Rain Mountain

Behind DIIC, beyond the farm, stands a cliff-laden mountain called Rain Mountain. This mountain is named for its constant flow of spring water. It's really nice to have the reliable supply of water on campus. What's even nicer about the mountain is that it is an amazingly beautiful backdrop for the school.

To our delight a trail leads up to the top of this steep mountain. So, naturally, we hiked to the top one beautiful Saturday afternoon. The length wasn't very long, but the trail was pretty slick. It was very steep in some places and I found myself almost wishing for some crampons and an ice ax to dig in to the earth to give me some semblance of security as I glanced over the unfriendly drop to the side of the narrow trail.

The top of the flat mountain was covered in an almost forest like grove of huge jungle trees. I thoroughly enjoyed being able to see more than 10 feet into the bush. It was airy and free up there. The short walk over to the lookout was pleasant enough, and the view from the top was awesome. We could easily see the full of Paruima, the distant mountains toward Kamarang to the east, and the jungles of Venezuela off to our west. I felt very small up there, and I loved it! It is neat to know that God has created such a big, wonderful world for us to explore!


One of the students that had come along for the hike had brought a mirror to try signaling to the village below to see if anyone could see us. Michael took a turn with the mirror, lining it up expertly between the glare of the afternoon sun and a chosen house down below. The students got all giddy when someone from the house returned the signal with a very large mirror. They told us who's house it was and it turned out to be one of my English students who had the mirror. What fun!

Jungle Oranges

Fiber is an essential in the human diet. It keeps the body functioning beautifully when consumed in the proper amounts. Unfortunately fruits and veggies are sometimes difficult to obtain here in Guyana so we have been having trouble in this particular area of our diet. Every opportunity we get to have these coveted foods is taken full advantage of. Just such an opportunity presented itself to us one weekend at DIIC when a farmer named Danny offered to take us to his farm and harvest as many oranges as we could from his trees. We had heard wondrous things of these oranges so we arranged to leave with him at 8:00 one Sunday morning.

That Sunday turned out to be a very wet, drizzly day. Danny never showed up, most likely due to the poor weather. Michael and I decided we wanted to go anyway. We got two of the students (Mark and Devanish) to go with us. They knew the way so they could lead the expedition. They would also prove quite useful for getting the oranges once we arrived. We were told that the only oranges that hadn't been harvested yet were the ones at the tops of the tall trees, roughly 45 feet high. Because of their small stature, these boys would be much better able to climb out on the lofty branches that we would.

We started our hike full of vigor. I was kind of surprised that both of the boys opted to hike barefooted. It didn't take long for my surprise to melt away into jealous admiration. The trail was well endowed with an awesome amount of thick mud from the rain. It made travel incredibly mucky. Naturally I tried to avoid the worst of the muck as long as possible, but man was it hard! Not far up the trail we had to cross the river to pick up our trail again on the other side. We had gone out in good faith that we would be able to find someone who had a boat we might be able to use. When we got to the last house before the crossing point we saw a sweet Venezuelan lady named Annie out making Cassava bread. She doesn't know any English at all but we were still able to communicate our need of a boat to her. She directed us farther down the trail where we would find one big enough to fit the four of us.

The promised dugout canoe needed a bit of bailing before we piled in, but it did the trick. We were across before we knew it and on to some even more intensely mucked up trails. The slick mud had me on edge the whole time. I thought for sure I would plummet down into the glop at any moment. I was concentrating hard on keeping on my feet, watching each step, plotting the best course I could, while Mark and Devanish practically ran the trail. I don't know how they do it!

After a while of being left in the watered down dust, wobbling along at the very edges of the trail so as not to get my only pair of shoes completely soaked in the flooded mud, Lauren logic set in. Now Lauren logic always makes sense to Lauren. She thinks, "this will do the trick for sure!" To anyone else it may be a bit unrealistic, but to Lauren.... This time the logic went a bit like this, "Mark and Devanish are the two smart ones that don't have shoes to worry about. Look how fast they are going. I bet if I was barefoot I would be just whisking along pretty fast too!" Off came the shoes. Off came the socks. Into the squishy muck went the toes.


