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---
title: Dan's Mission in Brazil
---
It's been over 47 years since I left home to go preach the gospel in
Brazil. When it's been that long since a person has done something, it
has "old geezer" written all over it. I guess instead of avoiding the
truth I'll embrace my geezerhood and try to make the best of it.\
\
Back in those days when a young man started to plan for college and a
mission, you had to be 19 to even apply to go on a mission for the
church. I was only 17 when I graduated from Ridgefield High school, so
the only option was college. I attended one year at Clark Community
College in Vancouver and then a second year of university at BYU,
majoring in Electrical Engineering. During the summer of 1975, I decided
to take a 30 day desert survival course and then go on my mission. I had
already received my mission call to Brazil before leaving for the
deserts of Southern Utah.\
\
I believe it was late October when I entered the language training
mission (LTM). I stayed there for the next 4 months, learning the
missionary lessons and the Brazilian language. Normally, the time in the
LTM was only 2 months, but Brazil was very slow at approving our visas,
so we got an extra two months to learn the language as we waited for
Brazil to finish the paperwork.
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This is Allen Hall, where we lived. It was located on the lower campus
at BYU. The much bigger Missionary Training Center near the Provo temple
didn't exist yet.
{width="5.75in"
height="3.828639545056868in" alt=""}
This is my district of fellow Elders. We studied together for many hours
a day while the snow fell outside.
{width="5.934569116360455in"
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Elder Marcus, my first companion, is sitting beside me on our bunk bed.
{width="6.007950568678915in"
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Here, I'm trying out my gangsta door approach. It was eventually
abandoned as unlikely to be effective.
{width="5.661654636920385in"
height="3.75in" alt=""}
Another lighter moment just before lights out. Many of these elders had
not yet adjusted to wearing their garments at night.
{width="5.72745406824147in"
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This is a farewell party for the Fonseca district. We were jealous
because they received their visas, but we were still marooned at the LTM
for a while.
One memory I have of this time was the bitter-sweet experience of
spending Christmas at the LTM. I missed my family and President Lee, who
signed my mission call, passed away the day after Christmas. We sang a
lot of Christmas carols together and felt a wonderful spirit of serving
together in the LTM.\
\
When my visa was finally approved, I flew from Salt Lake City to Sao
Paolo, Brazil. I then flew to Porto Alegre and finally took a bus to my
first assignment in a city called Criciuma. I left Salt Lake City
wearing three white shirts because I didn't have room for them in my
suitcase. I arrived in Brazil in the middle of their summer. I thought I
was going to perish of heat exhaustion.
{width="5.75in"
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Here I am in the city of Criciuma. It was a smallish city out in the
country where most of the people were simple farmers. While there, my
district of elders went on a P-day trip to the catholic mission ruins of
Sao Miguel.
{width="5.634399606299213in"
height="3.7708333333333335in" alt=""}
Here are a few of us posing by the ruins. The guy on the right had a
special talent. He could say the entire pledge of allegiance with one
burp. It came in quite handy when knocking on doors.
{width="5.682471566054243in"
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Here, I'm pretending to be a statue of a saint.
{width="5.625in"
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Now I'm practicing my Samuel the Lamanite approach. Fortunately, no one
was shooting arrows at me.
{width="5.677083333333333in"
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Elder Webb was my first companion in Brazil. He taught me how to be an
awesome missionary.
{width="5.479166666666667in"
height="8.047525153105862in" alt=""}
I also served in a small city called Alegrete. Four of us lived in a
room we rented from this kind old lady and her son, who was somewhat
mentally retarded. They had a little dog who was loaded with fleas that
often ended up in my bed.
My last city of service was Porto Alegre, a large and busy city of
nearly a million people.
{width="6.211654636920385in"
height="4.114583333333333in" alt=""}
My last companion was a native Brazilian named Edson de Marques. We
taught a young couple who were baptized shortly before I came home.
{width="5.166666666666667in"
height="7.960839895013123in" alt=""}
This is Elder de Marques with the young couple. His name was Ademir
Pinto Ribeiro and her name was Iara. Ademir is wearing an authentic
Brazilian pala that was made for me to bring home.
In those days, missionaries were allowed to do some extra travelling on
the way back to their homes. I jumped at the chance to take about a week
to see some amazing sights on the way back to the USA. My travelling
companion and I made three main stops: Foz do Iguacu, a huge waterfall
at the border with Paraguay, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and Machu Picchu,
Peru.
{width="6.431814304461942in"
height="4.260416666666667in" alt=""}
I took this picture of Machu Picchu. It was amazing and worth every bit
of effort to travel there, but it caused some big worries in the end.
For some reason I'll never understand, the airlines overbooked the
flights leaving the Peruvian city of Cuzco, near Machu Picchu. We missed
our flight to Lima and had to stay an extra day in Cuzco. The next day,
the Peruvian military flew us out in a paratrooper airplane. I remember
sitting in mesh netting seats holding a little tube for oxygen and
wondering if I would ever get home again. I missed the big welcome my
family had planned for me at the Portland airport and I couldn't even
get word to them about the delay. I arrived in Portland the next day
with 1 dime in my pocket and was picked up by just my mother. It wasn't
the big reception I could have had, but I was certainly glad to be back
home again.\
\
One of the last memories of my mission was of a sacrament meeting where
I was asked to speak in the Porto Alegre ward. After finishing my talk,
I sat down next to the stake president on the stand. He leaned over to
me and whispered in my ear, "Voce fala portugues melhor do que a maioria
dos brasileiros." Translated, this was, "You speak Portuguese better
than the majority of native Brazilians." I can't describe how amazing it
was to receive this complement from a highly educated Brazilian.
Although this was not my only goal for going to Brazil, I really enjoyed
learning a foreign language and I put a lot of effort into it. I read a
lot of Portuguese novels and comic books on my P-days and paid attention
to the native accent when I talked to the people there. This complement
took little effort to give, but made a huge difference in my life and my
own self-confidence. It is a great example of how a tiny bit of
thoughtfulness can lift someone else immeasurably. I have never
forgotten the complement and the power of giving them to those who
deserve it.
|
