The two boys finally crash later, and I toss them back their blanket as I pull back on my not so newly wet pants. Dillon finds something else to keep busy with but Vaughn insists on taking his ten, not five. He’s quickly snoring. The other boys were up and about fast and went out again, and I figured I’d attempt at bathing in the river again, figuring I had nothing to lose because all my clothes were already wet. So I go back, do some wash as well. By then, it was Wednesday morning, and on Sunday, I was made to understand we’d be coming home on this day. But then a day into it, Tosh was saying we’d head home Thursday. After Tuesday night and the Duncan boys saying they might leave on Wednesday, I was ready to beat out with them. I wouldn’t ask to go home, but if a boat was going…. I’d had enough experience, and I was a LITTLE too wet. I could put up with and even enjoy more, but if I had the choice… yeah, I knew what it’d be. So after washing, I lay my key items to dry next to the fish being smoked and just waited around. (My clothes smelled like smoked fish after that, but I didn’t care, only that they were dry) I ate some shebay for breakfast, took another nap, and kept waiting.
The boys came back, ate smoked fish, and then the plan became to break this camp and go camp on the rocks at some place I didn’t hear for the last night. Anthony ran this all past me, in a half asking permission, half giving me the heads up sort of way. I just nodded. So we all broke camp and climbed in the boats, I, of course, with the Duncan boat. We went back to the place we’d gone the night before. There were some nice rocks right there and the sun was shining and I immediately whip out my clothes, wash and lay them out on the rocks as Vaughn does the same with his. Camp became divided; Vaughn saw the rocks as a drying opp and so his stuff, his brother’s and then mine, came to be with the rocks. Tosh’s boat gravitated towards the other side of the pond entrance, who saw it as a good place to set up a tarp and keep smoking fish. He claimed they’d not sleep that night, so they wouldn’t need to string up hammocks. I shimmied up on a fallen log and lay out my wet hammock (through leaks in the tarp and my wet body, it was wet, even though Matthew had taken it down and covered it for me while I was out fishing the night before), something that earned competency points with the boys, I think (I hope). Dillon took off with Tosh’s boat to do something, and Vaughn decides we’d tie up hammocks to take another five. Sure, I’m up for it!
I was through with going on the expeditions, and content to “keep camp” from this point out. Of course, he helps me tie up, and he even gets a tarp put up over us. My hammock ropes are pretty short so he swaps one of mine with one of his. I’m loving this sense of belonging to the two of them, even the idea of having our own separate camp. I cut a mango for us to share as he finishes with our hammocks and then we lay there, talking until he falls asleep. I fall asleep, too, though it starts to rain and I worry about the clothes. Vaughn sits up and declares that it’d pass and to not worry about it, so I relax, but then it kept raining and he finally goes “Ok, I think this is the Real Thing,” to which I laugh and then get up and collect all our clothes, their boxers and all. "Real thing" is a phrase he uses a lot, it's funny.
The sun comes out again and this time it’s on the other side of camp, so I carry them over there and lay them all out. The others come back and Dillon ties his hammock in between and above ours and he climbs up and in and we all three fall asleep for quite awhile. The others eat some smoked fish and farine, which I woke up and went over to help myself to. To get across, you had to climb into one boat, walk to the end, pull the other boat to you, get into the other boat, then climb onto the other bank. I went back over and fell asleep again. They all took off and when the boys finally woke up, they were still gone. They ask if I was ready to go out again and, being sufficiently dry and rested, I agree; one last hoo ha. It was just the three of us this night.
We go back into the pond area, set up nets again and catch some bait. I get bold and ask if I could clean one of the bait fish. I cut that baby up and bait my own hook, oh yeah. Having gotten quite comfortable with each other, we began talking a lot more personal this night. We keep up the convo quite easily, I’m almost having to divide my attention between the two. Dillon is the more quiet of the two. He’s 23. I’ve learned he’s the more moderate of the two, too. He doesn’t like to drink much, nor dance that much. He said I could dance better than he, which I laughed about. He said he’ll just kind of move his body and keep his feet in place, as his friends try all sorts of dancing. He may “have a woman,” but I never got around to talking about her with him. I also wanted to ask them if they had any kids, but never did. Vaughn, the younger one (18) on the other hand, is the more outgoing of the two. And when we got on the subject of dancing, I sort of teasingly asked “You like dancing, don’t you, Vaughn?” And he goes, oh, let’s not talk about THAT. But he quickly admitted to enjoying dancing and having a good time, to which I was aware of as we’ve been dancing buddies a lot. We didn’t talk about my preferences.
They ask if I’m learning any Makusi and I list off the words I know. Brian is Wapishana, Catherine is Makushi, and so their kids understand both Makusi and Wapishana, but can’t speak either very well. It was then that I noted that a lot of those in the village who stand out to me are those not with the typical Makushi background. For example, Fernando, who’s dad isn’t from the village and who’s mother is a strong individual in the village is the CH manager. Or Shamir, who’s dad is Indo-Guyanese from Town, who is quite a strong individual in the community as well. Interesting. I catch another fish! Smaller than the night before, but still exciting. We move around a couple times that night; I remember talking more than anything, not so much fishing. As we moved to our last location, one of them says “OK, this is it, whoever catches the next fish…” and I go “Ok, whoever catches the next fish doesn’t have to cook dinner!” To which they laughed and agreed to and so it was on. We all almost caught a couple, the boys brought a couple right up to the boat before they slipped off. It was a fun competitive spirit. Finally Vaughn pulled one in. We went and collected the nets and the fish that were in them then went back to camp. The others were already asleep – they ended up tying the big tarp up and it was apparent they had slung their hammocks under it – so much for staying up all night. So, it was me and Dillon who “had to” cook, and it was he who was doing the cutting and stuff, and even Vaughn was collecting wood for the fire (we still – ok THEY – had to smoke the fish we did get) so I got the pot and washed the fish as Dillon cut them up. We were down to just about nothing for supplies, and so our food was – fish chunks, salt and water. I also put a couple dashes of pepper sauce in there. One thing I learned about Dillon is that he doesn’t like plain boily boily, he likes his fish to be seasoned up, so I felt apologetic, but that’s all we had and they knew it. They had carried a pressure pot, and though I’d never cooked with one before and was nervous (I’ve heard they can blow up if they go unattended), I tried to assume control over the meal. The fish didn’t look done to me, but I got Dillon to check and he said it was fine, so there we go. They did their fishermen duties as I scooped some food for myself. It worked.
I climbed, only slightly guiltily, into my hammock as they stayed up to tend to the fish. But then they, too, climbed in and fell asleep. I remember waking myself up with a couple snores, which I only felt slightly self-conscious about. Three days together camping makes you 1) feel more close with those peoples and 2) lose a lot of formerly held modesties. At first light and first sound of them stirring, I popped up and began breaking camp – it was time to go home! I get my stuff in order, then try to get the rest of the stuff tidy. I was wearing dry clothes and was happy. The ride back was sunny and leisurely. They stop a couple of times and shoot at some things, but miss. We pull up to the main landing in Y and unload some things, then go to the Lawrence landing and fully unload. I get my bag and then stand around, not sure what to do. I sorta was waiting for the Duncan boys, but I knew they could be busy for awhile and again, it’s not like I really could or should help them. Tosh calls to me to head up, and so I look at them, ask if I could help or carry anything. Vaughn says no, but Dillon, looking at me and understanding, I think, of my desire to help, says I could carry the pressure pot up and drop it off at their house. Thank you, Dillon.