Meanwhile Michael was slogging along, no longer caring if his shoes and socks got thoroughly drenched. After about an hour and a half of schlopping along we finally reached the farm. The trees were quite tall and had a wonderfully wild look to them. I was very surprised that these tall scraggly tress produced oranges. I guess in the back of my mind I am forever swayed by a lingering image of the manicured Redlands orange groves in California.

When we arrived at the start of the farm we had a really nice view of the boulder strewn river. We took a nice detour to rinse off our feet and enjoy the view a bit.

My role in in the orange gathering process made me long for a catcher's glove. Mark and Devanish climbed the trees, worked their way carefully out on the spindly top branches to bunches of oranges and then tossed them down to me and Michael. It was a the most challenging game of catch I have ever played. Those little balls of citrus were very unpredictable, as they tended to hit little branches on their downward journey. I did my best to catch them to keep them from bursting open on impact with the ground, but it is much easier said than done. The oranges I did catch made me wonder how black and blue the palms of my hands would look the next day. They hurt! Most of the oranges that evaded my hopeful grasp didn't fare too poorly. Most of them were safe to put in my gaping backpack. And the ones that did burst became a tasty snack.




We all filled our bags and packs as much as we dared and then headed back on the treacherous trail. Lauren logic hadn't actually done anything to speed up the walking process earlier so I decided to try Michael's method and just forget about trying to keep dry. With a heavily loaded backpack on I really needed the extra traction my shoes provided. It was nice having the river that we still had to cross. We took the opportunity to wash our shoes and socks and cool off a bit before paddling back over. We walked the rest of the way barefooted.

We figured that we had brought back around 250+ oranges that day. Everyone enjoyed them so much that within three days, every single orange was gone. Yippee for vitamin C!

First Impressions

Our first weekend was spent getting used to things at DIIC. On Friday Byron was kind enough to give us the full tour of the campus so we knew what was what. We started up a the very top of the school (it is all on one big slope) where the farm is located. As our tour guide met us for the tour his outfit caught me a bit off guard right at first. Byron is a very proper and reserved Canadian boy. He is always seen in nice pants and button up, collared shirts. So when I saw him coming in a pair of athletic shorts, a mud stained t-shirt, galoshes and a funny farmer hat I had to smile.

It is a bit of a hike to get to the farm. I think if we were here permanently we'd be in pretty good shape. Once we reached the farm I was blown away by how gorgeous it was. An interesting variety of produce swam among a glorious spattering of boulders. Up in the hills stood dozens of banana and papaya trees, surrounded by dense jungle. It was breathtaking. We wound around the maze of trees, locating all the key spots for collecting fruit.

As we made it back down to the main part of campus we viewed all the various buildings and got a little history on them. A couple of the building particularly stood out in my mind. They were memorable to me because they were a bit dilapidated from what I imagine they should look like. One of these structures was the dining and cooking area. The dining area was open walls, an uneven dirt floor, and a simple zinc roof held up by a few spindly and very bug eaten poles. I felt that if I so much as sneezed the whole thing might fall over.

The shower areas for the two dorms were fixer-upers too. They were located a bit of a walk from their respective dorms and looked like someone had halfheartedly pounded together some old boards to create walls and then plunked them down in the middle of the bush. Whatever works, right?

Our tour ended at the Administration Building. This building is used for a variety of things. The downstairs is half classroom and half chapel. The upstairs is home to the library, a staff room, the classroom where Michael and I would be teaching, a bathroom and our bedroom. The room we would be living in was a bit of a shocker when we first saw it. It had obviously been used as a storage room for years. There was random junk laying around that hadn't had a chance to be cleaned before our arrival. The busy staff apologized for the mess with all their hearts and spent the afternoon with some students helping us clean up. Many hands make light work and with in no time we had a livable home.

