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.