Storm coming in, over Weidenfeld and Lindenau, Chaco, Paraguay. (Photo by Gary Toews, Loma Plata.)

If you are like me, you will not enjoy reading this final installment of Maria Toews' story. I cringed and shuddered while translating it. But that is how true stories go. Things happened like they did and we cannot change them. All we may do is think and wonder.
 
So far, I have not heard much from you about this story. I presume it is too much to read or too foreign for most of you to relate to. But it has left me with serious questions. How do the mass migrations of our parents' generation look in our time? Were our people "crazy utopians" always thinking they would have it better somewhere else (and realising their dreams at incredible cost to life and property)? Or were they heroes, able to accomplish what very few of us, fifty to a hundred years later, would be ready for?
 
Maria Toews gave us no evaluation of life from her perspective. She just lived it and trusted God. She loved God, her husband, and her children, and got loved in return, supported through every trial by the Gemeinde around her. She was thankful and content. How much worse was her life, in the end, than ours? 

Meine Erinnerungen . . . 

Now I will tell you about the suffering the Lord sent my way (mein Gott zugeschicktes Leiden). Not that I wish to protest or complain. May the Lord keep us always from that, for everything comes from God, health and disease, poverty and wealth.

In 1944 I had all my top teeth pulled out and got myself a set of false teeth made. But it didn’t fit properly and my tongue got sore from it. Because it wouldn’t heal we went back to the man that had pulled my teeth [the Mennonite settlers in the Chaco had their own self-educated dentists] and he did not think it looked too bad. But it got worse so we went to see Johann Schmidt, the doctor at Filadelfia on the Fernheim Colony.

Dr. Schmidt tried various things but when it still would not heal he sent us to Asunción. We saw a doctor from Spain who said I had a cancer and that we would need to treat it in Buenos Aires, in Argentina. It was just before seeding time, and we had so much to do we couldn’t go right away.

On 30 August 1945 we had our daughter Lena’s wedding at our house. She married Jakob Penner, and that night everyone got together to have a farewell meeting for us before we travelled to Argentina. It was so hard to leave home on such an uncertain mission and in such a way!

We drove to the rail-head with our horse and buggy. At Puerto Casado we waited two days for the river steamer to appear. After two days on the river we got to Asunción, where it took us over two weeks to make our travel documents to leave Paraguay and enter a foreign land. On the way to Buenos Aires we had a big storm. Our steamboat ran into a bank and got stuck. We had to wait fifteen hours until another steamer came along to pull us out. Nearly a month after we left home we got to Buenos Aires.

There we had a German doctor, Adolf Hermann, and the old Sr. Casado helped us very nicely with making the arrangement to see him. The next morning we got to the clinic. Dr. Hermann and an Argentine doctor told us what they would do. I had to lie on the table and they took four long needles that looked like roofing nails, but with holes through their heads and stuck them all the way into my tongue, where it hurt the most. Then they took a wire and threaded it through all the holes in the radium needles. With this they tied my tongue to the side of my mouth by wrapping the wire around my ear. They said they would let the radium needles burn in my tongue for 48 hours.

We could not stay in the hospital because it was too expensive, and the nurses all spoke only Spanish which I could not understand. So the doctor let us go to a hotel. My husband took care of me. After half an hour in the hotel the pain became so frightful (die Schmerzen wurden so furchtbar) that my husband tried to give me pain pills, dissolved in water. But my tongue was bleeding and I did not see how I could drink. My husband called the friendly German doctor on the telephone. He said that was all right, I should just drink water and take the pill anyway. But it hurt too much to get all the pain pills down.

Those were forty-eight long hours. Every time I moved my head the pain shot in from fresh. I could not speak. After two days we went back to the doctor to pull the needles out. The burning pain had lessened somewhat but I was afraid of how it would go because my tongue had turned thick and blue. My entire head was hurting by now, but it felt better after the needles were gone. For several weeks I could hardly eat, and we had to go every day to see the doctor. He said I could go home in a month and then come in another month for a check up. But we could not afford all that travelling, so we had to stay in Buenos Aires.

