The Stars of Dadanawa
Joe Chira SJ
the Regional Superior of Guyana, is rescued by a four-wheeled ‘Pedro Arrupe’ in the middle of the nigh
On Monday 20th December 2004 I set out on a journey from St Ignatius Mission to Aishalton, a distance of some 125 miles. I wanted to see for myself the progress being made to get the old convent ready for the Canadian Scarboro lay missionaries and the presbytery where one of our Jesuit fathers will live as chaplain to the missionaries.
Fr Joe Puli SJ, in the unavoidable absence of the parish priest, Oliver Rafferty SJ, did everything he could to have Mr Parks, the driver, and his mechanic son, Peter, to get us to our destination. In our interior missions, no sooner has a priest decided to visit a distant mission station than - almost from nowhere - parishioners (and even strangers) would appear to cadge a free lift in the mission vehicle to any place on the way! Apart from five young people, whom we had to return to their villages after a five day seminar, three other women and two men seated themselves in the back of the jeep - along with all their possessions.
I was given the honoured seat by the driver. We began our trip at about 2pm in the hot tropical sun. The temperature was about 37 degrees Celsius. On either side of the trail people had set fire to the old grass and shrubs, hoping that the expected rains would sprout fresh green grass. Alas, no rain fell!
Having become accustomed to travelling regularly from Georgetown to Moleson Creek on the Corentyne, or to Linden or Parika - and even up to Charity - on the coastal roads, I was about to experience, for the first time, the hazards of a journey on the trails in the interior. Even my journeys to Mabaruma, Hosororo and Wauna in the Northwest looked like a dream compared to what I was soon to encounter.
Leaving St Ignatius village we soon began to pass through very rough trails of hard-burnt rock. Suddenly the jeep fell into several deep holes; then it stumbled over a large mound - giving me a good jolt. A number of times I hit my head on the metal roof of the vehicle, only to hear Mr Parks say, ‘sorry’.
After a few miles we reached a fairly deep creek. Mr Parks got out to figure out the depth of the water. It was just above his knee. Returning to the jeep he checked the gears and, with the concentration of a trained athlete, he drove us through the perilous waters. From the spinning tyre I was well and truly drenched - which both wet and cooled me somewhat. Then the jeep sped forward on its journey. The trails seem to go on and on; sometimes winding, other times taking a sharp turn. With incredible dexterity Mr Parks avoided most of the deep holes and gulleys caused by the fast, eroding waters. However, sometimes he couldn’t help but fall into one or other of the hazards. Then there were stretches of loose white sand on the trails, where the jeep found it hard to grip the surface and struggled to move forward.
In about an hour and a half we reached Parakarinau, where some of the youth who had attended the seminar lived. However, once we had dropped them off, our jeep would not pick up any speed, as there were air blocks in the system. Mr Parks and his son attempted to blow through the fuel line with a hand pump. Seeing that the blockage would hamper our long journey, Mr Parks decided to return to St Ignatius to collect the older jeep, suitably named, ‘Pedro Arrupe’. He left us outside the small Mission Church, which was locked, and so we had to stay in the shade of a cashew tree, which gave us its succulent fruit to quench our thirst. After an hour Mr. Parks and his son returned with the same vehicle. They had changed their minds! They reckoned that blowing air into the fuel line and filter would somehow help us to proceed. Time was passing. We were arriving at the various villages and slowly dropping off our passengers along with their Christmas treasures. Children, women, men, aunts and uncles would welcome the visitor and help them carry the goodies to their little tuli-thatched and mud-plastered huts which usually were surrounded by cashew and mango trees to give shade from the intense equatorial sun.
We passed Shulinab as the crimson red sun was setting in the western sky behind a peak of the Kanuku Mountains. Suddenly it was quite dark and the jeep decided it was time to stop moving. Mr Parks and his son tried everything to clear the air blocks. They used hand pumps, they used compressors. I tried to help by shining a small torch for them, but still the machine refused to move and it was getting darker and darker. Several trucks, along with a few motorbikes, passed by and then the caretaker of the Dadanawa Ranch turned up, leading a truck to the nearby camp. They stopped and asked what what was happening. The solution was a long polythene tube - they said and, leaving us a length of the material, went on their way. Mr Parks and son spent time bypassing the original fuel connection. Knives, clamps, screws, nuts, bolts, plus anything else that could be found in the tool box, was used. The work was no joy. However after an hour and a half of hard, frustrating work, a connection was made and we limped into the camp. It was now half-past-eight and we had not even covered half of our journey. In normal times we should be sleeping comfortably in Aishalton by now!
