Manuel Navarro—Peru

A young man in Peru experiences hardship and healing in the mission field

Learn Wisdom in Thy Youth

In early 1986, sixteen-year-old Manuel Navarro was a priest in the San Carlos Branch in Nazca, a small city in southern Peru. The San Carlos Branch was considered a “basic unit” of the Church, a designation created in the late 1970s for branches where the Church was new and had few members. In some of these units, including the San Carlos Branch, youth and adults met together in combined classes and quorums on Sundays.

Manuel enjoyed meeting with the Melchizedek Priesthood holders during the third hour of church. There were around twenty young Aaronic Priesthood holders in the branch, but fewer than half of them attended regularly. Meeting with the elders in the branch gave Manuel a chance to learn about the duties of both the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthoods.

Manuel had been a member of the Church for two years. He was baptized with his parents and younger sister. Now his father was a branch president, and his commitment to the Savior strengthened Manuel’s. “If Dad is in this,” he told himself, “it is because this is good.”

So far, 1986 was turning out to be an important year for the Church in South America. In January, temples were dedicated in Lima, Peru, and in Buenos Aires, Argentina—the third and fourth temples on the continent. The house of the Lord in Lima served not only Manuel and the 119,000 Latter-day Saints in Peru but also the more than 100,000 Saints living in Colombia, Ecuador, Bolivia, and Venezuela. Immediately after the dedication, two hundred Peruvians and two hundred Bolivians received their endowment.

Manuel soon began his second year of seminary, a program the Church had been expanding throughout the world for more than a decade. Previously, Manuel’s branch had offered seminary classes in the evening. But in 1986, the regional coordinator for the Church Educational System in Peru had implemented daily early-morning seminary for most of the country’s 298 wards and branches. Church members in Peru approved of the change. They wanted seminary classes to be held close to the homes of the students and their local volunteer teachers.

The first seminary classes Manuel attended were held in his home, but eventually they moved to the branch’s rented meetinghouse. Each weekday, Manuel walked about two miles to attend class at six o’clock in the morning. At first, waking up early was not easy, but he came to enjoy going to seminary with the other youth. With the encouragement of his teacher, he developed the habit of praying right after he awoke in the morning, even if it required getting up even earlier.

In seminary, Manuel received a set of “scripture mastery” cards. Printed on these cards were important scriptural passages that seminary students around the world were expected to learn. Since Manuel’s class was studying the Book of Mormon that year, the first scripture mastery verse he learned was 1 Nephi 3:7: “I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded.”

One seminary teacher, Ana Granda, taught Manuel and his classmates about their eternal value and destiny as children of God. Listening to her teach, Manuel felt that he mattered to someone. He gained a testimony that God truly cared for His children.

He also saw how keeping the commandments protected him from many of the problems other youth his age experienced. Although he played soccer with friends who were not Latter-day Saints, he found that his closest friends were the youth at church. On Wednesdays, they would attend “missionary nights,” where they played games and socialized with the missionaries serving in the area.

Manuel’s friends studied with him, supported him, and helped him stay on the right path. When he and his cousin went to parties on Saturday nights, their friends outside the Church never offered them alcohol. They knew they were Latter-day Saints and respected their beliefs.

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Putting a Mission First

Two years later, in April, Manuel Navarro came to his father with some disappointing news. For the past few months, he had been in Lima, Peru, studying hard to enter a prestigious university in the city. Yet despite his best efforts, he had failed to get into the school. If he wanted to try again to be admitted, he would need to study for another six months.

“Manuel,” his father said, “do you want to continue preparing for university, or do you want to prepare for a mission?”

Manuel knew the prophet had asked every worthy and able young man in the Church to serve a mission. And his patriarchal blessing spoke of missionary service. Yet he had planned to go on a mission after enrolling in the university. He believed it would be easier for him to return to university after the mission if he could reserve his enrollment before leaving. Now he didn’t know what to do. His father told him to take some time to decide.

Right away, Manuel read the Book of Mormon and prayed. As he did, he felt the Spirit guiding his decision. By the very next day, he was ready with his answer. He knew he needed to serve a mission.

“OK,” his father said. “Let’s help you.”

One of the first things Manuel did was find a job. He assumed that he’d work at a nearby bank, since his father knew some of the employees there. But instead, his father drove him downtown to the construction site of the branch’s first chapel. He asked the supervisor if there was a position for Manuel on the construction crew. “No problem,” the supervisor said. “We’ll put him to work.”

Manuel joined the crew in June, and each time he got paid, the worker who gave him his check reminded him to use it for his mission. Manuel’s mother also helped him set aside most of the check for his mission fund and tithing.

Missions were costly, and Peru’s struggling economy made it difficult for many Saints there to fully fund their missions. For years, all full-time missionaries had depended on themselves, their families, their congregations, and even the kindness of strangers to fund their missions. After President Kimball urged all eligible young men to serve, the Church invited its members to contribute to a general missionary fund for those who needed financial help.

Now local funds were expected to cover at least a third of mission costs. If missionaries could not pay for the rest, they could draw upon the general fund. In Peru and other South American countries, Church leaders also set up a system where local members provided missionaries one meal each day, helping them save money. Manuel arranged to pay for half of his mission while his parents paid for the rest.