I look at them, telling them thanks for looking out for me (I practiced this sentence, choosing not to say “look after,” but “look out” for me.) and that I had some rice wine at my house with their name on it. Vaughn says he’ll be over later in the afternoon. I stopped by the house, and delivered the pot to Auntie Catherine. I asked how she was doing, and she tells me much better, though this has happened before. She says I must tell her whenever I need greens, which I appreciate. I tell her that her sons really looked out for me nicely, and it meant a lot. I walk up to CH to collect Ari and am met by Chris and Crew, which I was not prepared to take in. I was still running off Mapari fumes. I just grabbed Ari and head home, sweet home. I was visited later that afternoon, by Vaughn and his dad, Brian, and we shared a cup of rice wine and ‘nuff stories. Dillon came by later, as well, and I was invited to go by them for a mug of cari later. This could be the beginning of some beautiful friendships.
And so ended my first Rupununi Fishing Trip. What a diamond in the rough it was! I've learned that many of the experiences to be had down here are the same. It's also occurred to me that one can find beauty in anything, if they're looking for it. One can also find ugly, the same way.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Part 4: Fish and Farine to the Extreme
After all that, it was Time for a Five (a nap) but… because of the rain and the water-wading, my two pants were wet. I was weighing whether or not to just lay down in my hammock with wet pants, when Dillon sees me mentally struggling and asks. I tell him about the wet pants and say how I could either sleep with wet pants - or NO pants, to which we both shared a raised eyebrow look. He then offers his towel to wrap up in for a nap, which I graciously accepted and not-so-graciously changed into in my hammock corner. I’m laying down with as much dignity as I can, when he comes up to me, calling “Miss Sarah, I have something for you to try!” He brings me a bowl of shebay, which is basically farine and water, heavy on the water. He had mixed it with sugar, too, though. Sweetest thing ever. Closest thing to breakfast in bed I’ve had. I ate it, then fell asleep; we all did.
Dillon and Vaughn asked if I was coming out with them that night, to the rapids/jungle for some serious fishing and I said sure, sounded like a fun place, plus I’d enjoyed going with them the night before. I planned to go out with each boat, but I figured I’d go out with the hunters the last night. Toshao’s boat was the hunting boat. I was sorta hanging back, waiting for the call, sorta wanting to make sure I was welcome to attend, when I got the “Lehwego, Sarah!” So I grabbed my headlight, bug spray and followed. But then they look at me and go – “We’re going all night, you know, is that all you need?” It surprised me and I blurt out before thinking “But where will you sleep?” before realizing, duh, they’re not planning to sleep! C’mon, Sarah, buck up! You’re hunting now! I quickly backpedal, not wanting them to think I couldn’t handle it and tell them to wait as I just go get a “few more things.” I quickly realize that there’s not much more you can bring when you haven’t brought much to begin with. But, I grabbed my jacket and… the bag of fruit I’d brought. And then dumbly forgot my knife, the one practical and useful item I did bring on the trip. As I fidgetingly try to arrange myself on my seat, Vaughn comes back down from camp – hammock in hand. “This is just in case we want to take a five,” he says. I know he brought it along just for me, to which I felt embarrassed about for being a lightweight and speaking before thinking, but also really humble about, because I know and I know they know I’m not as able as they are and I might NEED to take a five. I put back on my not as newly wet pants, my last dry shirt and my jacket, and we’re off again; Dillon, Vaughn, Uncle Lewis and me.
This time, we stopped at this place I swore was a dead end, but Uncle carried us through the fallen trees which gave way to a large pond with different arms. We saw several caiman through the eye shine thing, and we set nets in two different places in the pond. Ok, they, not we. Two were nylon nets, two were twine. They all had some big holes in them, but still would catch some fish. After those were set, we went and threw our own lines again, they set me up, though not without some jokes about my throwing first. And wouldn’t you know – I CAUGHT ONE!! An amuri or something. They said it was about 7 or 8 pounds, so it’s definitely the biggest I’ve caught here, and it rivaled my biggest catch back home, which was that 8 pound albino catfish about 10 years ago! It was so cool and I was quite ecstatic. It made this cow-like noise as it flopped around in the boat. Uncle caught several and I almost caught another one. The boys got some, too, I think. We went to check the nets a couple times, and got a good haul. Dillon joked about weaving me a warishi, a nice long one to hold my one fish to carry back. A warishi is a pack worn on the back but the brunt of the weight rides on a strap worn across the forehead.
They kept asking if I was ready to take a five, but I kept saying no. My plan was to go as long as I could before crashing; I didn’t want to miss any of it, nor put a cramp in their style. The objective is to get food to feed people, not to picnic. I’d been noticing that both Vaughn and Dillon were very hard working, focused guys. Not that the others weren’t – they all are – but these two seemed to separate themselves from the rest in their direct way of doing things. Indeed, it was our boat that took off first that night, and returned last. We could hear Tosh and the other boat laughing in the distance. Dillon made the casual comment that Tosh came just to have some fun… I admit, I was a little surprised at how casual it had been so far. Of course, I don’t have any previous experience for comparison, so who knew. Anyway, we hoped the other boat was having as much luck with their hunting as we were with fishing.
They also commented on how they were surprised to see me on the trip and surprised that Toshao wasn’t better prepared to take care of 'a lady.' I sort of started to argue that I didn’t need or demand too much looking after, but I realized that perhaps there SHOULD be some extra attention spent… well, either way, I wasn’t upset with Toshao or the others for their (lack of) attention/preparation to a lady, but I was greatly appreciative of the surplus of attention given by the Duncan boys. And I sort of worried that they were having to carry the extra burden of looking after me, when they didn’t “sign up” for lady-sitting, and it was Toshao that had invited me. But I knew that they weren’t put out by it or me, and were only concerned that my needs were met.
Now, the whole village, or most of the village, is conscientious of making sure my needs are met, to which I am so greatly blessed. But it seemed to strike an even deeper chord that these two nice young men seemed to ardent in their attention to making sure I was ok and cared for. They almost seemed more worried for my well-being than I was. Learning to ask for and feel worthy of help is something I’m working on here, and they’d been helping me see it’s ok and expected to demand a little more attention/consideration as a woman and foreigner and not just to go along with what everyone else is doing.
All night, we were praying for no rain, me especially. It spitted for a bit, and then stopped; we were lucky! The boys seemed ready to call it a night, though it was still pretty early and I wondered/worried it was on account of me, but then maybe they were just pleased with the amount of fish we’d gotten. As we collected the nets, it started spitting, and then it KEPT raining. We’re heading back, and I’m just concentrating on keeping the rain from penetrating through my jacket to my huge cotton tshirt, when Dillon hands me his towel again for me to keep semi-dry, at least. I wrap up like a Muslim woman and just sit and bear it. But the day had been long and it was late and I was wet and I kept nodding off. Being on the boat for a day and a half now with these boys, Dillon always made sure to call out when a branch was coming, or even call “Miss Sarah!” in a voice that sounded exasperated at the branch for being in my way because I might not be able to handle it. It was the same tone he used when urging me over the ants – calling to me as if I’d be doing him a favor by keeping myself clear from danger. Rather than feel irritated or more feeble by this tone, I felt cared for and adoring. Really, what’s a little branch here or there?
