Que Paso (What Happened)

With the exception of strong rain in the morning, Sunday started off as normal as any day I’ve seen here. I got up around 6:30, went to church at 8:30, and then talked with friends afterwards until about 10:30. I was looking forward to an afternoon of visiting Cerro Lambare, a tall hill overlooking the River Paraguay and much of Asuncion, Paraguay’s capitol. I had visited the small and seemingly illogical mountain the previous Wednesday, but my North American travel party (me, Ellen Sabo, her brother, Peter, and her cousin, Larissa) had to leave early to make it back in time for classes at the collegio. This second visit, we were all going once again with some guys from the church and Ellen’s Paraguayan roommate, Emmy.

We walked to the Cerro Lamabare by way of Cacique Lambare, which is the main road through plain-old Lambare (the suburb of Asuncion where the church and school are). The walk was about an hour long and was peppered with conversation in three languages, with discussions ranging from the history of the Apostolic Christian Church to Paraguayan saints. We purchased a picnic lunch of bread and roast chicken and soda to enjoy when we reached the top of the mountain by foot. It would be a well-deserved lunch after a long hike.

About halfway up the Cerro, our group decided to spilt up. Unbeknownst to us, this choice sealed the fate of our trip. The three Paraguayan guys and Peter decided to go straight up the mountain, cutting through the woods and climbing up at a steep angle. This left the two Canadian ladies, Emmy, and I to take the winding and paved road up the hill.

Emmy and I were in a lively chat about Saint Roeca, a martyred Paraguayan Jesuit, when I saw something move behind my back. Having traveled the world and considered myself a safe tourist, I quickly glanced behind as a precautionary measure to make sure no one was following us. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw a few steps back.

There quickly catching up to us was a sixteen year old youth in a brown shirt with a pistol in his right hand. I did a double-take to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, and then announced to the group that there was a man with a gun following us. We all four turned around just as quickly as I mentioned it. Facing our pursuer and forming a semi-circle around him as he came up to meet us, the youth pointed his gun at all our fragile frames and began demanding cell phones.

The next couple minutes are a complete blur in my mind, but I do remember a few things distinctly. Being the only brave man in the group, I did the best thing that I could to help the situation. Promptly losing all control of bodily and mental function, I passed a gas that was entirely uncalled for and indecent in such mixed company. I then proceeded, in as cowardly and terrified a voice as I could muster, to beg for our lives in strained and broken (yet incredibly fervent) por favors. My voice, in utter terror, sounded like that of a small child who, fearing for his life, runs away from a giant farm animal chasing him in the pasture. It kind of sounded like “eeaaauuhhhhhhh.”

Our assaulter then went to each one of us, demanding once again our cell phones and cash with all the authority he had in his pistol. Since he didn’t believe us when we told him that we had none (three North Americans without cell phones? Come on, give me a break), he promptly groped us to make sure we were telling the truth. In the course of the assault, we did as much as we could to please the thief and pacify his gun-wielding self. To prove to him that I had no cell phone and in an attempt to make him happy, I began taking off my shirt and pants and offering them to him. He didn’t want my clothes, though, and I ended buttoning my pants back up only after the ladies told me I was undressing unnecessarily.

The ladies, by the way, were calm the entire time. Emmy was more afraid that I had lost my mind than she was of the robber, so she did her best to keep me quiet and controlled. I’m pretty sure her calming words of “tranquilo, Jason, tranquilo” to me during the ordeal were the only things that kept me from getting us all shot.

In the end, I offered the crook all my cash (about $6) and my watch, a cheap $5 WalMart timekeeper that he didn’t even have to ask for. Larissa lost the most in the mugging when Ellen offered the crook her backpack which held Larissa’s camera, Larissa’s $300, and Larissa’s credit and bank cards. Be that as it may, the gift seemed to appease our criminal. He took it and then, with a flurry of Spanish and Guarani words, cursed me as a cowardly American man, pointed the gun at my head, and then inexplicably left just as quickly as he arrived.

The entire time, I thought for sure I was going to die. To my shame, I didn’t even think to pray. Unreasonable impulse took over, and the only thing I could think of was how sad and senseless my death would be on this Heaven-forsaken mountain in Paraguay. I felt real sorry for myself, and got real scared.

Afterwards, we ran up the hill and met with the other guys. A motorcycle club picnicking there saw our plight and promptly went out riding in search of the assailant. He wasn’t anywhere to be found. Fifteen minutes later the Paraguayan police came by and gave us all a ride in the back of their truck to the police station, where we signed our names on a piece of used, wrinkly paper. I’m pretty sure, though, that it was just a formality. The police had no idea how to even contact the Canadian Embassy, and I’m certain our cause and justice’s cause was lost from the moment we were robbed. What we lost was lost for good, swallowed by an ocean of poverty and crime.

Still, though, I consider us all very lucky to have even survived (and without being shot once, a miracle!). In spite of my best efforts to make the situation turn out badly, God’s protection over us all trumped all. There must have been an army of angels with us that day, as our safety through the robbery seems to defy all logic. I call it a miracle that I’m still here after staring into the barrel of my assailaint’s gun, and can only thank God that I’ve got more time to serve Him here on Earth.