We had the address of one girl from Fernheim, a Teichroeb’s daughter, who was working in Buenos Aires. So my husband went to look for her. The next day two Mennonite refugee women from Russia who had settled in the city came to see me. They were Frau Heinrich Kaethler and the old widow of Peter Unger, with three of her children. Her son Cornelius Unger came the next day and went with my husband to find a place to stay near them. It was a room on the third floor of a building but it had a window that let the sunshine in and the air smelled clean.

The Mennonite people in the great city (die Millionenstadt) were very good to us and showed us many things. The parks in Buenos Aires are wunderschön. So many beautiful flowers, and we saw the animals in the zoo. So many new and interesting things.

Once I could eat quite well again and felt stronger, we decided to go home. I wanted to go home so badly and was counting days and nights like a child before Christmas. Finally, on the sixth of November we could get onto a steamboat, and twelve days later we arrived at Puerto Casado. There we had to wait three days on a train. Finally on the 23’d of November we arrived home, safe and sound, may God our loving Father in heaven be praised! What a joyful reunion that was with our family! We could not thank God enough for keeping us on the long journey and for restoring my health again.

Mennonite boys in the Paraguayan Chaco, during the early years.

Eight months later my tongue was bothering me again. The doctor at Fernheim told me I should have all my bottom teeth pulled out as well. I did that but it would not get better. By July and August of 1946 we had to go every two weeks to Fernheim to see the doctor again. That was 55 kilometres from our home in Waldheim and always took us two or three days with the horse and buggy.

By September the pain had gotten so bad again that the doctor said we should get ready to return to Buenos Aires. With heavy hearts we got ourselves ready with Psalm 37:5, “Commit your way to God and hope in him. He will do all things well.” On the 17th of September we took leave of our family again and began our journey.

This time, in Buenos Aires, we found a room close to the old widow Mrs. Peter Unger. The next day we went back to the doctor. They put even longer needles into my tongue this time, and the pain was greater. It was nearly unbearable (es war furchtbar auszuhalten). By the time thirty hours had passed I had gone unconscious three times. The doctor came then and pulled them out. He said they had put the needles into the nerves this time. That is why it hurt so much.

My tongue got thick and blue again and I cannot tell you how much it hurt (es waren unsagbare Schmerzen). I felt so alone in the big city, but the Lord is so close to those that call on him in need! He heard my cries and helped me. And his wonderful word came to me, “See I will always be with you, right to the end of the world.”

Once again we had to keep seeing the doctor every day. I could hardly eat, but the dear widow Unger brought me soup and other nourishing liquids every day. She went to so much trouble about us and cared for us in such a wonderful way. May the Lord repay her! On the 21’st of November Hans Kaethler took us to the harbour in his car and we boarded the steamer for Asunción. Fifteen days later, with very great joy we greeted our family at home.

Colony centre, co-operative store and business offices, Loma Plata, 1930s.

We kept seeing the doctor in Fernheim every two months. My tongue kept on hurting until finally, two years later, the doctor said we should go back to Buenos Aires. That gave us so much to think about again and we passed many sleepless nights. For one thing we did not know where the money would come from. Up to now we always had cattle to sell, but we had only five cows left, and for the last four years we had poor harvests because of the locusts and the drought. My husband thought we should try it again and the Lord would provide somehow but no-one in the colony had money left. The poverty was great and it never presses harder than in time of poor health.

It rained four inches on the 13’th of December, 1949, and the day after that our son-in-law Jakob Penner drove us to the rail-head. The road was very bad and for us a time of deep reflection. We were just getting into summer and we had to think of our children at home with the responsibility of running the place. But the verse “Commit your way to the Lord and hope in him for he will do all things well,” came to us again.

This time, in Buenos Aires, we stayed with the Ungers and Kaethlers who had moved to a larger place in La Florida further away from the city centre. We had such good fellowship with them at that place.

The doctor said I was not healthy enough to take the treatments right away, but by the tenth of January I was ready. With a pounding heart I crawled onto the table again. This time the needles were another half inch longer than before. They pushed them into the bottom of my tongue. The needles were also charged with more radium and had to stay in my tongue for 48 hours. I could neither eat or drink or talk during that time and the pain was indescribable. Hans Kaethler had taken us to a hotel close to the doctor’s place.