So it was kinda funny when I quickly am awoken to first a “Sarah!” then a quickly following WHAP! as I get stung in the face by a medium-sized branch! And again, Dillon’s tone suggested I’d bothered him by letting myself get hit like that. I just laughed it off with a shrug and admitted “My eyes were closed!” We keep going, and at one point, I’m half dreaming, half awake that a white cow’s in the middle of the creek and jump in my seat to avoid it. I quickly realize it was just a dream, and was thankful I was not captain of the boat. I tell the boys about it the next day (after they ask if I was hurt by the branch) and they seemed to feel the cow meant I’d be running into a person soon. They’re into interpreting dreams, which we also had fun gaffing about.
We get back and I stumble up the hill, to my hammock, and in the cover of darkness, strip off my soaked pants, take off my jacket and grab my not as newly soaked shirt I’d gone running through the jungle with to use as a sheet. I curl up with my knees in my big red shirt and drape the wet shirt over the bottom of my legs and crash. The boys, though, are not finished – they have to clean and then smoke the fish they just caught to preserve them. They stayed up the rest of the night, tending to them. When light began to hit camp, Dillon meandered past, seeing me without cover and asked if I want to borrow their sheet… I sheepishly say yes and so my last couple of hours of sleep are slightly more warm, though not dryer than the rest.
Dillon and Vaughn asked if I was coming out with them that night, to the rapids/jungle for some serious fishing and I said sure, sounded like a fun place, plus I’d enjoyed going with them the night before. I planned to go out with each boat, but I figured I’d go out with the hunters the last night. Toshao’s boat was the hunting boat. I was sorta hanging back, waiting for the call, sorta wanting to make sure I was welcome to attend, when I got the “Lehwego, Sarah!” So I grabbed my headlight, bug spray and followed. But then they look at me and go – “We’re going all night, you know, is that all you need?” It surprised me and I blurt out before thinking “But where will you sleep?” before realizing, duh, they’re not planning to sleep! C’mon, Sarah, buck up! You’re hunting now! I quickly backpedal, not wanting them to think I couldn’t handle it and tell them to wait as I just go get a “few more things.” I quickly realize that there’s not much more you can bring when you haven’t brought much to begin with. But, I grabbed my jacket and… the bag of fruit I’d brought. And then dumbly forgot my knife, the one practical and useful item I did bring on the trip. As I fidgetingly try to arrange myself on my seat, Vaughn comes back down from camp – hammock in hand. “This is just in case we want to take a five,” he says. I know he brought it along just for me, to which I felt embarrassed about for being a lightweight and speaking before thinking, but also really humble about, because I know and I know they know I’m not as able as they are and I might NEED to take a five. I put back on my not as newly wet pants, my last dry shirt and my jacket, and we’re off again; Dillon, Vaughn, Uncle Lewis and me.
This time, we stopped at this place I swore was a dead end, but Uncle carried us through the fallen trees which gave way to a large pond with different arms. We saw several caiman through the eye shine thing, and we set nets in two different places in the pond. Ok, they, not we. Two were nylon nets, two were twine. They all had some big holes in them, but still would catch some fish. After those were set, we went and threw our own lines again, they set me up, though not without some jokes about my throwing first. And wouldn’t you know – I CAUGHT ONE!! An amuri or something. They said it was about 7 or 8 pounds, so it’s definitely the biggest I’ve caught here, and it rivaled my biggest catch back home, which was that 8 pound albino catfish about 10 years ago! It was so cool and I was quite ecstatic. It made this cow-like noise as it flopped around in the boat. Uncle caught several and I almost caught another one. The boys got some, too, I think. We went to check the nets a couple times, and got a good haul. Dillon joked about weaving me a warishi, a nice long one to hold my one fish to carry back. A warishi is a pack worn on the back but the brunt of the weight rides on a strap worn across the forehead.
They kept asking if I was ready to take a five, but I kept saying no. My plan was to go as long as I could before crashing; I didn’t want to miss any of it, nor put a cramp in their style. The objective is to get food to feed people, not to picnic. I’d been noticing that both Vaughn and Dillon were very hard working, focused guys. Not that the others weren’t – they all are – but these two seemed to separate themselves from the rest in their direct way of doing things. Indeed, it was our boat that took off first that night, and returned last. We could hear Tosh and the other boat laughing in the distance. Dillon made the casual comment that Tosh came just to have some fun… I admit, I was a little surprised at how casual it had been so far. Of course, I don’t have any previous experience for comparison, so who knew. Anyway, we hoped the other boat was having as much luck with their hunting as we were with fishing.
They also commented on how they were surprised to see me on the trip and surprised that Toshao wasn’t better prepared to take care of 'a lady.' I sort of started to argue that I didn’t need or demand too much looking after, but I realized that perhaps there SHOULD be some extra attention spent… well, either way, I wasn’t upset with Toshao or the others for their (lack of) attention/preparation to a lady, but I was greatly appreciative of the surplus of attention given by the Duncan boys. And I sort of worried that they were having to carry the extra burden of looking after me, when they didn’t “sign up” for lady-sitting, and it was Toshao that had invited me. But I knew that they weren’t put out by it or me, and were only concerned that my needs were met.
Now, the whole village, or most of the village, is conscientious of making sure my needs are met, to which I am so greatly blessed. But it seemed to strike an even deeper chord that these two nice young men seemed to ardent in their attention to making sure I was ok and cared for. They almost seemed more worried for my well-being than I was. Learning to ask for and feel worthy of help is something I’m working on here, and they’d been helping me see it’s ok and expected to demand a little more attention/consideration as a woman and foreigner and not just to go along with what everyone else is doing.
All night, we were praying for no rain, me especially. It spitted for a bit, and then stopped; we were lucky! The boys seemed ready to call it a night, though it was still pretty early and I wondered/worried it was on account of me, but then maybe they were just pleased with the amount of fish we’d gotten. As we collected the nets, it started spitting, and then it KEPT raining. We’re heading back, and I’m just concentrating on keeping the rain from penetrating through my jacket to my huge cotton tshirt, when Dillon hands me his towel again for me to keep semi-dry, at least. I wrap up like a Muslim woman and just sit and bear it. But the day had been long and it was late and I was wet and I kept nodding off. Being on the boat for a day and a half now with these boys, Dillon always made sure to call out when a branch was coming, or even call “Miss Sarah!” in a voice that sounded exasperated at the branch for being in my way because I might not be able to handle it. It was the same tone he used when urging me over the ants – calling to me as if I’d be doing him a favor by keeping myself clear from danger. Rather than feel irritated or more feeble by this tone, I felt cared for and adoring. Really, what’s a little branch here or there?
