Ashaninka volume 11

After praying to meet more of the adults in this community, yesterday we met five adults.  One, a young mother of four, was in labor with her fifth.  This baby, like the other four, will be born in her house without the presence of a midwife or doctor.  Oh she has plenty of sisters and friends who will help out, but I was so surprised to learn that people still do that, especially these folks who live five minutes from a hospital.

We also met a sister and brother of Lydia, her brother-in-law and her mother.  Her mother, Rosa, stands at about 4'11", may weigh 90 pounds soaking wet, and looks much older than she is, with her deeply tanned and wrinkled face.  She speaks very little Spanish and we were not able to share with her from God's Word, but hope to soon.  We learned that she was "given" to an older man as a little girl for him to feed and raise until she was of child bearing age, then she became his "woman".  This was once the custom in this community.  Thankfully, it is not anymore.  In many Ashaninka villages, it is still practiced.  It just broke my heart to hear her story, of how she was abused and used to produce children.  I yearn to tell her of a man, who is also God, who loves her for her and who gave His life for her.  I wonder if she will believe me.

As the children played tag, climbed trees, ate bugs and ran around, we sat in the shade of a large thatched roof, while Lydia explained how they make one of their typical, all natural drinks called masato.  They cook down yuca and purple sweet potaoes until they are mushy, smash them all together with sugar and leave this mass in a pot in the hot sun.  Then they strain the juice from this and drink.  After a few hours, it starts to ferment.  After three days, everyone gets drunk from it.  They give this to their kids from the time they are babies.  I wonder if this has anything to do with their propensity for alcoholism.  Brent and I were both offered a glass.  The smell about knocked me over and the polite sip I took was enough to bowl me over.  To say the fermenting process was well underway would be an understatement.  Thankfully, these are not the type of people to be offended if we don't like what they offer.  More for them.