LDS -> Latter Day Saint -> Mormon.
Yep, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or as we are so lovingly called by the masses, a Mormon.
Like many young men in my faith, at the age of 19 I decided that I would serve a mission whereever I may be called and preach the gospel. I turned in my papers late May or perhaps early June of 1999 and waited somewhat patiently, somewhat not for my calling. I had hoped I wouldn't be called to an oriental country because I just don't do well with that type of food -- have never liked it, and probably never will. With that in mind, I thought for sure I WOULD be called to an oriental country, just so I learned to like it.
In mid July, 1999, my call finally arrived. I had to wait for my mom to get home before opening it because tradition is that you get the whole family together and open it for everybody, rather than opening it early and then being sneaky. I had every intention of reading some far off and crazy land just to throw my mom off, but, as I was reading it, I forgot that I was going to trick her. I came to the part "...you have been called... to serve in Trujillo, Peru..." The most strange thing happened; I felt like I always knew that was where I was going and it just felt right. Crazy thing is, I had never even heard of Trujillo, and for that matter, had only briefly heard of Peru in my studies.
Like any young man ready to embark on his journey, I decided to start investigating and learning everything I could about Peru. I was shocked with what I found. See, when I thought of South America (and I think most people can say they think the same), I imagined lush jungles and myself hacking through them with a machete. In a way, I suppose it is just one of those idealistic imaginations that we have as a result of all the movies and how they tend to portray certain things in a light that is definitely not always accurate. At any rate, what I found was shocking. Peru, for the most part, is nothing but desert. Or rather, the inhabited portion of Peru is such. Yes, Peru has a very large portion in the Amazon Rainforest, but they have sparse settlements there, and that is on the other side of the Andes mountains. And therein lies the reason. See, up here in the USA our rain comes from the west and moves eastward. In Peru, on the other hand, storms move in from the east and move westward. The Andes are friggin huge and so the clouds dump their load before trying to scale the mountains. Where does that load go? The Amazon Rainforest.
IF (and this is a BIG if) anything gets over the Andes and over to the coast, chances are it is so little that it won't try dumping it anyway. In the two years I spent there, it only rained one single time. Good thing too because on the coast, most people don't have roofs or anything like that.
That was only the beginning of my shock, but luckily I didn't get the rest of the way shocked until actually arriving in Peru.
The Mission -- MTC
I entered the MTC (Mission Training Center) on January 19, 2000. That in and of itself is noteworthy if only because I had to wait nearly 6 whole months to enter the friggin mission! Most often, a missionary may have to wait only a month or two before entering the MTC, but unfortunately Peru is somewhat different. The reason we had to wait is because it was a chore to get a VISA to enter Peru. I guess they were/are bitter about our policy here in the United States towards foreigners and the process to get a VISA, so they thought they'd try and do the same to us. Maybe they didn't realize it, but it's not like we're dying to get out of the States and live somewhere else.
Moving along. I was only in the Provo, UT MTC for a month and then had the opportunity of doing what they call a "split-training". Peru has their own MTC in Lima (the capital) somewhat near the Temple. They like to do an immersive training where they'll bring all the gringos down there that are serving in Peru or Bolivia and have the classroom setting completely in Spanish. The only English going on down there is between other gringos.
We flew in to Lima pretty late at night (I believe it was around midnight by the time we touched ground), so we couldn't really see anything outside. We gathered our luggage and bumbled about until we found the vans that were ready to take us to the MTC. It was some pretty bad culture shock right from the beginning -- the first realization that I was completely out of my element. Everything was Spanish. Nobody could understand us, and we couldn't understand anybody else except for a few words here and there.
As we were driving towards the MTC, we were hit with yet another culture shock. Yeah, their highways and roads all have lanes painted in them, but I don't think they had any real purpose. We were on a two-lane highway (that is, two-lanes going the same direction we were going), yet there were FOUR vehicles taking up that space side by side. Here we were mere inches away from the next vehicle over, going between 50-60 MPH on a potholed and ill-maintained road, weaving in and out of traffic. There weren't any seatbelts either.
