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The Savage My Kinsman
Elizabeth Elliott
On January 3, 1956, missionaries landed along the Curaray River in Ecuador and all five men were killed. The Auca were known to be the most savage of tribes. They had speared the five men. The Auca settlement was in the Amazon basin at 1500 feet of the Andes Mountains in a place of rich biological diversity. The documentary, The Savage, My Kinsman, is the gripping story of Elizabeth Elliott, the widow of Jim Elliott, one of the missionaries.
Elizabeth Elliott related that she and her husband had worked with the Quichua Indians in Shandia. After the deaths were confirmed, she said, “I simply went on and did the next thing. I returned to Shandia. I did the things that presented themselves to me as duties each day and in doing these, I learned to know God a little better.”
Elizabeth wrote, “I simply asked the Lord to do what he wanted to do. For once in my life, I had no suggestions to make to Him about how He was to do it. I placed myself in His hands. I would obey. I knew that if I was to move into work with the Auca, it would be unmistakably clear when the time came.”
And so . . . one day, three Auca women appeared at the Quichua settlemen near Arajuno on the Curaray River. They women were Mankamu, Mintaka and Dayuma. They told Elizabeth of their plan to return to their Auca village. They wanted her to join them. They called Elizabeth, Gikari, which means Woodpecker.
Gikari said, “They will spear us, won’t they?”
“It is the downriver people who spear!”
Gikari said, “It was your people who speared my husband.”
“Gikari! Your husband was a man. You are a woman.”
“ I had heard no voices, seen no visions. I felt my decision to go to Aucaland to be the will of God. I went ahead,” Elizabeth wrote.
Mintaka, Mankamu and Dayuma returned to their people without Elizabeth, promising to come back for her. On September 25, 1958, seven Auca woman and three Auca boys came to the Quichua settlement. Elizabeth decided to go to Aucaland with her Quichua friend, Rachel and her young child, Valerie.
She looked around her home with the Quichuas and did not want to leave the familiar, friendly place. Elizabeth wrote, “I looked around at the tiny house. It had walls, floors, and furniture. I had even a desk where things were organized.” She knew she was doing God’s will and had nothing to fear - - yet, this was a step she dreaded.
I was reminded of Teresa of Avila who hesitated before setting out on her life work to reform the Carmelites. Teresa wrote, “I liked being in the house where I was very much, for I had my cell arranged exactly to my taste. But . . . we decided quite firmly to leave all that in God’s hands.” (Saint Teresa of Avila by Marcelle Auclair from the Works of St. Teresa). Across the centuries, two mystic women spoke the same lines to their Creator.
Six Quichua men, Elizabeth, the child Valerie and her friend Rachel left Arajuno on October 6, 1958, and in three days time, traveled to Aucaland. They met Dayuma and others near a cluster of thatched huts along the Tiwaenu River. They ate fish and slept. In the morning the entire Auca community came; 56 people in all. There were seven adult men and the oldest man, Gikita, was about 45 years. This was not a very impressive group, considering that they had terrorized their neighbors for centuries.
“Apparently the testimony of Mintaka, Mankamu andDayuma convinced the Auca that we were not maelfactors. They accepted us, not with open arms; but neither was it malice,” wrote Elizabeth.
It was curious to me that a woman with a child could go safely, where men could not go. And that the introduction to the tribe by women ensured her well-being. Elizabeth was not a threat to the group. In retrospect, to me, it seemed foolishness for five white men to appear at the Auca settlement. There were only seven men in the Auca tribe. The arrival of five white men aroused fear, protective instinct and the need for dominance among the Auca men.
Elizabeth wrote “Faith must embrace doubt. Nothing less than faith could have brought us to Aucaland. The moment of truth would elude me altogether if I were to seek it in high adventure. I prefer to seek Him who said, ‘I am the truth.’”
“And so we had come - to these who have been called one of the most savage tribes on earth. We had come to show them the Way. What right had we to tell them that we knew a better way than theirs. We knew that we must earn that right. We had come to offer the Auca something for which they were not even looking for: Hope in the person of Jesus Christ.”
Their home was a clearing about 75 yards in diameter, bordered by the forest on the West and south and the Tiwaenu River on the North and East. There were half a dozen huts and two houses with roofs of woven palm. There was no privacy, no cleanliness, no protection from rain, insects, or snakes.
Tropical rains came suddenly and heavily, 120 inches per year. Elizabeth wrote, “When the rains came, I had my fields, notebooks, papers, radio, camera, tape recorder, books, clothing, all of which had to be kept dry. The Indian had only his blowgun to keep dry.”
Aucas were semi-nomadic. Houses were simple, made of palm. Fire burned continually. Every home had hammocks woven of palm. Elizabeth wrote, “I tried to live as they did. My efforts led me to love them.”
The people were healthy with fresh air, sunshine, hard exercise, long sleep and good diet. There was hunting, fishing, gathering, and simple agriculture. Men hunted with a blowgun and poisoned darts. They ate monkey, fish, grubs, manioc and plantain. After eating, it was bedtime. Elizabeth intended to live on their diet, but found it was not possible. So, the Missionary Aviation Fellowship came every Friday with beef, cheese, oatmeal, milk, sugar, salt and mail. The Auca called the airplane, ‘beetle.’ The Auca liked the magazines that came.
There was monotony with the same scenes, same people, same routine. People talked about food, the hunt, past killings, sex. Conversation was the favored entertainment. Most loved to talk. Everyone joined in a conversation.”
They were a closely knit group. Every man was his own boss: no chiefs. The only social unit was the family.
“Why am I here?” Elizabeth asked herself. “To present Jesus Christ to them. Nothing else, for socially, I had nothing whatever to offer the Aucas.”
Nearly all her time was spent in language study. She was always listening. Intonation was essential. Elizabeth struggled. Meanwhile her young child, Valerie spoke Auca, thought Auca and used Auca Gestures.
Elizabeth found the Auca used a lot of onomatopea, especially in describing a hunt or a killing. But they were inadequate in abstract expressions. “How are we to convey the spiritual?” she asked.
She concluded, “We have come, not be be benefactors, but to be servants. I am a missionary. I must obey God. I had a message to communicate. I wanted to understand them. I wanted to reach across the chasm to the Auca, my kinsman.”
Elizabeth Elliott, whose husband was killed by the Auca, went to live among the Auca with the intention to teaching them about Jesus Christ and with the intention to learn their language. She exhibited courage and intelligence of an order I have never met, except in the Autobiography of Saint Teresa. There was no condescension, self-pity, or fear. She kept an open mind, recorded everything, and in the end, she wrote, “my perspective on my own society was changed.” Now, 40 years after she wrote this account, I would love to know what happened to her.
I marveled at this story, poured over the photographs, lived out the story in my imagination. I highly recommend this book, if you can find it. I found the book in a Mennonite Jumble Shop here in the Appalachian mountains. Once home, it hid among the 3,000 odd books we have in our home.
I pulled it out to read after I had read Peter Matthiessen’s account of the same area. The differences were telling. His was a peripatetic wandering with little focus until he set out to find the mandible. Hers is an intense involvement with a savage people in an unknown land in which she revealed her heart. I am glad I read both accounts, for I could be neither of them.
See Also:
Saint Teresa of Avila. Marcelle Auclair. Translated by Kathleen Pond. St. Bede’s Publications. Petersham, MA. 1988. ISBN 0932506674
Copyright©1999 Mary Jo Kelly Wilhelm
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