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| An Abau village on the Sepik River |
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By Kelly Luyendyk with Debbie Burgett - 2007.02.15
The water kept rising.
For several days we had observed the swollen Sepik River with growing concern. Its tentacles spread steadily into the village where we work among the Abau people of Papua New Guinea.
Various wild animals made desperate and futile attempts to swim across the current toward the safety of higher ground. Hordes of dogs and chickens invaded our yard to wait out the flood on a relatively dry spot.
For the tribal people, initial excitement over the prospect of easy hunting and maneuverability was already giving way to a strange blend of patient anxiety for their disappearing homes and drowning gardens.
Our missionary houses were on a low ridge overlooking the village, safe from the danger of being swept away. However, we needed to secure some supplies that were in the storage shed out by the airstrip. The high, menacing water was threatening the integrity of the shed.
My co-worker, Frank Tertel, and I decided to make a quick canoe trip out to the airstrip and collect the supplies. We would have to use our small motor canoe as there was plenty of cargo to pick up and a dugout would not be big enough.
But the motor would have to be left behind. We did not want to bend the propeller on submerged logs, wrap it tight with village grass, or chop up anything valuable or dangerous lurking beneath the muddy waters.
My wife, Sien, and a visiting missionary neighbor, Lisa Kappeler, decided to join us on the grand expedition. We figured the four of us would produce more than enough man-power.
However, paddling a motor canoe is nothing like paddling a dugout. We awkwardly managed to avoid colliding with the jungle debris roaring toward us as we thumped along in the swirling current.
That’s when the inevitable laughter and cat-calling began. Perched on their rickety verandas, our amused Abau neighbors sat watching us. Their good-natured jeers rose in velocity as they became entertained by the spectacle of "white skins" entangled in some low hanging branches.
Undeterred, we eventually turned out of the stream and made our way through the village obstacle course. This was similar to maneuvering a school bus without brakes through a crowded parking lot. We paddled around houses, into coconut trees and through the bananas with determination and a growing sense of humility.
Forced to endure unsolicited advice like inept youngsters learning to drive the family car, we persevered and finally made it out to our endangered storage shed.
But the flood had made everything look unfamiliar. The airstrip was now a huge lake with canoes gliding up and down. The parking space fence was hiding somewhere beneath us. We gingerly stepped into the building, hoping the supporting posts would "not be moved."
The structure held, and with the cargo quickly loaded we began the return trip.
By the time we had somewhat successfully navigated our way back through the bananas and out onto the Sepik, we were feeling much more confident in our abilities. But we had barely finished congratulating ourselves when the strong current caught the canoe and hauled us backward downriver.
Paddling for all we were worth, the four of us powered the heavily laden canoe slowly back up the river. We crept along the flooded shoreline, arms aching, lungs panting, and spirits declining. Possible contingencies were hurriedly considered in case our determination and endurance were not enough.
Ultimately we were able to slip out of the surging current and into the relative calm of our dock area, now concealed under a swirling mass of brown and green. Exhausted, we steered past our fuel shed and its floating gas drums and bumped into the breadfruit tree just below our houses.
Frank leaned precariously out over the front of the canoe and tied us tight. Safe at last. While things were fairly damp, boxes a little crushed, and our muscles extremely sore, we had made it home without an unscheduled bath or worse.
As another jungle adventure drew to a close, we thanked the Lord for His gracious protection. We would live to see and enjoy another day.
But best of all, we would have the opportunity to see the new and growing Abau church in Papua New Guinea do exactly what the river did – expand far beyond it’s borders and flood God’s amazing love to others. Life along the Sepik has only just begun. |
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