All the preparations for my shuttle that I could do were completed. The remainder was in God’s capable hands, because this was the day that I was to leave. My home church, St. Francis, had a commissioning ceremony for my shuttle. I spoke of my desire to do God’s calling, but I did not speak of the call or the purpose of this shuttle. Strangely enough, I was not yet sure of all of the tasks God had in mind for me. I was asked to speak at the Veterinary College in Santa Cruz and to participate in the first Bolivian National Dairy Symposium. But another one of the stated purposes of this visit was to transport and implant embryos into native Bolivian cattle for genetic improvement of poor farmer’s herds. The logistics of this last assignment were still uncertain to me.
There was one last hurdle to clear before I could feel comfortable. I had no way to insure that I could take the liquid nitrogen freezer tank containing embryos with me on the aircraft. I obtained the frozen embryos from another veterinarian named John Schneller who had been contributing embryos and time to shuttle missions for years. He had warned me that he experienced difficulty transporting them on his last trip to Bolivia. As a result, I called a friend at church who was a pilot for American Airlines, the airline I was flying, and asked if there was a way to get a permit to carry the tank and embryos onto the plane. He told me there was absolutely no way for pre-approval. Everything going onto the plane was to be inspected immediately prior to boarding. Even as a pilot he could not get pre-approval. Try as I might, I could not obtain any kind of permission to take them aboard. I would have to submit to a standard security check. So, I prayed for open doors. At the airport, my daughter was in disbelief that I would just try to walk onto aircraft with the tank. I told her that I was not worried; that too much had happened to convince me that God was with me in this endeavor. She rolled her eyes as only a teenager could do and promptly stepped to the back of the TSA security line, so she would not be embarrassed by the coming confrontation.
I had put the tank into an old gym bag and thrown it over my shoulder as sort of a disguise and also allow me to keep the tank upright so the nitrogen vapor would stay inside. As long as the tank was kept upright things would go well. However, I had forgotten about the security x-ray tunnel. I laid the tank down on the x-ray belt and walked through the security arch with no trouble. The liquid nitrogen in the tank had started vaporizing due to being laid down on the side causing a white, smoky vapor to outflow from the bag containing the tank. I was expecting a confrontation but, curiously, the guard standing at the end of the belt said nothing as I picked up the smoking bag and tank. I was not even asked to show what was in the gym bag. My daughter, who had not believed that my prayers had been effective, in contrast, set off alarms and was required to remove jewelry and her belt before entering the secure area. I am still curious as to what the x-ray operator saw or didn’t see in that case carrying the embryos and still don’t understand why the armed guard at the end of the x-ray just let me throw the smoking bag over my shoulder and walk away. Perhaps it was Divine intervention. There is president for obscuring vision mentioned in the Bible in Luke 24:16 (the walk to Emmaus).
I landed in Miami Airport for an aircraft change on my way to Bolivia. At that point I realized how fortunate I was to be landing. On the previous day this airport was shut down because of Hurricane Irene. The airport was packed with stranded passengers trying to reconnect. When I initially booked the flights, 2 months earlier, I had asked for Saturday travel dates; which would have been the date of the closure. That date was denied because there was no space on the aircraft for “air mile” tickets. Instead, I had to take this Sunday flight. Could God have also had a hand in the flight availability? Praise God!
It was a long lay over in Miami, a long, turbulent flight, and I arrived in Santa Cruz, Bolivia a little tired. To my dismay there was some trouble in Bolivian at customs. Unfortunately, the World Concern leader was not in town this day due to meeting some medical supplies in another city. He could have solved this problem easily but was unavailable. My real dilemma was that I didn’t speak Spanish and could not make myself understood. Amazingly, there was another passenger on the flight that could speak English and Spanish. The trouble was resolved by calling the National Veterinary College to verify the nature of my visit as humanitarian and not commercial. The other passenger overheard my conversations and stepped forward to help me. My “Good Samaritan” friend and I telephoned the vet school for verification of the humanitarian nature of the mission and I was cleared to enter the country.
In the afternoon I visited the first Bolivian farm accompanied by Spanish speaking veterinarian, Dr. Guzmon. I was introduced to Mr. Patrick Cavaghan, an American, at this first farm. He and his wife (both from USA) have 3 children with 2 involved on the farm. They had originally come to Bolivia with the Catholic Church and had fallen in love with Bolivia and each other. Mr. Patrick Cavaghan is an ex-Catholic priest and Mrs. Cavaghan is an ex-nun. They are wonderful people. Now after leaving the church they live as normal citizens of the world and have continued to love each other and Bolivia. I told the story of Dr. Arana and Dr. Arteaga as evidence of God’s hand in this mission. Mr. Patrick was very helpful in beginning my understanding of the country’s culture and beauty.