So it was kinda funny when I quickly am awoken to first a “Sarah!” then a quickly following WHAP! as I get stung in the face by a medium-sized branch! And again, Dillon’s tone suggested I’d bothered him by letting myself get hit like that. I just laughed it off with a shrug and admitted “My eyes were closed!” We keep going, and at one point, I’m half dreaming, half awake that a white cow’s in the middle of the creek and jump in my seat to avoid it. I quickly realize it was just a dream, and was thankful I was not captain of the boat. I tell the boys about it the next day (after they ask if I was hurt by the branch) and they seemed to feel the cow meant I’d be running into a person soon. They’re into interpreting dreams, which we also had fun gaffing about.
We get back and I stumble up the hill, to my hammock, and in the cover of darkness, strip off my soaked pants, take off my jacket and grab my not as newly soaked shirt I’d gone running through the jungle with to use as a sheet. I curl up with my knees in my big red shirt and drape the wet shirt over the bottom of my legs and crash. The boys, though, are not finished – they have to clean and then smoke the fish they just caught to preserve them. They stayed up the rest of the night, tending to them. When light began to hit camp, Dillon meandered past, seeing me without cover and asked if I want to borrow their sheet… I sheepishly say yes and so my last couple of hours of sleep are slightly more warm, though not dryer than the rest.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Part 3: Fish and Farine to the Extreme
My group moves FAST into the bush, and all I can do is watch my feet and the back of the man in front of me. Vaughn is behind me and sees me struggling with my slippers. He suggests I rinse them off at the creek we’re coming up upon. I do so, but realize they all keep moving… I look up, though, and there’s ever-faithful Matthew behind, waiting for me. We go a ways, and the boys see a labba – wild meat, a rodent. I see SOMEthing, but don’t really catch any distinguishing marks. Someone takes a shot, a loud BOOM, but misses, though some chase off after it as the rest of us continue. It’s a slight path in the woods, but a lot of it is cut by whoever was in front. We climb over and ontop of logs fallen, through ant hills, down into creeks and back up onto dry land. We walk over this fallen log about 15 feet in the air and if I’d had time to carefully measure each step, I probably would have fallen. But fear for losing my group had me move quite fast and steadily across it. Anthony remembered to look back and advise me NOT to brace onto a branch hanging for support. Thanks, Tosh. I both was resentful and exhilarated at being so casually regarded.
We cross a knee-deep creek and I finally had to let go of my desire to not get my pants wet and just jumped in – not a moment too soon, either, because the creeks kept getting deeper and before I knew it, I was walking waist deep down creeks, Forrest Gump style. They’d stop and clear out a cove to do fishing in later; they’d use face masks and shotbows for this sort of fishing. I wondered in watching them all: though the area was new to some of them, they knew how to move things, knew where to look for fish. They had no regard for getting their clothes wet – though, what man would, I suppose – nor showed any hesitation to jump where they wanted to jump, cut down what they needed to cut down, climb what they needed to climb. They took to the landscape, and the landscape responded to their attention, bending to their will. Each man took a separate job, helping everyone, with little communication between them all.
It was cool to sit back and just observe. They didn’t ignore me, but there wasn’t really anything I could do, nor would they ask me to do, so I just kept out of their way, and would fetch or do something if I saw it needed to be done and I could do it. The symbiotic relationship worked. We just kept moving and moving. I impressed myself with my agility, though I knew I’d pay for it the next day. We’d be walking through a creek and it’d start raining. They’d go diving under rocks, looking for fish, but finding crabs and other treasures along the way instead. We’d stop to take a drink, not from bottles of water or Nalgene bottles filled previously, but from the stream we were walking in, the cool, fresh water coursing around us.
I’d slip on and off and then on again my slippers. I actually blew my nose on the corner of my shirt a couple times. At one point, Dillon called to me, with some urgency, “Miss Sarah, please move over here quickly!” It wasn’t because I was slowing them down, it was because there was a red ant nest in front of me and he was scared of me getting stung. All around, I was moving quite lithely that day.
We hit the point of return, and – turned around and started retracing our steps back. Whew. The plus side was, we couldn’t get any wetter; the rain had continued pretty steadily. Though we get back to that perilous log-bridge and somehow, somewhere, they stop and some take off on a sniff of some animal or something. I, tired, say I’m gonna just sit and wait there, Matthew, Albertson and Charlie hung back with me. It started raining harder and Matthew collected some palm branches and draped them over a leaning tree for a makeshift shelter for me, quite cute. We sat in silence for quite some time until they all pass back and begin digging and cutting branches for some purpose I never got, but Vaughn asked if I wanted to head back to the Lawrence camp and I said yes, so “Lehwego!” (Let we go) and he, Matthew and I took off. I had to use Vaughn as a lift up and down a couple times, but the trip is uneventful, just the sound of rain falling and me making little leaps here and there to keep up to Vaughn’s long legs. We get back and wait under the fireside cover for the rest of them, then head back. It was only noon! But the jungle adventure was over. Time for some processing.
We cross a knee-deep creek and I finally had to let go of my desire to not get my pants wet and just jumped in – not a moment too soon, either, because the creeks kept getting deeper and before I knew it, I was walking waist deep down creeks, Forrest Gump style. They’d stop and clear out a cove to do fishing in later; they’d use face masks and shotbows for this sort of fishing. I wondered in watching them all: though the area was new to some of them, they knew how to move things, knew where to look for fish. They had no regard for getting their clothes wet – though, what man would, I suppose – nor showed any hesitation to jump where they wanted to jump, cut down what they needed to cut down, climb what they needed to climb. They took to the landscape, and the landscape responded to their attention, bending to their will. Each man took a separate job, helping everyone, with little communication between them all.
It was cool to sit back and just observe. They didn’t ignore me, but there wasn’t really anything I could do, nor would they ask me to do, so I just kept out of their way, and would fetch or do something if I saw it needed to be done and I could do it. The symbiotic relationship worked. We just kept moving and moving. I impressed myself with my agility, though I knew I’d pay for it the next day. We’d be walking through a creek and it’d start raining. They’d go diving under rocks, looking for fish, but finding crabs and other treasures along the way instead. We’d stop to take a drink, not from bottles of water or Nalgene bottles filled previously, but from the stream we were walking in, the cool, fresh water coursing around us.
I’d slip on and off and then on again my slippers. I actually blew my nose on the corner of my shirt a couple times. At one point, Dillon called to me, with some urgency, “Miss Sarah, please move over here quickly!” It wasn’t because I was slowing them down, it was because there was a red ant nest in front of me and he was scared of me getting stung. All around, I was moving quite lithely that day.
We hit the point of return, and – turned around and started retracing our steps back. Whew. The plus side was, we couldn’t get any wetter; the rain had continued pretty steadily. Though we get back to that perilous log-bridge and somehow, somewhere, they stop and some take off on a sniff of some animal or something. I, tired, say I’m gonna just sit and wait there, Matthew, Albertson and Charlie hung back with me. It started raining harder and Matthew collected some palm branches and draped them over a leaning tree for a makeshift shelter for me, quite cute. We sat in silence for quite some time until they all pass back and begin digging and cutting branches for some purpose I never got, but Vaughn asked if I wanted to head back to the Lawrence camp and I said yes, so “Lehwego!” (Let we go) and he, Matthew and I took off. I had to use Vaughn as a lift up and down a couple times, but the trip is uneventful, just the sound of rain falling and me making little leaps here and there to keep up to Vaughn’s long legs. We get back and wait under the fireside cover for the rest of them, then head back. It was only noon! But the jungle adventure was over. Time for some processing.
