Oh The Wind

Oh the wind. Today is a very windy day with strong gusts lifting up everything that is not tied down. My big bottle of Coke is wobbling precariously on the table beside me as I stare out at the impenetrable clouds of sand and dust moving along with the gusts. It is a good thing that I am on the protected side of our main building.

Dust
The dust thrown up on a still day

It is days like today that I realise clearly that I am living in the middle of a desert. A patagonia desert, but one with lots of dust and sand and very little green.

One day when I was travelling in a bus northward, I remember waking up to trees and grass and being astounded at how pretty it was, staring out the window for hours. There is very little green and hardly any grass here where I am living.

But life is not bad. It was just today. When the wind pushed dirt under the door jams and through window gaps. When walking outside meant being covered in dust and dirt whipped up by the wind. It was just today that had me wondering why I was here, in the middle of the desert, on a little YWAM base.

Now the wondering did not remain too long, and another gulp of Coke and some delicious food that was generously placed in front of me soon helped me to forget all of this pondering. Then another gust of wind came. Dust lands in my food. Crunch. Ow. Nasty.

I get up and wander back inside. Here is everyone else, all of us locked inside, as though it was a fierce storm outside. Here is lots of action, people chatting, cooking, laughing, and enjoying life. Here I forget about the wind, forget about my ponderings, and enjoy my food.

I am not here for the weather, nor for the pretty-ness of the place. Each time the wind picks up it helps me to remember. I am here because I believe that this is where God has called me to be.

Hours Waiting for a Visa

The 3rd of March was three months since I last entered Argentina. According to the visa laws here I needed to leave the country today, or pay a fee of $100 pesos for another three month extension. Here in Puerto Madryn we are 18 hours by bus from Uruguay and 14 hours from Chile. They are the closest countries to us, and the bus costs range from $110 pesos upward for a one-way journey. So I opted for the extension.

Since Carol also entered the country at the same time (we were returning from Colombia) so she came with me. So too did Maricruz and Amelia, both of whom also had to renew their visas shortly. Well, Amelia had actually outstayed her visa and needed to fix this up too.

So early in the morning, Argentinian time, which is to say it was almost 8am, we headed down to the local Prefectura where you can renew your visa. A short wait of about half an hour and we were allowed to enter the gate and head towards the Migrations Office.

Continue reading “Hours Waiting for a Visa”

Further House Progress… Walls

It took me four months to get the foundations of the house poured, and up to the floor. It has taken only two weeks for the two men working on my house to get it to the roof stage.

The difference? Apart from two of them working on it full time, which helps, it is the knowledge and experience that they have. I remember watching the building progress in Corrientes YWAM when I was there, but these guys are many times faster. The first two walls were built within a day.

First walls viewed over the bathroom.
Both walls were built on the first day that the guys turned up to work.

All walls and no bathroom.
Pouring the concrete ring around the top that holds the walls together and provides a platform from which to add a second floor if needed.

Putting the timber on for the roof.
Seeing the roof go on was one of the most rewarding phases of the building process.

Raising a Tank

There was a problem in the building. A water problem. A hot water problem actually. So I fixed it.

The water tank and beginnings of the wall behind it.
The cause of our problems was this water tank being too low.

The hot water problem turned out to not be a hot water problem at all, but rather a general water problem that came back to the simple issue of not enough water pressure. Although here we have mains water, the pressure at which it arrives at our door is not sufficient and is too variable for most uses. Combine this with 24hr water cuts throughout summer and the need to store water in some sort of tank becomes very important for an uninterrupted supply.

Raising this tank up high enough gives us some very nice water pressure too. But that was our very problem now. We had a tank, but it was not high enough to give us the pressure that we needed. You see, this tank supplies not one shower, but four. As it was, we could use one shower without problems, but with the second shower going, both people needed to hug the wall as the water dribbled out of the shower heads.

It had been quite some time now since I had heard the cries of the girls – for it was the girls bathroom that was affected here – and after several months nothing had yet been done. So one day I set about correcting the problem and raised the tank.

A sign on the door (no water for one week) and some cutting of pipes, and soon the tank was off its low stand, resting on the roof. First task completed. It then took three days to build up the wall to a height 1.25 metres higher than it was before. I stopped here because it was at this point that I could no longer reach up to place more bricks on the wall. Besides, it seemed like a good height now.

The team of guys needed to lift the tank.
The team of guys needed to lift the tank safely onto its new wall.

Lifting the tank up was not as easy as we first thought, and needed a team to help out. Once in place we needed to fit longer pipes and then check it all worked. It didn’t.

Our first problem was water leaks. After some scary acrobatics in climbing in and around the tank to replace the broken bits and seal up the leaks, we were ready to test things out again. This time it worked.

