Our family has been in Peru for over 15 years. The first time we came to this wonderful country was in the year 2000 as part of a Bible College program for aspiring missionaries. My wife, Stephanie, and I were married the year prior, and when we returned to the US in April of 2001, she was carrying our first child. We joked that she would be born with a stamp on her foot that read "Made in Peru". Anyway, a year later, our church commissioned us to return to Peru to plant churches. Now, that may sound strange to those who do not know what a Baptist Missionary is, but basically, we were to win others to our faith in Jesus Christ, train them in Biblical doctrine, and leave church leaders in place to continue the work. After three long years of travelling around the US, presenting our desire to serve the Lord, we had raised enough monthly support to leave for South America! We arrived in Peru in 2005 with three little girls (1-, 2-, and 4-years-old.)
That first year we spent in Lima, refining our language skills and serving in a church pastored by a Peruvian friend of ours. However, by the Fall of 2006, we were eager to move to the Sierra (Andes Mountains). That had been our goal all along, and we felt that we were ready. There were very few churches in the mountains, and we had a couple places in mind. We attempted to visit one town in September. I had just returned from a trip to northern Peru with what I thought was a stomach bug. I took some Imodium, and we took off in our double-cab pickup. Early that evening, and at about 15,000ft above sea level, the minor discomfort that I had felt before we left Lima revealed itself as full-blown food poisoning. I was doubled over in pain as we drove into a small town, so we found a lady that rented out rooms of her house like a hostal (informal, cheap "hotel"). The kids were throwing up from the altitude; I, however, had nothing left to throw up; we piled a bunch of heavy blankets over us and tried to sleep. I'm pretty sure I was the first one out, but I wouldn't wake up again until about 20 hours later in an ambulance back on the Pacific Coast. My system had gone septic. My wife had somehow loaded me back into the truck with our three kids and all the luggage and drove back down the mountain. There is a lot more to that story, but it happened while I was unconscious. So, maybe I'll tell it more fully some other time. Anyway, we never made it to our destination, and we took that as motivation to pursue another town.
We visited several towns in the Sierra Andina, and by early 2006, we settled on Huancayo. In March, my wife and I left our three girls with a friends of ours from another church in Lima and headed to Huancayo to find a house to rent. Interestingly enough, people in Lima talk of how dangerous the people in Huancayo are, and the people in Huancayo talk of how dangerous the people in Lima are. Whatever the case, our problem was that we did not know how to take proper precautions. Like not wearing a camera around your neck, not carrying cash in your pocket,... You know, common sense things. Anyway, I was smart enough to not take a lot of cash with me as there are ATM machines available in town. I was leary enough of taxis, so I found a young man that drove a nice car and was well-dressed, and I asked him, "How much for the day?" He took us all around Huancayo as we visited different houses. In a relatively short time, we found the perfect house. We agreed on a price and headed for the ATM to withdraw the cash. Later, we found out that the owner was out of town and that her sister was to collect the cash. Um. I've been in Lima for a while now - that sounds like a setup. She agreed for us to pay her when we moved up later that month. So, now I have a little over $1,200 in cash in my pocket. Our driver delivered us safely to a nice restaurant just off the town square and said "Good night."
After a wonderful meal, we walked out onto the curb to hail a taxi. Three in a row came by. I began to use my great judgment of character on the drivers based on the look of the passing cars, and I hailed the third one. "How much to take us to the Bus Terminal for Lima." "S/.4.00." (Four soles - about $1.25) "OK." He sent a quick text [Hint: foreshadow], and we were off. He headed north, so I knew that we were going in the right direction. But before long, he would turn right or left as if to avoid traffic on the main road, then return. Eventually, his turns became more forceful and more frequent. As I looked around, I began to wonder where we were... and if something nefarious was occurring. No sooner had I considered the possibility that we were NOT going to the bus station, the driver of the car behind us flashed his high beams, and our driver slammed on the breaks. ...
