Why Brazil has captured my heart

Note: On my fourth missions trip in Brazil, on a boat providing basic medical and dental services in remote areas of the Amazon River basin, I shared the devotion below with the Americans and Brazilians on board. I shared it in Portuguese, which appears in italics at the end of each paragraph.

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When my mom decided to come on this trip, she said she was excited to see why this place has captured my heart. (Quando minha mãe decidiu fazer essa viagem, ela disse que estava animada para ver por que esse lugar conquistou meu coração.)

It is the adventure. (É a aventura.)

It is the language. (É o idioma.)

It is enjoying God’s creation. (É desfrutar da criação de Deus.)

It is the people – all of you on the boat, and all of the people we serve. (São as pessoas – todos vocês no barco e todas as pessoas a quem servimos.)

Most importantly, it is the feeling that I’m doing exactly what Jesus asked us to do in the gospels. My only job here is to love others and serve others. (Mais importante, é a sensação de que estou fazendo exatamente o que Jesus nos pediu para fazer nos evangelhos. Meu único trabalho aqui é amar os outros e servir aos outros.)

In the Book of Acts, we read about the early church. They saw Jesus resurrected from the dead, and they told others. They studied the scriptures to prove that Jesus was the Messiah. And they learned that faith in Jesus was for all people, Jews and Gentiles alike. (No livro de Atos, lemos sobre a igreja primitiva. Eles viram Jesus ressuscitado dos mortos e contaram a outros. Eles estudaram as escrituras para provar que Jesus era o Messias. E eles aprenderam que a fé em Jesus era para todas as pessoas, judeus e gentios.)

Acts 17, verses 26 and 27, say: “From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.” (Atos dezessete, versículos vinte e seis, e vinte e sete, dizem: “De um homem ele fez todas as nações, para que habitassem toda a terra; e ele marcou seus tempos designados na história e os limites de suas terras. Deus fez isso para que eles o procurassem e talvez estendessem a mão para ele e o encontrassem, embora ele não esteja longe de nenhum de nós.”)

God knew that we would be together right now, Christians from different continents, worshiping. (Deus sabia que estaríamos aqui agora, cristãos de diferentes continentes, adorando juntos.)

1 Corinthians 12:18 says this: “God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. Its parts should have equal concern for each other.” (Primeiro Coríntios doze versículo dezeoito diz isto: “Deus colocou as partes no corpo, cada uma delas, assim como ele queria que fossem. Suas partes devem ter a mesma preocupação umas com as outras.”)

God knew that we would be together in this moment, taking care of each other. (Deus sabia que estaríamos juntos nesse momento, cuidando uns dos outros.)

This is why we are here. This is why this place has captured my heart. (Esse é o motivo de estarmos aqui. É por isso que este lugar conquistou meu coração.)

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When I’m filled with awe at the wonders of the world

By now I’m familiar with what happens to my brain pre-Brazil.

I’m nearing my fourth trip into the Amazon River basin, to serve on a medical missions boat.

In my day job, my pace and activity pick up speed as I try to set things in motion before I leave.

In my thoughts, the Portuguese begins to take over. I spend more and more time trying to think in Portuguese, to translate my activities into Portuguese.

And in my daily Bible-reading, I begin to weigh the words of scripture through the lens of the upcoming trip.

This morning, Psalm 65:8-9 jumped off the page: “The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy. You care for the land and water it; you enrich it abundantly. The streams of God are filled with water to provide the people with grain, for so you have ordained it.”

To rest on the deck of the boat while it moves across the water is a spiritual experience. I can put myself there in my mind fairly quickly – and to know I’ll be there again soon brings forth a song of joy.