Trip to Paruima

There is a village that is a fifteen minute flight from Paruima called Kamarang. This village has a very nice airstrip (in bush terms) and is a central hub for flights into the interior. Since there are no roads that lead to any of the villages in this particular section of Guyana the only option is to fly in. David Gates was planning a flight into Kamarang to continue a TV satellite project he started there and decided it would be a good idea to fly us in with him instead of making James make a whole trip to Georgetown (2 hours one way) just to pick us up. It made sense so Thursday morning we drove out to the airport, packed his fancy little plane with all kinds of stuff (mostly our bulky luggage) and took off.

As we flew through a rather cloudy sky I was thrilled to see the landscape change from the flat jungle we were so familiar with in Bethany to rolling hills and eventually mountains. I realized how much I missed seeing mountains when we beheld the gentle peaks and towering plateaus from the air. It was truly breathtaking. I wish I could have gotten some good pictures of what I saw, but you know how it is, pictures never capture the true image as seen with the human eye. As we neared Kamarang, way off in the distance were two significant plateaued mountains. David told us that if we flew between those two mountains we'd be in Venezuela. Cool! But our course dropped us down to the course runway of Kamarang.

Once in Kamarang, Michael helped David and Mark work on setting up a large satellite dish while we waited for James. There was only one little problem, James still didn't know we were all the way in the interior already. David wasn't able to get a hold of him on the radio earlier so we left without the necessary communication. Gary (one of our other pilots) stayed back at the plane, hoping to catch him on his plane radio before he headed all the way into Georgetown. Though he never got a hold of James directly, Gary was able to get the message to the little airport in Georgetown who relayed it to him once he was on his way. James got the message a tiny bit late, but he turned around and was on the ground in Kamarang in very little time. Boy, were we glad to see him.

We reloaded our luggage into the new plane and it wasn't long before we were airborne. The trip was fairly quick, which was a good thing since I had a fuel container in the tiny bit of leg room I might have otherwise have enjoyed. It made good friends with my shins during the flight. One thing we learned very quickly about Paruima; every trip to town counts. They are so far removed from civilization that on the chance a trip is being made into town, the plane has to be filled to capacity with supplies on the return journey. Standard procedure around these parts.

As the plane circled over the village of Paruima, I was delighted at what I beheld. The village was nicely spread out and neatly manicured with a quaint variety of houses, two football (soccer) fields, and a couple schools including DIIC. It was nestled in the peaceful crook of a beautiful winding river. The river was wonderfully strewn with occasional boulder and dugout canoes. Michael and I were enamored with the boulders. There are absolutely no rocks in Bethany, not even pebbles or stones. Here was a visual feast of them and it was hard to contain our excitement.

Another key feature of the village its beautiful church standing proudly on the highest hill. This church belongs to a hearty congregation of around three hundred Seventh-Day Adventist Amerindian villagers and stands like an inviting beacon, beckoning people to come join in the fellowship.

The airstrip in Paruima is unique to any other I have been on yet. It was all grass! It was a very soft, bouncy landing. I rather enjoyed it. James, who always seems to be running errands of some sort, had to drop us off and leave again to go pick up more fuel in town. We unloaded and carried everything down to the river's edge where we were told we would be picked up. The river was so incredibly beautiful that Michael and I kicked off our shoes and plunged right in. It was cold enough to take our breath away, but it was wonderful! We splashed around in the strong current until we saw a boat coming our way. We assumed this was the school's boat and sure enough, as it got closer we saw two very eager white people on board. The driver was a very cute, older Amerindian man named Shadrach.

It was comforting to know that even though we were in a new place we would have several familiar faces to greet us. We had the rare opportunity of having met the staff of DIIC over the Christmas holidays. Michael and I had spent a couple days in Georgetown at the same time the four missionary teachers from DIIC were also staying at the mission house. We had a nice time chatting with them and getting to know them a bit then. Who knew that we would soon be working together! Two of these teachers were able to come greet us now. Maria, a sweet Austrian girl with a ready smile, and Steve a talkative American in galoshes, lept to shore and helped us on board with our load. I was so happy to be on the water again as we glided through the silky water. I find I am happiest when I'm on the water. It's been that way from the day I arrived in Guyana. We rode past little houses, patches of bamboo and plenty of jungle trees, wondering what our immediate futures would bring at Davis Indian Industrial College.

