David's Anthem Journal

SCA Residents Go To Sea

In November last year, a group of 43 Performing Arts Club (PAC) members cruised from Ft. Lauderdale FL to the Eastern Caribbean Islands on Holland America.

This November a group of 86 PAC and Italian Forum Club members cruised from San Pedro, California to the Mexican Riviera, with ports of call at Cabo San Lucas, Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta on Royal Caribbean. May Martucci, a PAC member and travel agent, arranged the whole thing, and since Tony Martucci is President of the Italian Forum Club, it was a natural to pair up for the cruise.

Everyone had a great time. The ship, Mariner of the Seas (below), was huge and had it all, including an ice skating rink, rock climbing wall, miniature golf course as well as a Main Street, buffets, terrific food, and entertainment.

The weather was warm and that made it easy to enjoy the pools, saunas, and explore the land during cruise ports of call. There were plenty of land excursions for those interested. Wherever the SCA folks went on the ship there was a smile and a familiar face.

One reduced-size photo doesn’t do justice to this great experience. To see an extensive collection of photos taken on the cruise, just click here.

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Here is a wonderful video for you to enjoy during the holiday season.

This video has had about 16 million viewings since it was posted to YouTube about three weeks ago.

The scene is a food court in an Ontario, Canada, shopping mall, looking much like the food court at a local place such as the Galleria Mall. One by one, singers who have merged into the food-court crowd as diners and workmen, looking like any other shoppers, rise to perform one of the Christmas season’s most beloved pieces of music. It is clear that a good time is had by all, whether it is the singers or the surprised “civilians” in the food court.

Please enjoy:

 

The Whitakers in the Land of the Inca: Part 3

Note: This is the final installment of SCA resident Richard Whitaker’s description of the early weeks of the 18-month LDS  mission to Peru by Richard and his wife Cheryle.

We were told that that Spring had arrived in the Southern Hemisphere on September 22. Walking out of our apartment, I realized that this declaration had about as much validity and impact on the weather conditions as an Eskimo throwing a snowball through a blizzard and declaring that it was summer! The cold continues as the experiences continue to mount.

It is now into October and we are into our second month, with each day bringing forth new and particular challenges. But before I approach the most recent, let me digress and share some of the experiences particular to an assignment in South America.

First, let’s talk about the flea circuses. No, I don’t mean those one might see on the street corner parading up and down a line inside an enclosed box, I mean the ones that ride around on the floor of the taxis and for some particular reason, wage war on Elder Whitaker by climbing up his legs and biting every piece of flesh they can find.

Oh, but wouldn’t your socks and clothing provide some protection, you might ask? The answer is no. Plain and simple, no. The little buggers somehow find a way to climb up my socks, which by the way are the long, over-the-calf socks, and then burrow back down, doing as much damage as they can through the entire trip. Then, when happy with that outcome, they climb back up and cover every portion of my body with bites that itch for days! My last count: fifteen. Yet I shouldn’t complain, because the record bite count was thirty four that was set while in Quito. So while some have fleas circuses on street corners, I can claim my own which I find performing in many of the taxis of Lima. What is also noteworthy is that Cheryle, although seated in the same cab, has yet to be bitten once on any of our three assignments to South America.

My health has improved greatly. It took over a month, but most of the congestion in the lungs has subsided and now all that remains are the allergies that are beginning to bloom as it warms. Oh yes, it is actually beginning to warm. We have sun maybe two days a week. Never in a row, but that is at least a start.

Last week I was asked to make a presentation to two Area Seventy as to my vision for this special assignment. For those who are not members of the church, these men are local leaders who have the responsibility for large areas of membership, and as is the case of the man with whom I will be working, he and I have the responsibility for sixteen stake presidents and ninety-five wards.

I have always been concerned not with my ability to plan and organize difficult assignments, but with the ability to effectively communicate in Spanish and be as precise as possible when speaking. The presentation was all in Spanish, and I was not only relieved but rather pleased that all was understood.

In the future I will be required to go and meet with the Area Seventy and his respective sixteen stake presidents and assist in the coordinating of a program of priesthood correlation that will focus on the lives of hundreds of members of the church.

In a recent conversation with Salt Lake, I was told that the General Authorities and church leaders in the Perpetual Education Fund now refer to this assignment as the “Whitaker Project.” While that in and of itself can be daunting, I continue to stress that I am just a soldier in the army and only do as the Lord directs.

When I accepted this remarkable assignment, I was prompted to remember the concept that, “Who the Lord calls, the Lord qualifies.” I know this to be true, along with the fact that I have been taught and trained for many years at the feet of the General Authorities and other great men. I am confident that with this background and the willingness to always follow the Spirit, I know that the outcome of my endeavors will be in keeping with the desires of the Lord.

Last week, Cheryle and I finally made it back to what we refer to as our South America. For the first three weeks, we were in a cocoon. We traveled to and from the office, worked in a wonderful environment and visited only those places close to home that provided us with the necessities to live. This included a major mall and another market that was closer to what we had experienced in Quito, but not quite. Then, a week ago last Saturday, we went to what is referred to as Metro. It is a large concrete building that houses a market and, on the upper levels, small booth-like stores that are run by the people of Lima. These people are not the upper class or wealthy as we have found in the malls, but the real people, those with we relate to and can communicate so well with. We were dressed in our soft clothes, or non-suit and dress, yet there was no doubt we were foreigners.

To be honest, as we walked through the mighty throng of people and serpentined around the alleys and through traffic, I was the only silver-haired guy in this mass of humanity while Cheryle was the only blond. We do stand out. But for us, this is the real world of South America. Now one might ask about our safety; I can honestly say that never, on any of our three assignments, have I felt fear. Not even on the two occasions when I was shot at in Quito. We are shown great respect by the people. I believe it to be a consequence of the fact that not only do we act differently than the other senior missionaries, but we look different and speak the language. We literally immerse ourselves in the culture, and that has been, and continues to be, a key to our success while on the streets.

We have many senior sisters here who, as I have shared in the past, cannot understand a word of Spanish. That is not only unfortunate for them in that it eliminates many choice experiences, but also alienates the native Spanish speaking people in that they perceive that the Norte Americano has no interest in them or their culture. Sad, but true.

When we arrived, I requested some changes and modifications be made to our office. Basically, it is a twelve by twelve room that had two desks and a three-quarter wall adjacent to the common corridor. During our first two assignments to Quito, I oversaw the construction of two offices, and because of the nature of those assignments and understanding this one, I requested an office with a door, walls from floor to ceiling and a printer dedicated to our project and our project alone. All these requests had never been made by anyone, especially a Norte Americano missionary.

Well, the requests were granted and work completed. At first, the Director of Temporal Affairs, who needed to grant final approval, felt that what was being requested might be more for status than to move the work forward. However, following my meeting with the two Area Seventy and additional comments made by Julio Cabeza de Vaca, with whom I had worked in Quito and have now known for ten years, it was understood that the requests were not to make Elder Whitaker look good, but to protect sensitive financial and personal information; protect sensitive conversations with stake presidents while providing an area and atmosphere where church leaders could meet with me, and finally provide an atmosphere where I could talk to the Lord about the project and in the atmosphere of reverence and quiet, receive that revelation necessary to move the work forward as the Lord desired. Never in my assignments have I done anything in an effort to seek the glory of man or his recognition. That is not my nature.

