The Waodani were once known as the most violent people group in the world. We were about to spend three nights deep in the Amazon jungle with them and our 8 year old twins....
By July of 2019, we had already been living in Shell, Ecuador, a small town on the edge of the Amazon jungle for the past five months, but this upcoming experience would be unlike any other. We flew in a three-seater airplane low over the Amazon jungle, with our pilot friend Cuca at the controls. I've heard he's an excellent pilot, but now I saw it first hand. Rain and fog caused the other pilot to turn back and refuse to fly his four-seater airplane, but Cuca knows the jungle, its airstrips and this plane with his whole heart. At times the clouds were so thick, all you could see thru the windows was white, then all of a sudden a break in the clouds would reveal a carpet of plush, green trees surrounding a snaking river below and beautiful mountains in the distance. The grass runway was so saturated with rain, the children were using their boots to scoop water off the runway between flights. We landed safely with a splash of mud on a grass runway whose only building is used as a two-room school.
Upon arrival the Waodani welcomed us by painting our faces with achiote in the traditional way, around the eyes for females and 4 dots for males. They speak Wao Tededo, and the younger generation also speaks Spanish. While we waited for the rest of our group, some of the Waodani began teaching our children to use a blowgun, then gave them a machete and instructed them on making hiking sticks for our upcoming hour-long trek thru the jungle.
The hike took us thru multiple river crossings. Thank goodness for rubber boots!
Lastly, a short canoe ride and we were finally at the village which consists of two palm tree longhouses for guests, one for men and one for women with hammocks for sleeping, a separate covered area for cooking and eating, and a few smaller huts where the Waodani slept.
The Guiwah (Gooey-wah) = toilet
For the comfort of Western guests, there are actual flushing toilets inside. You just take some water from the rain barrel in with you to operate it.
Most of the hammocks we slept in were made BY HAND by the Waodani using plant fibers that they weave into string! Amazing, right?! Before tucking into our hammock on the first night, Jaime came to give us a quick lesson on how to sleep in one. It's not the way most of us normally lay (head and feet at the ends). You need to be positioned diagonally, somewhat sideways, with your feet towards one edge and your head towards the other. It took quite a bit of trial and error, but once you found a good position, it was quite comfortable and you could even sleep on your side. And that's about the time when you realize you need to pee! Ugh. Turn on your headlamp, find your shoes on the palm leaves under the hammock. Check for spiders. Wake Journey, because you know if you don't, she will need to go as soon as you fall back to sleep. Walk to the guiwah, check for snakes. Come back to the hammocks, get situated, oh and remember Jaime's final piece of advice. Cover your head and feet, so the vampire bats don't get you! *nervous laugh* Sweet dreams.
*By the way, our group saw no snakes the entire trip, much to my disappointment. We did see a few bats, but no contact was made with any humans.
The view from inside our longhouse looking thru the entrance/exit.
The next morning at breakfast, Jaime reminded us that not too long ago, the Waodani could, and most likely would have killed us all while we were sleeping and not even thought anything about it.
For many years they were known only as Aucas, a name meaning "savages" given by the neighboring Quechua people, because no one who'd ever met them had lived long enough to relay what they called themselves. Their lives were filled with violence, vengeance and fear. The enemy wasn't only a neighboring tribe or outsiders, it was themselves. They were killing each other. This uncontacted tribe was thrust into the awareness of the world when in 1956, six of them killed five missionaries.
In a shocking twist, only two years later, two widows and a sister of the murdered missionaries were invited to live with the group now known as the Waodani (aka Waorani, Huaorani). Not only did they accept, they brought their young children along. Thru those women, the tribe heard why the missionaries were willing to die for them and learned that Jesus had as well. For those that accepted the gift of eternal life and forgiveness of Christ, life became very different. Five of the six men who killed the missionaries were among them. They stopped killing and learned how to live a more peaceful life.
Many years later, the Waodani desired to invite people from other parts of the world to come and see how they hunt, cook, and live in the jungle without electricity and without running water. But what the tribe really wanted to share is how the love of Jesus changed them from a murderous people to one that loves and forgives and is now learning how to care for their elderly, as they've never had anyone survive past about 40 before. Our friend Jaime, the grandson of one of the missionaries who was killed (Nate Saint), now organizes these WAO Vision Trips for the Waodani thru the non-profit, ITEC. While in the jungle, we were completely reliant on the Waodani. They have lived this way their entire life, they know the surrounding jungle, the creatures it contains and how to survive.
By candlelight, we ate whatever the Waodani caught for us. Pihranna, paca, wild boar and a wooly monkey were served along with plantains, rice and tiny bananas.
During the day, the Waodani taught us many things. The men left on a mission to collect chonta wood to make spears, while the women learned to make things by weaving string made from palm trees. It's a fascinating process involving boiling, drying then rolling the strands to create multistrand spiral string. The string is then used to make many things from bracelets, to bags, to the hammocks we were sleeping in! I enjoyed watching Ompodae teach Journey how to make this. She brought only a few actual items home from our time in Ecuador and this little basket is one of them. The memories it holds are priceless.
The men returned from gathering wood and learning to climb trees with a climbing vine, then got to work carving away the outer bits to reveal the spear that lies within. A man would stand there holding the wood while Mincaye showed him how to make the cuts using his machete.
Mincaye was once a very violent, very feared man. Just read the memories he has recorded in the book, Gentle Savage Still Searching for The End of the Spear, and you'll see he killed others without hesitation and hardly any thought. He was, in fact, one of the killers of the five missionaries.
But when Mincaye speaks to me and I look in his eyes, I don't see a man to be feared, I see love. How can that be? How do I feel secure sleeping with my young children in hammocks under a longhouse built of palm fronds when he's just in the next hut? There's only one answer, Jesus.