Dangerously pushing on we crossed the Rupununi River and reached the Dadanawa Ranch Camp. The intrepid Mr Parks decided to borrow a motorbike from a young man and return to St Ignatius to bring ‘Pedro Arrupe’ to use for the rest of the journey. I felt great compassion for Mr Parks and his son and comforted them with two cups of hot coffee and some large chunks of bread. Mr Parks ate and drank quickly, then disappeared into the night on the motorbike.
Peter, Mr Parks’ son, found a narrow bench to lie on and I tried to rest across the driver and passenger seats on the jeep. However, trying to find comfort between all sorts of wires and repair kits did not help. By now it was midnight and, leaving my uncomfortable bed, I shuffled out of the jeep and looked up. It was breathtaking! From horizon to horizon stars and planets were looking at me in all their splendour. I tried to name the constellations, recalling what little knowledge I had of the night-sky. I was basking in the stunning beauty of the Milky Way. In many parts of the world fog and smoke would stop people from gazing at such a wonderful sight. For several hours I just drank in the beauty and wonder of God’s immensity. A sight like this should be enough to open the inner eyes of any atheist or agnostic. Saint Ignatius said something like, ‘When I look at the glory of the heavens, how sordid the earth appears to me’ and I now knew a little of what he meant. But it is on this ‘sordid earth’ that my life is cast. God loved this world so much that he gave His only Son to save us from all divisions, quarrels and competitions to live in unity, love and service. How far people have moved from the plans and purposes of God!
At about 4am Mr Parks returned with the sturdy old ‘Pedro Arrupe’ and about an hour later we began our journey again. Although he was dreadfully weary, he drove the old vehicle with a new sense of assurance. We reached Aishalton around 7.30am. The president of the parish council, the lay missionaries and several men and women welcomed us and made us feel at home. A good breakfast was followed by an hour-long inspection of the adaptations to the convent and presbytery. The parish council president, Edward Laud, told me of the time it would take to complete the work and of plans for a new church and other new facilities. By 9.30am we had accomplished our work at Aishalton and it was time to return to St Ignatius.
Once again we boarded ‘Pedro Arrupe’, along with several men and women, along with Barbara and Maxine, two of the lay missionaries. On our way we picked up the broken down jeep from Dadanawa. Peter drove it ahead of our little group and only once did we have to blow air into it. After a steady drive we reached St Ignatius at about 2.45pm.
In spite of the many hardships and inconveniences of the journey, the Stars of Dadanawa put me in the mood for the forthcoming feast of Christmas, a mood of contemplation and prayer. “And Mary pondered all these things in her heart.” And so did I!
the Regional Superior of Guyana, is rescued by a four-wheeled ‘Pedro Arrupe’ in the middle of the nigh
On Monday 20th December 2004 I set out on a journey from St Ignatius Mission to Aishalton, a distance of some 125 miles. I wanted to see for myself the progress being made to get the old convent ready for the Canadian Scarboro lay missionaries and the presbytery where one of our Jesuit fathers will live as chaplain to the missionaries.
Fr Joe Puli SJ, in the unavoidable absence of the parish priest, Oliver Rafferty SJ, did everything he could to have Mr Parks, the driver, and his mechanic son, Peter, to get us to our destination. In our interior missions, no sooner has a priest decided to visit a distant mission station than - almost from nowhere - parishioners (and even strangers) would appear to cadge a free lift in the mission vehicle to any place on the way! Apart from five young people, whom we had to return to their villages after a five day seminar, three other women and two men seated themselves in the back of the jeep - along with all their possessions.
I was given the honoured seat by the driver. We began our trip at about 2pm in the hot tropical sun. The temperature was about 37 degrees Celsius. On either side of the trail people had set fire to the old grass and shrubs, hoping that the expected rains would sprout fresh green grass. Alas, no rain fell!
Having become accustomed to travelling regularly from Georgetown to Moleson Creek on the Corentyne, or to Linden or Parika - and even up to Charity - on the coastal roads, I was about to experience, for the first time, the hazards of a journey on the trails in the interior. Even my journeys to Mabaruma, Hosororo and Wauna in the Northwest looked like a dream compared to what I was soon to encounter.
Leaving St Ignatius village we soon began to pass through very rough trails of hard-burnt rock. Suddenly the jeep fell into several deep holes; then it stumbled over a large mound - giving me a good jolt. A number of times I hit my head on the metal roof of the vehicle, only to hear Mr Parks say, ‘sorry’.
After a few miles we reached a fairly deep creek. Mr Parks got out to figure out the depth of the water. It was just above his knee. Returning to the jeep he checked the gears and, with the concentration of a trained athlete, he drove us through the perilous waters. From the spinning tyre I was well and truly drenched - which both wet and cooled me somewhat. Then the jeep sped forward on its journey. The trails seem to go on and on; sometimes winding, other times taking a sharp turn. With incredible dexterity Mr Parks avoided most of the deep holes and gulleys caused by the fast, eroding waters. However, sometimes he couldn’t help but fall into one or other of the hazards. Then there were stretches of loose white sand on the trails, where the jeep found it hard to grip the surface and struggled to move forward.
