Chapter 61: An Unplanned Trip to Cuenca, Ecuador
AS TOLD BY JOHN AGERSTEN
Visa Troubles
When we returned to Peru in February 1977 for our third term, we had to apply for new residence and work visas despite the papers we’d arranged the year before. We were given a temporary visa and told it would be extended during the year. But shortly after we finished the Bible week for evangelists and leaders in June, we were shocked to be told we had to submit an entirely new visa application. On top of that, we had to provide more documentation and confirmations from local authorities about our work and residence. This had to be done by the end of August — six months from when we received the temporary visa. We had no choice but to gather the required documents and travel to Lima as a family.
When we arrived in late July to hand in the new application, we were given another surprise: we had to leave the country before we could reapply! The military dictatorships of the 1970s caused all sorts of problems, including difficulties obtaining residency for missionaries and foreigners in general.
What now? Where could we go? From Lima it was about the same distance to Ecuador, Chile, and Bolivia. We knew that in the highland city of Cuenca in southern Ecuador, the Santal Mission ran a Norwegian school. Together with the Wilhelm family, we had considered the possibility that our two oldest might attend school there when the Wilhelm family returned to Peru in the autumn of 1978. Otherwise, we would have six Norwegian children spread across five different grades at Tigre Playa, which would be very difficult for one teacher with many other responsibilities. On the map, Cuenca didn’t look very far away, but we still dismissed it because the journey seemed too long and arduous. We were certain other solutions must exist. However, now we decided to go to Ecuador and visit the Santal Mission’s work there. Before leaving, we contacted the missionaries in Cuenca, and they welcomed us.
When we returned to Peru in February 1977 for our third term, we had to apply for new residence and work visas despite the papers we’d arranged the year before. We were given a temporary visa and told it would be extended during the year. But shortly after we finished the Bible week for evangelists and leaders in June, we were shocked to be told we had to submit an entirely new visa application. On top of that, we had to provide more documentation and confirmations from local authorities about our work and residence. This had to be done by the end of August — six months from when we received the temporary visa. We had no choice but to gather the required documents and travel to Lima as a family.
When we arrived in late July to hand in the new application, we were given another surprise: we had to leave the country before we could reapply! The military dictatorships of the 1970s caused all sorts of problems, including difficulties obtaining residency for missionaries and foreigners in general.
What now? Where could we go? From Lima it was about the same distance to Ecuador, Chile, and Bolivia. We knew that in the highland city of Cuenca in southern Ecuador, the Santal Mission ran a Norwegian school. Together with the Wilhelm family, we had considered the possibility that our two oldest might attend school there when the Wilhelm family returned to Peru in the autumn of 1978. Otherwise, we would have six Norwegian children spread across five different grades at Tigre Playa, which would be very difficult for one teacher with many other responsibilities. On the map, Cuenca didn’t look very far away, but we still dismissed it because the journey seemed too long and arduous. We were certain other solutions must exist. However, now we decided to go to Ecuador and visit the Santal Mission’s work there. Before leaving, we contacted the missionaries in Cuenca, and they welcomed us.
The first leg of the journey: By bus to Tumbes and the border of Ecuador
We bought bus tickets to Tumbes, way up in northern Peru. Buses were cheap then, but far from comfortable. The coastal road wasn’t anything to boast about either, though it was still better than the winding, narrow mountain routes. Even now, bus travel in Peru is relatively inexpensive, but the buses themselves are of a much higher standard, and the roads — especially the coastal highway — are much improved. That road runs through endless desert, broken only by a few green, fertile valleys where small rivers tumble down from the highlands toward the Pacific.
We knew that stretch well from the time we moved to Bagua and lived there before heading further east into the jungle. Back then we’d followed the same road north to Chiclayo, where the route to Bagua turns east. This time we kept going north to Peru’s northernmost city, Tumbes, about 1,300 km from Lima. The trip took well over a day with a few short stops along the way. At one of the stops, we bought coconuts whose tops had been sliced off. A straw had been stuck in the hole so you could drink the coconut milk. For us, it was more exciting than delicious — our first taste of coconut milk.
We drove past Piura, where many years earlier we had visited the American Baptist missionaries we’d known from Bagua. They turned out to be invaluable that time as Gro fell so ill on the journey there.
In Tumbes we found a modest hotel and spent the night. After breakfast the next morning, we took a minibus for the final stretch to the border crossing at Huaquillas.
At the Peruvian checkpoint we had to get off the bus and walk across a small bridge to the Ecuadorian side of the river. There our passports were stamped with tourist visas. In the little town on the border, there was a bus station with services to several places in Ecuador, including Cuenca. From there it was about 250 km up winding mountain roads.
