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.