Craziest Mission Moment

A couple of months ago one of my favorite mission companions wrote the following for our mission web site:

“Our "Craziest Moment" happened in Portoviejo. Elder Robert Evans and I were headed home on a dark night and this guy, who I thought was inebriated, bumped into me. As he did, he jerked my bag off of my shoulder and pulled a knife on me and Elder Evans. (What a guy!) When I realized I was being robbed of my bag and its valuables (several copies of the BoM, my scriptures, charlas (discussions), etc. - no money or ID), I suddenly felt a wave of righteous indignation come over me. (That guy just took my bag right off my shoulder. He took my bag! I'm a missionary and that's my missionary bag. You can't steal a missionary's bag from a missionary. That's just wrong!!!)

“So, in my finest español (just 5 months in Ecuador) I called upon him to immediately repent. I demanded (commanded) he put down my bag and walk away or there would be serious consequences (I may have called down the powers of heaven - some details are fuzzy after 20 years ... it happened so fast). He rejected my commands and instead jabbed his knife at me as I pressed him to repent. (Some people! Here we are thousands of miles away from home, teaching the gospel, and this is the thanks we get.)

“I jumped back at each jab (Jack Bauer style) and returned each time with the same call to repentance (PUT DOWN MY BAG or else) ...

“I was making pretty good headway for awhile (at least I thought) until I slipped in the dirt, falling to the ground as our assailant lunged towards me from above.

“No worries! Elder Evans was at my side the entire time (as all good companions are when their fellow missionary is sprawled on the ground with an armed assailant coming at them). Elder Evans jumped towards the assailant, drawing away his attention just in time with a shout I have yet to identify, nor am I able to adequately describe or recreate (you are welcome to ask Elder Evans to recreate it, but be warned). As I was on the ground (not yet giving up, but admittedly feeling more vulnerable), I reached out my hands to push myself up from the ground and I felt several sizable rocks beside me. They were just the size of my grip and large enough to use as object lessons to help me teach the principle of repentance. I jumped to my feet with teaching tools (rocks) in hand, determined to get a commitment by the end of this charla (discussion). Reproving with sharpness, I shouted out my final dire warning demanding he lay down my bag and leave us immediately or certainly suffer the wrath of two angry (filled w/righteous indignation) missionaries. Eyeing the sizable rocks in my hands and overwhelmed with Elder Evan's effective maneuvering and vocal expressions, our assailant paused momentarily, appearing to reevaluate his circumstances. Then, without further notice and not a word ever spoken by him, our assailant dropped my bag to the ground and penitently backed away. I pressed forward, grabbed my bag, looked our assailant directly in his eyes and with complete clarity, declared the obvious, "Gracias y Buenas Noches!"

“Other than that, the rest of the night was pretty calm.”

I thought I’d add my version to Mike’s account (it’s always interesting how different details stand out to different people).

Elder Calta and I were walking down the hillside in Portoviejo after teaching a discussion to a family after dark. While passing near the bus terminal a man walking the opposite direction suddenly bumped into Mike and took occasion to divest Mike of his backpack, which contained several copies of the Book of Mormon plus his camera. The man then turned to face us and drew a knife, threatening us to keep our distance. Mike wasn’t going to take that. He started yelling at the thief, commanding him to return the backpack and telling him that he was stupid and that he was going to die. (“¡Somos misioneros! ¡Tu eres estúpido! ¡Tu vas a morir!”) He also began to make menacing gestures toward the now slightly concerned robber, who slowly backed up.

Meanwhile I just wished that Mike would calm down—it wasn’t worth getting hurt—or worse—over.

Then Mike slipped and fell. The thief moved in closer, intent on pressing his advantage. I had to think fast. I quickly grabbed some rocks (I wasn’t going to get close to a guy with a knife) and cocked my arm back, ready to throw. Shouting at the thief to get his attention apparently I really got Mike’s attention as well. Mike followed my lead and also grabbed some rocks. The robber, recognizing that we weren’t the easy prey that he had imagined, again began to back up. Now back on his feet, Mike continued to threaten the man verbally and with actions (Think, “c’mon, you wanna piece of me?”). That was too much for the poor guy. Shaking visibly, he set the backpack down and backed away.

Mike picked up his backpack, looked the thief in the eyes and spoke loudly, “¡Gracias y buenas noches!”

From that experience I learned not to make Mike mad, and that a 5’ 5”, 120 lbs. guy should think twice about taking on two crazy Americans. You never know, they might know karate, just like all the Americans on TV.