Elisabeth Elliot: Mankamu's hair is so filthy and stiff with grease and dirt that one can scarcely tell whether it is wet or dry. When she swims, water rolls off it like water from a duck's back. One thing that seems strange to me is that the Auca women say very little to each other. They seem not in the least interested in what the other is doing or where she is.

Lisa Barry: What a marvelous word picture. I can almost see these primitive women sitting in that small room with Elisabeth. It still astounds me that on the same planet there can be so many different kinds of civilizations. All this week Elisabeth has been talking about the events that took place after the five missionary men, including Jim Elliot, were speared to death by Auca Indians. She told God she was available to go anywhere and do anything. But she never thought He might call her back to the very tribe responsible for the death of her husband. But that was indeed God's plan. And Elisabeth's journal writings now take us back to the initial meetings with Auca women. That's what's coming up next on today's edition of Gateway to Joy.

Elisabeth Elliot: "You are loved with an everlasting love." That?s what the Bible says. "And underneath are the everlasting arms." This is your friend Elisabeth Elliot, continuing to talk today about the sequel to THROUGH GATES OF SPLENDOR. Some of you have read that book, and very many of you do not know that after five American missionaries were killed in 1956 (one of whom was my husband) that God gave me the opportunity to make the first successful contact with Auca Indians following that massacre.

So now we?re close to the Curaray River where the men had been killed. Two Auca women, named Mintaka and Mankamu, have turned up at the Quichua village. So I had gone there to meet these two Auca women and I had stayed there for several days. Now I?m going to read to you some of my journal from those bewildering days with these Auca women. The Quichuas always had their guns at the ready. They knew that the Aucas might come out and want to spear us, and so we had no way of knowing why these women were there, because of course we couldn?t understand a word that they said.

"So I had a number of problems. When Valerie is brought down to live here with me?she had stayed with a missionary lady for a couple of days?will she be able to bear the terrible flies? Do I do right to bring her to such a life, etc., etc.?

The big problems?for example, the loneliness, the impossibility of having the books I want and need, no playmates for Valerie?I can trust God more easily for these. So Lord, I?ve simply put them down as placing all my desire before Thee. I have no desire really but Thy will, which appears to me now imminently acceptable.

Dr. Tidmarsh, the British missionary who had come down for a couple of days, said this morning, ?Oh, but we don?t consider the possibility of being killed.? I thought to myself, ?How ridiculous! Nothing is a clearer possibility. But this too is in God?s hands.?

The thought of course comes, ?What if they killed me and stole Valerie?? God will do what is good. He is good to all and His tender mercies are over all His works. I know whom I have believed and am absolutely sure that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him. Of course, Valerie was that which I had committed unto Him.

The one relevant question is ?Is God directing thus?? I believe I have learned to know His voice. He is my shepherd; I shall not want.

The two Auca women were what we might call a bit uncivilized. One of the Quichua women said that Mintaka and Mankamu stank to high heaven when they came out. They smelled like a stinking jungle fruit, which tapirs eat but the Indians can hardly stand the smell of. Mankamu, one of the Auca women, blew her nose on her fingers and gave the product as fling against the wall."

Well, I won?t bore you with too many of these rather unsavory details. I?ll read on in my journal. "Both women came down with fever on Friday and obediently swallowed chamoquine pills with water without chewing. I was astonished. Surely these two women could never have seen a pill before, and yet trusting me completely, they swallowed them.

Mankamu just loves to hear me sing. She watched, transfixed, as I unconsciously hummed a hymn. Then I sang one for her and she laughed gaily.

2:45 p.m." I think we?re on the fourth day now when I had made contact with these Auca women. "Still raining hard. I cannot go up to Dr. Tidmarsh?s airstrip, as it involves crossing the river twice, all day sitting on a very sore tailbone on five-inch logs, to say nothing of what it is to have 19 adults?I haven?t counted the kids?in a house about 12x20 feet all day long. I have learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content.

I really believe I have learned this. For now, anyway, I?m happy in the will of God. I am alone in a tiny room with the two Auca women. What it is to be with them and not be able to communicate a single idea, only God understands. And to think that these women could tell me what happened to Jim and why, from their viewpoint, of course. If only I knew the language!

Both women seem to know exactly what to do with blankets. But Dayuma, another Auca woman who had come out of her tribe years and years before"?so she had told me one time when I had been chatting with her when I was living with the Quichuas that they used no coverings of any kind. But obviously, they were very grateful for the blankets that I gave them.