Part 2: Fish and Farine to the Extreme
Dillon returned my wide eyed smile, and I quickly warmed up to him after that. He's one of Brian's sons who's home visiting between jobs. I first met him at his birthday party a month or so back. I was already happy to see Vaughn, his younger brother; he has this simply content and cheerful way about him, big smile and easy to gaff. The other men sort of avoided eye contact, seemingly afraid to acknowledge our predicament. It was still raining, but they all started to "set up camp," which really meant "draw up a tarp." It was neat how they did it – one guy climbed one of the tall poles and tied a rope real high, then another guy climbed up the shorter pole on the other end of the posts and lay the rope in a groove at the top and let the rope fall slack. They draped the tarp over the rope and then pulled the rope taut and tied it off. Then they pulled the sides over the edges of the poles for a tent like structure. They encouraged me to tie up my hammock and relax, so for something to do, I did.
Dillon and them took off to catch some dinner, and then Toshao and Davidson and Matthew took off, too, leaving me with Uncle Lewis (I finally asked his name again, Lewis Thomas, father of one the girls who just graduated, Alicia) under the tarp as it kept raining. I was wet and debating whether or not to change; I knew we were going out that night, and wasn’t sure how dry I’d be then… but I wanted to lay in my hammock but “couldn’t” with all my wet clothes... This was something I would let go of two days down the line, but for the time being, was reluctant. But where to change? There was no other cover around except for the tarp, and Uncle was there. Do I go into the woods and get a little wet in my dry clothes? Am I being too rigid and modest to not just change right there? I wasn’t sure. But I told Uncle I was going to change and move to the corner, half concealed behind my hammock. And change I did. Halfway through, he said he was going for a walk. Thank you.
Dillon comes back with one fish and I wonder if and how I should help with the cooking. It was joked that Toshao brought me to cook, and I know the natural role for these trips is that the females keep camp, but I was but one lady and an un-Amerindian one at that. I COULD cook… But I felt nervous about it. But I wanted to help somehow… Dillon sort of took charge and I assisted him. He was looking for all the seasonings, but Toshao “only” brought salt, a bit of casareep and some peppers. That’s all I’m basically accustomed to using, maybe some onions and garlic, too, but that’s it for camping. But Dillon and Vaughn were looking for the oil, the sweet peppers, the tomato paste, the maagi… I didn’t know camping could be so fancy! They had their pot cooking (I cut up the peppers for them) when Tosh came back with a nice set of fish, so they made their own pot, too.
They suggested I set up my mosquito net, so I did, with the help from Dillon, and Matthew gave me some string to help tie up the sticks, though Dillon let me tie my hammock rope – so if I fell it wouldn’t be his fault, ha ha. I'm a liability, I swear. My neighbor/friend/surrogate mother/partner in crime, Lucy, was "frikened" aka frightened to give me fish at first for fear I'd choke on the bones. I went to get the knife I’d brought (I didn’t have a cutlass, which is a big scythe-like sword, but I knew enough to bring a knife) to cut some branches to hold open my net, when Dillon called to me, having already cut some! The boys and I ate standing around, and then with hardly a word, it was time to go. I hopped in the Duncan boat, which was more empty, plus it was the fishing boat. It was Dillon and Vaughn and Charlie and me. The rest were going hunting. And off we went.
We first went to catch bait, up to the rocks where the boys deftly jumped from the boat onto the rocks, bow and arrow in hand along with head lights. They find one fish and Dillon hands the bow and arrow to Vaughn, who's closer, telling him, “It’s right there – no excuse, no excuse.” Ha. I follow along, trying not to get my capris wet. They see and point out a sting ray (!) and we see some caiman, as well. Time to get to the boat for some real fishing, and this requires jumping down from a boulder into the boat. Vaughn does so easily enough and I squat and try to start sliding down when I realize that Dillon was moving the boat for me to get easier access. Vaughn tells him to hold up and offers his hand as assistance. What gentlemen. Then, we take off on the creek. It’s exciting to be out there, in the night, hunting for food. The boys gaff as we go, and we come to stop in a cove. “You does fish, Miss Sarah?” Dillon asks me. Sure! So, they bait me one of their lines.
I HAVE fished here in the Rupununi before, but they haven’t seen it, and were quick to try to do it all for me. I figured I’d throw out the line, though. There’s no poles, it’s just the line with the bait and weights at the end and you gotta do a slingshot maneuver and throw it out there. I feel like Xena as I whip the line around and WHAP! I hit the side of the boat. Vaughn claims I almost hit him square in the face, but I doubt. With an embarrassed chuckle, I try again and Vaughn leans far away from me this time. I loop the line on a branch above. Sigh. Vaughn throws for me. We sit and wait patiently, gaffing about fishing and they ask questions about all sorts of things. I found out the sick Auntie was their mom, Catherine, and that’s why she and Brian hadn’t come. The boys were worried about how she was. Having got the scoop on Arsima and Bernard the other night, I asked them about how their mom and dad met, and Vaughn refers me to Dillon (the older one should know, right?). He doesn’t know, either. Boys. I tell them about my dad who loves to fish, and we get to know each other a bit better.
Vaughn gets this huge tiger fish. I feel nibbles, but no big jerks. One time, I think I actually had something, but because I didn’t act fast enough, it got off. We pulled the lines in from time to time, re-baiting and re-throwing. Once again, I hit the side of the boat and then the branches above. I figured they already assumed me incompetent so at least I wasn’t losing status in their eyes. I had only upwards to climb. They were good-humoured about it all, and each time I tried, Vaughn would tell me to warn him before I threw so he could get out of the way. We only got that one tiger fish, and we headed back to camp. The other boat beat us, and I fell into my hammock, did a quick switch into a big cottony t-shirt that I thought would be warm and conked out.
The boys mostly noiselessly woke up and immediately took off on boat. I was too tired and in need of quiet time to check into it. Only Uncle was left back and I took the opportunity to go bathe and do wash. I grab my soap, my change of clothes and the few dirty clothes I’d acquired, then retraced Matthew and mine’s steps the day before to the rocks. I went as far up as I could, seeing a big boulder I thought I could bathe behind. I was walking much more cautiously than the day before, and this time I had things in hand. I got all the way to behind my boulder and decided how I was going to do this (never bathed nude in a river before), when I started sliding down the rock into the water. I fell. Half-clothed. The green camisole I was gonna wear was wet. And I had two big lumps swelling on my left shin. I looked around, seeing no one, but still red-faced, and began to bathe anyway. It was uneventful after that, but I walked back to camp undergarmentless because of the wet issue. I get back and Anthony gives me these instructions – we’ll be out for the day, walk with your plate and spoon… and whatever else you might need; I guess he wasn’t exactly sure what else I’d need – hell, I didn’t know either.