Even though I had much pain God was always close to me, giving me strength and comfort. He helped me bear it all and refreshed my spirit after so many dark and heavy hours (ich bekam auch Linderung und Erquickung nach so manchen schweren und trüben Stunden). For this I thank him and may his name be praised through eternity!

After six weeks, while we were still in Buenos Aires, my tongue got worse again. But I had to wait until the month of April until I was strong enough to have another treatment. We just stayed in Buenos Aires all this time as we could not afford to travel home in the meanwhile. After the doctor had looked at my tongue again he called another doctor and my husband into a little room. After about ten minutes my husband came and said they wanted to give me another longer and more powerful treatment, ninety-six hours this time, but then it should be all right and I would never need to come back again. We were supposed to think about it and come back with an answer as soon as we were ready. The doctors waited on us in the other room.

We knelt there and pled with our merciful God and Saviour to show us what we should do. We decided then to go ahead with it again but prayed that God would give us grace and stand with us in this heavy hour.

When the doctors heard our decision they sought to comfort and encourage me. But it was with fear and a pounding heart (mit Angst und starkem Herzklopfen) that I crawled up onto the table again. This time they put two needles, as thick as roofing nails into my tongue, from the front all the way into the back. They fastened the wire to my cheek again and we hailed a taxi to take us to a nearby hotel.

Soon after we got there the terrible pain began. An Argentine doctor came regularly to see us. He told us it can be done no other way, but that if I would just stay calm everything would be all right.

The great pain went into my left ear, into my eyes, down my neck and along my jaw. My husband asked me if I did not want to give up and call the doctor to take the needles out. I wrote my answer, that I wanted to hold out, if possible, for the 96 hours. And we cried to God for his grace to endure.

He made that possible.

Toward the end we kept watching the clock all the time, how many hours, how many minutes, until finally it was over.

Leiden macht in allem gründlich,
Macht gebeugt, getrost und kindlich.
Leiden! Wer ist deiner wert?
Hier heisst man dich eine Bürde,
Dort bist du doch eine Würde,
Die nicht jedem wiederfährt!

Suffering brings us face to face with reality. It humbles us and teaches us how to trust, like children. Suffering—who is worthy of you? Here we call you a burden, but once we get to the other side you will have been an advantage not enjoyed by all!

What a comfort, when we are sick, to have Jesus take a special interest in us and search us out! He even calls the godless and the sinners, wishing to bring them happiness and salvation (Glück und Seligkeit). How much more he takes on the case of his beloved friends, his children! He heard Lazarus’ sister and felt for her when she said, “Lord, the one you love is sick.” And we sick ones gather so much in understanding and experience through the school of suffering. We suffer because we have no way around it. Jesus, however, suffered because he chose it. And why should he have chosen to give himself into such terrible pain unto death? We know it was for our rescue, our peace and blessedness alone. That he had in his heart, and what a comfort for us to know it!

When the doctors pulled out the needles again Hans Kaethler came to get us. We lived with them until my tongue healed, then we could go home. This time we were gone five months to Buenos Aires.

When we left we had just replanted everything. The locusts had eaten all our crops the first time. But now, five months later, we came home in the harvest, through God’s grace, and we had such a joyful and blessed reunion with our family. God had everything planned out just right and done everything well. (Nun Gott hat alles wohlbedacht, und alles, alles, recht gemacht.) May his name be praised!

My tongue healed altogether, but it kept on hurting. The doctor said it might hurt for the rest of my life but I shouldn’t worry about it. It was nothing serious. He told me not to speak about it anymore and try to free myself from thoughts about this subject altogether. I should just think that I am healed from this cancer, and I could go get my false teeth made now.

On 29 September 1950 our son Johann married Johann Doerksens’ daughter Margarethe in the village of Weidenfeld. Now we had eight pairs of married children. Right after the wedding the young couple moved far away to our colony’s cattle ranch where our son Hein was the overseer. Our son David also went to work there. Now our main workers were gone and we had a huge yard with many fruit trees, a flourishing garden with many flowers and plants where I loved to work. I brought seeds and plants along with me from Buenos Aires and from Asunción, and really enjoyed to see how they grew. It was much work, however, to care for them all.