From bedside to Brazil, answering the call to serve

A midday text from my mom: “Call when you can. … Brazil?” No doubt my heart rate spiked. I had planted this seed before, that someday she should join me and my church on one of our missions trips into the Amazon River basin. I had committed to my fourth trip, leaving later this summer, and she had just realized that she, too, could go. The primary reason she is now free to go is that my father passed away last August – already closing in on a full year, which is hard to believe. And Mom was his primary caregiver, for years and years, tending to his daily needs and being by his side. Another chapter in her life has now opened up – a chapter where she can turn a page and suddenly realize that she has the flexibility and freedom to go serve the Lord and his church in South America. Even if it means filing the paperwork to renew her passport 10 weeks before departure, when expedited renewal can take 7-9 weeks. Lord willing, she’ll join us in Florida for the international flight into Brazil. If you’re interested in supporting her journey, check out her GoFundMe page. Donations and prayers are much appreciated. And you can learn more about Central Brazil Mission here. We’ll staff a boat that visits remote communities on a rotating basis, returning every so often to provide free medical and dental care that they otherwise can’t access. We travel in with donated medications like muscle rub, ibuprofen, and antibiotics. The mission also trains local pastors to work in the communities and operates a large-scale garden to grow produce for communities. The mission’s motto of “Christ, Life, and Health” carries a deep significance: As community members begin to follow Jesus and care for each other, the mission comes alongside them to provide health care and spiritual care, even building churches and homes for pastors. When a church building with a generator offers electricity in the darkness, young people have a chance to work during the day and finish a diploma in the evening. Strengthened from the inside out, these communities begin to blossom. My mom said she was excited to witness why Brazil has captured my heart. It’s all of the things above, and also this: There is nothing like the feeling of waking up on a bunk bed on a gently rocking boat and swinging my feet onto the floor, knowing that the only thing I have to do that day – no emails, no meetings, no distractions – is to love others and serve them, to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Now, I know I’m fulfilling the purposes that God has for me stateside – but Brazil feels as close as I’ve ever been to carrying out Jesus’ instructions in the Gospels.

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Bluegrass and Brazil: From one missions field to another

It wasn’t sitting right in my head. Had I really chosen a music festival over a missions trip?

I wrestled with this for several months. I had loosely committed to volunteering once again at my favorite music festival, but then I learned that a seat was available on my favorite missions trip to Brazil… during the same window of time this summer.

And when I say “favorite,” both of these are true highlights for me, much-anticipated from year to year.

I’ve volunteered at the festival for years and years, meeting new people and discovering a wide variety of new music. In the months leading up to it, I’ll listen to playlists to get to know the musicians’ sounds, and I’ll scan my notes from previous years so that I remember the names of those festival friends when I see them again.

In Brazil, meanwhile, my church supports a medical missions boat that visits remote villages in the Amazon River basin to provide free medical and dental care, returning every few months to deepen the connection. Over time, they train local pastors, build churches and community buildings, and help the communities become stronger – physically and spiritually. I’ve joined them for three trips, and in the last 4-5 years, I’ve slowly and steadily worked on my Portuguese to be more effective when I’m there.

Now, I could argue that the festival and Brazil are both missions fields. I mean, when faith comes up in conversations with festival friends, I share what it means to me. And when we connect on social media afterward, they’ll learn more about who I am. And with some festival friends who are believers, we value that annual time of fellowship.

But the festival is not a “capital M” missions field like Brazil. Brazil is altogether different. When the boat docks at a remote village, those community members know exactly why we’ve traveled to a different continent: to serve them and love them as Jesus asked us to do.

The feeling, too, is altogether different and deeper. In Brazil, serving as Jesus served feels much easier and more accessible. My job, every day, is simple: Get out of bed and go be the hands and feet of Jesus. The festival, if I’m being honest, is more about “me time” than it is about serving others. 

Yes, a stateside believer still has the same job: to show Jesus to others. I still have the same job, wherever I go – to festivals, the workplace, the grocery store. But when I don’t arrive on a medical missions boat, the message isn’t quite as clear.

So as I wrestled with the idea of the festival coming at the expense of Brazil, the festival shared some big news: Its new site wouldn’t be ready in time. They were exploring alternatives, and they’d share more news in a week.

Under normal circumstances, the thought of missing a year at the festival – like in 2020 when COVID canceled it – would be a huge letdown. This time, though, I realized that I was hoping for Brazil instead. In my mind, I gave it over to God, telling him I’d rather go abroad.

A week later, the festival made its announcement: They had to cancel for 2023. Within a day, I committed to the Brazil trip.

I laughed at the thought that my preference and prayer for Brazil had canceled the festival. Not very likely, right?

When we truly believe that God is the master of the entire universe, then we also believe that he is moving billions of pieces on a chess board, planning eons ahead to achieve his final victory. There’s no way of knowing why this particular move is happening to me, affecting my tiny North and South American corners of the board.

What I do know is this: God works for good in all things, to fulfill his purposes and work through those who serve him; my job is to reflect God wherever I’m sent; and I’m overjoyed to prepare for Brazil once more.

Docked at a remote village in the Amazon River basin.

Daily habits: Learning Portuguese

This is the third in a series of posts about daily habits. Earlier posts included waking up early and reading the Bible. Next I’ll tackle learning and working, exercise, mobility, and nutrition.

“Ten more years and you’ll have it!”