Here I am in my office --

Here is Cheryle in her office --

  

This is the reason I don’t say much in meetings or involve myself with large groups. I have not done it since I was a young boy, nor has this changed over the years. I do what I must to complete my assignments and then move on, remembering when dealing with others to be hearty in my approbation and lavish in my praise for any and all of their efforts, no matter how large or small.

The immensity of this assignment continues to bring with it sleepless nights, and days dedicated to heartfelt prayer. This is not my work, nor will I on my own provide the desired outcome if I fail to rely on the tender mercies of heaven and revelation for as with this and all my assignments, I remember the words of Elder Boyd K. Packer made to Elder Neil A. Anderson, a then newly appointed General Authority. They were assigned as companions to a stake conference and just before it started, Elder Packer turned to Elder Anderson and said, “Elder Anderson, I am nothing.” He then paused and looked deep into Elder Anderson’s eyes, continued: “And Elder Anderson, you are nothing also!” And so it is, we are nothing. We are here to be of service to others, remembering that the praise belongs to our Father in Heaven and to our Savior. “Talk is cheap, and small change rides the bus!”

This last Thursday was a holiday in Peru, so we asked our taxi driver, Jack Paucar, who drives us to the office each day and gets us safely home, if he would have some time to take us down to the central commercial area of Lima. Also, to an area that housed many of the shops that produced the art of this area of the Andes. He agreed, and so we spent most of the morning and much of the early afternoon wandering in and out of the many and somewhat identical shops that sold everything from textiles to silver.

Cheryle bought a small cloth over-the-shoulder bag, not unlike the ones she had carried in Quito, while I enjoyed bartering with the store owners over the prices originally quoted. At first, they see you coming and in their mind think, “GRINGOS!!” Then Cheryle and I begin to speak Spanish and once the store owner realizes that we are residents and not tourists, the entire complexion of the experience changes. In the malls and large commercial stores, there is no bartering. However, on the streets and in the native markets, bartering is a way of life, and to my amazement, a sport I thoroughly enjoy, somewhat to Cheryle’s consternation!

As we walked through the crowds and in and out of the stores, we would always find Jack very close. Both Cheryle and I soon realized that he had taken it upon himself to be our personal bodyguard. This is a fact that I accepted, yet it amused me since I knew he had no idea about my past and my temperament when I am confronted or someone confronts Cheryle in any form that could be construed as confrontational. Under these circumstances, the missionary tag goes into the pocket, the collar turns, as Larry Burns and I use to say, and the street cop surfaces. But faithful Jack, who is a return missionary, was always there, making comments and timely recommendations about what we should watch for and any bad guys who might be lurking in the shadows.

Saturday morning found us in our local market doing our weekly shopping. Now one might not find this interesting, however it does provide two noteworthy items. First, before this assignment, I was not a shopper. On the top of my list of most unfavorite things, shopping is at the top. I don’t like crowds, I don’t like looking at this and that, and since I am not one overly fond of eating, I could care less what this costs or how many ounces you get for a few cents difference when you buy this brand or that.

Well, this assignment has changed all that. While I still don’t like shopping, I go. One can guess the reasons and they will all be noteworthy. So, this last Saturday while Cheryle and I were in Wong’s market and I was pushing the shopping cart -that’s right, I was pushing the cart,- I turned the corner to one aisle and ran into Elder Nash, our Area President who was dressed in a suit and who was also pushing a shopping cart.

Now one must note that our dress was quite different. As a General Authority, he was wearing his priesthood uniform; something I know is common in South America. And what was Elder Whitaker wearing? Most would not need to think about that. I had on my dark sunglasses, blue sweatshirt; black three-quarter length leather jacket, Levi’s and tennis shoes and no missionary tag. This has been and continues to be my uniform for the past three assignments when not required to be in a suit. Fortunately, while Cheryle was also in her soft clothes, she was wearing her missionary tag!

Let me add some of the unusual things that happen in and near our apartment. First, my computer was connected in our apartment, but it has yet to work correctly. It is time to get the technicians back here, that is, once I identify what company provides what services.

Then, each morning we are awakened at about six to the hooting of owls, chirping of birds and horrendous cooing of the doves that reside in the old trees just the other side of our rear wall.

Oh, but it gets better. When we first arrived we could not figure out what was causing the loud, consistent pounding that was coming from the apartment above. A pounding that only lasted about a minute, but began between six and six thirty each day. We listened faithfully day after day, since one was unable to sleep through the banging. Then the light went on and we knew; the man above us was jumping rope! Never more than fifty hard, solid jumps, but just enough to get his heart pumping and the blood flowing, while our eyes were thrown open wider and wider each time his feet struck the floor! It also appears that he uses not a jump rope, but a heavy rubber hose that when it hits the floor, makes the ceiling shake.

For those who might ever consider serving a foreign mission, some counsel about your personal medications. Get and take all you need for your entire mission. Why, you ask? Let me explain.

Each country in South America has different rules and regulations pertaining to the receiving of medications. For example, in Ecuador, we were able to receive them through the mission once they had been properly sent from the States with the proper Customs paperwork. Since that worked twice, I just assumed -I know, that was a mistake- that it would be the same in Peru. Not so, kids!

Here is the process for receiving medications in Peru:

First, the prescribing doctor in the States must give you a copy of the prescriptions, dosage, quantity etc. This must be accompanied by their signature. Next, you must find a company that delivers to Peru. In our case, this was FEDEX. Once you have the items in hand, you need to know that you can only ship three prescriptions at one time. Okay, now we have the bottles in the box, the required paperwork and necessary documentation. Off to FED EX you go.

Take a deep breath, for the cost to send two pounds or less to Lima is in the area of $115.00. A bit steep, but you have no choice. Now the fun part comes in. It only takes a few days for your box to arrive in Lima, but in order to get it out of Customs, you must not only have in your hand your personal copy of the prescriptions signed by your doctor, but also your passport, your Peruvian Identification and some additional cash, AND a letter from a doctor in Peru verifying that you are who you say you are and the medications are needed, but all this must be approved by the National Ministry of Health. That’s right; my small inconsequential box of three migraine medications must be given the papal blessing by someone representing the federal government! So there you are. Like I said, bring all your medications with you when you go foreign!

It’s somewhat of a game to see how long they can hold your medications hostage. I have been fortunate in that during our last assignment to Ecuador our daughter Jamie got us what we needed, and this time Don McClelland, in his infinite patience and kind heart, is working through the process with me to see if we can make the system work. Unfortunately, my medications have now been in country for over a week and they are still sitting on a shelf somewhere in the darkness of a small room located, I would imagine, in the catacombs of the Customs office while the paperwork rests comfortably at the bottom of a stack of papers in the Ministry of Health.

