Our First Fixer-up Boat on the Amazon
This is it? It doesn’t look at all like the picture!
I stood with my husband on a log raft floating in the
I wonder what year that picture we saw was taken?
Not excited about evaluating all the work ahead, we entered the boat. As we closed the door and looked back, we spied the biggest spider I had ever seen — about 5 inches in diameter!
Bill, always my hero, took off his shoe. Smack! It was dead.
All of a sudden, dozens of baby spiders hitching a ride with Mama had escaped and began to scatter in all directions for hidden safety. (In retrospect, I wished we had captured Mama with her spiderlings and removed her altogether!)
We walked through one small room (the future kitchen and living room), then the second smaller one used as a bedroom and then the last partition being the smallest of all, which was divided by a motor in the middle and a step to the left leading up to a small compartment on the other side. This was the bathroom area with a commode that had a water tank above and a chain for flushing.
I think I saw that model on Little House on the Prairie once.
It came equipped with a dead rat, hanging from its tail inside the water tank.
But I spied one small saving grace: a showerhead in that little space. At least we would not want for modern conveniences.
It was 1964. Bill and I had just arrived in Iquitos, located on the Amazon River in northeast Peru, to begin our ministry in the Amazon jungle. As a young bride of six months, I was eagerly looking forward to our own place. After our honeymoon, we had traveled the ardent itinerary of missionaries moving from state to state, not always knowing where we would lay our head that night. We experienced good times, great fellowship and wonderful meals. We also knew what it was like to not feel welcome, skip meals and be introduced to homes that were quite disorganized at times. (I determined then that my future guests would be well taken care of. That commitment and opportunity came as hundreds in the coming years stayed with us, becoming an integral part of our lives and bestowing many blessings upon us and the Peruvian people we were called to.)
As we exited the boat, contemplating the deterioration of the interior and exterior, I could feel my heart sinking to the bottom of the Amazon River. It’s not really necessary to remind the Lord of anything, but I sensed it was time for me to have a talk with Him.
“You realize who You’re dealing with here? It’s me, the teenager who had a scrapbook of her favorite house plans and decorated rooms, the child who couldn’t spend a night away from home without getting sick, the little kid that our neighbors (a childless couple) doted on with fun and games! Lots of attention was fine, but no sleepovers please! At midnight they were forced to carry me home wide awake. I’m a homebody, Lord, far from home, without a home, and what I’m looking at is not what I had in mind.”
All of a sudden, God penetrated my heart in a supernatural way. How do you explain this spiritual phenomenon?
From one moment to the next, it seemed like He took a large 120cc syringe and injected me with courage, determination and hope. He challenged me to transform this wreck into a home. My sinking heart that had landed in the bottom of the river rose again to its rightful place, and a new vision took residence.
We hauled the boat out of the water and for three months, repaired and replaced rotten wood, caulked, built side walls, painted and installed jalousie windows given to us as a wedding present by believers in Puerto Rico while en route to Peru. By turning the handle, those windows would open for light and air or shut for privacy, something like a Venetian blind, only painted and made of aluminum. A rare find in the jungle.
My mentor missionaries, Billy and Velta Hunter, whom I lived with and worked with for two and a half years, came from Lima to help us for a month. Since we couldn’t afford to rent a house in
At last, in December we launched our boat from dry dock to the Amazon River, and Bill registered the houseboat with the name El Lucero or the Morning Star in English.
We had some furniture made and delivered. I designed a couch (a kind of Danish futon) that could be made into an extra bed if needed. We furnished the boat with a small table and four chairs, a kerosene refrigerator, kitchen sink and cupboards, a two-burner wick kerosene stove with portable oven on top, a hand water pump and an anchor we special ordered and had brought all the way from Lima, the capital.
We were armed for the nights with candles, flashlights and kerosene lamps. We filled the cupboards full of food and the gas tanks on the rooftop full of gas. I even placed throw rugs on the floor, pictures on the walls, knickknacks and pillows on the couch (thanks to my mother-in-law’s nice hand-me-downs and the generosity of believers in the States). I would be washing clothes by hand and nothing would be ironed, but I figured you probably couldn’t be totally civilized as a missionary.
