I have learnt a lt this year. I learned that things don't always turn out the way you planned, or the way you think it should. And I've learned that there are things that go wrong that don't always get fixed or get put back together the way they were before. I've learned that you can get through bad times and keep looking for better ones. This year wasn't always pretty. It wasn't always comfortable. Some things and situations even break your heart. But that's okay. The journey changes you - it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness and on your heart. You take something with you, and hopefully also leave some things behind. I will forever remain humble because I know I could have less. And I will always be grateful because I know I've had less.
Davis, aka The Ambassador greeted us with his white smile and a dashing white suit on Sunday morning. He was ready for church. Marié and I ran some last errands, I all the while thinking how the heck is this guy going to keep his white suite white. Why would he even bother with one? It won't stay white, I could guarantee him that. Everything is dusty in Busia, Uganda. Even the tar road has a thick layer of dust making it unrecognizable – and we were far away from the tar road anyway.
Anyone that knows me will know that I absolutely love being outside and that being in or around mountains is without a doubt where I am in my happy place. So imagine my excitement and anticipation for our visit to the small town of Incahuasi high in the Andes mountains of Peru with Oom Hendrik. This stop on the journey was one of the main reasons why I decided to do my particular journey to South America in the first place and my expectation was well-met - the first day I wanted to jump out of my skin with excitement. Sleeping in the attic-room of a house with narrow stairs (just like childhood-Heidi), boiling water in an old kettle on a gas stove (just like Bainskloof), having quiet time overlooking the mountains with cold air rushing through my lungs, experiencing the thinness of the air due to our high altitude, seeing the women in their traditional attire with bright colours and big hats, driving a few hours to a remote village to hand out little Bibles - I could well imagine heaven looking something like this.
Today we visited a remote village in the middle of the Andes mountains - people who never have or very seldom see any other people than those in their village and has never heard the gospel. What a privilege.
Turning water into wine. Telling fishermen to be his followers. Followed around by spiritually-hungry people, searching for truth. Feeding five thousand people with a little boy's lunch. Setting people free from law and leading them into grace. Yes, that's my Jesus. This same Jesus allowed Distant Worlds to get a taste of what that felt like during our week in the Andes mountains.
It was a dream come true. Rattling, shaking and bumping up zigzag mountain passes to the village of Incahuasi. This was where we would sleep for five nights. We drove for four hours on 100km on a single-lane, dusty, serpentine path. In the Andes Mountains. I almost couldn't believe it.
The mountains were colossal, stretching 3130m into the heavens. My eyes were as wide as saucers as we drove past mountain villages, with hand-sown rice fields and horse-drawn carts. The women wore the most beautiful, colourful, handmade clothes. Not much has changed in these villages from 100 years ago.
We shared bibles with many far-away schools in isolated towns. The average amount of students were 40 in the whole school. It was interesting to note that most of these people had never even left their mountain town. They didn't know about things such as beaches, skyscrapers of drive-thru McDonalds. They knew more about mountain trails than LonelyPlanet and their diet consisted of things they had planted and cultivated themselves. A whole new world. "Lord, what do I say to these children? We come from two different worlds. We don't even speak the same language - they speak Quechua and I only speak primitive Spanish. Holy Spirit, speak through me please..."