An update! As I was writing this explanation, I man arrived who I was told had been assigned to resolve the problem. In hand, he had a note detailing my prescriptions and began to ask questions about usage, availability, for how long had I taken the medications and how much longer, etc. The guys upstairs are trying hard to solve the problem but it looks like approval to receive the meds monthly will not be granted. So, what are the options? Either find the medications here at an exorbitant price, which would be catastrophic since I receive the prescriptions free from the City of Los Angeles due to my stroke in 1982; stop the meds and hope for the best, or? It is in the Lord’s hands. I have done all I could. Now, only time will tell.

Well, I walked upstairs and after stepping into the office of Andres Ramos who is the Director of Temporal Affairs for the Area, and I explained to him the problem in receiving the medications. An hour later, much of the problem was resolved, which means I might see the box Don McClelland sent. I am now working through Connie Hornback, my representative with the City of Los Angeles who is involved in the authorization of all my city-supplied medications and the approval of what doctors to use. Since we came home last October, Connie has been a blessing to work with. You would not know by her name, but her family some generations back were from Mexico, so when I explained our last two assignments to South America and my love for the Spanish people, we instantly connected.

Okay…the Ministry of Health has determined that my prescriptions did not constitute a drug shipment, so today, Thursday, October 15, they were delivered.

I have worked out through Andres Ramos, the Director of Temporal Affairs and some other church employees a solution that should eliminate future debacles.

Again, for future consideration, anyone submitting mission papers should determine how to take enough medication with them to cover their entire mission. Well, enough said on that subject.

What do you have if you see three men, one dressed in shorts wearing flip-flops, all wearing baseball hats, two with shovels, the third standing off to the side with his legs crossed, talking on a cell phone; a wheelbarrow; two round six-foot steel bars with points on the end, a sledge hammer and thirty feet of cracked asphalt? No, it’s not Peru’s answer to the Village People. It’s street maintenance!

When I looked out of our front room window this morning, that was the sight that met my eyes. Right below our window was Peru’s answer to street maintenance. I watched as one man dutifully slammed the sledge hammer into a large section of cracking street asphalt while his companion slipped an iron bar under the demolished section and lifted. While this was going on, not much different than in the States, the third guy in his flip-flops would glance over while carrying on his telephone conversation. Soon they had the wheelbarrow filled.

Now came the question as to what to do with the rubble. It was apparent that this had not been given any thought until the time arrived for disposal. Without hesitation, one guy slipped his hands around the handles and with a grunt, lifted. Soon the wheelbarrow was moving rapidly in the direction of the gravel parking area, which is an area separated from the street by large bushes. I know, you can see it coming. With a full head of steam, the wheel barrow has bounced into the gravel lot and with a snap of the wrist, the rubble was deposited and hidden behind the bushes! Out of sight, out of mind.

Upon our return home this evening, we found out front of our apartment a trench that must measure forty feet in length, eight feet in width and two feet in depth. And in the gravel parking lot…a mound of rubble that is at least six feet high and twenty feet around. They do work fast in South America.

The work in the office is moving forward at a rapid pace. I won’t bore you with the details, but we have our office built and equipped, maps, a large custom whiteboard, a three-quarter wall dividing Cheryle’s office from mine, a dedicated printer, the only one in five countries dedicated to one special assignment, computers working and individuals working in the adjacent call center making calls relevant to our project.

I will close with a meeting I had two days ago with Elder Loli, the Area Seventy I am working with and then a special experience I had today, Thursday when I went into the front garden area of the grounds. Elder Loli and I have a special working relationship, one that wasn´t in place when other norteamericano missionaries were here. The reason being, one individual was a retired judge, a former missionary in Lima as a youth, and had also served in Peru as a mission president. It seems that since Elder Loli does not have a great deal of formal education, this missionary treated Loli in a very condescending manner. They butted heads and little correlation was accomplished. I even received a telephone call from this senior missionary telling me of the problems I would have with Elder Loli. After two meetings with this wonderful man, I am grateful that I have learned to make my own judgment calls and not to base my opinion on the feelings or recommendations of others.

It now appears that Cheryle and I will be traveling north with Elder Loli in November to visit all sixteen stakes. Eleven will be visited one night where I will make a presentation to the stake presidencies, bishoprics, and members of the high council. The next day we will visit another stake near Lima. The next week we travel to a city named Iquitos. You can check it out on the map of Peru. The city is located in the Amazon jungle adjacent to the Amazon River (see Iquitos photo below). Here, I will make the presentation to three stakes.

I am hoping that we will be able to see some of the area on Saturday and Sunday before our evening meetings. Then we fly south, and the next day visit another stake in the Andes.

I marvel at the progress that has been made in such a short time. I continue to organize the process while Cheryle dutifully contacts via e-mail each participant who has an e-mail address. She then opens the PEF program and makes comments on the individual Participant Progress Report.

Daily, we leave the office exhausted, knowing that we have done all possible during the work day to be of assistance to the people.

To each of you, thank you for your prayers and support. We love and miss each of you, but know that we are where we should be, doing what the Lord would have us do.

In the staff photo above, Richard Whitaker is at far left and Cheryle Whitaker at far right.

Until next time,

Hasta luego.

Elder Whitaker

Editor’s Note: Richard, Cheryle and I hope you have enjoyed this series of reports from Richard. Their Sun City Anthem friends look forward to welcoming them back at the conclusion of their mission.

In the meantime, Richard and Cheryle would love to hear from any of our residents who would like to communicate with them via e-mail.

Richard’s e-mail address:  rbw12600@aol.com.

And now, please enjoy some beautiful images of Peru, accompanied by authentic Andean music.

The Whitakers in the Land of the Inca: Part 2

 

Note: Here is the second of three parts on the 18-month LDS mission of SCA residents Richard and Cheryle Whitaker to Peru.

Richard Whitaker writes:

I will begin these comments by again stressing the wonderful help and support we have received since setting foot in Perú.

It began with Elder Nash, the Area President, and continues throughout the Area organization. Elder Nash has spoken to and also e-mailed those individuals with whom we will be working. In his conversations he explained that we are working under his authority and anything we need should be supplied. This support is far different than what we experienced in our two previous assignments to Ecuador.

So while I share the daily events in a more direct fashion than Cheryle, you must remember that although it is difficult organizing events each step of the way, we do have wonderful help and, to our delight, we have found many more in Lima than in Quito that either speak, or at least understand a smattering of English. However, most of what we do is in Spanish, and I am grateful that the Lord constantly hears my pleas and when I am struggling, opens the doors and angels continue to attend. The key is to at least try and when that avenue has been exhausted, ask and expect answers and divine assistance. It has yet to fail in our last three assignments to South America.

Well, we began a new week and the experiences came rapidly. Unlike the first correspondence that was day-by-day, this overview will examine specific events and experiences.

Let me begin with securing an apartment.