We had a very lovely shade in the yard with the Paraíso Trees (Trees of Paradise) we had planted around it. We had planted them along the street in front of our place and along both sides of the lane. Another two rows we had planted between our place and the neighbours. The wood of these trees, however, was good to make furniture with. So because of all the money we had spent in Buenos Aires we had to cut them all down and sell them to keep our family in food. The last four years we had barely harvested anything because of the locusts.

Finally, after two years of not having any teeth, I could go to Filadelfia on the Fernheim Colony to have them made. But the dentist did not think I was ready yet. He said my tongue was still too swollen.

In December 1951 we went back to Filadelfia. My tongue was still painful and getting worse. The dentist said it did not look good and went along with us to the doctor. By this time it was Doctor Dollinger, from Germany. Because he hadn’t seen me before he could not say much, but told us to come back in a month.

By the end of January I was getting a swelling on my tongue and it hurt worse. It was also hurting around my ear, in my throat and along my jaw. We saw the Paraguayan doctor in Loma Plata who sent us to Asunción. He said the only way, by now was to cut the cancer out. Both he and the Fernheim doctor told us we had to fly to Asunción as it would take too long on the river.

That was an unforgettable parting for us and our children. “Commit your way to the Lord and hope in him for he will do all things well.”

We flew on my 63’d birthday, 27 February 1952, from Filadelfia to Asunción. The plane had room for seven people, and we landed safely. A car from the MCC came and took us to the Mennoheim in the city [lodging and eating place owned by the Mennonites of Paraguay for the convenience of their people in the capital city]. From there Peter Epp took us to the hospital the next morning. The doctor told us they would have to do two operations, the last one quite difficult, and we should come in on the fourth of March. The doctor said my husband could stay with me the whole time, and sleep in my room.

We spent our time until then praying, reading and seeking God’s council. We read about the woman whom Jesus healed when she touched his clothing, and about the sick man by the pool. Through long periods of sickness our Saviour wants us to learn patience, for as long as everything goes well we may live carelessly without him. We also learn how to surrender ourselves to God when he takes our joy away from us. This discipline brings us no pleasure at the time, but afterward it brings forth the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those that learn from it.

The Sunday before the operation the minister Peter Klassen from Brazil came to visit us and brought us much comfort and hope. I told him that if I am to die I would so much like to go home first to my children. Then he gave me a very good poem, Dein Wille Geschehe (Your Will be Done). His words helped me to leave everything up to God.

On the fifth of March I had my first operation. They took off the left side of my chin and jaw and took some skin from my leg, about four by four inches square, to sew on there. We stayed at Dr. Johann Schmidts place for a few days then I went in again. Five doctors came into my room. I crawled onto the table again and they gave me a shot in the arm that put me to sleep. After six hours I was back in my room. Those were long hours for my husband.

In this operation they took out my jaw and chin bone on one side, all the way up to my ear, and one third of my tongue. They took out all my glands, including my breast, and cut a piece out of my left shoulder. The doctor said they made  cm (27 inches) of incisions.

The first days after the operation my greatest need was lack of air. I could not breathe well because everything was so swollen. My left eye was swollen shut completely and with my right eye I could see my lips. My face was green and blue and beyond recognition. I had to write to say what I wanted.

After five days I was supposed to drink a teaspoon full of water every hour, but I still could not swallow it. The Mennonite nurse, Helena Hildebrandt, who was with me, said if I could swallow after six days they would take the tubes out of my nose. They were almost unbearable for me so I tried as hard as I could to swallow and by evening it was possible.

The first nights I could not sleep because I had to struggle all the time to breathe. I counted the hours until morning. But those long hours in silence and darkness invite one to conversation with God (zu stiller Unterhaltung mit Gott). Although God had allowed me to suffer much, he had stayed close to me through it all, and always awakened loving people to care for me in such wonderful ways. Especially my husband and the nurse Helena Hildebrandt, who took turns sitting with me day and night. The fourth and fifth night after the operation another MCC nurse, Tina Boldt, stayed with me as my husband was quite overwhelmed (war schon sehr angegriffen).

How joyful it was to have so many of our people come and visit me during my time in the hospital. Jakob Braun from our colony was in the city at this time and came to see us every day. Also Johann Schmidt came many times, and the minister Peter Klassen, as did Peter Epp and his wife from the Mennoheim. “What you have done for the least of these,” Jesus said, “you have done for me.”