I was surprised and grateful that we arrived to the MTC alive after a half hour of travel, and then we were sent our way to the rooms. We were given a little extra time to sleep in that morning because of how late we arrived (we were supposed to be up and ready by 9 instead of 7). And the shock continued...
We spent another month in the MTC there trying to learn Spanish before we were let loose. Sometime shortly before we were sent off to our respective missions, we went out to the "real world" for some trial runs. The conditions there were crazy. I had never actually seen dirt roads aside from the country up here (and in those instances I was expecting to see dirt). The houses were all connected one to another (much like a town home) and every one of them had bars over the windows, heavy wood doors, and basically looked like they were trying to fortify up against a war or something. We had the priviledge(?) of walking through an open-air market. There were carcasses of all sorts of animals hanging from all over the place, goat and pig heads on tables, and all sorts of other nastiness. Growing up in the suburbs, I had NEVER seen anything even remotely close to that. In fact, the only portions I had ever seen of an animal was the part on my plate (chicken wing or breast, slice of ham, a hamburger). I was blissfully ignorant.
During my time in the MTC, I also had the priviledge(?) of getting the super-poopies. I kid you not, I had to poo over 30 times in one day (I lost count after 30, BTW, and that was near 2 or 3 that afternoon). And I was in the MTC where the water was clean and the food well-cooked! That was a very unpleasant situation and luckily I never had diarrhea that bad again (though I didn't escape completely without any more instances).
And then I moved on...
The Mission -- Chimbote
Shortly after arriving to Trujillo we were to receive our respective assignments to different areas of the mission. The mission president mentioned that all but one of us would be assigned to areas close by (around Trujillo), and that the one would be sent to a fishing port about two hours south. I don't know how or why, but I just knew that I would be the one being sent off to Chimbote. So, when the assignments were given out, I was not surprised when he told me that I would be the one going to Chimbote. I was to accompany one other gringo (who had been in the mission for a few months now) and a peruvian. A couple of hours passed, and off we went.
Yet another shock was delivered. We were loaded on to a bus about the size of a Greyhound and off we went. Because he was the only person who I could actually understand, I sat by the gringo and we talked the whole way there. He delivered some wisdom to me such as when people came on the bus trying to hawk their goods, to just ignore them and/or look away. He also mentioned that we'd know when we were getting within a half hour of Chimbote because we'd start smelling it long before we could see it... he wasn't wrong.
We were passing through a small town named Santa (spanish for "saint" or "holy") when the smell hit us. It was pretty nasty even that far out, and only got worse. We passed through a tunnel in the mountain and immediately on the other side the smell increased ten-fold. On the other side of the mountain was a huge land-fill; I hesitate to say land-fill though because they didn't actually try and cover the garbage... they just dumped it there. Continuing on, the smell started to mix with the putrid smell of rotting fish.
We arrived in Chimbote not long after and I was delivered yet the next in a series of shocks. The bus was driving down the most busy street in Chimbote and came to a place where the gringo (Elder Stoddard) told me it was time for us to get off. So, there we are, leaving the bus in the middle of the busiest street of Chimbote. You'd think I mean the bus pulled over to let us off--not so. It stopped literally IN THE MIDDLE of the busy street, and there we stood getting our baggage out with cars speeding by us on all sides. Off went the bus and Stoddard told me to follow closely as he turned and just started walking right across the street with traffic not slowing nor stopping to let him pass. I just stood there dumbfounded. He yelled at me to follow and I ran like mad hoping to survive the next 10 seconds. Then we wandered around trying to find the Zone leader who was supposed to meet us. He found us after about 15 minutes.
We boarded some taxis and went our ways -- the ZL taking me to meet my companion who was apparently very sick with some bug. When we arrived, we knocked on the big heavy door and "el Chino" (Elder Miyasaki) poked his head out from the window above. Asking where my companion was, he answered to Elder Mackay (the ZL) that my companion was busy puking his guts out. Pleasant. He came down and let us in and there I spent the next week pretty much alone while he tried to sleep off his bug. In that time, our cook came to drop off our breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the appropriate times. I still couldn't understand spanish very well and so I just accepted the packages without a word. I'm sure they felt sorry for me and in fact, later on once I finally could understand and speak the language we talked about those first few weeks. I never felt so alone.