At the end of last week, I was handed a piece of paper that had listed a number of available furnished apartments. With this in hand, I went into the office of Xavier Gonzalez, a dear friend who was our Bishop nine years ago during our first assignment in Quito. Handing him the paper, I asked him to explain to me where each apartment was located and his opinion of the area. He quickly eliminated all but one. With that done, I began to set up the process to see the place. This was coordinated through Elder Cesar Hooker the Area Welfare Manager, Miguel Medina the Area Real Estate Manager, and Ana Maria Tello, a real estate associate who assists the church finding and securing housing for its managers. After the first apartment debacle in which we lost a large sum of money, I wanted to ensure that this time all was in order and we got it right.

Ana coordinated a time to meet the owner and his representative at the apartment, and in no time we were off to give it a look. The area was excellent and security was substantial. First, we passed through a large gate with two security guards, both sober and in uniform. I knew that we were headed in the right direction.

We then drove up a small street and it was pointed out that the five-story apartment building directly in front of us is where the apartment ia located. Great looking building, I thought. The street was also a cul-de-sac.

We parked and walked to a heavy iron gate that could have kept Charlie Manson secure behind its bars. We were buzzed in and after walking down some stairs through a small garden and reception area, passed an employee named Pablo who is the interior keeper of the gate, handyman and jack-of all-trades. He is also a Quechua Indian of whom we were familiar from Ecuador. Upon seeing us, Pablo jumped up from his chair behind a four-foot-high wooden counter and directed us to a small but impressive security elevator. The elevator is interesting in that once inside, you quickly notice that the doors on the front and back both have the ability to open. Ana punched the button to the fourth floor and up we went. When we arrived, the door to the right opened and a solid steel door with a key hole appeared. She slid a very heavy steel coded key into the lock, turned it and then pushed open the door. When it opened, we found ourselves standing in the apartment. Not bad security.

As I stood in the apartment and reflected on the security measures, I remember being told that recently, two senior missionary couples had their apartments burglarized while at the office and they were cleaned out, while a third couple fell victim to thieves who entered their apartment at night while they were sleeping, also removing whatever they could carry. Regarding this situation, it is believed by most of the Peruanos that had they awakened, they would have been killed.

Once in the apartment, we were approached by a man who identified himself as the owner, Alberto Goachet. I had not said more than a sentence in Spanish when Alberto broke into a smile and said, “I speak English.” I was later to find out that not only did he speak beautiful English, but he had lived in the United States for fourteen years and attended Syracuse University! I now knew we were in the right place at the right time.

The apartment was what we wanted, so plans were made to sign a contract.

A side note: I spoke to Alberto later that evening and he told me that when he left us and drove to his apartment building with his daughter, he saw that the lights in his apartment were on. “When I saw the lights, I knew I had a problem,” he said, “because they were not on when I left. Going upstairs, I opened the door and interrupted a burglary. The television was in a pillow case along with many other personal items. The thieves must have seen me coming and fled through the back door.” After hearing that, I guessed that he missed the apartment we had rented with its security.

The ball was now rolling to get into our own place, but first we needed to coordinate the contract, monthly payments and organize the checking out from the Golf Hotel and into our apartment. But before I explain that phase of the process, another interesting incident happened while we were at the hotel.

When we left the Marriott and schlepped our luggage to the Golf Hotel, we did so very hurriedly, so much so that neither Cheryle nor I looked into the closet where sat a pair of beautiful black dress boots I had made in Quito. The day before we were to check out of the Golf Hotel, I realized the boots were missing and somewhere floating around the Marriott or being worn by some clown on the streets of Lima. I went to the office where Xavier Gonzalez volunteered to make a telephone call for me and determine if the Marriott had the boots.

Fortunately, they did, so I immediately hopped into one of the taxis the church uses and off the driver, Ruben Gonzalez and I went. The distance from the Area offices to the Marriott is all the way across Lima and with traffic, it takes about forty-five minutes to an hour, and that is when traffic is at its lightest.

Upon arriving at the Marriott, I was presented my boots and we began the drive back. How grateful I was for the honest people working in the Housekeeping Department, for Xavier didn’t believe I would see the boots again, that is until he made the call.

On the trip back, I began to notice that while I was seated in the right rear seat, the left side of the taxi began to sit lower and lower. Then I heard a, “Thump, thump, thump!” As we pulled up to a stop sign, Rubén jumped out, looked at the left rear tire and exclaimed, “Oh Elder, we have a flat tire!” Slowly, he drove around a corner where, to our delight, he found a service station that repaired flats. In minutes the mechanic had placed the small spare on the car and again we were off to the office. “Never a dull moment,” I thought.

On Friday, we had a full day scheduled. That morning we had an appointment to travel to the heart of Lima and go to Immigration where we would again be fingerprinted and photographed so we could be issued a República Del Perú immigration card. We were to be picked up at the hotel at 8:15 a.m. by Presidente Arturo Fernandez who would be accompanied by Carlos Martinez, the new Area Human Resources Manager. Because of some last minute telephone calls, Arturo didn’t arrive until nine. He told us not to worry about making our scheduled appointments to meet Ana Maria Tello and a taxi van at the Area offices at ten-thirty. Then, from the office, we would travel to the hotel, check out before noon and travel back to our new apartment. Cutting it close would be an understatement!

The ride to the center of Lima was interesting. Traffic was heavy until we arrived at a toll booth where Arturo paid three soles, or a dollar in American money, and we were granted access onto a toll-controlled freeway that allowed us to bypass the heavy street traffic. As I glanced to each side and onto the surrounding mountains, all I saw were huts and make shift homes built of any and all available materials. They looked like shanty towns that were painted all the colors of the rainbow and built upon any available vacant land.

In South America, and especially in Lima, when someone finds a vacant piece of land, they build their home. On the outskirts of the large cities property deeds are unknown and possession is nine-tenths of the law. It was obvious that these were the slums of Lima that I had seen documented so often by the History and Discovery Channels. The shacks were made of concrete cinder blocks, wood stripped from wooden pallets, and old storage containers. The roofs were constructed of either corrugated steel or large sheets of plastic or old canvas tarps. It was obvious from the location of these shacks that clean water was not an option, and if any water was available, it was tainted and undrinkable, at least from our standards. Also obvious was the fact that one living in these conditions would have little to no ability to care for or provide any reasonable type of personal hygiene. The tenants lived and existed in squalor and filth.

Soon, we found ourselves in the heart of downtown Lima, which is the largest city in Perú. Presidente Fernandez pointed out the President’s Palace (photo below) and many other buildings that were built three to four hundred years ago when the Spanish ruled this land with an iron fist. These were buildings that I had read about in school, but now saw firsthand.

The streets were narrow and crammed with people. In Quito, we dealt with a population of a little over one million. In Lima, we have a population of over ten million. When one drives into and then through the heart of Lima, the magnitude of the number is apparent.

Fortunately, President Fernandez knew exactly where we were going. Down one street he drove, then through another. I felt as though I were traveling through a complicated maze designed not for rats, but humans. A maze that saw large old buildings rising high on every street, standing as grim, gray sentinels representing days long past when automobile traffic was less and foot traffic walked uninhibited.

