What I have learned:
It is better to know than to believe.
It is better to be loved, than to know.
It is better to be alive, than to be loved.
To be alive, is to believe. So....
Interesting that many of the children in the picture are not offspring of the parents holding them or immediately next to them. Everyone looked after us kids. Our parents were not possessive and the kids were not clingy and insecure. A lot of love. Of course, there is...a dark side.
This shot of people in the jungle is actually us coming from Ivon to Tumi Chucua, and is from a color slide.
I managed to reduce its digital size by crude cropping -- I am really sorry to have clipped really nice jungle parts off. But I think I've got most of the people still in there.
I think everyone is quite cheered to be leaving Ivon for our own Base.
Look how many actual people are in this shot. Granted I 've crudely cropped away most of the jungle, it's still a great picture of the group.
We had a genuine extended "family". Looking through our albums, I notice that where there is a child on my mother's lap, 50% of the time, it was not actually one of hers. Biologically. I myself was fairly aloof and savage as a child, yet there I am in the arms of a half dozen mothers.
For the record, I am in the "camp" that had a wildly wonderful experience in Tumi Chucua. I know other children were lonely or felt they missed out.
I am not sure it is comforting to hear from me, to know that others were really "there" with you.
I loved every minute. It is all holy. Everyone cared for me, all the time. We are the descendants of giant saints, people who accomplished huge things against great odds, in the face of danger and obstacles. These were not "risks", they were realities, they were happening.
Missionaries were being killed every year around us, the Base in Ecuador was wiped out in a flood, the light posts in La Paz were decorated with the bodies of previous administrations, Bolivia was infamous for "revolutions" and inflation running at 2000%, Che Guevara was one of our neighbors, and several times a year the noon-day sky would brown-out with an insect horde. Was there any time you could hold still outside of your mosquito net? And our parents who fought the Nazi's and Imperial Japanese (ALL the JAARS pilots were veterans), found a Japanese and an Austrian soldier next to us in the jungle, trying to hide! Our parents faced the greatest evil -- that banal thing without feathers -- and found good company in the face and fact of unrelenting suffering.
Caesar, one of our shy neighbor kids, once told me that these gringoes laughed like Gauchos, but prayed like Nuns. (!)
We do not have Time - in the jungle, a day was something that sank its teeth into you. We struggle in other ways now. I wish I could hear your stories, again and again.
Interesting that many of the children in the picture are not offspring of the parents holding them or immediately next to them. Everyone looked after us kids. Our parents were not possessive and the kids were not clingy and insecure. A lot of love. Of course, there is...a dark side.
ReplyDeleteThis shot of people in the jungle is actually us coming
ReplyDeletefrom Ivon to Tumi Chucua, and is from a color slide.
I managed to reduce its digital size by crude cropping
-- I am really sorry to have clipped really nice jungle
parts off. But I think I've got most of the people
still in there.
I think everyone is quite cheered to be leaving Ivon
for our own Base.
Look how many actual people are in this shot. Granted
I 've crudely cropped away most of the jungle, it's
still a great picture of the group.
We had a genuine extended "family". Looking through
our albums, I notice that where there is a child on my
mother's lap, 50% of the time, it was not actually one
of hers. Biologically. I myself was fairly aloof and
savage as a child, yet there I am in the arms of a half
dozen mothers.
For the record, I am in the "camp" that had a wildly
wonderful experience in Tumi Chucua. I know other
children were lonely or felt they missed out.
I am not sure it is comforting to hear from me, to know
that others were really "there" with you.
I loved every minute. It is all holy. Everyone cared
for me, all the time. We are the descendants of giant
saints, people who accomplished huge things against
great odds, in the face of danger and obstacles. These
were not "risks", they were realities, they were
happening.
Missionaries were being killed every year around us,
the Base in Ecuador was wiped out in a flood, the light
posts in La Paz were decorated with the bodies of
previous administrations, Bolivia was infamous for
"revolutions" and inflation running at 2000%, Che
Guevara was one of our neighbors, and several times a
year the noon-day sky would brown-out with an insect
horde. Was there any time you could hold still outside
of your mosquito net? And our parents who fought the
Nazi's and Imperial Japanese (ALL the JAARS pilots were
veterans), found a Japanese and an Austrian soldier
next to us in the jungle, trying to hide! Our parents
faced the greatest evil -- that banal thing without
feathers -- and found good company in the face and fact
of unrelenting suffering.
Caesar, one of our shy neighbor kids, once told me that
these gringoes laughed like Gauchos, but prayed like
Nuns. (!)
We do not have Time - in the jungle, a day was
something that sank its teeth into you. We struggle in
other ways now. I wish I could hear your stories,
again and again.
Thanks.