North Sentinel island
DIARY OF JOHN ALLEN CHAU
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 14, 2018
Port Blair
I’ve been in a safehouse in Port Blair since returning from Hut Bay, Little Andaman, for the past 11 days! I hadn’t seen any full sunlight till today and my nice tan I had acquired started to fade, as well as my thickly callused feet. The benefit of that is that I was essentially in quarantine. I met last night with the fishermen who are all believers and who agreed to drop me off. The meeting went well—I trust them. The drop-zone was pointed out on the map as being a cove on the SW of the island and I depart in three or so hours. The plan is to link up with the crew and depart tonight, arriving at the shore around 0400. From there we make progressive contact with fish as gifts over the next few days, then send me off. Depending on the darkness, I might land briefly and bury and cache a pelican case for later. We might even send the kayak laden with gifts towards shore.
Soli Deo Gloria!
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
North Sentinel
Rendezvoused successfully last night with the friends. Currently on the boat, waiting to make contact. Left around 2000 and arrived around 2230 but as we went north along the eastern shore, we saw boat lights in the distance and turned around, headed south and evaded them. All along the way, our boat was highlighted by bioluminescent plankton—and as fish jumped nearby, we could see them like darting mermaids shimmering along. The Milky Way was above and God Himself was shielding us from the coastguard and navy patrols. At 0430, we entered the cove on the western shore and as the sun began to light the east, me and two of the guys jumped in the shallows and brought my two pelicans and kayak onto the northern point of the cove. The dead coral is sharp and I already got a slight scratch on my right leg. Now we see a Sentinel islander house and are waiting for them to come out. We also saw three large fires on the eastern shore last night.
Soli Deo Gloria
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
North Sentinel Island, Southwest Cove
Around 0830, I tried initiating contact. I went back to the cached kayak and built it up, then round to the boat and got two large fish—one barracuda and one half GT/tuna. I put them on the kayak and began waving to the house we had seen. As I was about 400 yds out, I heard women looing and chattering. Then I spotted two dugout canoes with outriggers. I rowed past one, then saw movement on shore. Two armed Sentinelese came rushing out yelling at me—they had two arrows each, unstrung, until they got closer. I hollered “My name is John. I love you and Jesus loves you. Jesus Christ gave me authority to come to you. Here is some fish!”
I regret I began to panic slightly as I saw them string arrows in their bows. I picked up the GT/tuna and threw it toward them. They kept coming. I slid the barracuda off. It started to sink but my thoughts were directed toward the fact I was almost in arrow range. I backpaddled. When they got the fish, I turned and paddled like I never have in my life, back to the boat.
I felt some fear but mostly was disappointed they didn’t accept me right away. I can now say I’ve been nearly shot by the Sentinelese and I’ve walked and cached gear on their island. Now I’m resting in the boat and will try again later, leaving gifts on shore and in rocks. Lord protect me and guide me.
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
North Sentinel Island, Southwest Cove
Well, I’ve been shot by the Sentinelese. After that initial contact, some of the guys went spear fishing and caught what they call “cutt-a-la,” a grouper or sea bass with big lips—they caught two and each weighed about 30lbs. After first going poop in the water, I built the kayak and we put the two fish on top and, inside, my small pelican. [That] contained pencils, my contact response kit (for arrow wounds), abdominal pads, chest seal, dental forceps for arrow removal, picture cards, multivitamins, multitools (including one my brother gave as a groomsmen gift that has my name engraved on it) and, unfortunately, my passports. I had my waterproof Bible and some gifts: scissors, tweezers, safety pins, fishing line, hooks, cordage, rubber tubing and my new Speedo towel.
I set off toward the north shore. As I got closer, I heard whoops and shouts from the hut. I made sure to stay out of arrow range and as they (about 6) yelled at me, I tried to parrot their words back to them. They burst out laughing. Probably were saying bad words or insulting me. Then two dropped their bows and took a dugout to meet me. I kept a safe distance and dropped off the fish and gifts. At first they poled their dugout past the gifts and were coming at me, then they turned and grabbed the gifts. I paddled after them and exchanged more yells.