I had just enough time to get some undies on, grab my mosquito spray and knife and put my plate and spoon into the Duncan’s bucket when we left. We go to the Lawrence camp as they are beating out. We use their fire to cook our breakfast – the tiger fish from the night before. Dillon burns some sugar in oil first, which was new to me. He says you can do that when you don’t have casareep. Who knew? We clean up and then – start walking into the jungle. Wait, we’re going on foot?? I thought we’d be in boat! I would have worn my Tevas if I’d known, not just my slippers (flip flops)! Yeah, definitely not gonna carry my knife, Lord knows I’d accidentally stab myself in the butt if I carried it. Of course, I don’t share all of this, I just think it and nod along, then jump in the middle of the line hurriedly, not wanting to get lost, as we take off and a fast pace. It’s muddy and my slippers keep sticking, until I just pull them off and walk with them. And that is how I came to be half running through the jungle, barefoot and braless.
Dillon and them took off to catch some dinner, and then Toshao and Davidson and Matthew took off, too, leaving me with Uncle Lewis (I finally asked his name again, Lewis Thomas, father of one the girls who just graduated, Alicia) under the tarp as it kept raining. I was wet and debating whether or not to change; I knew we were going out that night, and wasn’t sure how dry I’d be then… but I wanted to lay in my hammock but “couldn’t” with all my wet clothes... This was something I would let go of two days down the line, but for the time being, was reluctant. But where to change? There was no other cover around except for the tarp, and Uncle was there. Do I go into the woods and get a little wet in my dry clothes? Am I being too rigid and modest to not just change right there? I wasn’t sure. But I told Uncle I was going to change and move to the corner, half concealed behind my hammock. And change I did. Halfway through, he said he was going for a walk. Thank you.
Dillon comes back with one fish and I wonder if and how I should help with the cooking. It was joked that Toshao brought me to cook, and I know the natural role for these trips is that the females keep camp, but I was but one lady and an un-Amerindian one at that. I COULD cook… But I felt nervous about it. But I wanted to help somehow… Dillon sort of took charge and I assisted him. He was looking for all the seasonings, but Toshao “only” brought salt, a bit of casareep and some peppers. That’s all I’m basically accustomed to using, maybe some onions and garlic, too, but that’s it for camping. But Dillon and Vaughn were looking for the oil, the sweet peppers, the tomato paste, the maagi… I didn’t know camping could be so fancy! They had their pot cooking (I cut up the peppers for them) when Tosh came back with a nice set of fish, so they made their own pot, too.
They suggested I set up my mosquito net, so I did, with the help from Dillon, and Matthew gave me some string to help tie up the sticks, though Dillon let me tie my hammock rope – so if I fell it wouldn’t be his fault, ha ha. I'm a liability, I swear. My neighbor/friend/surrogate mother/partner in crime, Lucy, was "frikened" aka frightened to give me fish at first for fear I'd choke on the bones. I went to get the knife I’d brought (I didn’t have a cutlass, which is a big scythe-like sword, but I knew enough to bring a knife) to cut some branches to hold open my net, when Dillon called to me, having already cut some! The boys and I ate standing around, and then with hardly a word, it was time to go. I hopped in the Duncan boat, which was more empty, plus it was the fishing boat. It was Dillon and Vaughn and Charlie and me. The rest were going hunting. And off we went.
We first went to catch bait, up to the rocks where the boys deftly jumped from the boat onto the rocks, bow and arrow in hand along with head lights. They find one fish and Dillon hands the bow and arrow to Vaughn, who's closer, telling him, “It’s right there – no excuse, no excuse.” Ha. I follow along, trying not to get my capris wet. They see and point out a sting ray (!) and we see some caiman, as well. Time to get to the boat for some real fishing, and this requires jumping down from a boulder into the boat. Vaughn does so easily enough and I squat and try to start sliding down when I realize that Dillon was moving the boat for me to get easier access. Vaughn tells him to hold up and offers his hand as assistance. What gentlemen. Then, we take off on the creek. It’s exciting to be out there, in the night, hunting for food. The boys gaff as we go, and we come to stop in a cove. “You does fish, Miss Sarah?” Dillon asks me. Sure! So, they bait me one of their lines.
I HAVE fished here in the Rupununi before, but they haven’t seen it, and were quick to try to do it all for me. I figured I’d throw out the line, though. There’s no poles, it’s just the line with the bait and weights at the end and you gotta do a slingshot maneuver and throw it out there. I feel like Xena as I whip the line around and WHAP! I hit the side of the boat. Vaughn claims I almost hit him square in the face, but I doubt. With an embarrassed chuckle, I try again and Vaughn leans far away from me this time. I loop the line on a branch above. Sigh. Vaughn throws for me. We sit and wait patiently, gaffing about fishing and they ask questions about all sorts of things. I found out the sick Auntie was their mom, Catherine, and that’s why she and Brian hadn’t come. The boys were worried about how she was. Having got the scoop on Arsima and Bernard the other night, I asked them about how their mom and dad met, and Vaughn refers me to Dillon (the older one should know, right?). He doesn’t know, either. Boys. I tell them about my dad who loves to fish, and we get to know each other a bit better.
Vaughn gets this huge tiger fish. I feel nibbles, but no big jerks. One time, I think I actually had something, but because I didn’t act fast enough, it got off. We pulled the lines in from time to time, re-baiting and re-throwing. Once again, I hit the side of the boat and then the branches above. I figured they already assumed me incompetent so at least I wasn’t losing status in their eyes. I had only upwards to climb. They were good-humoured about it all, and each time I tried, Vaughn would tell me to warn him before I threw so he could get out of the way. We only got that one tiger fish, and we headed back to camp. The other boat beat us, and I fell into my hammock, did a quick switch into a big cottony t-shirt that I thought would be warm and conked out.
The boys mostly noiselessly woke up and immediately took off on boat. I was too tired and in need of quiet time to check into it. Only Uncle was left back and I took the opportunity to go bathe and do wash. I grab my soap, my change of clothes and the few dirty clothes I’d acquired, then retraced Matthew and mine’s steps the day before to the rocks. I went as far up as I could, seeing a big boulder I thought I could bathe behind. I was walking much more cautiously than the day before, and this time I had things in hand. I got all the way to behind my boulder and decided how I was going to do this (never bathed nude in a river before), when I started sliding down the rock into the water. I fell. Half-clothed. The green camisole I was gonna wear was wet. And I had two big lumps swelling on my left shin. I looked around, seeing no one, but still red-faced, and began to bathe anyway. It was uneventful after that, but I walked back to camp undergarmentless because of the wet issue. I get back and Anthony gives me these instructions – we’ll be out for the day, walk with your plate and spoon… and whatever else you might need; I guess he wasn’t exactly sure what else I’d need – hell, I didn’t know either.