Luckily the rest of my time (6 months) in Chimbote was different. Elder Savage (from just outside San Francisco) was a powerhouse and, in spite of being on the last leg of his mission and his girlfriend still waiting for him (and talking about marriage), he kept strongly focused on the mission. We worked hard at trying to motivate the members to reactivate other members, talk to their friends, etc, as well as toquing (knocking) doors and talking to people all around.
We met all sorts of great people and I was humbled at how incredible the people were there. Cristian Ruiton, a young man about our same age, started listening to the Charlas more as a joke than anything but turned out to be the most powerful convert I met my entire mission. He was incredible. When we asked him to read in the Book of Mormon, 3rd Nephi chapter 11 and a few verses there, he ended up reading the entire BOOK of 3rd Nephi in addition to the preface to the BOM (Joseph Smith History, etc) and several chapters into 1st Nephi. We didn't really believe he did it so we quizzed him and were pleasantly surprised that he did.
By the 3rd discussion he had asked if he could go out preaching with us... we were more than glad to have him along. He wasn't without trials, of course, but he worked very hard to overcome his trials. He was baptized in July of 2000 along with some other individuals in our ward and from other wards and by the time I came home from my mission in December 2001 he was preparing to serve a mission of his own to Lima Peru (South, if I'm not mistaken).
Another individual that touched me was a slightly older gentleman - Amador. We were out toquing doors and I asked my companion if we should try hitting one of the houses on the street we were referred to. We went to that house and instead of getting the person we intended on meeting we found his father. His dad answered and said that he had just barely been praying that he could find the truth about God and just finished up when we knocked on the door. He knew we were there to bring him the complete truth and invited us in. Much like Christian, Amador was great. He read everything we asked him to read and more, he attended Church faithfully for months, everything. Of course, he had his trials. It took right up until Elder Savage was about to go home before Amador committed to baptism but, according to what I learned later in my mission, he was still faithfully attending every week (hadn't missed a single week yet). He was awesome.
Elder Savage went home in August and I received my second companion, Elder Clegg from San Diego. He was another powerhouse and a great missionary. He was fun to work with but unfortunately I was only with him for a month. We accomplished much in that small time though and I understand he kept the momentum going after I left.
Chimbote was a great place to start out my mission in spite of my initial trials. I was glad and continue to be glad for the opportunity I had to serve there. The people are amazing in Chimbote (and Peru in general); they'll give you anything and everything because they feel it an honor to entertain the missionaries. They'll never know how much of an honor it was for me to serve them.
First Transfer -- Trujillo (Primavera)
I'll be the first to say that when my transfer finally came I had resigned myself to being in Chimbote for my entire mission. As much as I loved it I wanted to move on somewhere else, experience other trials and blessings and other areas of Peru. I arrived to Chimbote in March 2000 and didn't get transferred until September 21st 2000. My transfer was welcome and the place I was sent was beautiful; something I just couldn't say of Chimbote.
I was sent to Urbanizacion Primavera (Las Quintanas), Trujillo; one of the oldest areas of the Church in that region and certainly in my mission. It also had the blessing of having one of the greatest cooks--La Mamita--of the entire mission, also where the missionaries in that area lived. She was the cook who, when a missionary was sick, that was where they were sent as a last resort before going home. Since nobody in the mission was sick (and probably because of some experiences I would later have there) that is why I got to go there. Lets just say that other than actually getting American food on my mission, that was the closest I'd get. She would even make her own chicken patties from scratch and boy were they good!