“It” was fluency in Portuguese. This was in September 2018, on a medical missions boat in the Amazon River basin.

Earl had moved to Brazil with his wife, Ruth Anne, 50 years prior, and they had spent a full year in immersive language-learning before beginning their missions work.

On the boat, Earl heard my progress, and likely saw my eagerness to learn the language. When he gave me the 10-year timeframe, my first thought was this: “I can do it faster than that.”

Returning home in early October 2018, I buckled down. From 2018 to my next trip to Brazil in May 2022, I spent 5-10 minutes per day learning Portuguese on Duolingo. In 3.5 years, I missed less than 10 days; at one point, my streak was above 500 days.

Every morning – after reading the Bible and before exercise and learning – I put in the time. And the practice extends throughout the day as I try to think in Portuguese, narrating simple activities or taking notes. Disney+, too, is great, because it offers audio and subtitles in Portuguese.

Now, I’ve always loved the structure of words and language. And a few years of Spanish, from 7th to 10th grade, gave me a head start, because there are a number of similarities in the Latin roots. For example, “I have” is “Eu tenho” in Portuguese and “Yo tengo” in Spanish. And “yellow” is “amarela” in Portuguese and “amarilla” in Spanish.

During my first 10-day trip to Brazil in late 2014, I was hooked. As a volunteer on the boat – essentially a floating doctor’s office and dentist office – I was able to learn words and phrases and see, right away, whether they were working or not.

By the time I returned in May 2022, I had nearly completed the Portuguese course on Duolingo. (I’ve since finished it.) And I was really excited to see how far I had come.

The findings were both encouraging and sobering. I went in knowing that my ability was like that of a 3-year-old. (“Por favor, fala comigo devagar, como estou uma crianca,” or “Please speak to me slowly, like I’m a child.”)

On my résumé, I could probably say my skills are “basic” or approaching “conversational.” If given enough time, I can explain most things, substituting words I know for words I don’t know. And in Brazil, it really helped if a Brazilian knew a bit of English, so that we could find meaning together.

But the findings were also sobering, as I realized how far away I was from fluency. More often than not, a native speaker would rattle off a sentence and stare at me, waiting for my face to show that I understood… and, well, eu não entendi.

And every day, I’d reach a point where it was mentally exhausting, and my ears would literally stop trying to listening and decipher. I’d tune it out. To reengage, I’d have to flip the switch back on.

Even so, I’m still hooked. I’m still on Duolingo every day, working through each unit to earn the “legendary” trophies, and contemplating how to build into my daily schedule a 10-minute conversation with any willing Brazilian friend so that I can make faster progress.

Earl said 10 years, and for fluency, he’s probably right. But I still think I can do it a little faster!

Learning language on the Amazon: (clockwise from top left) 1. Pastor Agostinho and I spent hours trying to converse, with the help of the English he knew and Google Translate on my phone. 2. Daniela helped Pastor Bob with a few words, and helped me a great deal. She had met my daughter on our trip in 2018, and I was able to explain how my daughter’s boyfriend was nervous around me, which for a protective father was a positive thing. LOL. 3. When you go down the rabbit hole of learning a language, every situation is an opportunity to translate. On the river one evening, I was looking up how to say that the river had smooth circles on its surface. 4. Cristiano, at left, found it hilarious when I told him I remembered the sauce – made of lemon juice, hot sauce, salt, and sugar – from my first trip in 2014.

Heading home – Brazil, Day 10, Nov. 6

Note: I returned Nov. 7 from nearly two weeks on a medical missions boat in Brazil with the Central Brazil Mission. Before departing, I prayed that I’d have the time, energy, and opportunity to write about the trip—and then I was invited to be the diarist for the journey. Because I had no Internet access, I’ve posted the entries here, one per day. They’re unedited, just as they appeared when I finished them each evening.

Thurs. Nov. 6

On our last day in Brazil, I woke up, well-rested (or, at least, as well as I’ve rested in Brazil), earlier than I’ve woken up yet: 5:50 a.m. Each day, I’ve woken up a bit earlier than the day before. I prefer to sleep late, so this is an unsustainable trend. It must be time to go home.

As we set out from our overnight spot and began chugging down the river, a boat pulled alongside, and in it I recognized a young man, 17 or 19, from two days ago. He’d had a tooth pulled, and from the front of the boat in which sat, he leaned over and spit blood into the river. No doubt they’d headed out early to find the medical boat, even if it meant coming all the way to Manaus. I noticed that they had a second gas can in the boat, just in case. So our dentist, sometime after 6 a.m., had her first and last patient of the day.