Here’s where this nice meet and greet went south. A child and a young woman came behind the two gift receivers with bows drawn. I kept waving my hands to say “no bows” but they didn’t get the memo, I guess. By this time the waves had picked up and the kayak was getting near some shallow coral. The islanders saw that and blocked my exit. Then the little kid with bow and arrow came down the middle. I figured that this was it, so I preached a bit to them, starting in Genesis and disembarked my kayak to show them that I too have two legs. I was inches from [an] unarmed guy (well-built with a round face, yellowish pigment in circles on his cheeks, about 5ft 5″) and gave him a bunch of the scissors and gifts. Then they took the kayak. Then the little kid shot me with an arrow, directly into my Bible which I was holding in front of my chest.
I grabbed the arrow shaft as it broke on my Bible (on pp 933, Isaiah 63:5–65:2). The head was metal, thin but very sharp. They left me alone as I half-waded, half-swam through the broken coral to the deep where I knew their dugouts couldn’t reach [then] swam almost a mile back to the boat. Although I now have no kayak nor my small pelican and its contents, I’m grateful that I still have the written word of God.
LORD is this island Satan’s last stronghold where none have even had a chance to hear Your Name?
JOURNAL ENTRY, NOVEMBER 15, 2018
The plan now is to rest and sleep on the boat and in the morning to drop me off by the cache and then I walk along the beach toward the same hut I’ve been giving gifts to. It’s weird—actually no, it’s natural: I’m scared.
There, I said it. Also frustrated and uncertain—is it worth me going on foot to meet them? Lord, let Your Will be done. If you want me to get actually shot or even killed with an arrow, then so be it. To You, God, I give all the glory of whatever happens. I DON’T WANT TO DIE! Would it be wiser to leave and let someone else continue? No, I don’t think so—I’m stuck here anyway without a passport. It almost seems like certain death to stay here, yet there is evidential change in two encounters in a single day.
Watching the sunset and it’s beautiful—crying a bit … wondering if it’ll be the last sunset I see before being in the place where the sun never sets. Tearing up a little.
God, I don’t want to die. WHO WILL TAKE MY PLACE IF I DO? OH GOD I miss my parents, my mom and my dad and Brian and Marilyn and Bobby (even though he was just here!) and Christian and someone I can talk to and be understood. None of the guys on the boat know much English to ask their opinions and tell stuff like this to. I’ve never felt this much grief or sorrow before. WHY! Why did a little kid have to shoot me? His high-pitched voice still lingers in my head. Now that I think about it, after I got shot by that arrow, I gave it BACK! Man, I should have snapped it. Father, forgive him and any of the people on this island who try to kill me, and especially forgive them if they succeed! What made them become this defensive and hostile? Why does this beautiful place have so much death?
Last night I had what I’d call a vision as I’ve never had one before. My eyes were shut but I wasn’t asleep. I saw a purple hue over an island-like city as a meteorite or star fell to it, and it was a frightening city with jagged spires and I felt disturbed. Then a different, whiteish light filled it and all the frightening bits melted away.
LORD strengthen me. Whoever comes after me to take my place, whether it’s after tomorrow or another time, please give them a double anointing and bless them mightily.
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
The plan for tomorrow is to drop me at the cache and then the boat will leave for the day, returning at night. I’m at peace with that plan because a) Pieter V. from South Africa said the reason the Jarawa didn’t kill him was that he got dropped with no boat nearby and b) if it goes badly on foot, the fishermen won’t have to bear witness to my death.
LETTER, NOVEMBER 16, 2018
Brian and Marilyn and Mom and Dad,
You guys might think I’m crazy in all this but I think it’s worth it to declare Jesus to these people. Please do not be angry at them or God if I get killed—rather please live your lives in obedience to whatever He has called you to and I’ll see you again when you pass through the veil. Don’t retrieve my body. This is not a pointless thing—the eternal lives of this tribe is at hand and I can’t wait to see them around the throne of God worshipping in their own language as Revelations 7:9-10 states.
I love you all and I pray none of you love anything in this world more than Jesus Christ.
Soli Deo Gloria
John Chau
11/16/18
Written from the cove on the southwest-ish (more like west) of North Sentinel Island.
JOURNAL LAST ENTRY, NOVEMBER 16, 2018
Woke up after a fairly restful sleep, heading to island now. I hope this isn’t my last note but if it is: to God be the glory—I’m heading back to the hut I’ve been to. Praying it goes well.