Oh, and I can’t forget repellant and bug spray! This is one more reason I’m grateful to be a Christian — I can kill a bug without a guilty conscience, unlike some folks in the world. In the darkness and still of the night, the huge roaches would surface from beneath the floor of the boat. You could literally hear them walking. Quickly, we would turn the flashlight on and start annihilating. It became our evening sport.
Finally, we completed our hard months of labor. The long lines of standing and waiting to purchase gasoline ended. No longer did we have to search for food supplies. (I’ve always marveled at how much time it took for the physical preparatory work in order to preach the gospel even once.)
Not having a car or truck, we hired rides on the donkey carts when our friend Charles’ car wasn’t available to borrow. We walked lots of miles, too. Only a few motorcars (a combination of part motorcycle up front and open-air two-wheel buggy in the back) existed back then.
We were proud of our accomplishments, but, as with all things material, our prize would not last! And that’s another story.
During the four months of renovations on the boat, Bill also took a crash course in medical training by an American doctor, Dr. Lance, and also by a Peruvian dentist, Dr. Florian. He learned to extract teeth using Novocain, suture wounds and treat infections. One day, after being tutored, he returned to the houseboat looking traumatized. He plopped down on our couch and said, “I need a drink.”
I promptly put a glass of lemonade in his hand.
“I pulled 17 teeth this morning,” he said with a sigh.
Only one other time did I ever see him in that peculiarly quiet and subdued state: when our first child was born. The doctor took Bill’s hands and placed them on the Tucker forceps and said, “Pull, Mr. Pepper, pull hard.” Things are truly done differently on the mission field.
Before we left Iquitos, our friends the Hauns, who worked with the savage headhunter Murato tribe, also called Condoshi, brought a Murato couple to our houseboat while we were still docked on the Amazon River. The man’s wife had never been to the city before. She was frightened out of her wits to be in a taxi. (Well, most of us are nervous about the way the Latins weave in and out of traffic! My grandchildren, who have visited Peru these past few years, however, think it is great fun.) It was adorable the way he held her hand trying to comfort her in the modern world.
I received them into the boat and, thinking that they were used to eating bananas, offered them a piece of banana cake I had baked. She took one bite and spit it out disgustedly on my clean floor. I was raised to believe it was prudent and mannerly to eat what was set before you and was counseled in Bible school to eat what was set before me or I would offend the natives. Evidently, the headhunters didn’t know that rule and, while shocked, I wasn’t about to act offended by them.
One morning I awoke early and, in the semidarkness of dawn, peered into the stern to see something draped over the motor and step leading up into the bathroom. Must be a battery cable, I thought. As I approached, the Lord impressed upon me, Serpiente es. I had heard that once you began learning Spanish, you start dreaming in the language, and you know you are on your way. Yet I had never had the Lord speak to me in Spanish before. It definitely caught my attention.
I decided to get a flashlight, and sure enough there was a snake heading for the shower water exit hole, ready to disembark his abode of — how long?
I woke up Bill, and he asked, “How shall we kill it?” I thought the shotgun would be good, but he reminded me we could put holes in the boat.
He took the machete and chopped it in two pieces. It was only a young boa about 5 feet long, but I was so grateful God warned me before coming into closer contact!
On December 25, 1964, we decided to head south for the
It was Christmas Day, and how better to celebrate than to plunge into our destiny? Our Christmas present to each other that year was the great news that we were going to have our first child. We were very broke, but not in debt. There would be no sumptuous feast, but I had saved a precious bag of chocolate chips for a special occasion. This was our Christmas treat. The virtuous woman of long ago must have lived in difficult times, too, and planned ahead for “she is like the merchants’ ships; she bringeth her food from afar” (Proverbs 31:13, KJV). This became my motto for many years and continues to be so since the Lord brought us to
While Bill navigated, I placed the portable oven over the kerosene burners and slipped the cookie sheet in with the chocolate chip cookies. Now, our houseboat was a flat bottom boat, therefore, it was rather stable on the water without a lot of motion. However, there was just enough motion to cause the cookies to go sliding off the cookie sheet into the kerosene wick flames below.