I cannot adequately describe the chills that ran down my spine, the racing thoughts, and the feeling of regret - and, even more so, stupidity - for not realizing sooner what was happening. As the driver pushed the automatic unlock button, the back door of our taxi flew open and a man jumped in beside my wife behind the driver. I grabbed him by the hair and yelled at him to promptly find another ride. When I felt another two men grab me from my side of the vehicle, I let go and resigned to sitting peacefully in a slightly fuller - and slightly less peaceful - taxi cab. As one of the men sat next to me, the other sat in the copilot's seat. The one by Stephanie was particularly calm, even after I had pulled out a few strands of hair. The one next to the driver was by far the most foul-mouthed and rude. I don't remember a thing about the one next to me, except that he had his arm around me the whole time like we were friends.
Soon after we were headed down the road, they placed stocking caps over our heads and pulled them down to cover our eyes. They quickly told us "We are not rapists; we just want your money." They began to search our pockets and backpacks for cellphones, cash, jewels, etc.... They found $700 in my pockets, another $500 in Stephanie's; they took our phone, and my wedding ring. They asked if we were married, and Stephanie quickly said "Yes!" and raised her right hand (where Peruvians wear their wedding rings.) I had bought her an anniversary ring a couple years earlier, and the thieves assumed that THAT was her wedding ring. Her real wedding ring (the one that cost the college kid a small fortune) was still on her left ring finger.
They took us back toward town, and after finding my debit card in my wallet, they demanded the PIN. It was a new card, and I couldn't remember the PIN. Now, I knew the numbers, but I wasn't sure of the order. I gave them two variations, knowing that one of them had to be right. (I am blindfolded, surrounded by four men in a locked car. "Yeah, you can have my PIN.") They stopped at several ATMs in the area, but since I had already withdrawn $1,000, most said that I had already reached my limit for daily withdrawals. They were able to find three machines that hadn't received the memo, and they were able to withdraw another $900 from our savings account. After about an hour and a half, as they were driving in a secluded area near a river, they told us to get out of the car. They stuffed about $50 in my shirt pocket and said "Don't go to the police. Go right to the bus station, and get to Lima. Don't turn around, or we'll drop you where you stand. Oh, and you can keep the hats." Nice guys!
Now, people ask us how an illness on the way to one town told us that we should NOT go there, but that a robbery on our first day in Huancayo told us that we SHOULD go there. Well, the sickness physically removed me from a place without my knowledge or consent. The robbery proved that people in Huancayo need the Lord. Besides, even though we escaped the whole ordeal shaken to the point of dizziness, I only had a little blood on my lip - I assume from the initial scuffle when our carpool abruptly doubled in size, and Stephanie walked away without a scratch. As we calmly retreated from our captors, relieved beyond words that nothing worse had happened to us, I grabbed her hand and began to swing it up as if we were out for a stroll. She quickly pulled her arm back down so that the men behind us would not see any glimmer from her wedding ring. "How did you manage to keep THAT?" I asked. She explained that she had turned the ring so that the diamond lay between her fingers. That way, even when the guy next to her opened her hand for a blind finger sweep to feel for any jewelry, he never felt the ring. In fact, Stephanie wonders if there was an angel working through that man to keep us from harm. He kept his left arm on the back of the driver's seat in a defensive stance around her and was never violent. And every time our foul-mouthed copilot would try to threaten us, he would calm him down.
This whole time, Stephanie was feeling sick to her stomach because of all the stress and fear from the harrowing experience. Whenever she felt nauseated, she would lean over her kind kidnapper's lap and begin to retch. Later, she would tell me, "At least I gave him a good scare a few times." While they were driving us around on our Express Kidnapping Tour, I forced myself to sound less frightened than I was and began to "chat them up". I said things like: "Hey, can we hurry this up, Fellas? We have to get back to our little girls in Lima." I made a pun, telling them that I was a "Micio- pero Micionero." That sounds like the Spanish word for Missionary, Misionero, but Micio means "utterly poor and needy." At one point, I told them, "You didn't do your homework: you've just robbed a preacher. Do you now Who my Boss is?" They laughed. Two weeks later, they were all caught and thrown in jail, and the police pocketed our stuff.
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