BY DANNY HANDYSIDES AND MELINDA JAMIESON

Danny Handysides traveled across the world to explore life in the jungle inhabited by the Miskito Native Americans.* He served in a clinic, worked as a builder, drove an ambulance, and had many other responsibilities and adventures during his mission. Through his e-mails we get a glimpse of some of the hardships he endured, lessons he learned, and spiritual growth he experienced. We can also enjoy many laughs through the situations Danny encountered as he worked as an employee for God.

July 11—Monday is the day we head up to Porta on the Atlantic coast. From there it is six hours by truck into the jungle. For the first time in my life I feel like I am being a Christian and not just saying I am one, and to be honest, I like it.

July 16—I am in the middle of nowhere—and it's great. We got stuck in the mud at a 45-degree angle, with one tire completely under. God, and only God, got us out! It was late and not safe on the roads, but we got to the mission. The food is horrible, but I am the chef, so I won't complain . . . my pancakes had twice the vanilla needed, and my rice was burned.

July 18—The jungle is beautiful. I have seen one leopard, hundreds of frogs and lizards, and two beautiful spiders. I am still the chef—and the food is still horrible. I can finally cook edible beans, but my rice is still more like rice pudding than individual grains, and my porridge was so thick today that I could have built a house. Even the dog wouldn't eat it.

I worked in the clinic today for the first time. It was an interesting experience.

July 20—Two little boys ages 10 and 11 have taken me as their "project." I am learning Miskito from them very quickly.

I measure the bellies of the pregnant women, feel for the spine, feet, and head, and perform the entire exam.

Today I saw a little boy sitting in the mud wearing only red underwear. When I smiled at him, his eyes lit up like candles. I think this is how we must seem to our God (only my underwear is blue).

July 25—I was awakened at 3:00 a.m. for a six-hour emergency trip into Waspam. The man there had a bad case of malaria, with seizures and high fever. I have done two of these night runs so far and am tired. I returned at about 9:00 a.m. and without a shower or breakfast hit the clinic. I helped stitch up a machete wound and then tended to a couple of pregnant women.

With about 200 homes and 1,400 people, it's a fair-size village. As I walk around the village, it's a trip into another world. The kids have little to no clothes and are dirty all the time, often sleeping next to pigs. The parents have little food. Today I had to rehydrate an 80-year-old man who I think may die any day.

July 25—Today I played my first major game of football for four hours with 50 kids. I have never sweated more in my life.

The kids all yell, "Dinny, Dinny" as I walk through the village. I have started to hand out Flintstone vitamins; we have so many at the clinic, and tons are about to expire. The kids call them sugar plum, which is Miskito for candy. They are a benefit for kids who often go days with nothing to eat.

July 28—The kids follow me like sheep, and I love it! I never have fewer than 10 with me unless I am working in the clinic or up front singing. The little ones are always crawling with bugs, lice, and such. I shower after being with them, but I never feel weird when I am with them. I love our time together.

Today in the clinic I had to treat a 10-year-old for malaria. I found that she is the sole provider for her family. She has no father, and her mother left one month ago for Porta and has not returned. A 10-year-old girl is caring for a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old brother. I was shocked, but found out that this isn't a rare case. Many parents here don't even know how many kids they have or where they are, and in some cases the husbands don't know their wives' names.

August 3—Today was Sabbath, and we took the whole church to a nearby community. Eighty-seven people in the back of the truck—including me. The ride back was fun! I was on the outside of the truck on a lip no bigger than a foot. My angel is getting a workout keeping me safe.

I am working hard to set up the chicken coop. An adult chicken costs 30 cordobas ($2), so I want to get 10 and two roosters.

August 12—Our compound has six buildings: two homes, a boys' dorm, girls' dorm, kitchen/dining hall, and the director's home. Only the homes have 12 volt power, and this is solar, so it is not constant. We collect rainwater from the roofs and have a well, but all of it has to be treated.

August 13—I thought that if I flew around the world and lived in the deepest part of the jungle, you (Mom and Dad) couldn't embarrass me, but on the phone patch you asked if I was showering and shaving. My friends laughed and laughed. Me, 23, and you two clucking on like I am 4. Yes, I am clean!

August 20—We got our first two chickens yesterday. After our being absolutely positive that the fence we made was completely sealed, it took the chickens about four minutes to escape! It took us two hours of running around to recapture them, much to the amusement of the Miskito children.

August 21—The sun was just rising at 5:00 a.m. today, and I was dreaming. All of a sudden I heard, "Danny!" I woke slowly to the sound of the door. There stood Sister B__. She told me of an emergency in Esparansa (45 minutes away) with a 14-year-old girl in her second pregnancy. OK, no shower, no toothpaste, just pants and out the door. F__ and I drove there really fast, which is difficult because the roads are horrible. We arrived to find that she had fallen down about six days ago. She wasn't bleeding, but was in pain. So we brought her back to my village. Sister B__ said that she had to go to Waspam (two hours away). So F__ headed out with the girl and a doctor who works for the government.

September 3—Today I was working at the site alone, and a family brought me some food. It was just a simple roasted piece of corn, but you could tell it was more than some of the kids were getting. I thanked them, and asked if they were Adventist. They said no, Catholic. I told them, "Dawan uba latwan man" and "yang uba tinky parley." Meaning: "God loves you very much" and "I thank you."