I had just enough time to get some undies on, grab my mosquito spray and knife and put my plate and spoon into the Duncan’s bucket when we left. We go to the Lawrence camp as they are beating out. We use their fire to cook our breakfast – the tiger fish from the night before. Dillon burns some sugar in oil first, which was new to me. He says you can do that when you don’t have casareep. Who knew? We clean up and then – start walking into the jungle. Wait, we’re going on foot?? I thought we’d be in boat! I would have worn my Tevas if I’d known, not just my slippers (flip flops)! Yeah, definitely not gonna carry my knife, Lord knows I’d accidentally stab myself in the butt if I carried it. Of course, I don’t share all of this, I just think it and nod along, then jump in the middle of the line hurriedly, not wanting to get lost, as we take off and a fast pace. It’s muddy and my slippers keep sticking, until I just pull them off and walk with them. And that is how I came to be half running through the jungle, barefoot and braless.
Part 1: Fish and Farine to the Extreme
Oh GOD, I’ve been having so much fun. Tucked away somewhere in the corners of my conscience is the worry that I’m having TOO much fun and not doing enough PC stuff, but that’s another story. Let’s see, should I start with today and work my way backwards? Or should I start at the beginning of this last round of amazingness? Hmm. The beginning – last Sunday.
Anthony, a friend and the village's new Toshao (village captain), and group planned another trip to Mapari. The last one got rescheduled then cancelled again, and I missed out. This time, as sort of an afterthought, he invited me to go with them – that afternoon - to go hunting and fishing for the upcoming sports events. I was caught off guard and I didn’t know what to do. Both Mike and Franzea said “Go, go!” and I’ve learned enough to know that you can’t turn up those opportunities. So I said yes and went to pack. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, though, because I started NOT wanting to go. All I wanted to do was lay in my hammock and do and be nothing. Why didn’t I want to go? Why didn’t I want a change of scenery? Why couldn’t I take advantage of this great trip? I thought of ways to get out of it, I hoped it would get cancelled. It was wrong of me, inhuman, almost. I knew not to weasel my way out of it, to just take it as it comes, to let this happen. It was a bad hour or so waiting, though. I’m twisted, I swear.
Anthony came and collected me on motorbike and we took off for the landing. Get stopped by Brian Duncan, the captain for the second boat, who says he can’t leave until at least tomorrow morning because Auntie is sick. I figured Auntie meant his mother or mother-in-law or something, but I wasn't sure. So that left Anthony, Matthew, Davidson and me to go that night. My apprehension seeped away as we started to make the moves to leave, replaced by an accepting survival perspective. I might as well take in and enjoy what's about to happen, so let it all just happen, right? I know these guys, I've camped out before, it's all good. It's one of those times where the Guyanese's good-natured and humorous personalities are a big boon to nervous PCV's.
The boys get things loaded onto one of the green boats (with an engine) and we take off upstream at around 7 p.m., Davidson shining for wood and rocks and things. Peaceable ride; wind blowing, motor humming, water flowing. We see some caiman and a water snake on the way. We turn off onto a creek and it starts to get narrow and more woody. And then we got stuck on some fallen logs and all three boys had to get out of the boat and pull and pull as I sat there, watching. The way they easily maneuvered around the boat and out of it was cool. Testing the logs to see how strong, balancing on them, using them as leverage. I felt I should or could be helping, but they just wanted me to sit there, so that’s how I helped.
We stopped at a place called Sally Pinta. Then we stopped at where Bernard and Arsima (Cindy’s parents) were camping. The boys dropped me off there for the night because they were gonna go out hunting, yadda yadda yadda. (I’m thinking they wanted to wait until the rest of the ladies came to take care of me). I didn’t know what to expect and I figure my first night would be nicely spent with a family, so I didn’t mind. The camp is up a pretty steep hill from the creek, and the steps leading up are first some wooden rungs to climb up, and then halfway, it’s just steps cut into the mud. Whew. They got my hammock set up for me – they go speed speed, cut down two medium sized trees, make the ends pointy, jam them into the ground a couple times, get them deep enough then tie up my strings. They get my sticks for my net, too, then take off.
We gaff a bit - Auntie Arsima tells me a "story" a couple that went out camping and a jaguar carried away the pregnant woman and all that was left were her torn and bloodied clothes; apparently, jaguars, which do populate the area, are attracted to pregnant females. Jenkins, one of her sons, is inquisitive about what I'm up to. He's sleeping in a hammock strung above his cousin, Wreford, and the two are sharing a mosquito net. Sort of like hammock bunk beds. I go to bed around midnight, wake up around 6.
I immediately take down my hammock and get ready for the boys. They said if they don’t come for me, flag down Brian when he passes through. I eat breakfast with them all (reheated boily (fish stew) and farine) and then watch Bernard clean some fish caught the day before. Then he and Jenkins and Wreford are cutting and chopping wood and I realize its to make a bench for me to sit on! Very cool. Me and Arsima gaff awhile about her family and things. I learned she's from a different village, and most of her family is in Brazil. Her husband, though, is from our village, and is brothers with Auntie Catherine, Alma and the late Dolly, which I never learned of those connections. Catherine is married to Brian, who is Wapishana from the South, and has a brother, Patterson, who lives in the village, too. Yay for more gaffing. Then I go down to the water and hang with Jenkins, Helen, Wendy and Vladimir. Helen is the youngest child of Arsima and Bernard, Wendy is Cindy's older daughter, and Vladimir is the second youngest, one of the grade 6 students I spent a lot of time with. I “catch” one little fish which Jenkins called a Football Socks fish. Those kids are enjoyable to be around; smart, creative, assertive, and well-mannered. And Jenkins, who's about 15, loves to ask interesting questions; his mom had just told me earlier that he, just like she, is a born again Christian. I adore that kid, so handsome, too, as are all the Lawrence kids. Finally, around 9, Anthony and them show up, no sign of Brian's boat yet. They just lime around and I just sit there, wondering how I could be more active. I finally make a mind to ask them all to teach me some Makushi words when they say we’re heading out. They grab my bag and we take off, getting wishes of luck from Auntie and Uncle.
They stop at our camp, right before a set of rapids – beautiful rocks galore, water whooshing around them – man alive! I’d be getting to fall asleep to sound of rushing water? Heck yeah! Camp was on a fairly steep incline to the creek, too, but not as intense as Bernard’s. Not steep enough to require steps, but steep enough to potentially slide/fall down and embarrass oneself. The camp consists of several wooden posts in the ground in two rows (hammock posts) with benches lined up down one side and then some boards laying out for a kitchen area another bench by the fireside. The boys sweep the area for leaves, and unload the packs on some of the benches, covering it with a tarp. Anthony and Davidson cross the creek and go hunting, apparently, and Matthew is left to babysit me.
I ask if there’s a path to the rocks and Matthew says yes and takes me. Matthew's the brother-in-law to be of Anthony; a quiet young man who's helped me with a few house things before. He nimbly jumps from rock to rock and in an effort to keep up, I jump nimbly, too, surprising myself with my balance. I think it’s when you stop and think about it and stress too much that losing your balance comes most easily for the un physically practiced. Oh, it was beautiful. We walked all the way to the top of the rocks and sat for a time, just listening. Matthew went out and brought back this yellow and black poison arrow frog – very cool. Anyways, we went back and Matthew went in the water and I figured why not, and so I got in, too. I bathed a bit and then it started to rain, and we just sat at camp, wet and waiting. It was the beginning of plenty wet waiting over the next couple of days.
