As the MAF plane glided effortlessly above the lush jungle, Jim thought about all that lay ahead. Dr. Tidmarsh was going to lead them overland to Shandia from Pano and then spend a month with them while Jim and Pete set things up. It certainly seemed that they were going to be busy right from the start. Dr. Tidmarsh had plans for them to build another house next to the one already there after they cleared and repaired the airstrip. In addition, several other buildings were badly in need of repair. And then there was the boys’ school to reopen. On top of all this, Jim would need to learn the Quichua language. Even though some of the Quichuas could understand Spanish, Dr. Tidmarsh had informed Jim and Pete that learning the local dialect as quickly as possible was vital to the success of their ministry.
The sharp banking turn of the Piper Cruiser snapped Jim back to the moment at hand. Nate trimmed the plane and set the flaps and throttle for landing. To Jim, the jungle seemed to be rising ominously close to the plane, but Nate didn’t seem at all concerned. Right about the time Jim expected the tops of the trees to start slapping the bottom of the plane, a clearing appeared. About fifty feet past the edge of the clearing, the wheels of the Piper abruptly touched down on the ground. The whole plane vibrated as Nate cut back on the throttle and guided the plane to the end of the airstrip where Pete was waiting with Dr. Tidmarsh and a group of Indians he had hired to help carry their belongings. As soon as Nate cut the engine, Jim jumped out of the plane and began unloading the gear.
After saying good-bye to Nate Saint, the three men hoisted their overstuffed packs onto their backs while the Indians divided up the rest of the belongings. The party then set off for Shandia, a three-hour trek from Pano. Jim fell in step behind Pete, while Dr. Tidmarsh led the way. The Indians followed behind Jim.
In the jungle, huge kapok trees towered above, providing shade not only for the travelers but also for an amazing array of mosses and lichens. Giant air ferns clung to the trunks of the trees, and translucent butterflies fluttered casually down the long, narrow trail.
Occasionally, Dr. Tidmarsh signaled for the group to stop. When they did, Jim would sometimes catch a glimpse of a multicolored snake slithering into the undergrowth. Birds squawked around them, and often when Jim looked up, he would see spider monkeys swinging casually from tree to tree. As he trudged over huge tree roots and around muddy pits, he wished he could swing freely like the monkeys above.
Dr. Tidmarsh kept glancing at his watch. He was pleased with the time they were making, but he kept reminding Jim and Pete to keep up their pace. Finally, as golden late-afternoon sunlight filtered lazily through the green canopy above them, the thin trail widened out into a man-made clearing. At the far end of the clearing overlooking a steep bluff stood a simple split-bamboo hut. “Here we are,” announced Dr. Tidmarsh cheerfully. “Home, sweet home.”
As he spoke, several figures emerged from the trees at the edge of the clearing. With shouts of recognition they raced up to Dr. Tidmarsh and threw their arms around him. Jim smiled as they chattered away in the Quichua language. He supposed they were telling Dr. Tidmarsh all that had happened since he’d left. They seemed to speak at breakneck speed, interspersing their conversation with loud rounds of laughter. As he listened to Dr. Tidmarsh, Jim hoped he would soon be able to speak Quichua as fluently as the doctor.
After fifteen minutes of joyous conversation, the Quichua Indians escorted the three missionaries to the far end of the clearing where the tall hut stood on piles three feet off the ground. Jim, who had seen the structure only from the air, was surprised at how high its thatched roof was. The roof sat like an oversized hat, twice as high as the walls that supported it.
“This is where I lived with my family,” said Dr. Tidmarsh looking at the hut. “It’s in better condition than I’d expected. Let’s see what it’s like inside.”
The three of them climbed the wooden steps that led inside. The interior was surprisingly large. The living area was divided from the sleeping area by a ceiling-to-floor curtain. A couple of rugs covered the floors, but they were littered with dead bugs. Jim, who’d expected the house to be in much worse condition, strolled into the sleeping area and laid down his backpack.
The Indians deposited the rest of the gear in the living area while Dr. Tidmarsh lit a Coleman stove. The small stove burst to life with a hiss. “I thought we’d have some canned baked beans for dinner,” he said with a smile. “But don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll show you how to eat like a local!”
Jim grinned. He knew Dr. Tidmarsh would enjoy watching him eat jungle foods for the first time, especially the foods that wiggled!
An hour later, the three of them had eaten dinner and cleaned up. Now it was time for bed. It had been a long, exhausting day. Jim took one last look from the screened window before turning in for the night. The silver reflection of the moon danced on the surface of the Atun Yaku River, which flowed swiftly along at the bottom of the bluff. The whole scene was even more beautiful than Jim had imagined it would be. Jim rolled out his sleeping bag and lay down on top of it. It was much too hot to crawl inside. He lay on his back for a long time listening to the symphony of sounds around his new home. A troop of monkeys squawked in the distance, a bird made raucous calls from a nearby tree, and the low rumble of water from the river filled the night with a soothing monotone.
When Jim awoke the next morning, a broad smile spread across his face. Jim Elliot was about to begin his long-awaited first day of missionary work in the jungle.
Jim studied the hut he had just spent the night in and tried to think how to describe it to Betty in a letter. It was nowhere near as modern as the MAF house in Shell Mera, but it was comfortable nonetheless. The walls were made from split bamboo, and the floors from wood planks. The ceiling consisted of thick tar paper nailed to the rafters. As the men ate pineapple and rice porridge for breakfast, Dr. Tidmarsh explained that huge bats lived in the high peak of the roof. The tar paper stopped bat droppings from landing on people or in a plate of food or a glass of beverage. Jim was grateful for the paper as he sipped his coffee.