After ten days we could go stay in the Mennoheim. There we had much more company that we so much enjoyed, also from the newer colonies, Sommerfeld and Bergthal, in eastern Paraguay. On the 25’th of April we could fly back to the Chaco. It took us two and a half hours to Filadelfia. I rested a little while, then our son Hermann took us to Franz Wiens’s place for the noon meal. We saw our doctor yet in Loma Plata who bandaged my wounds again and then by nine o’clock in the evening we arrived at home where we greeted our children with tears.

I was too tired to sleep that night, but we thanked our Saviour for helping us through all this again. We cannot thank him enough, and I thank all of you again, who visited me so faithfully and who stood with us through this time. As long as I live and God lets me keep my senses, I will never forget your acts of mercy, your comfort and help. Nothing you have done in love has been done in vain.

Because my tongue is now sewn onto my cheek I cannot speak well, and I have trouble swallowing. Also my left arm is not like it was and hinders me, but everyone, including the doctors found it amazing how soon I recovered, thanks to the great mercy of God, and could work again.

In August 1952 we had to go back to Asunción for a check up. We went on the river, and while we were there we discovered that my husband had a heart problem. The doctor said his heart was weak and he should not work much anymore. He also had a tumour they operated on and removed. In September we could go home, once again on the river, and arrived at home, thanks to the mercy of God, on the tenth.

On the thirtieth of March the following year, right before Easter, my husband worked hard all day and suffered a heart attack that night. We hitched up the horse and drove him to Loma Plata to the doctor, leaving at three in the morning. That is a distance of 26 kilometres. Two times, along the way, he got very sick (wurde es ihm sehr schlecht). The doctor in Loma Plata said he needed to get to Filadelfia right away and maybe they could fly him to Asunción. They took him to Filadelfia in the MCC vehicle and I followed, with my two daughters, Mariechen and Anna, with the horse and buggy. We got there after two hours.

My husband was at the house of our dear friends, Justa and Anna Schmidt. When we came in he said he was feeling better. He said he had slept a little and sat up in bed. But he also told us the Lord had been speaking to him and that if he would get another attack he would go home to be with him. After saying this he looked at me, reached out to me, and died in my arms.

Oh how I cried out to God. We all cried and cried. But he was gone. We called on the telephone to Loma Plata and asked them to get word to our children. Jasch Neufeld, the dentist came with his vehicle and took my husband’s body to Loma Plata. There his vehicle broke down and the MCC vehicle was not there. But my son Hermann came with the horses and wagon and we took him home that way. We got there yet that night, where some of the children and friends were already gathered, waiting for us.

Three of our sons were on the cattle ranch, Legua 63. There was no telephone to that place so someone had to go on the horse to let them know, that night. All the children were able to be at the burial on 2 April 1953.

Oh how I miss my husband now! (Ach, wie schwer ist doch die grosse Einsamkeit!) Even though it often looked dark in my time of need, my husband was always there to comfort me and make things easier to bear. Now I hear nothing from him. Yet the Lord heals those that are of a broken heart and binds up their wounds (Psalm 47:3).

Now I want to end my writing by telling of the wonderful grace of God, by praising him for the salvation we have in Christ and the comfort we may find in him.

Everything has changed so much in the Chaco by now. The place where we camped at Loma Plata for eleven months is now the business and industry centre of our colony. They have electricity there now, a telephone and even a radio station. While we had no doctor on our colony in the beginning, a new two-story hospital now stands at Loma Plata. The hospital has a separate operating room, a kitchen and dining hall and wash room, also a garden and trees around it. The dentist has a room there too.

The first hospital at Loma Plata, built in 1947.

In the beginning we cut all our wood by hand. Now they have many sawmills driven with motors. The cotton gin, the palo santo (tannin) extracting plant, the colony co-operative store, the cold storage and dairy, everything is at Loma Plata. Also a furniture factory where they make everything one could need. They make furniture in the villages too, and washing machines. 

At first we made our nails and fencing staples out of pieces of wire. I often helped my husband do that. We made our garden tools, hoes, rakes, cultivators, planters, and our own buggies and wagons. Also the threshing machines we use for the Kaffir corn. To make a living is much different in Paraguay than in Canada, but our people can live here too. Only we must do so with much effort, work and confidence in God (Mühe, Arbeit und Gottvertrauen).

