Rural Road Blocks

This is our second term serving as missionaries in rural Paraguay.  Last term we were living in a town at the end of the paved road.  However this term we are one hour beyond the pavement and what a difference it makes!  We don't have ready access to conveniences like sliced bread and cheese, or needs like a hospital (should an emergency arise).  This was driven home to us this morning as our family piled in the truck to head up to a city two hours north of us. 

The day before, my neighbor told me 'there's no way out of here'.  I thought he was speaking figuratively until he explained to me that after three days of rain all the roads north of us were flooded.  He was upset that the local administration hasn't done more to improve the roads.  My friend drove the point home to me by saying, "If someone gets sick- really sick and there's an emergency... where will you go!?!"  He's not the only one frustrated; a couple months ago local campasinos burnt our longest wooden bridge so as to get the attention of those who can do something about it.  Two months later the bridge remains impassable and we are forced to use the only other road out of town.

That was the road we were traveling this morning.  Along the way we encountered a common sight- a herd of cattle coming toward us completely blocking the road.  I slowed to a stop and felt a little like Moses parting the sea as cattle passed on either side of our vehicle.  "That one's as big as our truck!" exclaimed the kids.  My neighbors words came back to me as we passed a man on horseback frantically wagging his finger at us.  "What does that mean!?" asked Sarah.  "It means we can't go this way." I replied.  Sure enough, further down the road we came upon a lake that hadn't been there before.  Some locals mingled around observing the situation, I asked one if it was deep.  He shook his head and smiled, "It would be up to your roof!" 

I said earlier that the reality we are living rural was 'driven home' to us and the pun was intended.  We turned around and headed back to our country home.  Upon arriving I fired up the wood stove (it's winter here) and Sarah and I sat down with a cup of coffee to rethink our day's plans.  It's all good-  such is life in rural Paraguay!