September 11—Today in Waspam I had a full conversation with a 7-year-old boy in Miskito. He was so happy to talk to someone who cared. His mother lives in Managua (the other side of the country), and he shines shoes for a living. He then sends half of the profit to his mother and siblings who live with her.

October 5—We just made an emergency trip into Waspam with a boy whose leg was broken in the femur, and who was hemorrhaging internally. The next day was Sabbath. What a beautiful day of rest and relaxation—until 5:00 p.m., when we got an emergency call into St. Claira (30 minutes away). There was a pregnant mother whose baby had not moved in 24 hours, and she was nine months along. We checked the heartbeat and it was there. So we took her back to the hospital and went to bed around 9:00 p.m. Then the doctor induced labor, but worried that the mother would hemorrhage. The baby wasn't turning, so we rushed to Waspam and returned at 1:00 a.m.

October 9—I was wearing sandals around the compound and was about to place the last window in its spot in the girls' dorm. As I lifted the window I saw what appeared to be a coiled rope. In the back of my mind I thought, That looks like a snake. I continued to watch the object that was coiled maybe half a foot from my exposed flesh. Suddenly it struck, but it struck upward. It came no closer than it was, but revealed that it was indeed a viper. Now, this impressive beast was about a foot long. I have seen much larger, but venom is venom, and I praise God it didn't strike my heel!

October 29—Before people can be baptized, they are required to be married. Not a common occurrence here because you need to go to Waspam, so we took two couples. One is a 23-year-old and his 16-year-old pregnant wife. A wonderful couple, full of love for each other and for God. The second couple are older, and both have had two years of university and can read. When pastor Waldo arrived, the man told him, "I have read Sister White, and I know what you are teaching is true."

We got to Waspam at 11:30 a.m., but the office was closed for lunch until 2:00 p.m. The older couple got finished, but the younger couple was not considered human yet. (In this country many people are not even recognized as humans because they have no government papers, birth record—nothing.) So we made them human and married them! We finished at about 6:00 p.m. It was dark, but they still wanted to be baptized. So to the river we went. By the headlights of the truck, I was honored to witness four people accept the blood of Christ as their hope. It was really beautiful.

November 2—I arose this morning to the sounds of a rooster. Why do I hear a rooster when we have only hens? Well, I may be the world's worst biologist, or one of our hens was just a baby rooster who decided to become a man this morning. That may explain the low egg count, but we will see if any others decide to crow.

November 22—After the chickens (three from the 10 of them) were stolen, I was a little upset. I didn't like the feeling of helping people who didn't appreciate it. Anyway, during the day many kids were here, and I guess they told their parents. When I went to church last night, a little old woman came up to me. Now, I know this woman, and I know she struggles to make ends meet. She had in her hand two eggs. She said, "Present—the thieves or drug addicts are very bad; I am sorry." I know she bought them, because she does not own a chicken. My mind was pulled to the woman in the Bible who gave her two mites. I was worried over the loss of three chickens out of my 10; the $6 they cost concerned me, but there are people here who stretch themselves to share two eggs.

The chickens laid an egg. I guess they figured if they don't lay eggs they'll get stolen and eaten.

I am just getting ready for church, cleaning the mold off my belt and the other usual jungle things. Mold grows really fast here. If you don't clean leather for about three days, blue mold appears. You can always tell if people use their Bibles enough.

November 30—While I was getting ready for the graduation parties tonight, one of the Miskito came up and asked if we had a lantern for church at night. I had seen a few old lanterns under our house, so I got one out and cleaned it up. Now, I know it was a kerosene lantern, but I asked if we could use diesel. He said, "Sure!" (First lesson: never ask a Miskito about the operation of Western technology!) Anyway, I proceeded to fill the lantern with diesel . . . um, the rest is really embarrassing. I reached down with the match, and woooom! A beautiful flame appeared. Unfortunately, the flame was not on the wick alone, but rather, the entire lantern was on fire. The Miskito said, "Bomba!" (which means bomb) and ran. Now the lantern was on the wooden deck of our wooden house. I couldn't just run, so I quickly grabbed the lantern and threw it into the yard below. The gas blew it up, and glass fragments shot everywhere. (Lesson two: never use diesel in a kerosene lantern.) The lantern is fine, just needs new glass. I am fine too.

December 4—I just finished the absolute worst experience of my time here, and I am really sore right now. I was walking with my clothes to get them washed, and I couldn't see where my feet were. Sometimes one or two fire/army ants bite your foot, and you shake them off, but this time my foot went right into the nest and down into the sand. Oh, the pain and horror! I felt like sawing my feet off! I tried the cream you sent. I tried hot water, rubbing alcohol, but nothing worked. Finally I found a bottle of Novocaine and drowned my feet in it. The relief was instant.

I am doing great here in the jungle, and all is well. I am having a great time and wish you could all share it with me. I am taking tons of photos and lots of video to share when I come back to the States. I've learned through this time that nothing in life happens by chance, so never worry about the situation at hand. We must only trust and keep our eyes on Him who holds the key to everything! Never feel like you are trapped or lost. Simply realize that God is right where you are and ready to pick you up and go.

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* The Miskito dwell on the Caribbean coastline of Honduras and Nicaragua, and on territory bordering the Rio Caco River.

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Danny Handysides is no longer a pyromaniac, thanks to a class in Western technology. He is currently a student at Loma Linda University in Loma Linda, California. Melinda Jamieson was serving as an intern at the Adventist Review when she compiled Danny's journal.