1
An early morning shock
‘Please give me a minute to call my lawyer,’ the former president said as he headed to the stairs.
The police officers nodded in assent and made themselves comfortable in the elegant seating of the lounge. They had been tasked by the state to bring Alan García into custody, pending trial. The past two-term leader of Peru had been under investigation for years – what were ten more minutes?
The corruption and scandal surrounding the Odebrecht construction corporation were about to claim yet another celebrity victim. Close associates of the erstwhile Head of State had pocketed US$4 million in kickbacks from the Brazilian firm. Since it had been García himself who had awarded Odebrecht the lucrative contract to build an electric railway in the capital city of Peru, he could not protest his innocence with any degree of credibility.
Checkmate, as TV presenter Jaime Bayly later reported in his special broadcast.
A loud ‘bang’ echoed throughout the opulent dwelling. The officers ran upstairs and broke through the locked bedroom door to find Alan García sitting in a chair with blood gushing from his right temple. A revolver lay on the floor nearby. García’s shot had been well calculated; even immediate emergency surgery could not have saved his life. Shortly after 10am on Wednesday 17th April 2019, the media announced the death of Alan García.
Dr Jens Haβfeld broke the news to me at the hospital. I rushed to my office and pulled up the RPP website. Peru’s leading news source reflected the massive shock waves sweeping the nation as news of García’s suicide spread.
I could not help but think back to the events of 26th February 2008.
My wife and I were waiting, along with Dr David Brady, Diospi Suyana urologist, and Dr Chorrea, a high-ranking member of the presidential, social-democratic APRA political party, in the exquisite conference chamber of the Government Palace. A door opened. President Alan García and his wife, Pilar Nores, entered, stepping into the glow of the chandeliers.
After the customary exchange of pleasantries, I guided my attentive audience through a presentation on the history of Diospi Suyana. I led with the dream my wife, Tina, and I had had back in high school of spending our lives together, serving as doctors to those in need. In 2002, Tina and I put our glorious vision down on paper – a hundred pages of it. We were determined to build a state-of-the-art hospital for the descendants of the Incas, high up in the Andes mountains of southern Peru. And the most unbelievable part? We resolved to do all of this without the aid of bank loans, the government or Bill Gates.
It all came down to faith. Only with God’s help could this dream become a reality.
The President and First Lady focused on the small screen of my laptop as I recounted numerous examples of God’s provision and miraculous intervention as He led us along this winding path to our goal. I told them how a man named Udo Klemenz and his wife, Barbara, had been sitting in their kitchen, discussing and praying about what God had in store for them next. At the very same moment, I was in a meeting in my home town of Wiesbaden, Germany, and heard their names for the first time. I gave them a call – their phone rang just as they ended their prayer with an ‘Amen’. Udo Klemenz joined our massive project, supervising all the construction. And he charged us nothing.
Of course, I had to tell the story of how we had sought help directly from Pilar Nores just two years earlier when a state agency wanted to shut down our construction and fine us US$700,000 over a missing licence. In our panic, we decided to reach out to the newly elected presidential couple. Everyone told us we were wasting our time. Even the German Ambassador said we had no chance of success.
And yet, three weeks later, Pilar Nores granted us a seventy-minute audience in her office. At the conclusion, she agreed to become the patron of Diospi Suyana.
‘You know, Mr President,’ I began as I clicked to the next slide, ‘in December 2005, my projector – the one I use for my presentations all over the world – was confiscated by Peruvian Customs at the airport. I needed a replacement as soon as possible. While I was trying one out at a small store in Lima, the head of the Impsat telecommunications company “just happened” to be standing behind me, watching all the pictures of the Diospi Suyana story that flitted across the screen. He ended up donating a satellite dish that would give us telephone and internet service. This generous gift was reported in the weekly magazine Somos. A mine owner read about it and donated all the steel we would need for the facility roof. And then TV Channel 2 got wind of what was going on and featured Diospi Suyana in a special report, Hospital of Hope.’
For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then García cleared his throat, leaned over and said to me, ‘Dr John, you are a lot closer to God than I am!’
That was quite a presumptuous statement, as no one can know and pass judgement on another’s relationship with God. In the depths of our hearts, battles often rage undetected by those around us. But, as Jesus Himself promised His disciples, ‘a mustard seed of faith’ is enough to move mountains. God knows we are transient beings, tossed between hope and fear, faith and doubt. And yet, all we are asked to do is cry out to God to experience His awesome and very real power.
Almost exactly eleven years had passed between that first meeting and García’s death. During that time, Diospi Suyana had grown from little more than an idea to a functional facility with a staff of 270. It was never easy. So many times we took two steps forward, only to take a step back. Sometimes it was even the other way around. We made great progress, then suffered setbacks. We celebrated victories, then descended into valleys of tears. But throughout this journey, God’s hand has been so evident, I see it as my mission in life to share these experiences.