Food supplies in the first years were very scarce. Many lived without meat altogether as there was neither money nor herds of cattle. But now we have beef rings in the villages. Everyone takes a turn bringing a beast in, and the meat gets divided out to all. So, several times a week we have fresh beef.

We have enough chickens now to supply everyone with eggs. And our gardens supply us bountifully, if it does not get too dry or if the insects do not harm the plants. All this has changed in the colony, and the roads are very much better by now. That took a lot of effort too. The schools have also gotten established and have been brought to a much better state.

Through this time our people brought the Gospel to the poor heathen living around us. Our oldest son, Bernhard W. Toews, works full time as a missionary among the Indians, a work that requires very much patience and dedication. Bernhard teaches at a school we have built for the Lengua people. Every day when the weather and the road allows it, he drives there with his bicycle and teaches them from the Bible. Our son Johann has also gotten involved in that work, but he lives far away in the village of Hohenau. There he has also built a school for the Lengua people. My desire and prayer is that God may bless their work among the heathen.

Maria's son, Bernhard W. Toews on the left, Johann Funk on the right, with two native leaders of the Lengua Mennonite congregation and a class of seventy converts ready for baptism in the 1960s. With time, most of the Lengua people have come to believe in Christ and learned German (usually Plattdeutsch) as well as Spanish.

Our son Hermann Toews has received from God the responsibility to work as choir director and youth leader among the young people. May every one of them serve with the gift God has given them!

Oh, I praise and thank our dear Father in heaven for the grace and mercy he has shown our people here in Paraguay.

Wie gross ist des Allmächt’gen Güte!
Ist der ein Mensch den sie nicht rührt?
Der mit verhärtetem Gemüte
Den Dank erstickt, der Ihm gebührt?
Nein, seine Liebe zu ermessen
Sei ewig meine grösste Pflicht!
Der Herr hat mein noch nie vergessen,
Vergiss, mein Herz, auch seiner nicht!

How great is the goodness of God Almighty! Could any person that sees it remain unmoved? Any person so hardened that he would refuse to give God the thanks that he deserves? No, to trace out the dimensions of God’s love will be my greatest assignment through eternity! God has never forgotten me. Let me remember him forever in my heart!

Maria Toews, 1959

* * * * * *
 
Maria's generation (that I still remember vividly, growing up among refugees and immigrants in southern Ontario) has been here and gone. Should you wish to follow up on what happened to her people in the Chaco, go Google Earth and zero in on Loma Plata, Filadelfia or Neu-Halbstadt in western Paraguay. There you will see around twenty-five thousand square kilometres of Mennonite-owned land jumping out of the wilderness like a misplaced patch of Canada, vast acreages laid out in neat roads, Strassendoerfer (farm villages), and fields. The dark, still largely wooded, areas in between are blocks of land the Mennonites have set aside for the Lengua, Chulupí and Moro people.
 
The Ruta Trans-Chaco Susan and I so vividly remember as a dirt road between palm flats standing in water has (from what I see on Google Earth) turned into a beautiful limited access highway from Asunción to Filadelfia, German names appearing on overhead green signs. Air conditioned Brazilian luxury buses carry passengers in style (click on the photo of Filadelfia's bus terminal) where Maria rode sick unto death on the back of a wagon pulled by oxen through the mud. Business has boomed, the colonies have amazing schools, hospitals, factories, churches that hold thousands of people, their own thermal power plants, and village homes -- except for their ubiquitous water tanks on stilts -- look like something from the suburbs of San Diego or Miami Beach. . . . 

What will happen to Maria's faith in our generation? I pray the story of her life, now in English and on-line, may speak to others as it spoke to me. 
 
Peter
 
P.S. My translation of Maria's story is slightly edited (dates and figures that she quoted by memory corroborated with other sources), and abridged for use in these letters. I would welcome input from any of you that may remember Maria or her family. (You may contact me at this address.) 
 
Rocky Cape Christian Community
19509 Bass Highway
Detention River, Tasmania 7321
Australia
www.thecommonlife.com.au