North Sentinel island
DIARY OF JOHN ALLEN CHAU
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 14, 2018
Port Blair
I’ve been in a safehouse in Port Blair since returning from Hut Bay, Little Andaman, for the past 11 days! I hadn’t seen any full sunlight till today and my nice tan I had acquired started to fade, as well as my thickly callused feet. The benefit of that is that I was essentially in quarantine. I met last night with the fishermen who are all believers and who agreed to drop me off. The meeting went well—I trust them. The drop-zone was pointed out on the map as being a cove on the SW of the island and I depart in three or so hours. The plan is to link up with the crew and depart tonight, arriving at the shore around 0400. From there we make progressive contact with fish as gifts over the next few days, then send me off. Depending on the darkness, I might land briefly and bury and cache a pelican case for later. We might even send the kayak laden with gifts towards shore.
Soli Deo Gloria!
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
North Sentinel
Rendezvoused successfully last night with the friends. Currently on the boat, waiting to make contact. Left around 2000 and arrived around 2230 but as we went north along the eastern shore, we saw boat lights in the distance and turned around, headed south and evaded them. All along the way, our boat was highlighted by bioluminescent plankton—and as fish jumped nearby, we could see them like darting mermaids shimmering along. The Milky Way was above and God Himself was shielding us from the coastguard and navy patrols. At 0430, we entered the cove on the western shore and as the sun began to light the east, me and two of the guys jumped in the shallows and brought my two pelicans and kayak onto the northern point of the cove. The dead coral is sharp and I already got a slight scratch on my right leg. Now we see a Sentinel islander house and are waiting for them to come out. We also saw three large fires on the eastern shore last night.
Soli Deo Gloria
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
North Sentinel Island, Southwest Cove
Around 0830, I tried initiating contact. I went back to the cached kayak and built it up, then round to the boat and got two large fish—one barracuda and one half GT/tuna. I put them on the kayak and began waving to the house we had seen. As I was about 400 yds out, I heard women looing and chattering. Then I spotted two dugout canoes with outriggers. I rowed past one, then saw movement on shore. Two armed Sentinelese came rushing out yelling at me—they had two arrows each, unstrung, until they got closer. I hollered “My name is John. I love you and Jesus loves you. Jesus Christ gave me authority to come to you. Here is some fish!”
I regret I began to panic slightly as I saw them string arrows in their bows. I picked up the GT/tuna and threw it toward them. They kept coming. I slid the barracuda off. It started to sink but my thoughts were directed toward the fact I was almost in arrow range. I backpaddled. When they got the fish, I turned and paddled like I never have in my life, back to the boat.
I felt some fear but mostly was disappointed they didn’t accept me right away. I can now say I’ve been nearly shot by the Sentinelese and I’ve walked and cached gear on their island. Now I’m resting in the boat and will try again later, leaving gifts on shore and in rocks. Lord protect me and guide me.
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
North Sentinel Island, Southwest Cove
Well, I’ve been shot by the Sentinelese. After that initial contact, some of the guys went spear fishing and caught what they call “cutt-a-la,” a grouper or sea bass with big lips—they caught two and each weighed about 30lbs. After first going poop in the water, I built the kayak and we put the two fish on top and, inside, my small pelican. [That] contained pencils, my contact response kit (for arrow wounds), abdominal pads, chest seal, dental forceps for arrow removal, picture cards, multivitamins, multitools (including one my brother gave as a groomsmen gift that has my name engraved on it) and, unfortunately, my passports. I had my waterproof Bible and some gifts: scissors, tweezers, safety pins, fishing line, hooks, cordage, rubber tubing and my new Speedo towel.
I set off toward the north shore. As I got closer, I heard whoops and shouts from the hut. I made sure to stay out of arrow range and as they (about 6) yelled at me, I tried to parrot their words back to them. They burst out laughing. Probably were saying bad words or insulting me. Then two dropped their bows and took a dugout to meet me. I kept a safe distance and dropped off the fish and gifts. At first they poled their dugout past the gifts and were coming at me, then they turned and grabbed the gifts. I paddled after them and exchanged more yells.
