Yesterday started out like any other day here in Peru: we ate breakfast, worked construction at the children’s home, and headed to the “menu” (restaurant) to eat lunch. The only thing out of the ordinary that morning was a pipe that broke and demanded the guys assistance, resulting in a long conversation with our missionary contact living on the premises about the future of the children’s home and his plans for his family and life longterm in Peru. He helped give us an even greater appreciation for his vision and his heart for his family and the Peruvian people. He had just planned a trip for his family to Machu Picchu in a few weeks for his family as well, and was waiting to tell them about it. We enjoyed getting the chance to know him better and spending our morning talking with him. However, our afternoon would not be quite so routine.
Our team was walking to lunch when a truck (what looked to be our contacts truck, but they wouldn’t be driving that recklessly, would they?) followed closely by a taxi, came flying down the road driving recklessly fast. We had to nearly jump out of the way to avoid being hit, and the truck missed my teammate Jamie by only a few inches. She looked like she was going to cry, it clearly shook her up. Aside from a brief scare we were unscathed. As we were walking in to the restaurant a man we had never seen before stopped us and starting talking to us in Spanish about how he was a part of some organization in the town and wanted to build relations with us, the white people, and work with us… blah blah blah. All we knew was that we felt a sense of foreboding and that something wasn’t quite right about him. There are times when you simply feel a little tug in your spirit that you can’t otherwise explain, and this was one of those times. Something wasn’t right. We quickly brushed him aside and went in to eat and did not see or hear from him again.
When we arrived back at the children’s home after lunch we first saw some of our other squad mates huddled around our contact’s daughter, appearing to console her. A team mate came up to us and relayed what had happened. Our contact, his daughter, and their dog had driven up the gravel road out of our compound on to the adjacent street, where a taxi coming from the opposite direction attempted to herd their truck off the road. When our contact stopped to move the tuck out of the way, he was suddenly surrounded by six or so guys, and a gun was put to his head through the crack in the window. Long story short, they took the truck, the dog, their money, but fortunately the daughter and our contact were let go after a brief scuffle with the attackers.. We arrived home minutes after this had happened. Immediately the connection with the speeding truck and guy sent to divert us at the restaurant were obvious.
I immediately called our squad leaders to let them know what had happened, and after speaking with their superiors back at the home office, the decision to move us to another location was made. This was not the first incident, and it was decided that it was not longer safe for us to stay here. This was one of those moments as a team leader when I didn’t have time to explain all the details or why the decision was made, I just gave my team the instructions to pack their bags and trust me. We said our abrupt, sometimes tearful, goodbyes to the family and our friends at the children’s home, and by 5:30 we were on a bus to Huanchaco, a small beach community about an our north of where we currently were in Trujilo.
Saying our goodbyes to our amigos that we worked construction with at the children’s home. I particularly enjoyed talking and joking around with Guillermo (or “Bill” as we called him), the one to my right in the picture.
We met up with our squad leaders that evening at the hostel we would be staying at and talked with our squad leaders about what our new week of ministry would look like. Basically we have the chance to use this week as a time to grow together as a team, to enjoy each other’s company, to have fun together, and prepare ourselves for the month to come in Bolivia. We also have the opportunity to seek the Lord’s direction on our own for ministry and decide as a team what we want to do. Emotions were high from the day and reactions to our abrupt chance of scenery were mixed. Personally, I hated having to leave. I loved our contacts, I loved Victor Raul, I loved the ministry we were doing. I felt safe (at least up until the robbery). And I felt like there was unfinished business there, more people to love and share with. But at the same time, there is a reason our team is now living in a hostel on the beach for the next 8 days. I am looking forward to this week and determined not to look back on this week and say, “man, I wish we had taken advantage of our time at the beach!”
Our new hostel for the week in Huanchaco, Peru.
Team Fireproof sitting on a rail overlooking Huanchaco with the town and ocean in the background.
A view down the beach at Huanchaco. Not the worst place to be relocated, eh?
God’s ways are not our ways. We are right where we need to be. Keep us in your prayers during this time of transition.
**Out of respect for the people involved in this incident, I have opted not to include their names in the retelling of the events**
