Went down to Gabone in the Rigo District today to try and move along a water project. The project entails restoring an old bore that was used 30 years ago for a cattle ranch in the area. The ranch folded about 15 years ago after a prolonged draught in the area. The first phase involves the cleaning out of the old bore but at the moment there is a blockage at 22m. The contractor now needs to find a suitable compressor to hire in order to pump water into the bore and blow out the sand and mud. I guess this will take another couple of weeks - patience is not one of my virtues. I do not know why Heavenly Father sends me to places where it is required - and here it is required in very large doses.
Today I met with the customary land owners and the village water committee who represent over 3,500 people. We met in our church which is an open sided building. The landowner leaders were not in ceremonial dress and there was no dancing girls this time. As we sat around discussing the two agreements that they have to sign, one with the customary landowners and the other with the village represented by the water committee I heard this thud just behind me. Not to be distracted I continued going through the agreement but then I noticed everyone staring at me. They then stopped speaking in English and spoke to each other in Motuan. I thought that this was a bit strange as they usually speak pidgin and I figured that they were making sure that I could not understand what they were saying. I frantically tried to think what I had said that might have offended them but nothing jumped out. After a little more rapid talking and hand gestures and more staring with worried looks on their faces one of them jumps up , runs outside and comes in with a long handled shovel and rushes towards me. I thought: " At least being attacked by a shovel is better than a bush knife."
As he came up beside me I looked behind to see that the cause of the disturbance was a small (about 1m long) python that had dropped out of a hole in the roof behind me. I quickly stopped the guy from killing it. They then told me that they didn't know what to do because they thought that this white guy would freak out if he knew that a snake had nearly dropped on me.
They then realised that I was really crazy because I said: "This is fantastic. I have been waiting for a snake to drop out of one of the roof of one of our meeting houses". I told them that I wanted to take photo and pick it up.
Being a wild snake it struck at me as I went to pick it up by the tail. Being an old man my reflexes were not as good as they used to be and it just scrapped the back of my hand with its teeth. Nevertheless, I picked it up by the tail but it was able to lift its body up to my hand and tried to stike me again so I dropped it and then pick it up behind the neck to have a good look at it. When I told them that Trent bred snakes they asked: "Does he breed them to eat?" When I said that he breeds them to sell to people who keep them for pets they just shook their heads in disbelief. They were more amazed at how much people in Australia are willing to pay for them. I hope I didn't initiate a smuggling business.
After this we went to the well and took the measuring wheel to work out the distance to the top of a nearby hill where we hope to place the main storage tank. The day wasn't too bad. It was about 30C , light breeze and about 70% humidity. The track went up and own 10 to 20m rises and falls until we got to the bottom of the hill. The hill was only about 150m high but unfortunately for an old, fat senior missionary the 30% or greater inclined meant that about halfway up I had to stop for a breath or two or hundreds. I had forgotten to bring my bottle of water and one of the guys upon seeing the red glow of my face offered me his half drunk bottle. With my hygiene phobias I decided that dying was preferable to sharing his water bottle. Maybe it was just the red bettlenut stained teeth and lips that did it!! As I sat in the dirt and ash from where they had burnt off I started to recognise that something was not quite right. I started to get intense pain down my left arm and thought what a great place to die from a heart attack. As the pain started to move up my arm from the fingers towards the elbow, the stupor from my gasping for breath cleared and I realised that I had put my hand on a nest of red ants and that they had taken a liking to sweat covered Aussie flesh. It is amazing how such a little thing as an ant can quickly help you recover from your breathlessness. I jumped up, brushed off the ants and with the help of walking stick which one of the young guys had cut from a small tree I started again up the hill. I think that the stick initially had been cut to make a stretcher to carry me out.
I finally got near the top and decided that I was close enough to get a height and distance measurement. The young guys looked at me and in their finest pidgin said: "Elder Snow you all buggered up" (in pidgin this means, broken, not working). I smiled and replied: "That is a pretty accurate description". On the way back down the hill the younger guys grabbed both my arms to help this old man back down. However, when you are slipping and sliding, when your arthritic ankle is hurting like hell and you are trying to put as little pressure on it as possible, and you have a person on one side zigging when the person on the other side is zagging, going down was worse than going up.
Finally, we got back to the car, I downed about several bottles of water and then finished our measuring.
When I returned back home Theone looked at me and asked if I had been in a fight. My white shirt was a pale shed of brown from the dust and grime, liberally streaked with black ash and wet from sweat. I staggered past Theone, stripped off and jumped into the shower to wash the dirt and sweat away and to relax under a cold shower. I then heard from the living room: "Oh, you might want to know that the water hasn't been on all day!"
Just another day in paradise
--
Rob Snow
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