One of my favorite memories of our time in the jungle I did not capture in a photo, but the image is imprinted on my heart. It's of Mincaye and his wife Ompodae, bent over with age, the two of them walking hand in hand thru the village. It still brings tears to my eyes. Their love story has a horrible beginning. One dark night, Mincaye and a friend attacked a village, killing Ompodae's entire family and taking her as his wife. For some time afterwards she was planning to kill him herself. When the women missionaries told her how God is willing to forgive us for all of our sins, she realized if God can forgive Mincaye, then she could too. I'm sure her attitude toward him didn't change overnight, but the love that they now share is a testimony to God's love and redemptive power.
Another day the women gathered yuca and young plantain sprouts then joined the men downriver where they had begun clearing a section of land with machetes. In half a day, all the trees in the section had been cut down and the crops planted. Farming in the jungle looks nothing like farming in the USA. Nothing is removed from the plot, everything stays where it fell. Not only is it more efficient, but the plants left lying on the ground help hold the crops in place even thru torrential rainfall. The yuca and plantains will be ready to harvest in just over a year. By then everything else will have already grown back as well, except for the large trees, of course. They plant crops in multiple places so they always have somewhere to gather food away from their village.
Planting yuca (above) Finished farm! (below)
One day, Ompodae and Onepa took Journey and I on a special walk to look for birds. There was no trail. The women cut a path for us with machetes. I was relieved, and a bit amused, to see Ompodae wearing crocs instead of walking barefoot like she normally did. At one point, Onepa stopped and carved her name into a tree with her machete. She then carved a pencil from a stick and invited Journey to carve her name as well. Of course this is something we'd NEVER do in the US, but here, we do what they do.
While they were doing this, I look over to Ompodae, and she had begun weaving a basket with palm fronds. By the time the girls were done carving, Ompodae presented her basket to Journey to carry her water bottle. Amazing!
In the afternoons we'd put on our swimsuits and bathe or swim in the river. The boys enjoyed jumping off the cliff into the water. Yes, this is the same water that holds pihranas and anacondas, but it turns out they only viciously attack people in movies!
One day we were bathing in the river when one of the Wao women came walking up carrying a charred-black monkey like a baby. She threw it into the river, then dove in after it. She and another person pulled it onto the beach and cut off it's head then proceeded to clean it while we watched in a mixture of shock, amusement and appreciation. It's quite the process to tenderize, prepare and cook a monkey!
We went fishing one of the days, and although we were unsuccessful, we enjoyed the experience.
We gathered around for lessons in shooting a blowgun and throwing a spear. The full-sized blowgun is so long and heavy, I actually rested it on Journey's head when it was my turn.
After a few days in the jungle, we heard the buzz of Cuca's airplane overhead. As everyone stopped and waived, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. What it must have been like for the Waodani to see Nate Saint flying over them for the first time! And then for this loud, odd creature to circle above you and lower gifts in a basket! It must have all been so exciting and yet so confusing at the same time. I imagine it would be as strange as a UFO visiting us!
I love this photo. In the center is Phil, the son of Nate Saint, one of the missionaries that was killed. He and his siblings along with his mother and aunt went to live with the Waodani shortly after his father's death. The close relationship that the Saint family has today with the Wao is truly inspiring. In the past Wao tradition, Phil or his brother, Steve, would have been expected to grow up and kill Mincaye and the others in retaliation, however, because of their relationship with God, they instead show love. Today the Saint grandchildren know Mincaye as "grandpa".
On our last night in the jungle, Ompodae and her daughter gave Wao names to our family, Asher "eme", Journey "Go moh kay", me "en kai eh" then gave us the tribe's "tattoo" with ink made from ground apple seeds. (It lasted even thru showers for about 5 days.)
We sat in a large circle and took turns sharing our gratitude for our time with them. They treated us to a traditional dance then pulled us from our seats to join them in dance and laughter. It was a wonderful end to our time together. The next morning we boarded canoes and headed back to the airstrip.
Before flying out we followed the trail to meet Kimo in Tzapino. Mud was ankle deep in some places and the Waodani's feet were bare. I was shocked to learn they recognize people by their individual footprints!
Flying back to Jumandy with clear skies was the coolest flight of my life. Being able to look down on the Amazon Jungle is a thrilling, bucket list experience. The river snakes thru the beautiful, thick canopy of trees. As I reflect back on our time in the jungle, it's good to remember that EVERYONE you meet can teach you something. We are all different, but we are also all the same.
The history between the Waodani, the missionaries and the Saints is remarkable and I encourage you to learn more about it thru one, or all of the following ways:
Books:
End of the Spear
Thru Gates of Splendor
Movies:
End of the Spear (currently on Netflix)
Thru Gates of Splendor (documentary)
Beyond the Gates of Splendor (documentary)
The Jim Elliott Story (intended for children age 8-12)
ITEC organizes 10-day trips from the US to Ecuador a few times a year. The group spends a few days exploring sites around the capital city, Quito, then Shell, where Nate Saint lived, before heading to the jungle to spend four days with the Waodani. Afterwards they visit a few more sites, including taking the teleférico up Pichincha, before heading back to the United States. This is a fantastic way to experience many different places and cultures in Ecuador in a short trip while having all meals and logistics taken care of for you. For those already living in Ecuador, they offer custom trips to spend time with the Waodani. For more information or to schedule a trip,
contact ITEC.
In May 2020, Mincaye jumped the Great Boa and was reunited with the missionaries who willingly gave their lives so he could be saved. I can only imagine the celebration that awaited him, and awaits us too!
