Tribal War - BRAZIL

Before coming to Manaus, I had spent 7 (or 8?) years in youth leadership, the first five of which were in middle school. It was during this term of service that I was introduced to the most epic and awesome event of all time : CRUD WAR. Every year, as a back to school huge event, we would assemble as many middle schoolers as we could find and get them incredibly dirty. The War goes in four stages: first- water balloons, second- flour, third- horse food that's been soaking water and has the consistency and odor of poop, and finally- shaving cream. The combined effect of middle schoolers assaulting each other with said elements means that immediately after, your eyes are stinging from the shaving cream. One hour after, the flour you didn't rinse off has dried into a painful scab that wants to rip your arm hairs off. Three weeks later, after many long showers, you are still pulling flakes of horse food out of your hair. It is awesome. So awesome in fact that a few weeks ago at a meeting about games for English Camp here in Brazil, I told them about it.   The Holy Spirit fell that day people and my Brazilian brothers and sisters caught the vision. "We will do this," They said. "We call it Tribal War. And you will lead it." Challenge accepted.

The week before English Camp, my roommate Cindy (who with Djard practically ran the whole thing) went out and did all the shopping for Tribal War getting Chicken Feed instead of Horse feed. But not to worry, it would do the job wonderfully. All week long, the students had been told about Tribal War. When is it? they asked. What is it?

On Thursday their questions were answered and their lives were changed. About 150 people surrounded me on rain soaked field as a torrential Amazonian tempest parked itself right on top of us. The rain drops were so huge they could have drowned large mice.  I stared into the eyes of the drenched, scared young men and women about to go into battle and above the rain I shouted:

This!

Is!

TRIBAL WAR!!!!!!!!!

The guttural scream the erupted from those young people would have made Roman armies quake in terror. Short instructions were given and when soldiers got out of line (i.e. had no idea what I was saying because they don't speak English) as their drill sergeant, I let them have it!! And then they let each other have it.

Water balloons exploding in the rain! A couple of dirty bombs had been snuck in that were filled with shaving cream instead of water. We had nearly 2000 water balloons exploding on the filed that day. It was amazing.

Next we went to a newly added form of weapon, diluted paint. using whatever receptacles they could find, they flung green paint onto each other with a ferocity that frankly chilled me to the core. But I warmed up when a bucket of the stuff was dumped on my head.  One young soldier ran up to me, his face covered in green. "Is it toxic?" he asked. "Noooo!!!" I assured him, having absolutely no idea. "Because I eat some," he said. "You're ok," I said, "Just don't eat any more."

THE FLOUR!!! My gracious goodness the flour. Through the rain you could see puffs of white explosions going off all over the field.

 The rain in its anger rained harder. Another young soldier ran up to me. "It's uhm - i don't know the word" she said in English and gestured with her hand. "Raining?" I asked. "No the other one, that comes down." and she made a zig-zaging motion. "Ah, lightening, yes" I said. "yes, she said, We need to stop! Too dangereous!" I smiled. "Don't worry, we'll stop when we need to. Play on!" Tribal War does not stop for lightning.

The chicken feed that had been soaked in water for several hours was next followed by the shaving cream. Everything mixed with the mud to create the most epic battle ever. When it was over, pictures of the heroes were taken to document for posterity the valor of those who fought bravely. Paint got in eyes, toes may or may not have been broken, one girl got a puncture wound on the bottom of her foot. Yes there were casualties and it's difficult to think of them. But I focus on the victories. Like the following:

"So I'm sitting on the plane (on Sunday, three days later) and I reach up and feel this hardened and perhaps sharpened glob of flour and chicken feed congealed together on my scalp. And I knew it would just have to stay there until Chicago." - Leesa Potthoff (American).

Leesa, you're welcome.