After working for about six months, Manuel received his mission call. His father said they could either open it right away or wait until Sunday and read it in sacrament meeting. Manuel couldn’t wait that long, but he would wait until his mother got off work that evening.

When she finally got home, Manuel opened the envelope, and his eyes first went to President Ezra Taft Benson’s signature. He then began reading the rest of the call, his heartbeat racing with every word. When he saw that he would be serving in the Peru Lima North Mission, he was overjoyed.

Manuel Navarro in the Peru Lima North Mission, circa 1990. (Church History Library, Salt Lake City.)

It had always been his desire to serve a mission in his home country.

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Caught in the Blast

Late in the day on June 7, 1990, Manuel Navarro and his mission companion, Guillermo Chuquimango, were walking back to their house in Huaraz, Peru. Manuel had begun his mission in March 1989 at the Missionary Training Center in Lima, one of fourteen MTCs around the world. He enjoyed being a missionary—working hard, visiting different regions of the country, and bringing people to Jesus Christ.

His current area could be dangerous at night, though. A revolutionary group called Sendero Luminoso, or the Shining Path, had been warring with the Peruvian government for more than a decade. Lately, their attacks had become more aggressive as rising inflation and economic strife beset the South American nation.

Manuel and Guillermo, another native Peruvian, knew the dangers they faced as they left home each morning. Groups like the Sendero Luminoso sometimes targeted Latter-day Saints because they associated the Church with United States foreign policy. There were now more than a million Church members in Spanish-speaking nations, with around 160,000 in Peru. In recent years, revolutionaries had assaulted Latter-day Saint missionaries and bombed meetinghouses across Latin America. In May 1989, revolutionaries had shot and killed two missionaries in Bolivia. Since then, the political climate had only grown more intense, and attacks against the Church increased.

The five missions in Peru had responded to the violence by setting curfews and restricting missionary work to the daytime. But this evening, Manuel and Guillermo were feeling happy and talkative. They had just taught a gospel lesson and had about fifteen minutes to get home.

As they walked and chatted, Manuel spotted two young men a block or so ahead of them. They were pushing a small, yellow car and looked like they needed help. Manuel thought about lending a hand, but the men soon started the car and drove off.

A short time later, the missionaries approached a park near their home. The yellow car was parked on the pavement about five feet from where they walked. Nearby was a military base with a detachment of troops.

“It looks like a car bomb,” Guillermo said. Manuel saw some people running away, and in that instant, the car exploded.

The blast slammed into Manuel, throwing him into the air as shrapnel whizzed around him. When he hit the ground, he was terrified. He thought of his companion. Where was he? Had he taken the brunt of the explosion?

Just then, he felt Guillermo pick him up off the ground. The park looked like a war zone as soldiers from the detachment—the bomb’s apparent target—fired their guns past the smoldering remains of the car. Leaning on his companion, Manuel managed to walk the rest of the way home.

When they arrived, he went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. His face was bloody, but he could not find a wound on his head. He simply felt faint.

“Give me a blessing,” he told his companion. Guillermo, who had received only minor injuries, placed his trembling hands on Manuel’s head and blessed him.

A short time later, the police came to the house. Thinking the missionaries were the young men who planted the bomb, the officers apprehended them and took them to the police station. There, one of the officers saw Manuel’s condition and said, “This one is going to die. Let’s take him to the health center.”

At the police health center, the chief officer recognized the elders. Manuel had recently interviewed him for baptism. “They are not terrorists,” he told the other officers. “They are missionaries.”

Under the chief’s care, Manuel washed his face and finally found a deep wound beneath his right eye. Once the chief saw it, he rushed Manuel and Guillermo to the hospital. “I can’t do anything here,” he explained.

Not long after, Manuel fainted from loss of blood. He urgently needed a transfusion. Saints from Huaraz came to the hospital, hoping to donate blood, but none of them had the right type. Doctors then tested Guillermo’s blood and found him to be a perfect match.

For a second time that night, Guillermo saved his companion’s life.

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When the Days Get Dark

The day after the explosion in Huaraz, doctors transferred Manuel Navarro to a clinic in Lima. There he was greeted by his mission president, Enrique Ibarra, and received a blessing from Elder Charles A. Didier, a member of the area presidency. In the blessing, Elder Didier promised that Manuel would soon leave the clinic and return to the mission field.

After attending to Manuel’s other injuries, doctors turned their focus to reconstructing his injured face. Shrapnel had cut his cheekbone and severed the optic nerve of his right eye, requiring the eye’s removal. His parents, who had come to Lima, broke the news to him. “Son,” his mother said, “they’re going to operate.”

Manuel was shocked. He felt no pain in his eye and, until now, did not know why it was bandaged. His mother comforted him. “We are here,” she said. “We are with you.”

With full financial support from the Church, Manuel underwent three operations to remove his eye and repair its damaged socket. It would be a long recovery, and members of his extended family thought he should return to his hometown once he was released from the clinic. But Manuel refused to leave the mission field. “My contract with the Lord is for two years, and it’s not up yet,” he told his father.