Disappointed that my treat was ruined, I went to task cleaning up another mess. I faced future dilemmas in the kitchen. Our flour would get wormy and buggy all too quick. After spending considerable time sifting and picking out the insects, my appetite would soon disappear.
I had another great suggestion to offer Bill.
“At least let’s sit down and eat our Christmas dinner together. Just shut off the engine, and throw out the anchor.”
Bill complied, but as we were eating, we noticed we were gliding back down the Amazon. Bill ran to the deck and discovered that the anchor was gone! Something had severed the rope. (We had decided to discard the chain because once on a trial run someone on board almost got his foot caught in it; to avoid that danger, Bill switched to the rope.)
We were now without an anchor on one of the swiftest, widest and most dangerous rivers in the world, with 100-foot monster trees floating or submerged and large whirlpools whipping around us. I learned I would have to trust God in ways I had not thought of before, and Bill learned to not comply with all my great ideas.
That interruption to our mealtime together was just the first of many thousands in the future as ministry needs or crises often took precedence over togetherness. The loss of the anchor, while sadly missed, caused us to start up the motor again, and we were on our way.
Our first stop was the
A little kindness can give a much needed response.
We stopped at several villages en route to the Tapichi River. This allowed Bill opportunities to extract many diseased teeth of the villagers. On a typical day, he could extract 40 to 60 teeth. It was gratifying to know he saved lives when he removed an abscessed tooth. If he didn’t pull them, and the natives spent the day cultivating their farms in the hot 110-degree sun, they would often die from the infection.
We took medications like antibiotics for all kinds of infections and used a dental hammer to get out those stubborn broken roots. We gave away sterile cat gut for tying newborns’ cords instead of whatever they’d use. (You don’t want to know.) Sometimes Bill had to treat and sew up wounds.
Whatever we could do, we did. And, yes, it was all legal — in Peru, where there is no doctor present, anyone can practice medicine if given permission by the local authorities. After all, the witch doctors have been doing it for centuries.
Check this situation out: two greenhorns, too young by the standards of mission organizations, too lacking in their requirements, too mechanically impaired, too zealous, too untalented, too uneducated … you get the picture. Guess who gets the glory? God, the One who called us! Our part was obedience. The rest was up to Him.
“If you love Me, you will obey what I command” (John 14:15, NIV). Obedience is a key element in your love relationship with God, and it is one not to be underestimated. We found that He always showed up, and we rejoiced watching Him work. To God be the glory.
Offering what little you have can reap much for the Kingdom.
This principle held true in practical ways for us. While Bill would turn the key at the bow of the Morning Star to start the engine, I would stand at the stern tapping the solenoid, starter and those loose battery connections with a stick and praying. The engine always started eventually. I know there were legions of angels dispatched especially to help us, and the providence of God was working in all things. We weren’t alone.
There were times when we contemplated the advantages mechanic school or carpentry school would have given us. A degree in music would have been good, too, or certification as an electrician. Bible school didn’t teach such things.
We soon discovered that God never intended for us to be a solo act. He would send the body of Christ to our rescue! His body had all the talents and skills we needed to bring fulfillment to His plan.
In future years, we had the privilege of seeing more than 600 people come to Peru to participate in the ministry, and many thousands participated with their prayers and financial support.
Good Catch Publishing is an innovator in outreach, evangelism and assimilation tools. We ghost write and produce custom testimony books for churches to use as personal evangelism tools. They are unparalleled in their effectiveness. Good Catch Publishing was founded by Daren and Nathan Lindley, who also own www.goodbookpublishing.com. Daren has been a traveling Christian speaker since 1986. You can learn more about his ministry at www.darenlindley.com.