I was in Primavera for a relatively short period of time (comparatively to my other areas)--only 4 months. Even so, that was an excellent four months. We met more incredible people, both existing members and investigators. One particular family was a mostly member family--the Noriega family--all the kids except the youngest, Alvaro, anyway. Their grandmother was a member down in Lima and frequently came up to visit and had the kids baptized (with parental permission, of course). All of Margarita's (the mom) family except for herself were members. We visited with them and developed a strong bond with their family and were pleased to see Margarita and Alvaro baptized shortly before Elder Bott (my companion there from Castle Dale, UT) left to a new area after our three months of being companions. Not long after I left the family moved to Utah where Margarita's husband had inadvertently ended up living (not a member) while looking for work in the USA. They currently live in Springville and I've been priviledged to meet up with them a couple of times.
One of my funniest memories of my mission happened while providing service for an older lady in one of the other companionship's areas. We were helping build the 3rd level of their house and moving the bricks up to the roof to do it (passing from one missionary to the other to move the bricks faster) when a very small particle of brick dust fell off and into my eye. For the life of me I just couldn't get it out; I tried crying it out, washing it out with straight water, holding my top eyelid over the bottom, etc, but nothing would work. We ended up going down to call the mission President (or the APs, actually) to see what we should do. While my companion was on the phone with the AP the lady who owned the house asked if she could look at my eye. Confident that she couldn't do anything to help (or hinder) the brick dust I let her take a look. She had my eye propped open with both her hands when all of a sudden she lunged forward and licked my eye! I sat there stunned, rigid, not knowing what to do. To her credit, it actually worked. My companion just laughed (this is the Peruvian elder, btw) and told the AP what had just happened and that my eye was better now. I'll tell you though, there is nothing quite as disgusting as having a tongue in your eye, let alone a 75 year old tongue at that. Wow. Still, one of the funniest stories a missionary can share, I'm sure.
My second companion was not easy for me to get along with and I feel sorry for that. I probably didn't give him a chance and I regret it. He was one of only two Peruvian companions I had -- Elder Picon. I'm not sure if it was just the clash of cultures between us or something else, but I just really didn't connect with him. I was transferred only a month after becoming Elder Picon's companion and welcomed the move. Things would certainly change though.
Second Transfer -- Chocope
Chocope was a very small town about an hour or two north of Trujillo, dead center in a HUGE tract of sugarcane fields. Our area was geographically enormous, encompassing a smattering of towns but only two that we really went to -- Chocope, where we lived; and Ferias, an extremely small town about a half hour walk through the sugarcane fields. Our "ward" was actually what is called a "family group", or rather, something even smaller than a branch. We were technically part of a branch in another city about a half hour away by bus and under the jurisdiction of other missionaries but, because of the distance, had rented a building in town to use for our meetings. Our group consisted primarily of four families and another individual or two. The house we lived at were not members and the cook we paid was also not a member. We did teach the discussions to our cook but she seemed disinterested so we stopped. The owner of the home we lived at wasn't a member and had no interest in the discussions.
That was by far the hardest part of my entire mission in spite of liking my companions, Elder Syndergard (currently Cosmo for BYU and from Grantsville, UT) and then Elder Vanderwerff (from Murray, UT). I was "senior" companion to both of them and they actually were from the same MTC group which was interesting. They were both a load of fun and hard workers as well. I grew very discouraged in that area, however, not to mention sick, so I didn't give my best near the end of that area.
Of the many problems I had in the area I came down with the dengue fever. Basically something transmitted by mosquitos (of which there were plenty; the sugarcane fields were a breeding ground for them) and makes you feel like you are going to die. I was completely out for about a week and pretty weak for a few weeks after that. I also had one of my salivary glands swell up REALLY bad in that area, so much so that they were worried I might have had a cyst or worse, cancer, and sent me to Lima to get it diagnosed. As mentioned just previously it turned out to just be a plugged salivary gland and I was prescribed hard candies (not a bad medicinal regiment) to clear the clog. On the bright side we got to spend a day in Lima and my companion and I really took advantage of that--we attended the Temple there, ate at Chilis, KFC, and Burger King. We went to the mall to pass some time and were flabberghasted to see modern technology and real stores. We also were happy to get a dozen Dunkin Donuts EACH for the plane trip back to Trujillo. Booyah!