The height to which I climbed… on a bucket.
One of my unstable platforms on the roof that was needed to fix the leaks.

With four showers now working we added some showerheads, replaced some broken bits, and ran new pipes to the toilet cisterns so that everything was now working, bringing the girl’s bathroom up to a fully functioning standard.

Now I hear no more complaints from the girls about their bathroom.

The house is finally taking shape

The foundation walls for the floor now completed.
The foundation walls completed, waiting to be filled with dirt and then covered with concrete.

It has been a hot morning and a lot of work but here we are, just before lunch, cleaning up our tools. The floor is done, one of the biggest tasks in building a house, conquered in a morning. I could not have done this without help. It was interesting really that only the night before, while praying, I felt that help with the house would be coming soon. Little did I know just how soon.

It was that very night, a little later, that I was approached by some people that I knew vaguely who asked me about the house. They were here for the graduation ceremony of the Discipleship School that had just finished. One of them, Daniel, was the only person that I really knew, as he had helped me with information on how to build what I had built until now. I was soon to learn that the others were his wife and father-in-law.

The dug foundations of the house.
Standing next to the dug foundations of the house.

In reply to their question I told them that things had been progressing pretty slowly until now as there had been many other tasks required of me around the base that took my time away from the house. They glanced amongst themselves and then looked back at me. “Why don’t we come tomorrow and help you out?” was their response.

How exciting was that. I woke early the next morning and waited eagerly for them to arrive. They turned up right on time in their old truck, loaded up with tools, bars, ropes, and a well used but highly valued cement mixer. Before long we were all set up and work began.

Pouring the foundation concrete
Pouring the first concrete into the foundations. The plastic is to protect the house from rising damp.

Daniel mixed up the first load of concrete while his father-in-law, a man who has worked in construction his entire life, prepared the floor to receive its layer of concrete. Soon we were all working together, making concrete as fast as we could and wheelbarrowing it up a plank to pour it out on the floor.

Eight buckets of gravel, two of cement, half a big bucket of water, and now add sand to get the consistency right. A little more gravel, bit of water, and… that’s it, ready. Another load of concrete to pour out and form more of the rapidly forming floor. Time rushed by. Before I knew it we were done. The entire floor, a space of 16m2 was finished and it still was not yet lunch time.

Filling the base with dirt
Getting help in filling up the base with a solid dirt fill.

With the help of Daniel and Ortega, his father-in-law, we had finished the floor in well under half of the time it would have taken me had I attempted it alone. But the best part was that I had no idea how to continue. With their extensive knowledge in construction we were able to speed up the time needed to finish the job tremendously, and I was able to learn many things from them in the process.

So now I have a floor. There is a lot more yet to be done, but I have a floor. A FLOOR! The house is finally taking shape.

Cindy in Brazil

A good friend of mine from my days in New Zealand, Cindy Ruakere, has brought out her third CD and is now at the beginning of a one year world tour. It starts in Brazil, and involves living in a slum and ministring to the people here.

Cindy Ministering in Brazil
Cindy Ministering in Brazil

Here is a small extract from her email that covers the part about life in the “favela” slum:

Heliopolis Sao Paulo, the place where the druglords are the ministry protection because the police will shoot you rather than look at you. Where we wear bright green vests to show that we belong to Iris ministries which is looked upon kindly as caring for the children of Brazil, so we are afforded relative safety in the incredibly unsafe streets of this the largest slum in the world. Heliopolis with 3 million residents .

Heliopolis, where we have to turn our lights off and flash them once to the druglord guards that are stationed at the entrance and along the streets of the favela (slum), where the Holy Given school is situated.

Heliopolis, where my bedroom window has to be closed at night in case there are intruders who easily climb over the roof and just as easily shoot you in your bed. Where gunshots and machine gun fire is a common enough noise.

This is the Brazil we have entered and where Jesus is walking among us. This the first stop on our world tour. What a privilege and honour to be among these people. In the city of Sao Paulo where 18 million reside and life is cheap, Jesus lives.

More information can be found on her website.

Three Months Engaged

NOTE: Carolina and I are no longer engaged. We broke up in April. Carol has moved on to another YWAM base where she is studying. I will remain here and continue to work in Puerto Madryn.

Today Carol and I celebrated our third month of engagement. In July we will be getting married in Colombia, quite a distance from our current home in Argentina. To celebrate we enjoyed a lovely dinner by the sea in one of the many restaurants that sit right on the beach, and then stopped on the way home to admire the city lights from a very crowded lookout next to the ocean.

Carol and Me
Carol and I taking in the last of the sun’s warmth in the late afternoon.