I would have loved to have another opportunity to share my testimony of faith with this remarkable leader. I would have loved to assure him that, in any situation, even in our darkest moments, we can rest in the shadow of the Most High.
Unfortunately, that opportunity never came. Alan García was buried on Good Friday in 2019.
2
We have come from a long way away
The sun cast its last rays through the dull window panes of the tiny adobe home. Daniel Ticona looked across the table at his nephew.
‘I have so much pain with these two hernias, and they are getting bigger.’ The Aymara Indian coughed, then continued, ‘Constantino, you told me your mother received such good treatment at that Diospi Suyana hospital. Maybe the doctors there can help me!’
Constantino slowly shook his head. ‘Uncle, it is such a long way from our village to the hospital. You would have to change coaches more than once. Would you be able to cope with the stress of such a journey?’
‘Of course, I can! God has given me strength!’ Daniel’s eyes showed his deep resolve. ‘I might be over eighty, but I can handle a coach trip!’
‘Uncle, I will come with you. We can leave this week if you like!’
Daniel’s weathered countenance brightened. ‘My nephew, I thank you. May God watch over us through our travels!’
The older man stuck his wrinkled hands into the pockets of his faded trousers, as if this gesture would give him courage, for he certainly would need some. He had no way of knowing that political unrest was gathering like dark storm clouds over the state of Cusco.
Sometimes it is better not to know what is coming, to be able to lie down and rest in ignorance. Fear and uncertainty can have such a paralysing effect, tormenting and draining our last drop of strength. Daniel’s body was wracked with pain, his endurance all but spent. There was a government hospital in his city of Puno, but its reputation was poor. Most doctors showed no kindness or respect when treating Indio patients. Getting an appointment took weeks, and an operation even longer. Although private care was more efficient, it was financially beyond the means of Daniel and his family. The only alternative was to seek help further afield.
So on a Wednesday afternoon in February, in the middle of the rainy season, Daniel and Constantino boarded a minibus in their village of Ilave that would take them along the bumpy tracks to the central Puno station. Daniel had had some experience with long coach trips for medical treatment in the past. On a couple of occasions he had travelled south, around Lake Titicaca and into Bolivia to a clinic in the city of La Paz. This usually took seven or eight hours, provided there were no incidents at the Peru–Bolivia border, no flat tyres, etc. On this journey, however, Daniel would be heading north. He was familiar with Cusco, the old capital of the Inca empire, but Constantino explained that Diospi Suyana was even farther away, beyond the horizon, somewhere in the state of Apurímac.
The hectic atmosphere was unsettling to Daniel. So many people shouting and hurrying. His eyes swept the scene, constantly looking over to Constantino. Without his nephew, he would be lost entirely in a place like this.
Soon the pair were standing in the queue for tickets. When they arrived at the window, Constantino purchased two tickets for Cusco. They would depart at 22:30.
Thoughts of all the risks and dangers they might encounter flooded Daniel’s mind. Would the driver stay awake at the wheel? Would he drive safely? Daniel was always hearing stories about horrific highway collisions. Armed robberies were not uncommon either, carried out by masked men hiding in darkness, waiting to ambush an unsuspecting vehicle, then disappearing with their loot into the bushes lining the road.
Daniel breathed a quiet prayer. He knew God would be with him and Constantino, all the way to Cusco and even beyond that. He resolved to take courage and put his trust in God.
It took the coach about eight hours to cover the 400-kilometre stretch of highway to Cusco. Thank heavens there were no incidents. Shortly after dawn, the men took a taxi through the streets of Cusco, then picked up a minibus for the three-hour drive to Curahuasi. For the last leg of their trip, they climbed into a three-wheeled mototaxi that struggled at a walking pace past the guesthouses and restaurants on the way to the hospital.
The entrance to Diospi Suyana bustled with street traders and food vendors offering sweets, sandwiches and even hot meals. The highly sought-after admissions tickets, called ‘coupons’, had long since been distributed. People queued outside all night long for the opportunity to receive one. Those not so fortunate were standing around dejectedly, undecided as to whether they should try again the next day.
The mototaxi stopped at the guards’ station. Two Indios in black uniforms approached the vehicle. Daniel and his nephew could see on the wall ahead, written in large letters, ‘Hospital Diospi Suyana – Welcome!’
This brought hope to both their hearts, but looking further, they saw the masses of people gathered in the courtyard – so many milling about, looking as though they had been invited then forgotten. The numbers clearly exceeded the capacity of the hospital. Would Daniel share their fate and face bitter disappointment?
‘We have no coupons left for today,’ one of the guards explained sympathetically.
Constantino was not willing to give up hope. ‘We have just travelled fifteen hours from Puno! My uncle is eighty-two years old and in terrible pain!’
‘If that is so,’ the guard replied, ‘we will admit you as an emergency case!’