While recovering at the clinic, Manuel received visits from Luis Palomino, a friend from his hometown who was attending school in Lima. Although his injuries made it difficult for him to speak with Luis, Manuel began sharing the missionary lessons. Luis was surprised and impressed by Manuel’s decision to finish his mission.

“I want to know what is motivating you,” Luis told him. “Why is your faith so great?”

Six weeks after the explosion, Manuel left the clinic and started serving at the mission office in Lima. The threat of terrorism still loomed, and he was afraid every time he saw a car like the one that exploded. At night, he struggled to sleep without medication.

Each day, one of the elders in the mission office would change Manuel’s bandages. Manuel could not bear to look in the mirror and see his missing eye. Around three weeks after leaving the clinic, he received a prosthetic.

Missionaries Guillermo Chuquimango (left), Manuel Navarro, and Brian Haws in Peru, circa 1991. (Church History Library, Salt Lake City.)

One day, Luis came to the mission office to visit Manuel. “I want to be baptized,” he told him. “What do I have to do?” The mission office was not far from where Luis lived, so over the next few weeks, Manuel and his companion taught Luis the rest of the lessons at a nearby chapel. Manuel was excited to teach a friend, and Luis eagerly completed all the goals he set with the missionaries.

On October 14, 1990, Manuel performed Luis’s baptism. He was still bothered by his injury, but the ordeal had made it possible for him to baptize a friend from his hometown—something he never expected to do on his mission. After Luis came out of the water, they embraced, and Manuel felt the Spirit strongly. He knew Luis could feel it too.

To commemorate the occasion, Manuel gave Luis a Bible. “When the days get dark,” Manuel wrote on the inside cover, “just remember this day, the day you were reborn.”

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Trust in the Lord

When Manuel Navarro completed his mission in March 1991, his parents came to Lima to pick him up. Since he did not live in a stake, the local mission president released him from service. Yet Manuel was not quite ready to return to Nazca, his hometown in southern Peru. He had promised a friend in his last area that he would come to her baptism, so he and his parents stayed in the city for another week.

One morning, Manuel and his father went out to buy bread for breakfast. His father realized he had forgotten to bring money, so he turned around and headed back inside. “Wait for me here,” he said.

Manuel froze. After having a mission companion for so long, it felt strange to be alone on the street. After a moment, he decided to stay put. “I’m not a missionary anymore,” he thought.

Even after returning to Nazca, Manuel struggled to adapt to life after the mission—especially with his injury. Shaking hands was harder with one eye. He kept putting his hand in the wrong place. Then a brother in his branch began to play ping-pong with him, and tracking the small, white ball with one eye helped him develop better depth perception.

In April, Manuel moved to a larger city, Ica, to begin his university studies in automotive mechanics. It was less than a hundred miles from Nazca, and he had friends and family who lived there. He lived at his aunt’s house in a room he had to himself. His mother worried about him and would call him almost every night on the telephone. “Son,” she often told him, “always remember prayer.” Whenever he felt anguished, he prayed for strength and found refuge in the Lord.

To encourage young, unmarried Saints to meet and socialize, the Ica Stake offered institute classes and had a single-adult group that held activities and devotionals. Manuel found a home at these activities and in his new ward in Ica. While the children at church often stared at his prosthetic eye, adults treated him like any other member.

One day, Manuel was invited to meet with Alexander Nunez, the stake president in Ica. Manuel had known President Nunez since he was a teenager in Nazca, and President Nunez had visited his seminary class as a coordinator for the Church Educational System. Manuel admired him a great deal.

During the interview, President Nunez called Manuel to serve on the stake high council.

“Wow!” Manuel said to himself. Usually, Saints serving in stake callings were older and more experienced than he was. Yet President Nunez expressed confidence in him.

In the weeks that followed, Manuel visited his assigned wards. At first, he was self-conscious as he worked with ward leaders. But he learned to focus on the call, not on himself. As he studied the Church handbooks and reported to the stake, he no longer feared being too young for his position. He found that he enjoyed sharing his testimony with Saints in the stake, attending devotionals, and encouraging young people to serve missions.

The problems caused by Manuel’s injuries did not go away. Sometimes, when he was alone, he felt sad and shaken when he thought about the attack he suffered. The scriptures were full of miraculous stories of faithful people being healed of infirmities or preserved from danger. Yet they also told the stories of people like Job and Joseph Smith, who suffered pain and injustice without immediate deliverance. At times, when he thought about his injuries, Manuel wondered, “Why did this have to happen to me?”

Still, he knew he was fortunate to have survived the attack. In the months following his injury, terrorists had targeted and killed Church members and missionaries, spreading sorrow and fear among the Saints in Peru. Yet things were changing. The Peruvian government had begun cracking down on terrorism, leading to fewer attacks. And in the Church, the local Saints embraced an effort called “Trust in the Lord,” which invited them to fast, pray, and exercise faith that they would be delivered from the violence in their country.

Manuel found that his schoolwork and service in the Church helped him cope with his hardships. He trusted in the Lord and thought of Him often.

See the full text in Gospel Library for notes and source citations.