his wife. What they heard calmed the anger among the villagers, and slowly, people walked away, disheartened. Along with Tariri and other believers, we thanked God that the matter had been resolved, preventing further hatred and enmity, and most importantly, that lives had been spared.
I stayed there for two to three days. We had some good gatherings around the Word of God. Many came to listen, including some who had previously been opponents of this new message. A number expressed their desire to receive the gospel of salvation in Jesus Christ. This became a testimony for Tariri, the believers, and especially for us, that the Lord sees and speaks even today.