With a quick snap of the steering wheel, we entered a parking lot located behind massive steel doors that could be secured at any time to protect the vehicles parked within. In minutes, we were weaving through people who stood on the sidewalk and were hawking everything from plastic identification card holders to pirated CDs.

As we approached the front doors, I again noted how one is treated in South America when wearing a dark suit, aviator sun glasses, has silver hair, walks with authority and has a pretty blond on his arm. Under these circumstances, doors literally open.

As we approached the front door to the large immigration office, the police guard opened it immediately and we followed Presidente Fernandez and Carlos Martinez into the crowded building. When we arrived on the second floor, we walked through a large crowd and went to a small office. Here we were met by Mya, our faithful and very professional helper. Again, we were fingerprinted and photos taken for our identification card. Since the process had been greased by Mya, our elapsed time spent in the process was less than ten minutes. I then looked at my watch. It was ten o’clock. We just might make it back to the office for our ten-thirty appointment, I thought.

In minutes we were back in the car, heading south toward the office. The traffic was light and as we pulled into the office parking lot, I looked at my watch. It was ten-twenty-five and there waiting was the van and Ana Marie. Now to the hotel. We made the trip easily and after having our luggage loaded into the van, I paid the bill. I will comment on this process not to complain, but to show others how expensive a missionary endeavor can be when one is required to cancel one apartment, secure another and live in two different hotels for ten days. Then come up with another first and last months rent, security deposit, and once in the “furnished apartment,” be required to supply everything except the larger pieces of furniture. Overall, this has been the most difficult and most costly of all our assignments to South America.

We arrived at the apartment and then Cheryle joined Ann Marie and Johnny, a representative of the owner, to complete an inventory of the apartment. As the inventory was made, I made note of the many items that we would need to buy. The list was long but I was comforted knowing that we were on our Father’s business and on our Lord’s errand. Knowing this, I am confident that financially, all would work out.

Our apartment is on the fourth floor of what I have explained is a very secure building and since we are nearing the end of winter in South America, it is cold; cold in the morning, cold in the afternoon, and cold at night. You shower in the cold, dry off with wet towels and throw on dry clothing as soon as possible.

It took most of Friday to get somewhat situated. I even got the wireless network working, that is until it crashed after four hours and took with it my AOL program!

Saturday was spent taking taxi rides and making four round trips to two different malls. In Lima, they call them plasas, but they are identical to our malls. The numerous trips were necessary since we could only carry and load so much into each taxi and all purchases were items necessary to outfit the apartment. By the end of the day, we were both exhausted and I noticed that I was coming down with a sore throat that has since blossomed into bronchitis. Fortunately we have an Area doctor and on Sunday, he started me on a strong antibiotic. This was all I needed. I still needed to determine how and where to pay the rent and utilities, how to get the Internet up and operational in the apartment, and how to get some repairs made to the apartment.

Saturday in one of our excursions we went into an Ace Hardware store and bought a number of light bulbs and other items. I then had the assistance of Pablo, our resident jack-of-all-trades, who helped replace the bulbs. We also identified other broken items that need to be replaced. Pablo offered to contact the owner and told me he would do the work on Monday. With no food in the apartment, we ate out.

Sunday was a special video conference from Salt Lake for the ninety stakes in Peru and was held in the Lima Mission Training Center. Getting there was exciting in itself!

Lima is quite different than the States and even Quito when it comes to the taxi service. Normally, one tells the driver where you want to go and he gets you there. In Lima, after a few days in country, we were required to remember the streets we had travelled and then give directions to the taxi drivers. Fortunately, I work from landmarks and can remember in specifics what we passed and where. So, from the back seat as we travelled to the conference, I was shouting, “go right, now left. Okay…continue straight for two blocks. Slow down…stay in the left lane, make a right at the next corner,” etc. It not only got us to our meetings, but also home that first Sunday. Now all we need to do is figure out the system to hail a cab early on a Sunday morning the second week.

After the conference, we met President Bowen, the temple president, his counselors and President Groberg, the president of the MTC. Then we had lunch with a number of other senior missionaries. I had to laugh in that it is MTC food and referred to as “Hospital Food” by the Peruanos. While a wonderful group of people! I continue to have the philosophy that I would rather socialize with the Peruanos rather than the norteamericanos. While they get together for group Family Home Evenings and to socialize, I am going to pass on the opportunity, just as I did in Quito, and spend my evenings doing what I enjoy.

We held firm to this philosophy during the two assignments to Ecuador and it served us well. While Cheryle always has the option to attend whatever she desires, I am content to walk to my own drum beat. I just have never been a joiner of groups nor do I plan on becoming one. As I have shared with some, I am not here to become buddy-buddy with the gringos. I am here to immerse myself in the culture of Peru and do my best to determine what the Lord wants accomplished and, in doing so, serve the people.

Additionally, many of the norteamericanos group together and are thought by the Peruanos to be quite cliquish, a fact I believe is brought about because most of the sisters do not speak Spanish and even some of the husbands are limited in their ability to communicate in this language. As for me, I have always been known to walk to my own drummer and will continue to do so in this assignment. If some fail to understand, that is not my problem. Whether in the states or while serving a foreign assignment, I treasure my agency to choose who I become close to. It is that simple.

As Sunday wore on, the sore throat and congestion worsened. Monday morning found me flat on my back and sick in bed, so Cheryle was met by Jack Paucar, the young man we will be using as our taxi driver, and she went into the office.

I will close with an interesting picture. Picture a large circular round-about. It has three lanes and four streets entering it like spokes of a wheel. Now place within this oval bumper to bumper traffic circling rapidly and cutting off each other in an effort to get onto one of the side streets. Add to this buses, motorized bicycles and a constant barrage of honking horns. If seen from above it would remind you of wall-to-wall whirling dervishes spinning and spinning.

Now picture some pedestrians on the sidewalk trying to cross from one side of this whirling mass of metal to the other. Impossible, you might say. You are right. Cars don’t stop for pedestrians, for pedestrians have no rights in South America. If you are brave, you might try and sprint through the circling cars, but chances are you will not make it. So what option is available? You walk a distance to where you might find a traffic control officer perched high on a tower directing traffic. When this traffic cop finally gets people's attention and is able to stop the spinning cars, you sprint across the street and if you make it, you give thanks for another blessing given to you this day: namely…your life!

Now I will share something special with my children. Their great-grandfather, Orson Adelbert Whitaker was one of a kind, a real character. He was an educator who taught music and it was two of his children, Judge and Scott, who were instrumental in starting the Brigham Young University Film Department in the early 1950s. He also had a son, Ferrin, who was a wonderful artist. Ferrin’s son, William (Bill) Ferrin Whitaker, is an internationally recognized portrait artist and has painted a number of portraits of the General Authorities of the Church, including the Prophets. His newest portrait will be of President Monson. O. A’s son Don, my dad, was recognized as a pretty good string bass player who worked with many famous talents including Bing Crosby, Rosemary Clooney, Phil Harris, and a number of the big bands including Kay Kyser. Well, enough background, now for some news.

