The Team Meeting

Even something as simple as a team meeting can become a huge ordeal here in rural Paraguay.  It was supposed to be a simple day trip to a town a couple hours north of us to meet up with our teammates.   Everyone was going to converge on the rural community for a required annual meeting (which turned out not to be required) and to say goodbye to our dear Canadian teammates who have decided to return to the Great Frozen North for good:(   Sure, we had had a massive rain the day before but as we loaded up all the Howdy's the sun was shining and all seemed promising.    The roads were neither muddy nor dusty- nice.  As we barreled along we got a call from other teammates who were passing over a long wooden bridge on a different road.  They informed us the river had raised 7 meters and was flowing just a foot or two under the bridge- yikes!  The road we were on didn't have to cross any major rivers so I decided to press on.  We made great progress until we came to the flood plain.  The road ended at the shore of a river I had never seen before.  Broken sections of water were swiftly flowing across the road for the next 1/2 mile or so.  

'Oh yeah... I guess that's why they call it a flood plain.'  

As the truck idled and I sat behind the wheel with mouth hanging partially open... the moment of decision stood before me.  I had decided to press on and to stop now would not only cost me time but other important things like my pride and dignity.  Would I allow us to turn back with our Land Cruiser's proverbial tail tucked beneath it's chassis?  I looked at my wife.  Her raised eyebrows told me she understood my internal dilemma perfectly and was doubtful this would end well.  I looked back out the windshield and noticed an ox cart.  AH-HA!  I knew what I would do- I would stall (not literally- the truck continued to idle).  "We'll wait to see how deep the water is when the ox cart passes through." I confidently explained to my family.  The oxen didn't budge.  Neither did I.  The man in the ox cart beckoned me to go first.  I graciously offered he could go first.  He prodded the oxen who then heaved forwarded into the surging waters.  Though not more than three feet deep the oxen clearly did not like the swift current and tried to turn back several times.  The ox cart eventually made it across though and I had a to make my move- turn back or push through.  I knew the water would be up past our floor boards and I wondered if it would come in under our doors- 'hmm'. Technically as long as the water didn't flow over the diesel engine and we didn't get swept off the road into deeper waters we'd be ok.  Right?  RIGHT!  Like a general about to bring his troop into battle I matter-of-factly said to my family, "Let's pray."  "Keep us safe, help us get to our meeting..."  The engine revved and on 'Amen' the four wheel drive plunged us forward toward our destiny.    

Well we did make it to our meeting that day.  By the time the meeting ended we received word that all the bridges back to our town were under water and the road we had taken was impassible.  That night we caravaned with our South African teammates four hours south to where there was a railroad bridge.  It was high enough that we could use it to cross one of the rivers.  We reached the railroad bridge at about 10:30 that night.  It seemed to be as narrow as my truck and the invisible blackness below made it feel like we were a mile up in the night sky!  Though we hadn't packed a change of clothes or toothbrushes we spent the night at our friends house.  The next day, 36 hours after we had left, we found our selves back home- and very grateful to be there in one piece!