Like a Stick in the Mud

Last night Jackie, Hernando, Wilkin and I had quite the adventure. At 5pm, Jackie came to pick me up and we left for a community called Cercadillo. Because of random stops along the way and horrific rush hour traffic, it took four hours to make it to the village.

Immediately upon our arrival, we were greeted with 12 inch mud where a make-shift road had once been. The van we affectionally call Grace was not made for mud-bogging and in no time, we were at a complete stand still.

Jackie, Wilkin and myself crawled out of the vehicle and made out way to its rear (careful not to loose our shoes in the process), hoping to add enough weight to to back tires to give Grace the extra momentum she needed. But our attempt was in vain. We gagged on black exhaust fumes as Grace spun and spattered, but she wasn't going anywhere.

Thankfully, we were close enough to Cercadillo that our headlights were noticeable and many of the the community members came out to help. We pushed, dug, and rocked poor Gracie and finally, amidst cries of "En el nombre de Jesus Cristo," she broke free!

Hernando drove the mud clad van into Cercadillo as the rest of us followed behind, scraping the remains of the road from our shoes and bare feet.

As we worked by candlelight, handing out shoes, clothes, medicine, and injections of B12, two hours quickly passed. I didn't realize how tired I was until Hernando prayed at the evening's close and I had to keep my eyes open in fear that I may fall asleep. It's nights like these that leave me feeling satisfied and at peace.