In about an hour and a half we reached Parakarinau, where some of the youth who had attended the seminar lived. However, once we had dropped them off, our jeep would not pick up any speed, as there were air blocks in the system. Mr Parks and his son attempted to blow through the fuel line with a hand pump. Seeing that the blockage would hamper our long journey, Mr Parks decided to return to St Ignatius to collect the older jeep, suitably named, ‘Pedro Arrupe’. He left us outside the small Mission Church, which was locked, and so we had to stay in the shade of a cashew tree, which gave us its succulent fruit to quench our thirst. After an hour Mr. Parks and his son returned with the same vehicle. They had changed their minds! They reckoned that blowing air into the fuel line and filter would somehow help us to proceed. Time was passing. We were arriving at the various villages and slowly dropping off our passengers along with their Christmas treasures. Children, women, men, aunts and uncles would welcome the visitor and help them carry the goodies to their little tuli-thatched and mud-plastered huts which usually were surrounded by cashew and mango trees to give shade from the intense equatorial sun.
We passed Shulinab as the crimson red sun was setting in the western sky behind a peak of the Kanuku Mountains. Suddenly it was quite dark and the jeep decided it was time to stop moving. Mr Parks and his son tried everything to clear the air blocks. They used hand pumps, they used compressors. I tried to help by shining a small torch for them, but still the machine refused to move and it was getting darker and darker. Several trucks, along with a few motorbikes, passed by and then the caretaker of the Dadanawa Ranch turned up, leading a truck to the nearby camp. They stopped and asked what what was happening. The solution was a long polythene tube - they said and, leaving us a length of the material, went on their way. Mr Parks and son spent time bypassing the original fuel connection. Knives, clamps, screws, nuts, bolts, plus anything else that could be found in the tool box, was used. The work was no joy. However after an hour and a half of hard, frustrating work, a connection was made and we limped into the camp. It was now half-past-eight and we had not even covered half of our journey. In normal times we should be sleeping comfortably in Aishalton by now!
Dangerously pushing on we crossed the Rupununi River and reached the Dadanawa Ranch Camp. The intrepid Mr Parks decided to borrow a motorbike from a young man and return to St Ignatius to bring ‘Pedro Arrupe’ to use for the rest of the journey. I felt great compassion for Mr Parks and his son and comforted them with two cups of hot coffee and some large chunks of bread. Mr Parks ate and drank quickly, then disappeared into the night on the motorbike.
Peter, Mr Parks’ son, found a narrow bench to lie on and I tried to rest across the driver and passenger seats on the jeep. However, trying to find comfort between all sorts of wires and repair kits did not help. By now it was midnight and, leaving my uncomfortable bed, I shuffled out of the jeep and looked up. It was breathtaking! From horizon to horizon stars and planets were looking at me in all their splendour. I tried to name the constellations, recalling what little knowledge I had of the night-sky. I was basking in the stunning beauty of the Milky Way. In many parts of the world fog and smoke would stop people from gazing at such a wonderful sight. For several hours I just drank in the beauty and wonder of God’s immensity. A sight like this should be enough to open the inner eyes of any atheist or agnostic. Saint Ignatius said something like, ‘When I look at the glory of the heavens, how sordid the earth appears to me’ and I now knew a little of what he meant. But it is on this ‘sordid earth’ that my life is cast. God loved this world so much that he gave His only Son to save us from all divisions, quarrels and competitions to live in unity, love and service. How far people have moved from the plans and purposes of God!
At about 4am Mr Parks returned with the sturdy old ‘Pedro Arrupe’ and about an hour later we began our journey again. Although he was dreadfully weary, he drove the old vehicle with a new sense of assurance. We reached Aishalton around 7.30am. The president of the parish council, the lay missionaries and several men and women welcomed us and made us feel at home. A good breakfast was followed by an hour-long inspection of the adaptations to the convent and presbytery. The parish council president, Edward Laud, told me of the time it would take to complete the work and of plans for a new church and other new facilities. By 9.30am we had accomplished our work at Aishalton and it was time to return to St Ignatius.
Once again we boarded ‘Pedro Arrupe’, along with several men and women, along with Barbara and Maxine, two of the lay missionaries. On our way we picked up the broken down jeep from Dadanawa. Peter drove it ahead of our little group and only once did we have to blow air into it. After a steady drive we reached St Ignatius at about 2.45pm.
In spite of the many hardships and inconveniences of the journey, the Stars of Dadanawa put me in the mood for the forthcoming feast of Christmas, a mood of contemplation and prayer. “And Mary pondered all these things in her heart.” And so did I!