"Mankamu stripped a piece of vine and sat there braiding it. What a life these Indians live! No housekeeping, except a cursory swish of a tuft of grass over the dirt floor every few days. Clothes to wash? Very few." We?re talking about the Quichuas now. They do wear clothes. "Very few. No ironing. No mending. No dishes to wash. Banana leaves are disposable and cost nothing and make very nice dishes. No utensils, except one pot, which never gets thoroughly washed.

4:30 p.m. Did I say I was happy earlier today? I guess in my heart of hearts I am. And it was that heart that was looking for expression. But now the reality of forsaking for Christ floods over, and I know that I am a miserable, self-pitying sissy. I could not restrain tears thinking of Valerie, wondering if she will get the love her little heart needs so greatly. I had left Valerie for four days with the other missionary lady when I went down to make first contact with these two Auca women. I know that while I am willing?God help me never to be unwilling to live like this?it can never be a really pleasant thing for me.

I find that my heart goes out in genuine love to both the Quichuas and the Aucas, and I know that this has to be the love of Christ. For no other reason would I be willing to be here, so far as I know my own heart. I simply cannot understand people who will endure far worse conditions than these for longer periods in order to write books. It was such a short time ago that I wrote of a price to be paid for the Aucas, beyond the one already paid in five lives. Was I willing to pay whatever might be required of me? Perhaps this is the beginning. Lord, let me not make much of anything appointed." That?s a quotation from Amy Carmichael. She often prayed that the Lord would not allow her to make any big deal, we might say in our American English, of anything that God appoints.

"Saturday, November 16, 1957. Dr. Tidmarsh has just left for Arajuno, the station where his wife was waiting for him. Mankamu showed fear when she saw him leaving, and she clung to one of the Quichua women, Nelkiora, who had been taking such lovely care of her. Mankamu clung to her tightly, indicating I suppose that she did not want to go anywhere with the white man.

Dr. Tidmarsh asked if I would like him to stay here, but I am quite willing to stay alone, especially as it is evident to me that he would not be very happy to remain here. When I suggested his staying with the women while I go out to pack up my stuff in Shandia"?Shandia was the station where Jim Elliot and I had been working?"he was taken aback.

Both women seemed under the weather today, but even so Dr. Tidmarsh managed to get some taping from Mankamu?taping her Auca language, of course. I mentioned my husband, pointed down river again, and Mankamu was off, talking away with sound effects, gestures and chatter. I think she understand my gestures. How I hoped she was telling about the five men, not only about her own difficulties or killings witnessed.

Again, Mintaka was completely stolid, seemed to pay no attention at all to Mankamu. Almost the first word Mintaka said was ?Muipa,? so it must have been he who killed the men. After she finished telling the story, she began to cry again.

Mankamu is sitting here beside me now, twisting fiber in the same way the Quichuas do it?rolling it on her thigh with the palm of her hand. This is the fiber with which both of the Quichuas and the Aucas made their hammocks. I am asking God for clear direction about whether to press hard for getting the women out of here and to Arajuno. I am not sure which is best for them and the Indians here, though I myself would like to get out of here, if feasible. I will not leave the Auca woman, however.

Mankamu?s hair is so filthy and stiff with grease and dirt that one can scarcely tell whether it is wet or dry. When she swims, the water rolls off it like water from a duck?s back. One thing that seems strange to me is that the Auca women say very little to each other. They seem not in the least interested in what the other is doing or where she is."

I think it?s time for me to stop reading the journal today. My time is up.

Lisa Barry: What a treat this has been to go back in time and witness the first encounters with the Auca women. And how thankful I am that Elisabeth took the time and precision to write things down in such descriptive terms. I'm sure hearing this portion of the story has inspired many of you to want to know more.

I'm happy to say there is a book that chronicles Elisabeth?s time with the Aucas. It's called THE SAVAGE, MY KINSMAN, and the cost is $14.50. You can send that, along with your request to Gateway to Joy, Box 82500, Lincoln, Nebraska, 68501. Or you can call toll-free: 1-800-759-4JOY.

I would also recommend our Web site as another way to get behind the scenes of Gateway to Joy. You'll find our on-line resource center where you'll find today's offers, as well as many others. That Internet address is gatewaytojoy.org. Today?s program has been a production of Back to the Bible.

Tomorrow Elisabeth continues talking about the Aucas and some miraculous answers to prayer. That's coming up next time on Gateway to Joy.