Kornelius Isaak and the Moro Spear

Actual Moro weapons. Courtesy of Centre for MB Studies.

They had been warned. They knew that the Moros, a warlike tribe living in the north, might attack. From the time Mennonites first settled in the Paraguayan Chaco in 1928, Lengua natives had alerted them to the danger from the enemy tribe.

But this didn’t deter the Mennonites. In 1935, they established a mission to Chaco aboriginals. This “Light to the Indians” ministry made efforts to establish contact with various native peoples, including the Moros.

Years went by without any significant contact with the Moros. In 1958, the Mennonite mission committee decided that the time for more than passing contact had come. They would take a risk for the sake of the gospel and attempt to build a relationship with the tribespeople.

Two experienced missionaries were chosen for the perilous undertaking. One was David Hein, married with six children. The other was Kornelius Isaak, also married and with three children. The two, who spoke Spanish but not the Moro language, were eager to go. A Lengua native accompanied them on the 225-kilometer journey into the Moro heartland.

During the last part of the jeep journey, the roads were narrow and swampy. Several times they had to dig their vehicle out from the mud. At last they came to a shallow body of water filled with fish.

Suddenly, the accompanying Lengua exclaimed, “There’s fire nearby!” Leaving the jeep, the missionaries discovered footprints on the ground and a few fires burning here and there. They wedged sticks in the ground, attached shirts to them, and set off for a nearby oil company camp.

For the next two days, the missionaries returned to the same sites. Each day they left more shirts. The Moros in turn left feathers, an empty wooden bowl, and a bag. The meaning of the exchange wasn’t clear. The Lengua guide felt uneasy about the signs.

The missionaries returned to their home community to report what they had found and to confer with the mission committee and their families. They counselled caution. In view of the unclear signs and danger, they weren’t prepared to send the missionaries back to the Moros. If they decided to go on their own, however, the committee would support and stand behind them.

The Heins and Isaaks were afraid. But the two men, while concerned about their safety, were eager to continue their mission, come what might.

On September 10, 1958, together with another Lengua companion, they had driven only a few kilometers into Moro territory when the guide said, “There they are.”

Ahead was a group of some 50 men, scantily clad and apparently without weapons. The missionaries stopped their jeep, got out, and waved to the strangers. The men seemed friendly. They came closer and accepted gifts.

A tall native approached Kornelius. Looking over the Moro’s shoulder, Kornelius was shocked to see more men farther back carrying weapons. Things did not bode well.

What happened next was sudden. The men shouted insolent words at the missionaries and demanded more gifts. One tried to wrestle the Lengua guide to the ground. The Lengua attempted to grab the hunting rifle in the jeep but was unable to reach it.

Kornelius Isaak (left) and Johann, a Lengua native guide, before leaving to contact the Moro Indians, September 10, 1958.

David Hein took hold of the rifle and waved it high in the air. When the Moros saw this they retreated, but not before one of them had pointed an arrow at David. The native didn’t release the bow, however.

In the midst of the commotion, Kornelius Isaak felt an intense pain. The next moment, he pulled out a thin spear from his side. No one had seen it happen. From all appearances the wound didn’t seem serious.

Kornelius, still at the wheel of the jeep, turned the vehicle around and urged his group to return to the oil camp as quickly as possible. But after travelling only a short distance, Kornelius became so weak that David had to continue driving.

From the camp, Kornelius was taken by airplane to a nearby town and admitted to hospital. The doctors found that his spleen and kidneys were badly damaged.

The next day, with his wife Marg, his parents, and many friends at his side, Kornelius died. His last words were a prayer for the Moro aboriginals whom he had tried to reach.

The New Tribes Missions and Catholic missionaries continued to work among the Moros. The tribe became more open and eventually individuals accepted the Christian gospel. In 1961, Mennonites learned that the Moros had attacked the first missionaries as revenge for an earlier epidemic that had broken out among them after the oil company camp had been established.

In time, a number of Moros were baptized. Some came to the Mennonite settlements seeking employment.

In 1988, thirty years after the tragic death of a Mennonite missionary, a group of Moros came to the Fernheim Colony for a visit. Among the group were members of the warrior band that attacked the missionaries. Now, however, they came as friends. Former enemies had become brothers and sisters, thanks to the sacrifice of some brave Christ followers.

Adapted, with the author’s permission, from No Permanent City: Stories from Mennonite History and Life (Herald Press, 1993).