After Monkey Island, there was a sense that things couldn't get any worse. We were wrong!
On the way into see our not-so friendly primate friends, David pointed out the Indian village we would soon visit. It appeared to be only about 10 minutes away, and would give a few of our team the opportunity to visit the facilities, so to speak. However, we quickly passed by the dock where we were supposed to stop, and a sudden sense came over me that we were going to see a different village. David mentioned that we must be going to a different Indian tribe, and we began to inquire of Freddy as the the whereabouts of our next encounter. To my great sadness, we would be returning to our original dock for more fuel, then another 15 minutes to meet the Bora Tribe. That's right, another hour and forty-five minute boat ride.
After running aground 3 times (sudden jerks are not good on loose bowels) on the way back, we finally had more fuel. The Amazon turned into a tributary, and as we continued into some smaller canals, Freddy pointed out the place where we would soon get to hold some Anacondas (that's right, Anacondas). Up ahead I could see the tops of a few thatch roofed huts, and got the affirmation that these were indeed the home to the Bora people. As we approached the dock I was enjoying the beautiful everglade-like scenery, when from the back of the boat I hear, "Are those boobies?" Now just this phrase alone has enough awkwardness to throw you into a "What is happening?" type moment. As I begin to get my bearings from being blindsided by that that word making an appearance, I look ahead in disbelief at the woman on the docks. We're still a good 75 yards away, but it's pretty apparent that this 60 something year-old lady is covering herself with only a loin cloth. In my mind I began to scramble. I had the thought, "I'm responsible for this team. I need to do something!" So, I did something... Stared... Ahead... At the lady.
Have you ever passed by a wreck on the interstate? You could tell from a distance that it was bad, and there was the possibility you would see something that would forever wreck your life, and give you bad dreams for weeks? Yeah. I stared. I would have glared longer but 15 completely naked children running around made me come out of my trance. I was in complete disbelief and shock. We were LIVING National Geographic. You can say what you want about their culture, but it ain't our culture, and as much as they are used to running around swinging in the breeze, we are not, and we are even more not used to seeing it. I could not believe this was happening. If we had been warned, it would have been one thing, but we weren't. I was just daydreaming and thinking how neat this all was when I heard the "b" word and saw it's reference point up ahead.
The village is made up of river huts. They are on the river, but exist on stilts, so to go anywhere you walk on planks. These planks were constructed with 4' 10", 145 pound Bora Indians in mind, and not 6'2", 215 pounds of pure table muscle. So, to walk across the 50 yards worth of planks was adventure enough of it's own. Little did I know the real adventure started at the entrance to the hut where we were greeted by 15 or 20 naked ladies. To be fair, they all had on loin clothes, but does that really qualify? I don't know that it would have been any more awkward if they had no covering at all. Anyway, they began to put necklaces and head dresses on us, which meant that I would have to bend way over (yes, this added to the uneasiness of it all). So in a neck turned and twisted state, as to miss facial contact with baby feeders, I received my new apparel and entered the tent to see what else might happen.
I looked at the ground a lot, but noticed Greg when he walked in. They had given him the designation of Chief, and his head dress was very ornate and big. Greg was still pretty upset about his earlier monkey attack and the ever increasing tension of this newest experience was not making him feel any better. But it got worse, quickly.
Freddy began telling us about the Bora people, how long they had lived there, how they maintained the area, what dialect they spoke, etc. Then he said these words, which I don't know if I will ever forget. He said, "They would like to show you some of their tribal dances. They will include you in the dance, and it is seen as VERY offensive if you do not participate." "Really? This is not happening," I thought. I looked at Greg, and his face went from slightly perturbed to an all out sense of helplessness, as did the rest of the team. These naked people were gonna dance, which was strange enough, but now we were gonna be involved. Seriously involved.
As they began to dance, the first person they grabbed was their chief, Greg. During his walk up to the dance area he shouted death threats at David and myself. We laughed, David filmed, it was a great time. One by one the team was personally pulled up to take part in an ancient dance of the Bora people. At one point I thought, "This is pretty neat. How many people get to experience this kind of culture, or do anything remotely like this outside of a strip joint? Nobody, that's who. But here we are, hand in hand with some naked people doing a dance to a chant I can't understand." So, I just kept glancing from the floor to Greg enjoying the moment in the only two safe places I could look without feeling dirty. David got two videos of this, and several pictures to document the occasion. I didn't load them on here, but if you want to see them they are posted to facebook.
What else needs to be said, really? I don't know many people who could honestly say, "I went on a mission trip, and while I was there we lead some people to Christ, did some discipleship, planted a few churches, oh, and I danced with some naked ladies." Never heard that at a missions conference, or during a trip report at a church. When we sat down, David asked if we would share this with the church. "Yeah, I doubt it," I said, "but you can bet your loin cloth and topless Boras it's going on the blog." You're welcome... you're welcome.