One of the things Elder Vanderwerff and I ended up doing in Chocope as sort of our legacy there was that we crafted a sign for our building. We had one of the elders in our zone help us with the lettering so it looked authentic (he was a gifted artist) and then he and I crafted the sign from wood and painted it. It gave some validity to the Church in that area since, as mentioned, our building was rented and had no indication otherwise that the Church had a presence there. These days they have a real building because they have been made into a branch (no thanks to me I assure you), but I was glad to have given the Church an identity while I was there.
I was eventually called to be a District Leader in Chocope and had the sister missionaries and another elder companionship in my district. It was a big responsibility and took away from the missionary work itself in a lot of cases but it was a good responsibility and good experience.
Third (and final) transfer -- Esperanza
My third and final transfer arrived in May or June 2001. I was called to one of the most dangerous areas of the entire mission; one that hadn't had American missionaries in several years because of the danger there. The Elder I was replacing was actually the very first American in quite some time. My first companion in the area was Elder Armas (Peruvian from Cusco), and a very fun and great person. It was a shame that I only got to be with him for a month. My next companion was Elder Robinson (Cedar City, UT) and I was with him for the remainder of my mission.
He and I shared a lot of success and fun in Esperanza. We were able to watch families such as the Dominguez family, the Lozano family, and other individuals enter the Church.
This was an area that had one of the other great cooks of the mission. While she didn't know how to cook American food, her Peruvian dishes were exquisite. All the weight I lost in my previous area due to being sick was quickly regained and I came home a full 185lbs.
Near the end of my time in this area we merged with another area that lost their missionaries (the mission diminished in size because of some complications getting visas for the Americans) which made things a little difficult. We had three wards we needed to service by that time not to mention I was made the Zone Leader at the same time so I had an entire zone of missionaries to care for (one of which had great propensity for getting robbed frequently). The last month of my mission was busy with administrative type functions and saw the work suffer as a result.
I saw my mission end a month early (I was given the choice to extend by two months or go home a month early, for Christmas, because they weren't planning on sending anybody home in January when I should have gone). The group of Americans coming home flew to Lima where we were supposed to meet up with a Church official to get our passports (the Church safeguards them while we are out so they don't get lost). He never showed up. Long story short he forgot, so we stayed an extra day in Lima and were able to go to the Temple, the mall, and minor sightseeing that we wouldn't have otherwise been able to do. The flipside is that our family members who had taken the day off to receive us ended up not being able to get the next day and missed us. We got home December 21, 2001.
Home
Getting home was just as weird to me as it was normal. At first it seemed strange because my little brother was no longer so little. He wasn't as tall as me but he had grown a bunch. My hair was almost blonde from the sunbleeching it recieved, weird to my family, and I had an awesome farmer burn/tan. Where I left with only a single nephew I returned home with 4. Bountiful (my home city) had changed immensely in the time I was gone. Utah had changed too, getting ready for the 2002 Winter Olympics.
The first night I was home my brother (whom I was going around with until I was released) needed to go to the store so I went along with him wearing my "Peru" shirt and leather jacket I purchased there. While in the line at the register I mentioned how weird it was to see American money and the girl at the register picked up on it and asked if I just got home from my mission. I was a little confused and even more so when, after I answered yes, she asked if I went to Peru. I thought it was a setup but it turned out she saw my Peru shirt. Hehe... yeah, I was completely oblivious to the fact she was hitting on me.
It didn't take long to reintegrate myself into society. I got a job quickly, moved in with my oldest brother, and started attending a singles ward. I didn't like the single's ward though and went back to my mom's ward even though I lived 15 miles away in another city.
Started back to school immediately after I got home (which was the reason I opted to come home a month early) and changed jobs a couple times in the first year I was home. Things progressed from there to where I now have a great job, a great degree, and a great wife with two beautiful children. Very happy for the decision I made to serve a mission and do not regret it one bit. It may not have been the greatest experience of my life, but it was a very powerful one and one I cherish very much. Not a day goes by that I think about my mission and long to return to visit.