The two weary travellers heaved a massive sigh of relief. Another hurdle cleared. They slowly walked the path to the hospital doors. To the right, children climbed and played on the playground swings, seemingly without a care in the world. Daniel and Constantino entered the lobby, apprehensive as to what awaited them. The waiting area was huge and overflowing, as one might expect. About 120 patients, predominantly Quechua Indios, sat on orange-coloured benches. Others crowded around the reception desk, hoping for good news.
‘We have come from such a long way,’ one campesino pleaded. ‘Can a doctor possibly see my mother this afternoon?’
The receptionist shook her head. ‘I am afraid not. Perhaps tomorrow.’
Daniel and his nephew followed signs directing them down the corridor between the pharmacy and laboratories to a small waiting area, then through double doors into A&E. Several nurses at the desk welcomed the pair.
‘How can we help you?’ a diminutive Peruvian woman asked, introducing herself as Maribel.
Since his uncle could only speak broken Spanish, Constantino answered. ‘We travelled all night to get here. My uncle is in pain. He has a lot of swelling on both sides of his groin, and something is wrong with his prostate too.’
Maribel invited them to have a seat. She told them she would need to take some notes, and then get pulse and blood pressure readings.
Daniel did not reply, but his gratitude shone through his eyes. What a gift to be looked after with such care and even a smile. The nurse had a foreign accent and it was soon clear she was serving at Diospi Suyana as a missionary. Whatever trouble they had gone through to get here became worth it in a single moment.
A short time later, Daniel was directed to a bed behind a folding privacy screen. Constantino sat in an adjacent chair.
‘I am so grateful we got in,’ whispered Daniel. ‘When I think of all those people we passed who waited all night, who are still waiting – we are very lucky!’
Constantino nodded in agreement.
A young female doctor with sparkling dark eyes swept in after about ten minutes.
‘My name is Dr Karla Aguilar, and I would like to help you. First, I have a few questions, then we will do a thorough physical examination.’
Daniel was amazed at the efficiency of it all. After the exam, a nurse came in to collect blood and urine samples. A little while later, he was taken all the way to the other side of the hospital for an ultrasound scan. As the foreign medic pressed a plastic stick-shaped object against Daniel’s abdomen, he smiled and explained that this would help him see inside Daniel’s body.
‘Your prostate is really swollen and you have hernias as well!’ the medic declared.
When the ultrasound was complete, Daniel and Constantino returned to the waiting area. Before they left the building that afternoon, all lab results were in, all pertinent information, including diagnosis, was filed, and Daniel had an appointment scheduled with a urologist for the following morning. Word was that this doctor from Austria really knew his stuff. Daniel would be in good hands. They found cheap lodging across the road at one of the many establishments catering to Diospi Suyana guests.
After a much-needed good night’s rest, Daniel and Constantino returned to the hospital in the morning and made themselves comfortable in the crowded waiting area. Suddenly, at 8.30am, large double doors swung open, revealing a sanctuary with white walls and stained-glass windows. On a platform towards the front, young people were playing modern worship music. The patients in the waiting area rose almost as one and filed into the chapel. Daniel and Constantino followed, not knowing exactly what to expect. When Daniel looked behind him, he could see that more than 250 people had made their way into the two storeys of the chapel. A simple wooden cross hung at the front. Rays of sunshine streamed through the coloured glass, casting vibrant reflections across the walls and floor.
After the assembly had sung two songs, a pastor who looked to be about seventy years of age took the floor. He addressed the people in both Spanish and Quechua. Daniel knew instinctively that this man was the ‘real deal’. Instead of spouting platitudes, he spoke from his heart about God, creator of the universe, who loves all people, old and young, healthy and sick. The man’s words were a healing balm to the worried patients who had come to Curahuasi with their physical pain and troubled souls, driven by the desperate need to find relief and restoration. It comes as no surprise that the Quechua word Curahuasiactually means ‘house of healing’, and the literal translation of Diospi Suyana is ‘God is our hope’.
At 10.30am, the urologist called for Daniel. Dr David Brady was a tall, slim man who towered over most of his patients by at least a foot. After carefully reading Daniel’s file, he stated that it was very clear that Daniel would require an operation to repair his hernias, and asked if he would like to have the procedure done at Diospi Suyana. Constantino translated each sentence into Aymara for his uncle.
Daniel nodded assent and asked if the operation could be completed before the dry season in May. He was shocked when Dr Brady responded that he could schedule the procedure for the following Tuesday, 12th February.
Only a few days to wait! That afternoon, Daniel and Constantino travelled to Cusco to spend the weekend with some acquaintances there. Only one more weekend of pain! Daniel was ecstatic.
Daniel understood how precious this opportunity was. There was no way he was going to miss it. He would be back at Diospi Suyana bright and early Monday morning, whatever the cost.