Watch Out – Or Crunch

I had just paid for the repairs on the truck and updated the insurance (for third parties only) in town. Now I was on my way back to the base where I lived. I know the road well now, having both walked and driven it many times during the last six months since moving here. I also knew the drivers in this city, who drive like crazy around blind corners. So I guess I should have been ready for what came next.

Passing sewage installations along the now extra-narrow road, I approach the edge of the city where one big and very long road leads out to our isolated suburb called the “Quintas”. A three-way Y-type intersection, few cars manage to reach this far out of town so it remains relatively quiet. Even so, I slow down before reaching it, knowing that danger lurks around every corner… and so it was this day too.

Just as I reach the corner, an old blue Toyota Landcruiser appeared at quite a fast pace, trying to negotiate the corner towards me. The problem was that there was not enough room for both of us down this road. Incredibly, when the driver saw me it was as though he actually started aiming for me. I slammed on the brakes, but the gravel under the wheels did little to help me against the momentum that I still had.

As my vehicle slowed, I realised that the other was not slowing even a little. Worse, its trajectory was directly towards the front quarter of my car, and only metres remained before I would hear that fateful “crunch” of metal upon metal.

I could not wait for the driver to take evasive action. He was obviously without any form of serious control. Even before the truck had stopped, I slammed it hard into reverse and gunned the engine. Gravel spat everywhere and clouds of dust rose up in protest. Time stood still as I watched the next two seconds pass in slow motion.

The old Landcruiser hurtled toward the front of my truck. Only centimetres from impact the truck finally dug into the ground and started reversing. The other vehicle continued ahead as I headed backwards, following the curve of the front bumper with barely room to squeeze a hand between the two. He passed me, and there was no contact.

The other vehicle hits a pile of dirt left by the diggings from the sewage installations and finally stops. Pausing for a moment I looked over at the other driver who just smiled and shrugged. “No tengo frenos.” He says in Spanish, telling me that his vehicle has no brakes. I stare at him, wondering if he realises just how close he was to colliding with me, decide to say nothing, and take off.

This is not an isolated incident over here, but it certainly was the closest to an accident. There are a number of vehicles here that have serious mechanical problems such as no brakes what-so-ever or problems with their steering. Many more are just really old.

So it pays to be watching out always.

Finally Mobile

It did not happen as expected, with yet another day of delays after expecting to pick it up yesterday, but finally today, at the last hour of the day – 9pm – I was able to pick up the finished truck. Tomorrow I pay for it.

It was wonderful to be mobile again and whizz past the kilometres of road that we have walked countless times now. On arriving back at the base I sounded the horn to let everyone know… but they were all already yelling and screaming for joy and relief that we once again had our transport back.

Finally we are mobile again, and just because we now could, everyone piled into the truck and we headed out for a trip around the town, travelling from one side of the city to the other, along the coast and in the back-blocks, stopping at both of the known lookouts over the city to enjoy the views of the bay and the lights before us.

What joy it was to only sit and let the engine (and gearbox) do its job of moving us along. Never have I enjoyed motorised transport so much as now, after walking everywhere for three weeks from a place that is over 6 kilometres from the city. Mobility is such a wonderful thing.

And we are mobile once again. Yahoo!

We Have A Truck Again – Almost

Finally the truck is fixed. A job that was going to take a little more than one week has turned into three. Three weeks is not that long I guess, and it could have been worse. However, after being told that it would be just over one week, and assured every day that there was only one little problem, the three weeks have certainly seemed a lot longer than normal.

So what happened to make it so long?

First it was in getting the gearbox out. Three little bolts refused to let go and it was three days later, after pulling half of the truck apart so they could cut them out that the gearbox could finally be removed.

Next came news of the parts. We thought they were all there and available, to be delivered within days. One and a half weeks later they arrive. It turns out that there are many variations of the same part and what they had was different to what we needed. Instead of sending them down straight away, a search was made throughout the country for the bit that we needed. I guess it came from the furthest corner to take that long.

Finally with the parts arriving I was anxious to get the truck back. Walking six kilometres to the city and back each day through swirling dust acted as a great motivator to check on the progress of the repairs.

Arriving at the workshop I discover everything closed. Checking the time, I was here at the right part of the day and everything else was open, so I was a little confused. The first day I let it go, but on the second day, with everything still fully closed and nobody answering their telephones, I thought it worth finding out what was happening. In asking around the news was that the entire workshop was on vacation. Worse was that their vacations extended past the day that they had told me the truck would be ready.

Finally they came back to work, and started the job. Yesterday I was supposed to pick it up but it still was not finished. It turns out that not only were there many other cars being worked on, but also the workshop was so crowded that there was no room to get the truck inside so they could work on it.

So after multiple delays, it looks like today is the day that I pick the thing up. I have not been by the workshop yet, but am heading over there in a few hours in good faith that it really will be ready.

More news on that one soon.