Preparing for Paruima

The call came fast. One day we were living life as usual at Bethany, the next we were on our way to to the interior of Guyana. When Melissa asked me and Michael if we would be willing to go teach at the school in Paruima we didn't have much time to think things over. It wasn't a hard decision for either one of us though since we have both been wanting to see more of the country. From what I understand it is quite rare for missionaries to get the opportunity to see the other Adventist schools of Guyana. We didn't want this opportunity to slip by. We said yes with very little hesitation.

There are four Adventist schools in Guyana so far (that I know of anyway): Bethany Medical Missionary College (Bethany), Davis Indian Industrial College (Paruima), Kimbia Mission Academy (Kimbia) and Sipiruta Mission Academy (Sipiruta). All of these schools are under the umbrella of an organization called GAMAS (Guyana Adventist Medical Air Services). This organization was started by a very energetic and extremely dedicated man named David Gates. It is cool because all these schools, though very different, have one thing in common. They all have the aim of spreading the good news of our dear Savior all across Guyana.

DIIC in Paruima is where we were asked to teach. It was a bit of a trip to get there. First Michael had to make a trip to Georgetown to work our some banking issues. The plan was that he would fly into the city with James Ash (principle of DIIC), take care of things there and travel back to BMMC by boat with Gilbert, who happened to also be in Georgetown. James would pick up a plane load of supplies for his school and then come back the next day to pick us up.

As is opt to happen, that's not quite how things worked out. Michael went to the city as planned, but late that night I finally realized he wasn't coming home. I went to the Sissons' house to see if they had any information to share and Gilbert said that Michael wasn't ready to go when he was, so he left without him. That was a bit frustrating to me, but I called Michael from their house and luckily he answered so I could get the real story. I found out that plans had changed and James wanted to fly out of Georgetown the following day instead of Bethany. That meant that I had to make sure everything was packed and toted to Georgetown by noon the following day.

I was much relieved that Liz and Alexis were heading out to Parika the next morning too so I would have someone to travel with. It's always nice when you don't have to go alone, plus they would be able to help me carry the two large backpacks I was bringing along. I made it to Parika without a hitch and crammed myself and my bulky luggage in a mini bus that was headed for Georgetown. I was grateful I had remembered my earplugs this time. Mini buses in Guyana are infamous for playing super loud music on their poor quality speakers. But they are significantly cheaper than taxis, so a bus it was.

When I arrived at the drop off downtown, I had to look for another bus that would take me by the mission house on the other side of the city. I threw Michael's fully loaded pack on my back and linked my arms through the shoulder straps of my own pack, hanging it in front of me. I must have been quite the sight! I staggered through the zoo of buses, hoping the number 40 buses were close by. I asked someone where I might find them and it turned out it was about a block away. "Ok. I can do this," I thought to myself. I determinedly hoisted my resting pack back into my arms and began the long walk. As I walked I had several men making all kinds of comments to me like "hey strong white girl!" I politely smiled at them, giving them the attention they were seeking, and walked on thinking, "Oh brother!"

When I got to where I was suppose to find the number 40 buses I realized that there were none parked there as I was expecting. I saw one drive by but by that point I didn't feel like playing the flag down game. I finally conceded to take a taxi. It would be worth the extra cost, my arms were killing me! Upon my arrival at the mission house Michael told me that plans had changed yet again. No big surprise. We would be spending the night in Georgetown and hopefully be leaving the next day. Luckily we had plenty of entertainment for that evening as David Gates himself was in town and also happened to be utilizing the mission house with his travel companion, Mark. They captivated their eager hearers with amazing tales of faith and the incredible work David is currently doing around the world. That night as we settled into bed we did our best to ignore the yapping dogs outside our windows and focus instead on the work we were about to dive into in the far away village of Paruima.