Today, I received an e-mail from Bill. In it he said that on Thursday, a major event was held in Heber, Utah. It appears that Grandpa O. A. Whitaker, who was one of the four founding facility of Wasatch High School was inducted into the school hall of fame. It also seems that even in death, he continues to be a legend in the Heber Valley.

Bill also sent us an 8x10 color sketch he made of President Thomas S. Monson. It is magnificent! He said that he would be starting the big-life-size-official portrait soon. This will require that President Monson come to Bill’s studio as did Elder Holland and others and sit as the final touches are made to the portrait. He will also be doing Sister Monson.

In all, Orson Adelbert and Clara Fotheringham Whitaker did quite well with their children. Not only did they have a concert pianist; a bass player; Judge and Scott who were artists for Walt Disney before leaving for BYU; but they also had grandchildren such as Bill who carried on the creative process. How they got a humble street cop in the mix is still beyond me, but here I am.

Saturday, the severe sore throat, congestion in my lungs and in my head worsened. I couldn’t believe it. Here I had served two previous assignments to South America and my only illness was a broken ankle. But this time, I haven’t been here ten days and I am still flat on my back!

As mentioned earlier, it is always cold. So cold that unless you dry your bath towel in the dryer, you end up wiping off with a damp towel, for things just don’t dry. And so cold in the apartment that we went to Ace Hardware and bought four small heaters just to take the chill off. Not only is it cold, it is always wet. I doubt that I will ever again complain about the heat in Las Vegas!

On Thursday, I finally made it back into the office. I was able to find out the reason we had no Internet service in the apartment: The previous tenant was delinquent in paying the phone bill and the line was disconnected. Once the apartment owner pays the past fees, we will have telephone service and then, hopefully, Internet. We will know by the beginning of next week.

Friday, the telephone company and Internet providers both called. At about ten, they both showed up to work their magic. The telephone was reconnected, a new number issued, and off the technician went. The Internet was far more difficult. It required two technicians, both of who turned out to be members of the church, and one a return missionary with a loan from the Perpetual Education Fund, and both attend church. They worked for at least two hours trying to get the wires from the street to the apartment building connected correctly, then made the decision that the router was bad. They ordered us a new router, and then Carlos, the return missionary, returned at about six to make the installation.

While we spoke in the morning, I challenged Carlos to continue making payments on his PEF loan even though he had dropped out of school many years earlier. I spoke not about the money, but the sacred covenants he had made with the Lord in the Temple prior to and during his mission. Tears came to his eyes as the Spirit testified to the truthfulness of my words. When both young men left, I gave each of them a tip, then looked them squarely in the eyes and said, “Brethren, I want a commitment that you will pay your tithing on this money?” Both said that they would do that first.

The apartment is nearly totally uninhabitable. The carpets were to be cleaned before our moving in, but it is apparent they were not. The owner and I will discuss that today. It appears that their idea of cleaning is a quick running of a cheap vacuum, while mine involves a deep shampoo. Since the previous tenant had animals, you can imagine all the carpet contains!

I was able to go into the office Friday for about four hours. The strep throat has all been eliminated by the antibiotics, which leaves a terrible cough and head congestion. At least progress is being made each day.

We were officially welcomed and our living in Lima was recognized when at about eight that evening, we heard over thirty gunshots fired at the rear of our building. They sounded more like a running gun battle, rather than the blatant firing of shots into the air. When I went to our front window, I watched as many of the neighbors were also peering out in an effort to identify the cause. Since I never heard any sirens, I drew the conclusion that someone was just celebrating or both shooters died somewhere in a dark ditch. I had become concerned that Lima was possibly much safer than Quito, but those concerns were put to rest by that sudden barrage of gun fire!

So ends the second week. Next week I will begin the organization of the pilot program. It has again been reinforced that we have the full support of the Area Presidency and the Area Seventy with whom we will work. To be honest, I am still somewhat overwhelmed by the breadth and scope of the assignment. This coupled with the fact that all the communication has been and will continue to be in Spanish, requires that I fully place myself in the Lord’s hands and exercise faith sufficient to ensure the success of this endeavor.

Today, Saturday, Cheryle and I walked for a couple of hours, which didn’t do my cold any good, but allowed us to find another wonderful shopping center and a McDonald’s! For those who have never lived in South America, just finding a McDonald’s is a treat.

To each of you, I want to express my thanks for your love, support and prayers. And although Cheryle’s knees are causing her some grief as is my left ankle and right foot, the work moves forward.

May the Lord bless you and your families as you labor in your individual areas of the vineyard.

The Whitakers In the Land of the Inca: Part 1

Dear Readers: This first of three reports from Richard Whitaker begins with Richard and Cheryle preparing to depart for their 18-month LDS mission to Lima, Peru.

Tuesday, September 2

Today we were in Salt Lake City for our one day of training. The day began with a meeting which included Cheryle, myself, Elder John Carmack and Elder Richard Cook. We spent an hour with the Brethren and were told on three different occasions, “The Church cannot afford to have you fail in this assignment, Elder Whitaker.” The weight of the assignment began to sink in, as did the reference Elder Cook made to the 121^st section of the Doctrine and Covenants.

We then spent the day with other Perpetual Education Fund staff members and were given a preview of the direction the Perpetual Education Fund would take. At five o’clock, we again met with Elder Cook and again the serious nature of our assignment was stressed, along with the impact it would have throughout the Church.

Wednesday, September 3

Sleep came hard and I was awake from 3:00 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. when Cheryle awakened and we started preparing for our flight home to Henderson. During those four hours, the adversary and I struggled in a combat that was different than I had ever before experienced. During that time, the heavens literally were sealed and I fought, and fought and fought. If one has never had this type of experience and the accompanying feelings of being left alone, it is beyond my ability to provide an adequate explanation. It was as though a thick blanket had been thrown over me. I must emphasize that not only was it a physical struggle, but it was also spiritual and the feelings of despair and discouragement were some of the gravest I have ever experienced. Yet, at the end of those four hours, the heavens again opened and when I was able to communicate with the Lord. When it was over the first thing that came to my mind were the words of the 121st section of the Doctrine and Covenants and the comments made by Elder Cook.

With the training completed and this experience past, we left for Las Vegas.

Tuesday, September 8

We left Las Vegas this morning and flew to Los Angeles without incident. Don McClelland took us to the airport and after ten minutes, we had our luggage checked, boarding passes in hand and were on our way. We began the process of clearing security and were pleased when it went so smoothly. While approaching the security area, a TSA officer looked at us and stated, “VIPs go through this line. Please follow me.” So Cheryle and I fell in right behind the man and circumvented one very long line while others were trying to figure out who the gray-haired guy was with the blond.

I continue to be a strong advocate of the importance of a professional business-like appearance, missionary name tags and dark aviator sunglasses. This, coupled with what I call my “street persona,” has carried us successfully through two assignments to South America and will do so during our third.