We bought bus tickets to Tumbes, way up in northern Peru. Buses were cheap then, but far from comfortable. The coastal road wasn’t anything to boast about either, though it was still better than the winding, narrow mountain routes. Even now, bus travel in Peru is relatively inexpensive, but the buses themselves are of a much higher standard, and the roads — especially the coastal highway — are much improved. That road runs through endless desert, broken only by a few green, fertile valleys where small rivers tumble down from the highlands toward the Pacific.
We knew that stretch well from the time we moved to Bagua and lived there before heading further east into the jungle. Back then we’d followed the same road north to Chiclayo, where the route to Bagua turns east. This time we kept going north to Peru’s northernmost city, Tumbes, about 1,300 km from Lima. The trip took well over a day with a few short stops along the way. At one of the stops, we bought coconuts whose tops had been sliced off. A straw had been stuck in the hole so you could drink the coconut milk. For us, it was more exciting than delicious — our first taste of coconut milk.
We drove past Piura, where many years earlier we had visited the American Baptist missionaries we’d known from Bagua. They turned out to be invaluable that time as Gro fell so ill on the journey there.
In Tumbes we found a modest hotel and spent the night. After breakfast the next morning, we took a minibus for the final stretch to the border crossing at Huaquillas.
At the Peruvian checkpoint we had to get off the bus and walk across a small bridge to the Ecuadorian side of the river. There our passports were stamped with tourist visas. In the little town on the border, there was a bus station with services to several places in Ecuador, including Cuenca. From there it was about 250 km up winding mountain roads.
The rest of the journey was an experience, to say the least. The little bus was nearly full, and we sat all the way in the back. The first part went smoothly across the lowlands, where we passed vast banana plantations. But after a while we began climbing steep mountain slopes on an incredibly narrow road. There were several sharp hairpin turns where the driver had to back up to make the bend. From our seats in the rear, we looked straight down cliffs hundreds of meters deep. At one of the worst spots, the driver stopped, got out, and handed small coins to a statue of the Virgin Mary standing by the roadside. We sat in the bus praying the brakes would hold while the back end of the vehicle hung over the precipice. Not exactly reassuring!
We nevertheless arrived safely in Cuenca and were warmly received by the missionaries there. Cuenca sits in a broad mountain valley at just over 2,500 meters above sea level. We saw the Norwegian school and the mission work. They ran an agricultural project that trained young people from the highland villages, in addition to their evangelical work. We took a drive through the beautiful countryside around Cuenca. Among other things, we visited some hot springs where you could boil eggs in the hot water bubbling up from the ground. Our conclusion was that the Andes Mountains are beautiful in both Peru and Ecuador and share many similarities.
Back to the coast and across the border into Peru.
The frightening bus ride up to Cuenca made us dread another overland journey. We decided to fly from Cuenca to Guayaquil. We had once visited that city with the ship “Margrete Bakke,” on which we were traveling on our first trip to Peru. The flight was almost as terrifying as the bus ride, in an old wartime airplane. But at least it didn’t take as long, and we arrived shaken but unharmed. This time there was no sightseeing in Guayaquil as there had been on our visit in December 1966. We didn’t have time for that, and took the first bus onward to the small town on the border with Peru.
Back to the coast and across the border into Peru.
The frightening bus ride up to Cuenca made us dread another overland journey. We decided to fly from Cuenca to Guayaquil. We had once visited that city with the ship “Margrete Bakke,” on which we were traveling on our first trip to Peru. The flight was almost as terrifying as the bus ride, in an old wartime airplane. But at least it didn’t take as long, and we arrived shaken but unharmed. This time there was no sightseeing in Guayaquil as there had been on our visit in December 1966. We didn’t have time for that, and took the first bus onward to the small town on the border with Peru.
It was late afternoon when we arrived. We hurried to the border office by the bridge into Peru. The passport offices were about to close for the day. Still, we cleared Ecuadorian passport control without issue and crossed the bridge to the Peruvian border station. There was nobody to be seen. When I knocked on the window, a guard appeared and opened the hatch. He said rather brusquely that it was closed for the day. We were in a fairly desperate situation. We had checked out of Ecuador, but we couldn’t very well sleep on the bridge! He looked from us to the children and then at our passports, and said something about it possibly being arranged in some way. Then I understood that he wanted money. I slipped some cash into my passport, which lay on top, and pushed the passports across to his side of the hatch. Without a word, he stamped all the passports and handed them back to us quickly — of course without the money. It is the only time, during our whole time in Peru, that I paid to have documents arranged. But at that moment I saw no other way out.