I saw a tremendous level of poverty on outskirts of town traveling to the Cavaghan farm. City growing pains I assumed! Mr. Patrick milks his cows by hand to provide jobs to locals. He experiences some labor problems (35 people), not as bad as U.S., but still a problem at times. He milks 160+ cows AM and PM. The roads in the area are nearly impassable! I was stunned by the skinny animals, both dogs and livestock, just wandering the streets eating garbage discarded along the roadsides in front of barely livable shanties.
At 6:00 AM the next morning we leave for the Yappacani region in the campo (countryside). Roads are OK until we get there; then WOW! We ate breakfast in Puerto Chuelo at a place where Dr. Jim Nash used to stop. There were beautiful children going to a Catholic school here. On the edge of town I a saw Methodist school and took pictures (more beautiful children). Bolivians prefer the private schools. Public schools are not as good and have many strikes. Mateo (Spanish for Matthew) accompanied me for translation during this trip. At Yappacani we met trainees for UNAPEGA, the small farmers association. All the men piled into the little truck and accompanied us all day. We visited many small farms with cattle near the town. These farms were not too backward and I saw embryo transfer calves from previous shuttle missions. The farmers had nice cattle and a much-improved lifestyle.
After a lunch of duck stew on rice and banana beef soup, we went into the more remote areas. One location was a new building for cattle slaughter but had not received electricity yet. The peasant overseer lived in a grass shack besides the new building with his family. There was a shallow 5 meter well with a PVC tube bucket. All drank but me. Beef jerky was drying on the clothes line (pictures).
Then we went into campo, the most rural areas. No electricity, no potable water! — I was amazed however to see schools and more beautiful children. In this area there was much slash and burn clearing of the jungle. The roads were terrible however, each day a truck comes to pick up hot milk and transport it to town for cooling in the UNAPEGA milk cooling tank. Farmers that move into these rural areas of Bolivia are given 50 hectares (125acres), a machete, and a pack of matches by the government. These people have migrated from the highlands – La Pas- 13,000 feet above sea level to the lowlands 500 feet above sea level in search of a better life. Here, malaria, yellow fever, and tuberculosis take a toll on people. And, ticks and lice take a toll on cattle causing blood borne diseases like piroplasmosis. It is a hard area, but the land is free if you survive. Many of the indigenous adults speak the Queswa language left over from the ancient Inca tribes but the children speak Spanish learned in the public schools.
Bulls were used for breeding in all herds which were only 6 to 10 head of cows each. I was there to check and identify potential embryo recipient cows. Of the potential recipients 1/3 were pregnant (not usable); and, 1/3 were not able to reproductively cycle due to poor nutrition because it was the dry season. Bolivia has a rainy season with abundant forage and a dry season with very little forage for cows. I found very few animals to use as embryo recipients. I questioned the value of the project here and expected very little success. This technology was perhaps too advanced and unforgiving for rural Bolivia.
All cattle were handled by ropes, no shelters, no fences, no corrals, many ticks and lice and disease. I had flown to Bolivia with a tank of frozen embryos expecting to find suitable animals as recipients. I dreaded coming back into this jungle in 10 days from today (protocol demands) and having to determine which animals had a chance to conceive under these conditions. There would be no value in wasting the frozen embryos. There was, however, value in letting these people (particularly the children) see that there is something additional outside of their jungle existence. The actions of this strange foreign veterinarian just might stimulate the curiosity of these children. There are so many wonders to understand outside of the jungle accessible through education. Our presence in their villages will show these people that others (especially Christians) do care about them. The trainees with us are from Yappacani and can speak the dialect. They are being trained to teach the Gospel of Christ to these people.
That night (after a 17 hour day) we returned to Santa Cruz. The culture shock of Yappacani was tremendous. The work was slow and inefficient for an American. I wept and prayed that God would help me to understand what I experienced that day- such a hard existence. Many beautiful children- too many born into poverty- too many very young mothers. It was becoming very hard for me to follow through on my plan to project God’s love to people through the look of joy on my face. I asked God why He would send me here to Bolivia to witness this poverty and darkness. I was only one and I was older. I did not have the ability to change the life situation for these people. I asked Him to give me peace and answers concerning how I should proceed. Miraculously, when I awoke the next morning God’s answer was immediately in my thoughts. “Do not go alone! Mobilize others to go with you.” I asked God for help in prioritizing my life to allow Him to continue to work through me into the future. (There is more to share in The Spirit Sent Me to Bolivia Part III.)