CHAPTER 10 - BARK HOUSE

One early morning in Feb. of 1957 we rise in the early dawn, dressing quickly. Our possessions are packed and carried down to motor boats where we chug across the blue lake in the milky morning. Today we’re flying to the Ilaga Valley to meet Dad!

Two Missionary Aviation Fellowship planes jounce down the grassy Obano airstrip, bearing our family and the Gibbons aloft. Ro and I watch from the small windows in wonder as we climb over jagged peaks, deep valleys, fly between puffy clouds.

We finally descend into a broad but deep valley which has a slanting airstrip on the edge of a forest. The elevation is around 7,000 ft., I later find out. We land, bouncing up the white sandy strip towards a large crowd of Danis and Damals. They are shouting, joyous! I climb out and look around for Dad. There he is, tanned, with a beard. He hugs us all, tickling our faces, and holds baby Danny aloft. Don Gibbons is also overjoyed to see Aunt Alice, Kathy, and Joyce. After pictures and goodbyes to the pilots we troop down the valley to our homes. The Gibbons are on the other side of the valley, among the Damals.

Brown skinned Danis throng us, singing their chanting songs. A warrior tribe, they look fierce compared to the milder Monis and Ekaris. Carrying bows and arrows, the men wear head nets decorated with feathers and flowers, and pig tusks or bamboo pierce the septum of their noses. Many faces are painted black, dark red, or striped. The women wear short string or grass skirts, with colorful beads round their necks. Most small children are naked.

We tramp down the steep hill and through a village of round thatched houses. Across more fields through which a tiny stream flows. Then I see the two storied bark house in the distance, winking with glass paned windows, set back against a steep grassy hill. The outside is rough, inside smooth, with pole framing, like a large, rustic dollhouse! Happy and hungry from the thin air, we feast on bread, peanut-butter, and canned cheese at the table Dad has built. But the wood table is so tall, the top comes close to our chins. “Dad, you’ll have to cut the legs shorter,” we laugh.

After lunch Ro and I climb upstairs to our bedroom and open the window to see the Danis gathered below. They’re curious to see white children for the first time, and I make faces to make them laugh. Nine years old…a new tribe…I am exhilarated. That night we all pray, thanking the Lord we are safe and together again. And that the Danis will come to know Jesus.

In the following weeks Ro and I make friends with young Dani girls and learn words to form small sentences. This is the third language we are absorbing this term. Kurim, around my age, is especially helpful. I point to some rattan jungle rope.

“Mun,” Kurim tells me.

“Mun,” I repeat. “Ti mun atet.” (This is jungle rope.)

“Eo,” she laughs. Yes.

“Ti Lani Mende,” I tell her, pointing to baby Danny. He’d been given that name, meaning “of the Dani.”

“Eo,” Kurim answers. “Ti Lani Kwe,” (Dani girl) she says, pointing to Ro, “Nde kat Amengadu Mende Kwe (Girl of the Airstrip), pointing to me. Over the next months we pick up so many simple sentences I can follow the jist of some conversations.

In the late afternoons Ro and I tromp with our young friends west to a rushing stream or climb the tall hill behind our house where we view the beauty of the whole valley.

Dad begins construction on a larger house nearby that will be our permanent home. He draws me a small house plan so I can see the layout of the rooms. Usually in the mornings he’ll work with an informant to enlarge the Dani dictionary, and I hear that eventually they will translate the book of Mark so the tribe will have some Bible scripture in their own language.

At dusk, when Danis build small fires in the large field, I gather near them for warmth and closeness. I begin to love the Danis, this warm, outgoing people. They bake sweet potatoes and steam bundles of spinach for their dinner.…then I walk home and Mom serves boiled spinach, fried kom (taro root) or baked potatoes. Fresh meat is precious, as it has to be flown in, but we open canned corned beef, spam, or tuna.

Sundays are special, exciting. Huge crowds gather in the field near our bark house, and after tribal singing and dancing Dad preaches Bible stories in Moni, and a bilingual Dani interprets. The Danis listen intently—about the Great Spirit above all spirits, about creation, the fall of man, about Jettut God’s Son who is born to save us from our sins, dying in our place. The men and women sit separately, one side more noisy with the cry of babies! All are curious…and the clan leaders, the chiefs, hold long discussions afterwards.

Mom begins homeschooling us again. I am behind in 4th grade, Ro in 2nd, so every weekday morning we work earnestly on lessons upstairs. I long to be out playing with friends, but after lunch while Danny sleeps we are free!