As we approached Manaus, we crossed the point where the Solimoes and the Black River (can’t recall the Portugese name) converge. The denser, muddier water of the Solimoes climbs underneath the lighter black water. As we steamed into Manaus, to dock near the city market, the morning light reflecting off of the shiny black water made the river’s surface look like black onyx, sharp and solid as a rock, if not for the choppiness of the waves kicked up by the steady traffic of boats of all sizes, from small-engine boats with two passengers to gigantic container ships surely headed in from the Atlantic. And all of a sudden, we weren’t the biggest ship in the water, dwarfed as we were by the other vessels. … The onyx water, too, was quite a change of scenery after days and days of brown water. It looked smooth and heavy, as if you could cut out a block of the onyx and hold its coolness against your cheek.

In the city market, with $40 worth of rais (100 rais) burning a hole in my pocket, I resisted the tourist’s compulsion to buy cheap trinkets for the wife and kids. Something about those lines and lines of vendors, all selling the same stuff, seems to compel you to buy things and fly them home. Sure, the kids would value a little wooden dolphin or a shiny piranha replica from Brazil slightly longer than they value a toy from McDonald’s, but I couldn’t bring myself to buy anything. Until, of course, I saw the guava jelly and cream, the same dessert we’ve had a couple of times. The kids will love it, as I will. And then on the return trip through the market, as Mike bought the same thing, I plunked down two more rais for lime-flavored wafers. I’ll be sure to store those in my checked baggage so they’re not accidentally consumed during our all-night sleepless trip home.

It’s appropriate that dessert ends the entry on the final day, just as dessert capped all of our meals (even breakfast). Godspeed to us as we travel home, to the crew as they reunite with their families and prepare for the next boat trip, to those who supported my trip and the other Americans’ ventures with their contributions and their prayers, and to the Brazilians we served along the way.

An astronaut’s re-entry – Brazil, Day 9, Nov. 5

Note: I returned Nov. 7 from nearly two weeks on a medical missions boat in Brazil with the Central Brazil Mission. Before departing, I prayed that I’d have the time, energy, and opportunity to write about the trip—and then I was invited to be the diarist for the journey. Because I had no Internet access, I’ll post the entries here, one per day. They’re unedited, just as they appeared when I finished them each evening.

Wed. Nov. 5

We finished our last patients this afternoon and led a small worship service at the top of the hill, in a sort of picnic shelter. Beaver told the tale of David and Goliath, picking a shy boy out of the crowd of kids to play David while he played Goliath. The boy wasn’t playing along, but Goliath collapsed anyway. We then scurried down the hill back to the boat, expecting a strong storm to descend on us from the darkening clouds coming over the top of the trees. Heavy winds but no rain escorted us out of the inlet and back toward Manaus. On the way, we got stuck again, but we also got some cell phone reception for the first time in a couple of days, and I was able to dash off a few texts home. We tied up for the night near a marina of sorts, and tomorrow we’ll head into the main river, the Solimoes, for a three- or four-hour trip back to Manaus and some shopping. I changed $40 for rais, but I’m not sure how much I’ll need or whether I’ll buy anything.

At this point, I’m growing anxious to get home (despite the prospect of enduring the awful confines of airplanes and airports), and I think the other Americans are feeling the same way. Still, departing is bittersweet. Like an astronaut hoping the pod holds up under the intense heat of atmospheric re-entry, I don’t relish stepping off the boat and returning on Monday to work, where there are deadlines and to-do lists. I’m most anxious to see my wife and kids again, but I will have to subdue the desire, back at home, to be moving up and down a river in a vast and unfamiliar land to meet new people and see new places.

A lasting investment – Brazil, Day 8, Nov. 4

Note: I returned Nov. 7 from nearly two weeks on a medical missions boat in Brazil with the Central Brazil Mission. Before departing, I prayed that I’d have the time, energy, and opportunity to write about the trip—and then I was invited to be the diarist for the journey. Because I had no Internet access, I’ll post the entries here, one per day. They’re unedited, just as they appeared when I finished them each evening.

Tues. Nov. 4

In July 2013, on a week-long missions trip with our church youth group in Enseneda, Mexico, we spent five days with a family who had never had a home of their own. In that time, we built them a house, raising the walls and sheet rock, painting the inside and outside, and putting on a roof. We interacted with the parents and their two children each day. On the final day, we stood with them outside the home as each of us said a few words about the experience. And then we watched them enter their new home. The seven-year-old girl—at an age I understand well, because she’s the same age as my daughter—climbed into the bunk bed and laid down with the stuffed animal we had purchased for her and said words she had never spoken before: “This is mine.”