Tosh and Davidson finally came back and we were just liming in the boat when the next boat comes up. I look at it, discerning faces – Vaughn Duncan, Dillon Duncan, Albertson Daniels, some kid who I thought may be named Charlie, an old guy who I knew I’ve met but couldn’t remember his name. And that’s it. Where’s Brian? Where’s Catherine? And Carlotta? And Dillon’s lady? Not there! Wide-eyed, I stare at them all and say to myself “Well, ok!” And so began my fishing trip to Mapari with 8 bannas.
Anthony, a friend and the village's new Toshao (village captain), and group planned another trip to Mapari. The last one got rescheduled then cancelled again, and I missed out. This time, as sort of an afterthought, he invited me to go with them – that afternoon - to go hunting and fishing for the upcoming sports events. I was caught off guard and I didn’t know what to do. Both Mike and Franzea said “Go, go!” and I’ve learned enough to know that you can’t turn up those opportunities. So I said yes and went to pack. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, though, because I started NOT wanting to go. All I wanted to do was lay in my hammock and do and be nothing. Why didn’t I want to go? Why didn’t I want a change of scenery? Why couldn’t I take advantage of this great trip? I thought of ways to get out of it, I hoped it would get cancelled. It was wrong of me, inhuman, almost. I knew not to weasel my way out of it, to just take it as it comes, to let this happen. It was a bad hour or so waiting, though. I’m twisted, I swear.
Anthony came and collected me on motorbike and we took off for the landing. Get stopped by Brian Duncan, the captain for the second boat, who says he can’t leave until at least tomorrow morning because Auntie is sick. I figured Auntie meant his mother or mother-in-law or something, but I wasn't sure. So that left Anthony, Matthew, Davidson and me to go that night. My apprehension seeped away as we started to make the moves to leave, replaced by an accepting survival perspective. I might as well take in and enjoy what's about to happen, so let it all just happen, right? I know these guys, I've camped out before, it's all good. It's one of those times where the Guyanese's good-natured and humorous personalities are a big boon to nervous PCV's.
The boys get things loaded onto one of the green boats (with an engine) and we take off upstream at around 7 p.m., Davidson shining for wood and rocks and things. Peaceable ride; wind blowing, motor humming, water flowing. We see some caiman and a water snake on the way. We turn off onto a creek and it starts to get narrow and more woody. And then we got stuck on some fallen logs and all three boys had to get out of the boat and pull and pull as I sat there, watching. The way they easily maneuvered around the boat and out of it was cool. Testing the logs to see how strong, balancing on them, using them as leverage. I felt I should or could be helping, but they just wanted me to sit there, so that’s how I helped.
We stopped at a place called Sally Pinta. Then we stopped at where Bernard and Arsima (Cindy’s parents) were camping. The boys dropped me off there for the night because they were gonna go out hunting, yadda yadda yadda. (I’m thinking they wanted to wait until the rest of the ladies came to take care of me). I didn’t know what to expect and I figure my first night would be nicely spent with a family, so I didn’t mind. The camp is up a pretty steep hill from the creek, and the steps leading up are first some wooden rungs to climb up, and then halfway, it’s just steps cut into the mud. Whew. They got my hammock set up for me – they go speed speed, cut down two medium sized trees, make the ends pointy, jam them into the ground a couple times, get them deep enough then tie up my strings. They get my sticks for my net, too, then take off.
We gaff a bit - Auntie Arsima tells me a "story" a couple that went out camping and a jaguar carried away the pregnant woman and all that was left were her torn and bloodied clothes; apparently, jaguars, which do populate the area, are attracted to pregnant females. Jenkins, one of her sons, is inquisitive about what I'm up to. He's sleeping in a hammock strung above his cousin, Wreford, and the two are sharing a mosquito net. Sort of like hammock bunk beds. I go to bed around midnight, wake up around 6.
I immediately take down my hammock and get ready for the boys. They said if they don’t come for me, flag down Brian when he passes through. I eat breakfast with them all (reheated boily (fish stew) and farine) and then watch Bernard clean some fish caught the day before. Then he and Jenkins and Wreford are cutting and chopping wood and I realize its to make a bench for me to sit on! Very cool. Me and Arsima gaff awhile about her family and things. I learned she's from a different village, and most of her family is in Brazil. Her husband, though, is from our village, and is brothers with Auntie Catherine, Alma and the late Dolly, which I never learned of those connections. Catherine is married to Brian, who is Wapishana from the South, and has a brother, Patterson, who lives in the village, too. Yay for more gaffing. Then I go down to the water and hang with Jenkins, Helen, Wendy and Vladimir. Helen is the youngest child of Arsima and Bernard, Wendy is Cindy's older daughter, and Vladimir is the second youngest, one of the grade 6 students I spent a lot of time with. I “catch” one little fish which Jenkins called a Football Socks fish. Those kids are enjoyable to be around; smart, creative, assertive, and well-mannered. And Jenkins, who's about 15, loves to ask interesting questions; his mom had just told me earlier that he, just like she, is a born again Christian. I adore that kid, so handsome, too, as are all the Lawrence kids. Finally, around 9, Anthony and them show up, no sign of Brian's boat yet. They just lime around and I just sit there, wondering how I could be more active. I finally make a mind to ask them all to teach me some Makushi words when they say we’re heading out. They grab my bag and we take off, getting wishes of luck from Auntie and Uncle.
They stop at our camp, right before a set of rapids – beautiful rocks galore, water whooshing around them – man alive! I’d be getting to fall asleep to sound of rushing water? Heck yeah! Camp was on a fairly steep incline to the creek, too, but not as intense as Bernard’s. Not steep enough to require steps, but steep enough to potentially slide/fall down and embarrass oneself. The camp consists of several wooden posts in the ground in two rows (hammock posts) with benches lined up down one side and then some boards laying out for a kitchen area another bench by the fireside. The boys sweep the area for leaves, and unload the packs on some of the benches, covering it with a tarp. Anthony and Davidson cross the creek and go hunting, apparently, and Matthew is left to babysit me.
I ask if there’s a path to the rocks and Matthew says yes and takes me. Matthew's the brother-in-law to be of Anthony; a quiet young man who's helped me with a few house things before. He nimbly jumps from rock to rock and in an effort to keep up, I jump nimbly, too, surprising myself with my balance. I think it’s when you stop and think about it and stress too much that losing your balance comes most easily for the un physically practiced. Oh, it was beautiful. We walked all the way to the top of the rocks and sat for a time, just listening. Matthew went out and brought back this yellow and black poison arrow frog – very cool. Anyways, we went back and Matthew went in the water and I figured why not, and so I got in, too. I bathed a bit and then it started to rain, and we just sat at camp, wet and waiting. It was the beginning of plenty wet waiting over the next couple of days.
Tosh and Davidson finally came back and we were just liming in the boat when the next boat comes up. I look at it, discerning faces – Vaughn Duncan, Dillon Duncan, Albertson Daniels, some kid who I thought may be named Charlie, an old guy who I knew I’ve met but couldn’t remember his name. And that’s it. Where’s Brian? Where’s Catherine? And Carlotta? And Dillon’s lady? Not there! Wide-eyed, I stare at them all and say to myself “Well, ok!” And so began my fishing trip to Mapari with 8 bannas.
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