When we arrived at security scanning, another TSA representative looked at us and then our name tags. “You have a very important and distinguished name.” Again, we were escorted directly to the security screeners and processed ahead of others. Time elapsed, not more than five minutes. I was so impressed with the professionalism we experienced that I sought out a TSA supervisor. I introduced myself and told him that I was retired from the Los Angeles Police Department. “Oh, our Chief Executive Officer for TSA in Los Angeles is a former member of your Department. His name is Larry Fetters.”

“Larry was one of my training officers when I was sent to Wilshire Division as a young police officer,” I said. “It’s a small world.” He agreed; we exchanged business cards and he told me that he would give Fetters my warmest regards.

We then proceeded to our gate. With this, our luck began to go south.

We had not been at our gate more than a couple of hours when we were told that they found mechanical problems with the aircraft and we would be told in about three hours what was going to happen. This was at two o’clock. At five, they told us that we had a gate change and would be leaving for Lima at eight thirty. So, we waited.

The waiting area was full, which indicated a full flight to Lima. When the time approached to board, I pulled a McKee and McClelland maneuver.

For those not privy to this creative maneuver, it is that when you have handicapped status and the proper credentials, you use them whenever you can. Since Cheryle has two bad knees and my ankle is still a problem along with my old football injuries to both feet, we both have the proper credentials. I know, we are getting old. Now back to the story.

Walking up to the South American attendants, I advised them of the situation and requested early boarding with the Business Class passengers. They were thrilled to be of assistance, so, when the time came, we pre-boarded and found our seats without being a part of the cattle call that was to come. Oh, I forgot to mention, we were one of the few non-Asians on the flight. Even the Latinos were sparsely represented. There were three large Asian Tour groups traveling on the plane, so I nicknamed it the Oriental Express.

The flight went smoothly. LAN Airlines is far superior to any US carrier. They not only have comfortable seats, but the food is above average and there are more than enough flight attendants to accommodate a full flight.

Wednesday, September 9

After nearly twelve hours in the air, we arrived in Lima. Exiting the plane brought with it another intense experience, albeit it one more intense for Cheryle than me.

When the plane came to a stop and the unfasten seat belt sign was turned off, I stepped out of my seat, reached up to the luggage bin and was just about to pop it open when a male Asian behind me tried to push me out of the way so he could elbow his way to the front of the plane. As he put his elbow in my back, I stepped firmly into the aisle blocking his egress, and glared at him through my sunglasses. Again he began to push me out of the way. I turned and in my best police voice said, “Back off, pal!” He immediately stepped back.

I opened the luggage bin, pulled out Cheryle’s carry-on and would have caught the guy in the head with it had he not stepped back. I retrieved my computer bag, slipped on my jacket and again turned toward the guy, saying nothing, just looking him in the face. With this, he decided discretion was better than increased stupidity and that his trying to push me to the side and back into my seat was not the best idea. With this slight confrontation ending, we exited the plane.

We had now been up and going for twenty-seven hours.

The customs process in Lima went smoothly and we were met at the airport by not only a driver assigned by the Church, but also Henry Utrilla, the Call Center Manger for the Perpetual Education Fund, Area South America Northwest. Henry is a young man who has a great personality, speaks English and it wasn’t ten minutes in the car before we knew we were on the same page of the hymnbook. We also felt strongly that we knew each other from somewhere but could not pin it down.

We were taken to the Area offices and introduced to many in the building. It is interesting that we already knew a number of the staff from our two assignments to Quito, Ecuador. We were taken to meet Elder Cesar Hooker, an Area Seventy and the man who is over the Area Welfare Services which includes PEF. After the introductions, we went to see the apartment that we had rented sight unseen. I had sent a senior missionary and employee of the Area my requirements. When they told me they found a nice place, I told them to proceed. That was a tactical error. I had been prompted before we left Las Vegas to stay in a hotel our first week to ten days while we looked for a place and to hold onto any deposit. I did not follow the prompting. Going against the prompting, I placed my confidence in a senior missionary who was not on the same page as me.

We were then driven to the apartment I had rented. The area was a ghetto, much like what one would find in North Las Vegas or near the crime-ridden area referred to as the “Naked City” located around the Stratosphere Casino. The “Security Guard” stationed out front was drunk, had a bicycle and sat in a plastic chair. We walked through the first security door leading into the patio area and then up the steps to the glass doors leading upstairs. On one of the glass doors was posted a large note warning people of the criminals in the area and the number of robberies that had occurred and are continuing to occur.

Wonderful, I thought, as we hauled our suitcases up to the second floor. On the door were four deadbolt locks. Edwin, our Area contact put the keys into the locks. Nothing happened. The locks were so old that the tumblers were not working correctly. He struggled for about twenty minutes and finally got them open. As he opened the door, we stepped across a thick deposit of dirt and dust. By this time I knew this was not going to work. Then, it only got worse.

After shutting the front door, I noted a large iron bar which slid into a clamp, securing the door. For a former street cop from the ghetto of Los Angles, this was just another indication that someone made an error in judgment when they told us that the place was acceptable. While it might have been acceptable for a missionary couple who hadn’t done this before, it was not acceptable for a couple who have served in Latin America three times during the past nine years. Bottom line: Unless I was living alone and had my choice of hand guns and semiautomatic weapons, this dive was not an option.

Exiting the living room, we walked into the kitchen. The stove didn’t work and there were screeching parrots just outside the window. The strong aroma of cooking food filtered from below and when we stepped into the laundry area, we saw that one entire window was missing and the space was open to the outside. We were told that this was done to allow the air from the outside to blow into the apartment and dry the clothes. As we walked from room to room, we noted that the place was filthy. All that was missing were the cockroaches which were regular inhabitants of the apartments in Ecuador.

“This is not acceptable,” I told Henry Utrilla and Edwin.

Edwin’s face went white. He felt that it was his fault and knew that we would lose all or part of our $1,800 deposit. I was not real happy and for those who know me, you can understand how this impacted poor Edwin.

“We need a place to stay,” I said. “Take us to the Marriott.”

We were driven to the Marriott Lima (above photo) that sat about one hundred yards from the ocean. Now some might think that the ocean view would be beautiful. Guess again. Lima sits in the fog and mist most of the year, not much different than San Francisco and a number of cities in the US Northwest.

Thursday, September 10

Today a driver picked us up early to go to the Area office.

Once in the building, I began the process of looking for an apartment. While organizing the search team, Elder Hooker recommended that we change hotels and check into a five-star hotel closer to the Area offices. So, we drove back to the Marriott, checked out, schlepped our luggage to the van and began the one-hour drive across town. Now no commentary would be complete without a few comments on the drivers and traffic in Lima.

Leaving the airport, we experienced our first glimpse of what to expect for the next eighteen months. Picture if you will a narrow three-lane road. Put into it some lane stripes. Now picture making five lanes from the three and add destruction derby combined with bumper cars. You now have the traffic in Lima. It is incredible.