The impact on us, as Americans, was incredible. So, in Brazil, I’ve sought that sort of personal connection with Brazilians. I soon realized, however, that the connection isn’t as deep with the people we’re serving in these communities. In many cases, our interaction is brief, a matter of minutes per person. We exchange short greetings and smiles. I attempt to speak Portugese and they chuckle. We measure their height and weight and take their blood pressure, and then send them down the hall to the doctor or dentist. As they depart, if I have the chance, I’ll tell them “Deus te abencoe” (God bless you).

Now, make no mistake, we have an impact here. But it’s more of the cumulative effect. The church service two nights ago was held in a community where, 5-6 years ago, a service held during the mission’s visit yielded a showing of exactly two community members. Yet on this visit, there were probably 60 or 70 people in attendance. Our service on the medical front is but a part of a series of nudges toward faith that these people are experiencing as the missions boat returns year after year. This afternoon, one woman, having finished her doctor’s visit and retrieved her prescriptions, wanted to make sure she went back inside to thank Karen for taking her blood pressure. Karen was pleased to know that she had made an impact on the woman’s life.

Even if our connections aren’t as deep and rich with community members here, we’re not lacking in relationship-building. I realized several days ago that the Brazilians I’ll remember the most are those who serve as the boat’s crew. They’ve caught us fish and prepared them for us to eat. They’ve piloted the boat and dove into water filled with alligators and piranhas to inspect the boat after we ran aground. They’ve washed our laundry and hung it out to dry. They’ve made my bed. They’ve ensured that the dessert and fruit never runs out. They’ve made me laugh, even when I don’t understand the words and its their joy and laughter that lifts my spirits. We’ve worshipped, sang, and prayed together. I’ve hummed in Portugese and they’ve hummed in English. I will see them in heaven, even if I have every hope to see each of them again here on Earth. And in heaven, we will understand each other perfectly, nothing lost in translation.

In similar fashion, the Americans on the boat will forever stick in my mind. I’ve deepened friendships with the three from my church and started friendships with the others. Their humor, personalities, and individual ticks have brought me joy. We have served, shoulder to shoulder, in God’s grand plan. The imprint we leave on each Brazilian may appear small, at first. But the eternal perspective tells us that there is nothing sweeter than a lollipop in a five-year-old’s hand, nothing more beautiful than the smile of a child who receives a dolphin sticker, nothing more meaningful than a grandmother who now has reading glasses, for each of those gestures is a representation of Jesus’s love.

Little boat, little boat – Brazil, Day 7, Nov. 3

Note: I returned Nov. 7 from nearly two weeks on a medical missions boat in Brazil with the Central Brazil Mission. Before departing, I prayed that I’d have the time, energy, and opportunity to write about the trip—and then I was invited to be the diarist for the journey. Because I had no Internet access, I’ll post the entries here, one per day. They’re unedited, just as they appeared when I finished them each evening.

Mon. Nov. 3

Before we took the Lord’s supper yesterday morning, Woody, our resident doctor, shared a story that bears repeating. It goes something like this:

There was a young boy who badly wanted a boat. So he went to his parents and asked for one. They told him he’d have to make one. So he gathered materials and shaped a boat, sanding and painting the vessel with an extra measure of care. One day, soon after he’d finished, the boat came unmoored, floating away down the river. The boy was distraught, searching from the banks up and down the river, to no avail. Several days later, he was walking through town and saw, in a store window, what appeared to be his boat. He went in and said to the storekeeper, “That’s my boat! I want it back.” Said the storekeeper, “Son, if you want that boat you’ll have to pay for it.” So the boy went home and told his parents, who gave him odd jobs around the house to earn the money for the boat. The boy saved enough money to purchase the boat. As he carried it away from the store, he said to the boat, “Little boat, little boat, now you’re twice mine. For I made you and now I’ve bought you back.”