On to Chulucanas
After an overnight stay in Tumbes, we traveled south to Piura, where we planned to visit Swedish missionaries. We had been in contact with Anita and Göran Olsson, who had begun mission work in the town of Chulucanas in the Piura province in 1975. As far as I remember, Göran met us in Piura, and we drove the 60 km to Chulucanas in their car. They already had a small group of young believers whom they gathered for services in their modest home. When we visited them, they had bought a central plot of land and were in the process of building a church and a missionary/pastor’s residence on the site. They told us they had experienced strong opposition from some residents influenced by local witch doctors, and also from the Catholic Church. Now they were beginning to win people’s trust by getting involved in town improvements and helping the poor. We spent a couple of pleasant days with them before we had to move on. Today, there is a large and active church in Chulucanas, with many outposts in the Piura province, as well as a significant ministry serving children with disabilities. |
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Back in Lima
Once back in Lima, we immediately submitted our applications for residence and work permits. By then the Vervik family had arrived from Norway. Their permits were sorted quickly because the visas they’d received before leaving for Norway hadn’t yet expired. The Verviks went on to Tigre Playa via the Wycliffe mission base at Yarina Cocha and arrived there before we did. It was helpful that they had visited Tigre Playa in August 1974 while working in Chanchamayo and had filled in for Liv Haug. That meant they were not strangers to the place or the friends in the congregation when they had to be on their own as missionaries for those first weeks. |
While we waited for our visas to be ready, we stayed with the missionaries Boyan and Lennart Lindgren. It was eight or nine years since they had begun mission work in the Magdalena district of Lima. They still lived in the row house they had moved into back then. A couple of years earlier, with gifts from congregations in Sweden, they had bought a central corner lot near the place where they had rented a large garage for years for services. A three‑storey house was now nearly finished. It had an assembly hall and offices on the ground floor and apartments for missionaries and pastors on the second and third floors. They had erected a temporary meeting room from materials found on the lot, on the portion closest to the corner. When the assembly hall in the three‑storey building was completed, they intended to hold services on the ground floor while a large church would be built where the temporary room now stood. A building team from the Pentecostal church in Värnamo — the Lindgrens’ sending congregation — helped with the construction. Many young people from the local congregation also eagerly worked as laborers. While our documents were being processed, I helped with practical work and with Bible teaching at the services, while Gro mostly helped Boyan with shopping and cooking. There were many mouths to feed with the Swedish workers in addition to our family!
Onward to Iquitos and home to Tigre Playa.
At last our documents were ready, and we were able to travel on to Iquitos. There we bought provisions and medicines and loaded all the boxes and sacks onto the riverboat. There was a lot needed for both us and the Vervik household, besides the medicines. As usual, the days in Iquitos were hectic, and we breathed a sigh of relief the day we could climb into the Twin Otter floatplane bound for San Lorenzo. Gunnar met us there and picked us up in the speedboat. After an hour upriver on the Marañón, we were finally home again after a long journey we had had no idea we would be making when we left Tigre Playa a few weeks earlier. At least we now had residency for a year, and that was how it would be going forward. The residence and work permits had to be renewed annually, but thereafter they could be renewed in Iquitos. Previously, we had been granted two to three years at a time, but had to go to Lima to extend the visa.
We breathed in the familiar air of Tigre Playa with a deep sense of gratitude — grateful for papers that made our stay legal and for friends who had kept things going in our absence.
There were practical tasks ahead — renewing permits each year, tending the congregation, and helping where the need was greatest — but also a quiet confidence that God had guided us through the uncertainties. Our travels had shown us how wide and varied the work could be, how many hands were ready to help, and how richly we were supported by friends from near and far. As we settled back into our simple routines, we felt prepared to meet the days to come: ready to serve, to teach, and to grow with the community that had become our home.
At last our documents were ready, and we were able to travel on to Iquitos. There we bought provisions and medicines and loaded all the boxes and sacks onto the riverboat. There was a lot needed for both us and the Vervik household, besides the medicines. As usual, the days in Iquitos were hectic, and we breathed a sigh of relief the day we could climb into the Twin Otter floatplane bound for San Lorenzo. Gunnar met us there and picked us up in the speedboat. After an hour upriver on the Marañón, we were finally home again after a long journey we had had no idea we would be making when we left Tigre Playa a few weeks earlier. At least we now had residency for a year, and that was how it would be going forward. The residence and work permits had to be renewed annually, but thereafter they could be renewed in Iquitos. Previously, we had been granted two to three years at a time, but had to go to Lima to extend the visa.
We breathed in the familiar air of Tigre Playa with a deep sense of gratitude — grateful for papers that made our stay legal and for friends who had kept things going in our absence.
There were practical tasks ahead — renewing permits each year, tending the congregation, and helping where the need was greatest — but also a quiet confidence that God had guided us through the uncertainties. Our travels had shown us how wide and varied the work could be, how many hands were ready to help, and how richly we were supported by friends from near and far. As we settled back into our simple routines, we felt prepared to meet the days to come: ready to serve, to teach, and to grow with the community that had become our home.