Here’s where this nice meet and greet went south. A child and a young woman came behind the two gift receivers with bows drawn. I kept waving my hands to say “no bows” but they didn’t get the memo, I guess. By this time the waves had picked up and the kayak was getting near some shallow coral. The islanders saw that and blocked my exit. Then the little kid with bow and arrow came down the middle. I figured that this was it, so I preached a bit to them, starting in Genesis and disembarked my kayak to show them that I too have two legs. I was inches from [an] unarmed guy (well-built with a round face, yellowish pigment in circles on his cheeks, about 5ft 5″) and gave him a bunch of the scissors and gifts. Then they took the kayak. Then the little kid shot me with an arrow, directly into my Bible which I was holding in front of my chest.
I grabbed the arrow shaft as it broke on my Bible (on pp 933, Isaiah 63:5–65:2). The head was metal, thin but very sharp. They left me alone as I half-waded, half-swam through the broken coral to the deep where I knew their dugouts couldn’t reach [then] swam almost a mile back to the boat. Although I now have no kayak nor my small pelican and its contents, I’m grateful that I still have the written word of God.
LORD is this island Satan’s last stronghold where none have even had a chance to hear Your Name?
JOURNAL ENTRY, NOVEMBER 15, 2018
The plan now is to rest and sleep on the boat and in the morning to drop me off by the cache and then I walk along the beach toward the same hut I’ve been giving gifts to. It’s weird—actually no, it’s natural: I’m scared.
There, I said it. Also frustrated and uncertain—is it worth me going on foot to meet them? Lord, let Your Will be done. If you want me to get actually shot or even killed with an arrow, then so be it. To You, God, I give all the glory of whatever happens. I DON’T WANT TO DIE! Would it be wiser to leave and let someone else continue? No, I don’t think so—I’m stuck here anyway without a passport. It almost seems like certain death to stay here, yet there is evidential change in two encounters in a single day.
Watching the sunset and it’s beautiful—crying a bit … wondering if it’ll be the last sunset I see before being in the place where the sun never sets. Tearing up a little.
God, I don’t want to die. WHO WILL TAKE MY PLACE IF I DO? OH GOD I miss my parents, my mom and my dad and Brian and Marilyn and Bobby (even though he was just here!) and Christian and someone I can talk to and be understood. None of the guys on the boat know much English to ask their opinions and tell stuff like this to. I’ve never felt this much grief or sorrow before. WHY! Why did a little kid have to shoot me? His high-pitched voice still lingers in my head. Now that I think about it, after I got shot by that arrow, I gave it BACK! Man, I should have snapped it. Father, forgive him and any of the people on this island who try to kill me, and especially forgive them if they succeed! What made them become this defensive and hostile? Why does this beautiful place have so much death?
Last night I had what I’d call a vision as I’ve never had one before. My eyes were shut but I wasn’t asleep. I saw a purple hue over an island-like city as a meteorite or star fell to it, and it was a frightening city with jagged spires and I felt disturbed. Then a different, whiteish light filled it and all the frightening bits melted away.
LORD strengthen me. Whoever comes after me to take my place, whether it’s after tomorrow or another time, please give them a double anointing and bless them mightily.
JOURNAL ENTRY, November 15, 2018
The plan for tomorrow is to drop me at the cache and then the boat will leave for the day, returning at night. I’m at peace with that plan because a) Pieter V. from South Africa said the reason the Jarawa didn’t kill him was that he got dropped with no boat nearby and b) if it goes badly on foot, the fishermen won’t have to bear witness to my death.
LETTER, NOVEMBER 16, 2018
Brian and Marilyn and Mom and Dad,
You guys might think I’m crazy in all this but I think it’s worth it to declare Jesus to these people. Please do not be angry at them or God if I get killed—rather please live your lives in obedience to whatever He has called you to and I’ll see you again when you pass through the veil. Don’t retrieve my body. This is not a pointless thing—the eternal lives of this tribe is at hand and I can’t wait to see them around the throne of God worshipping in their own language as Revelations 7:9-10 states.
I love you all and I pray none of you love anything in this world more than Jesus Christ.
Soli Deo Gloria
John Chau
11/16/18
Written from the cove on the southwest-ish (more like west) of North Sentinel Island.
JOURNAL LAST ENTRY, NOVEMBER 16, 2018
Woke up after a fairly restful sleep, heading to island now. I hope this isn’t my last note but if it is: to God be the glory—I’m heading back to the hut I’ve been to. Praying it goes well.