God made us. But we were swept away from our creator by a river of sin. He chose to give us free will, the choice to follow Him—and this is what He deeply desires for us to do. He wanted us back so much that he bought us back with the blood of his son, Jesus. God stayed the hand of Abraham when the father prepared to slay his son, providing instead a ram caught in the brush. Yet God willingly sent his son to earth to redeem us and reconcile us to himself—and Jesus, though he sweat blood in the garden of Gethsemane, and though he asked God if the burden might be lifted from him—stayed the course and permitted himself to be sacrificed so that each one of us might be spared, so that each one of us might have a route into the kingdom of God, so that each one of us might choose to accept the gift of eternal life that already awaits us, so that I might stand beside Jesus in heaven as he puts an arm around my shoulder and testifies that he knows me. …

This morning, we ventured through a narrow channel that led into a broad, shallow lake, with small island pockets of trees dotting the expanse of rippling water. The red dirt of the banks and the shape of the small hills reminded me of Oklahoma, where my mother’s side of the family lives… or perhaps I’m just thinking of home. I was a bit saddened this morning to think of my children missing me and me missing them. Anyway, to brush all that aside so that it doesn’t dampen my mood any further (an aside that, well, dampens my mood further as I try to brush the topic aside), the boat ran aground in shallow water. A couple crew members had checked the depth ahead of us by dropping down a six-foot stick, but we still came to a halt. While we waited, we got a quite a laugh out of who’d be eaten first, should the scenario end up as a horror movie plot. The motorboat sped ahead to find someone who knew the channel’s layout, but when it returned, it nudged the front of the boat as the captain threw the engines in reverse and backed us out of the sandbar, as water the color of chocolate milk swirled from underneath the boat and blossomed across the water’s surface. We set up shop in a channel behind us, and boats with Brazilians came to call on the doctor and dentist. The afternoon’s sun hit with a sudden fierceness, so hot that the welcome mat was scorching underfoot and the gangplank’s metal caused a shoeless 4-year-old girl, caught midway to the grass, to scream before Brian rushed out and picked her up. I’d bet good money that today was our hottest yet. And then, in the late afternoon, we closed up and head back up the channel, turning west onto a glassy tablet of water, the day’s heat disappearing just as fast as it arrived, giving way to a cool breeze. On the upper deck, with a 360-degree view, we chugged into a stunning sunset, the nearest star finally turning into a neon magenta coin and slipping into the horizon as its dissipating light cast its fireworks onto the towering clouds above. To the east, at our rear, a moon five-sixths full rested above and offset to a faraway anvil-shaped thunderhead that offered up a bolt of lightning. … We expect enough patients for Tuesday and Wednesday, meaning that we’ll leave here Thursday morning for Manaus and the end of our journey.

Other findings: Brian estimated the boat’s width to be 25 feet, its length 75 feet. I heel-toed the width (16 lengths) and then measured my foot (about 11 inches), which put us around 75 feet and 1 inch. For the length, we measured one length of rail (55 inches) and counted the lengths, and then added about 5 feet for the half-lengths on either end, and ended up at 73 feet, 9 inches.

Keep an eye on him – Brazil, Day 6, Nov. 2

Note: I returned Nov. 7 from nearly two weeks on a medical missions boat in Brazil with the Central Brazil Mission. Before departing, I prayed that I’d have the time, energy, and opportunity to write about the trip—and then I was invited to be the diarist for the journey. Because I had no Internet access, I’ll post the entries here, one per day. They’re unedited, just as they appeared when I finished them each evening.

Sun. Nov. 2

“Keep your eye on that young man,” Beaver said.

The sights and sounds of travel are enough to spur the packing of a suitcase, but it’s the people who stick in your mind the most. At the village this afternoon, a young Brazilian approached by himself in a boat. Wearing a pink polo shirt, white khaki shorts, and headphones around his neck, Sostenes walked up to me with an air of confidence and asked, with impeccable manners and impressive English, to see the doctor. Handsome with a dark complexion, clean haircut, and big smile, he had learned English from reading books at home and watching movies in Portugese and English while studying the subtitles… although he said, without too much of an accent, that he “still had a little bit to learn, somewhat.” His conversational skills in English were, by far, the best we’ve come across. When we tried to explain that his blood pressure was too high and we’d have to take it again, he explained that it was because he had “just walked up the… I’m not sure how to say [the bank]… and then walked back down to the boat. As it turns out, he’s studying for some sort of medical school entrance examination; he not only understood what we were trying to tell him about the pressure, but he understood the likely cause of its elevated state. I tried telling him in Portugese that we would take his blood pressure again, and my message wasn’t sticking—until he realized that he was listening for English while I was trying to practice my Portugese single-word requests and explanations. Later, in the service at the Assembly of God church up the hill, where he told us he was a musician, he was the only man wearing a tie (and this at, what, 17 years old? 19?), and while the pastor read a passage from Psalms, Sostenes recited it from memory.

“Keep an eye on that young man,” indeed. He’s going places.