beating the heat

Dear Family,

I suppose February here is like August in any other normal climate - it's hot. As is the custom on most Mondays, we are the only room without electric power on the block (which unfortunately means no refreshing fan and no p-day only music). Hopefully the power will come back when we get back to the room.

On Wednesday this week, we had a multizone mission conference in a nearby stake center. President Mora was quite outgoing in his message. He stressed a lot of "getting at the heart" of the investigators we teach. He used a few videos from U-tube to demonstrate the point, including scenes from the 2004 olympic archery final as well as a characteristic bull fight. I wasn't called upon to play the piano - rather, Elder Smith got to take my place. Elder Smith lived in the apartment right above me at BYU, and we played on the same intramural basketball team. It was neat to see him there. The conference motivated me to a new level of effort, and I gave it my all when we started out in the afternoon. The feeling was rejuvinating.

The Elders in Indoamerica, the area adjacent to ours, are changing apartments, so our service project this week was helping get things ready for the move. This involved painting the room that they're about to start renting. The man who owns the room is from Great Britain, and he speaks with the expected accent. It was interesting to meet somebody else who speaks English - but we didn't really have much interaction with him while we painted.

There may be two days in the last 200 that I've not eaten rice for lunch; and I've finally convinced our pensionista to serve me a little less each day. But I think she compensates by adding extra of whatever goes with it. Blank space on the plate is not allowed, apparently. Nevertheless, I get to eat a dinner of cereal and yogurt (milk just isn't the same here) every night before bed, instead of the regular rice, chicken, mashed potatoes, etc. It makes me feel right at home.

Most dogs run free in the neighborhood here, so it's always useful to carry a Book of Mormon or other scriptures in the hands to fend off the aggressive ones. There's an ancient race of dogs that were raised by the Chimu natives a few hundred years back: they're called "perros colatos," which if I understand correctly, translates to "naked dogs." And, well, they are. Black and hairless, they roam the streets like underfed pigs from a coal mine. Luckily, there aren't too many of the unfavorable creatures. There are a number of cho-chos (which I'm not sure whether is Spanish or English or slang) - the orange-brown, fox-like, puffy-haired ones - as well. If you can tell where this is going, you'll understand why it's amusing to see the various mixes that wander the streets. The best I've seen is a mix of the "perro colato" and the "cho-cho," which resulted in a black dog, half-naked with orange hair. I don't know enough biology to question said dog's fertility, but I would, at least, discourage further breeding.

We knocked on a door (which is a rare occurence in our companionship - the occasion was that a member was accompanying us and felt like we should knock) last Sunday, and taught a woman about the Restoration. When we came back this Thursday, we asked if she had prayed about what we had taught her: she said that she had, and that she knew Joseph Smith was a prophet. It was simple, yet extraordinary. Those who really want to know are those who find the truth sooner. I remembered praying specifically that she would be able to feel the answer she sought. It's phenomenal what a little more faith, charity, and hope can bring into our lives.

Well, that's all for this week. Thank you for keeping me in your prayers! You are all in mine as well.

Love,
Elder Withers