The next few days were a blur of new experiences and images. Just as he had promised, Dr. Tidmarsh introduced Jim and Pete to jungle food. Jim was able to stomach most things; he even enjoyed some of them. He ate heart of chonta palm—similar to the nutty flavor of a chestnut—papaya, avocado, all shapes and colors of banana-related fruits, hierba luisa (a green tea made from jungle leaves), and a fat chonta worm. He managed to swallow the worm, but just barely. Dr. Tidmarsh, though, smacked his lips with delight after eating half a dozen of them!
Their first undertaking was to start the job of reclaiming the overgrown airstrip. It was a huge task and would take a number of weeks to complete. To help with the task, Dr. Tidmarsh hired about twenty Quichua men with machetes. The workers approached the job enthusiastically, although their enthusiasm didn’t stop some of them from wandering off into the jungle for unofficial breaks. Keeping track of the men and keeping them working was a full-time job. But Dr. Tidmarsh knew how to talk with them.
The days quickly fell into a pattern. Not wanting to waste any natural light, the three missionaries would rise at 6:00 a.m., soon after the sun rose. They would sit outside and shave on the steps one at a time. As they did so, a group of Indians would gather around to watch. Someone in the group would mimic their actions, pretending to skim a razor over his chin and cheeks. Howls of laughter would follow from the others.
Some of the Indians would stay and watch the trio eat breakfast, which usually consisted of fresh fruit and a stick of steamed manioc, topped off with a mug of good strong coffee.
At first, Jim found the lack of privacy difficult. Wherever he went and whatever he did, there always seemed to be someone there staring or giggling. But telling the Quichuas that staring or giggling was rude would have achieved nothing; they simply didn’t have the same need for privacy as Jim and Pete had. Jim knew he was the one who would have to adjust to the situation.
After breakfast, at 7:15 a.m., it was time to call Marj Saint on the handcranked radio. The men would let her know that everything was fine and give her a list of supplies they needed flown in. Of course, until they got their airstrip cleared, supplies would have to be flown to Pano and collected from there by foot, a trek of six hours roundtrip.
When radio contact ended, the three men would study the Bible and pray for a while. Dr. Tidmarsh would then set out to gather the workforce for the day while Jim and Pete passed the time studying Quichua. Learning the language wasn’t easy at first, but the men pressed on because soon they would be on their own, without the benefit of Dr. Tidmarsh’s knowledge of the language.
Throughout the rest of the day, the men would alternate between supervising the workers and studying the language. Wherever they went, Jim and Pete would carry a notebook and pen to write down new Quichua words to learn. As they worked on getting the Quichua school back in order, Dr. Tidmarsh had a teacher flown in to teach the students once classes resumed.
Dr. Tidmarsh’s month with Jim and Pete passed quickly. The young missionaries bade Dr. Tidmarsh good-bye as he set out for Pano to be flown back to Shell Mera. They were sad to see him go, but they knew he would be back. The doctor planned to return at regular intervals to stay with Jim and Pete and help their ministry along.
On September 30, several days after Dr. Tidmarsh had left, Jim and Pete rose earlier than normal to make a final inspection of the newly cleared runway. They checked to make sure there were no holes unfilled or rocks left on the tiny airstrip. When they were satisfied that everything was in order, they walked back to their hut for breakfast. At 7:15 a.m. they made their regular call to Marj Saint. Excitedly, Jim told Marj that the airstrip at Shandia was finished and ready for use.
By early afternoon, nearly one hundred fifty Quichua Indians had gathered with Jim and Pete beside the airstrip and were anxiously waiting. They heard Nate Saint’s Piper Cruiser long before they could see it. The plane flew in low from the southwest. Nate banked into a tight turn and circled the new runway twice, checking it out before attempting to land. When he was satisfied that everything was in order, he lined his plane up for a landing. Jim watched as the wheels thumped down onto the new airstrip and the plane glided to a halt. As soon as Nate cut the engine, the crowd surrounded the plane and helped unload the goods he had on board for the missionaries. After twenty minutes on the ground, Nate took off to service the other mission stations in the Oriente.
Jim went to sleep that night very content and relieved that they now had a direct lifeline to the outside world.
Chapter 7
Losses and Gains
Get up! Get up! Come with me,” pleaded a voice in Quichua through the darkness of a moonless November night.
Jim awoke with a start. Someone was frantically shaking him. Jim sat up in bed. He couldn’t make out who the man was, but from the urgency in the voice, he realized it must be an emergency.
Jim leapt out of bed and lit the kerosene lamp. “Hey, Pete, get up. There’s some kind of trouble out there,” he said shaking Pete awake.
“What is it?” asked Pete drowsily.
“I don’t know. I figure we’ll take the medical bag and follow this man,” Jim told him.
Both men pulled on some clothes, and within five minutes of being awakened, they were following the Indian man on a lightly trodden path that ran along the riverbank. Jim flipped on a flashlight that gave some light but also caused eerie shadows to dance over the path. An animal screeched in the darkness, and Jim heard the leaves near his feet rustle. He dared not put his hand on a branch to steady himself for fear he might grab a snake.