They have the European circular round-abouts and it is first come, first served. Most intersections are not controlled by signals. You just inch forward and tap the gas until you have cut off everyone else and are into your desired traffic lane. What is amazing is that although you might find yourself only inches from the car next to you, they don’t hit; that is, most of the time. On occasion, you have a small bus slightly larger than one of our twelve passenger vans travelling through traffic with a guy hanging out the passenger window. They called them monkeys in Ecuador. It is his job to signal the traffic on the right that the bus driver wants to move over. Unfortunately, at times, he makes an error in judgment, tells the driver to change lanes and quickly finds himself an instant part of the adjacent car. Death comes quickly, and there are no survivors since they usually lean out the window so that they are exposed to their waist.

As we began looking for another apartment and talking to the brethren who worked in Quito and were reassigned to Lima, it was obvious that the cost of this assignment will be more than double anything we have previously experienced. Since we put $1,800 down on a place that was horrible, first and last month’s rent and security deposit, it appears that we may have lost that money when we told them we didn't like the place and it was not acceptable. Again, we are in South America.

So, here we sit with no deposit once another place is found. I don't know how I am going to handle that situation. On a bright note: We had lunch with Henry and Arturo Fernandez and found out that Arturo worked not only for the Church in the area of travel and visas, but was also an attorney. At lunch, he gladly took on our security deposit problem and told me he would do all in his power to get something back. Only time will tell.

We will also need to hire a driver just to get around safely since many of the taxi drivers are thieves and drug dealers and the buses are, as they were in Quito, havens for pickpockets and thieves. They are also traveling flea circuses.

In talking to other brethren in the Area offices, it is contemplated that our rent alone will be in the area of $1,200 to $1,500 dollars a month.

Friday, September 11

Today, with the help of Henry and Arturo, we found a nice apartment near where the members of the Area Presidency live. The apartment is secure and we will find out if we have it on Monday. Searching for an apartment was highlighted by a wonderful lunch with Henry Utrilla and Arturo Fernandez. We also went to Interpol today, another interesting experience.

They fingerprinted us both, and then took a photograph. And then.......individually, we were escorted to a dentist's chair that could have been used in one of our 1950's Sci-Fi horror films. After lying down in the chair, they turned on a bright spot light and shined it in my face. "Please open you mouth!" was the next command.  Then, the same guy who had taken our fingerprints, checked our teeth, each one, and made notations on his dental chart. No gloves, no mask, just his fingers pulling your lips here and there, up and down. My first thought was "I know that Sharon McClelland would not have endured the process!”

When he was done and all of our teeth had been documented, the light went off and we were told to step back into the waiting area.

"Onward Christian Soldiers!"

Saturday, September 12

Today we went to the largest mall in Lima which is only about a ten minute drive from our current hotel and from the apartment we hope to rent. It is twice the size of the Galleria Mall in Henderson and has every store found in Las Vegas. The parking lot must park at least five thousand cars and what is interesting are the number of sales personnel employed. If you have a question or need something, you never need to look for help, they find you.

The name of the place is Jockey Plasa (above photo) and they have a huge movie theatre that shows some G-Rated films in English with Spanish subtitles. The place is the same as our Cinemax theatres.

Sunday, September 13

It is Sunday and although I was ill last night, I was looking forward to finding out where the chapel was located and seeing what was in store for the next eighteen months. As mentioned earlier, we travel by taxi. We located the chapel and after entering, we were met by a General Authority, Elder Marcus Nash and his wife. Elder Nash spoke kindly of the importance of our assignment and after ten minutes, it was evident that we were not only on the same page of the hymn book, but had instantly developed a strong bond. He told me how he was looking forward to our arrival and the criticality of what we were to accomplish. It is an interesting experience to come to Peru and have such tremendous support from the Brethren and many others working for the Church. This is far different than our past two assignments to South America.

In our conversations today, we were told that my reputation had preceded me. Another item that is noteworthy is that of all the couples here,which includes temple missionaries and others, the only other Sister besides Cheryle who speaks Spanish is the wife of a mission president. Cheryle is unique and already the other sisters have taken to her and invited her to join them Monday at a sister’s luncheon to be held in the home of the temple president.

In priesthood, I sat with two mission presidents, a General Authority and other adult missionaries. Not bad for a humble street cop.

Well, there it is. Our first six days. It appears that we will need to stay in the hotel for another week while the apartment is cleaned and made ready. Should this fall through, we are in trouble. Tomorrow we will know more.

Thanks for the love and prayers.

Elder Whitaker

Coming Up: An SCA Resident’s Journey to the Land of the Inca

Richard Whitaker is one of the most extraordinary Sun City Anthem residents I know. Retired from the ranks of the Los Angeles Police Department, he was a tough-as-nails street cop who worked his way up to Detective Supervisor through assignments that included robbery, homicide, burglary, auto theft and juvenile, along with an administrative assignment in the chief’s office in the San Fernando Valley.

Several years ago, Richard’s book, “Conflict in Blue: Behind the Badge” was published.

A seven-year resident of SCA, Richard is a member of the Authors Club and an accomplished pianist who wowed the audience with his near-perfect impression of Jerry Lee Lewis at the keyboard during a Performing Arts Club presentation

He is also a member of the Current Events Club, where he spends most of his time listening. But when he speaks, the respect his fellow club members have for him is evident in the attention they give him.

But above all, Richard is that rare individual who lives his religious beliefs, along with his wife Cheryle, every day of his life. An Elder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, his Mormon faith has guided him to leave his well-earned creature comforts behind, including the resort lifestyle of Sun City Anthem, to serve the humanitarian needs of his fellow man.

In September, Richard and Cheryle departed SCA for an 18-month assignment as senior LDS missionaries based in Lima, Peru. This is the couple’s third South American mission, all since the year 2000. The first two were in Ecuador, so Peru is a new experience for them.

Peru is a nation of incredible beauty, but also of depressing slums and poverty. It is a country of about 30 million, 10 million of whom are crowded into Lima.

Through Internet exchanges with Richard, who had sent me some of the diaries he was sharing with friends and family, we arrived at a mutual decision that it might be beneficial to share some of his experiences with his fellow Sun City Anthem residents, and I will be doing that through a three-part series. The articles are lengthy, and much of the content will be directly related to LDS matters because of the audience for whom Richard was writing.

But there is great value in reading Richard’s impressions of what it is like to be immersed in a completely different culture, not as a tourist, but as a person who appreciates the life he left behind to put his very deep religious beliefs into action.

“Maybe by sharing some of our experiences, others will be a little more grateful for where they live and the great blessings our nation provides,” Richard wrote me. “I believe you will enjoy my world,” he added, “when compared to some in Anthem who may fail to understand what they have. During this third assignment to South America, I continue to marvel at how gracious and loving so many are who have so little ‘stuff’ by our standards. It is interesting that what they do have …family, friends, love of God and country, all suffice in what is really a tough world.”

My impression after reading Richard’s reports: “Wow! And we think the USA has too much bureaucracy?”

As I mentioned above, Richard is connected to all of us via the Internet. Upon his return from his prior mission, it was humbling to have him tell me how much it meant to him and Cheryle that my blog helped them keep up with the news in SCA.

Richard will be most happy to hear from his SCA friends, and I will provide his contact information at the conclusion of these reports.