It´s a Jungle out there

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I woke as excited as a child before Christmas. It was still dark outside as I hauled myself and my eternal travel companion, the backpack, to the bus stop. I´m headed to a Jungle community in Ecuador. It´s remote and it feels like a true adventure. I have to catch the bus for 6 hours, then a canoe, then walk into the jungle. The bus drops me off at Puerto Rico, the rich port. There isn´t much there, a church that looks like a fruit crate and a man with a face like one of those puppies with hundreds of folds on the skin. They multiply when he breaks into a shining smile and gabbles away at me in some kind of Spanish, no kind that I recognize. But the universal sign language of his pointing leads me to the river bank. No canoes in sight. Not much of anything in sight apart from river and jungle and me sitting on a tree log wondering what to do next. Actually I find a canoe in a tree. Then a few come down the river but when I wave them over, they just wave back. Finally some people come down to the river bank and one of them says he will be passing Wachimak, the community I want to reach. Great! But you´ll need boots, he says. I have boots. I´m proud of my jungle readiness. I pull my shiny new rubber boots out and put them on. We catch a canoe, full of school children staring at me. Beats the train, but for them its probably as mundane. I´m wondereyed and dreamysmiled as we chunter up the huge river, the jungle pouring over the edges of the bank amazed that its prolific growth has been stopped by this swirling silver serpentine.
We´re deposited on the opposite bank up stream. I don´t realize it now, but that’s the peaceful bliss over. My new Amigo Luis and his two kids Juan and Pedro lead me on the walk through the jungle. It´s all about MUD. It´s thick, it´s deep, it wants to suck me down. My pack weighs a tone, its humid as a sauna and my boots are way too big. I seem to sink deeper with every step until I can´t pull myself out. Then I have to try find a tree to get leverage. It´s an effort of champions to pull my boot out of the mud. With a sucking smacking sound I come free. But it keeps happening. My boots get stuck but my momentum often keeps me moving forward and my little socked feet sink almost up to my knees in mud. Now my muddy socks slip around on the dance floor of my huge boots like mud wrestlers trying to get at each other. I fall twice, now my ass is covered, I´ve mud up to my elbows, mud in my hair, I´m mud woman, mud creature, mud monster. The children watch with wide eyes. They are all jumping like deer along the path, they know how to walk in the mud and they are not carrying a 2 tonne pack on their back. I feel like a cliché safari white dude, Khaki Shirt and all, big hat, red, sweating face, neck sticking out, tongue poking out in concentration.
Finally, and I mean, thank every God ever dreamed by man, FINALLY we arrive and the people of the village stare at me. Word spreads, they come out of their wooden thatched houses, the school empties. Apparently volunteers never try make it on their own and there is another way in, they never come the MUD PIT HELL way because it is a MUD PIT HELL. They stare some more. I want to cry, I really want to burst into tears. But I shake little hands and I answer bewildered faces and I am lead to a kitchen where I drink sweet lemonade and eat rice and yucca and salad. It holds me, it restores me, I am a strong woman again.
There is another volunteer, Peter, from Holland. He is really happy to see me, because he´s been there alone and had no idea another Gringo was coming to keep him company. He shows me to the cabins and then to the river where I wash. Its up there with THE best baths I´ve had in my life. I can´t stop breathing great sighs of relief, the water is really cool and above me emerald green leaves shaped like hearts, shine. I have arrived.
So I spent two weeks with Communidad Wachimak. They are a group of Kichwa Indigenous families and it was a real challenge for my judgements to be there. They are so remote in the jungle. Even for simple supplies at the market on Saturdays they have to walk 1.5hours, cross a river on canoe, then catch another canoe to the market. Because of this they are all very excited that there is a ROAD being built into the community. For a lot of my time there as I lay in my hammock I can hear the faint sound of the Amazon being bulldozered. The road provides daily conversation. They are trying to get it to come right into the village instead of just passing by 300m away, but this is embroiled in jungle politics. The road has been 10 years in the making and it will be another year before they can catch buses along it. It will radically change their lives. You can´t blame them for wanting the road as well as cutting travel time to the closest towns dramatically it also, more importantly for them, cuts travel costs. They are closer to medical supplies, wide flung family networks and other services. They don´t have to rely on motor canoes and when the rains are torrential don´t have to navigate mud and rising rivers to reach the canoes.
The first time I see the new road it is only for a glimpse. The children ask if I want to see it but I only have my thongs. Doesn´t matter, they assure me, bare foot and free, its only 5 minutes away. That’s 5 jungle minutes, jungle time aint like city time or country time either for that matter, so I find myself 15 minutes later still walking through the jungle, but after navigating mud, river crossings and conga ants both my cheap ass thongs are broken and I´m bare foot like the kids. Did I mention there isn´t much light left. We reach the road. Its wide and reddish brown. Strewn along side are the trunks of giant trees. Nice road I say squinting in the half light, I might go back now, considering its almost DARK and i´ve got no SHOES and i´m in the JUNGLE. So I turn and RUN back through the jungle, the kids clambering after me. I can´t really see much at all, I feel twigs and roots under my feet. I pray the conga ants leave me alone and they do. We make it back with two feet each and spin around in the village clearing under the moon with the kids. Moon Smile - Moon Frown.
The second time I walk up to the road on my own. It’s the first time I´ve walked in the jungle at my own peaceful pace and I´m riveted. The trees compete to reach the sky. It´s shockingly exhilaratingly alive. Every tree has at least 100 other plant forms growing on or up it. Vines, creepers, ferns, stagheads. It´s half light is full of the sounds of birds and insects. When I reach the road I feel so conflicted. There it is again, like a wound. And to make it they would have killed so many trees. And the road will bring new settlers here, who will clear jungle for the wood and the farm land, who will search for oil. But these are the people of the jungle building this road, they want it. It will make life so much easier for them. And who can deny them that? I speak to an old man with a young wife living by the side of the road. He is so friendly and kind. His wife make me a cup of warm water mixed with flour and sugar….mmmm, clag glue resfreshment. He walks with me up the road, telling my how much he loves it, what luck it is that the road has come. Before there was only jungle dark and ugly, the sound of the toads could drive you mad, but now clear and pretty, you can see the sky and feel the wind.
But the jungle is beautiful I say, the jungle is so so beautiful. He looks confused, but assures me they take care of it. Every tree we chop down we plant another, he tells me, one tree provides oxygen for 12 people to breathe. So many perplexities here.
Another perplexity is the way they treat animals. I can´t barge in telling people who have lived in the jungle all their lives and for generations before not to treat animals badly but I want to. I try to be as diplomatic about it as I can but sometimes I really crack. One day I find the children playing with a turtle they found. An adult has drilled a hole through its shell and the kids are dragging it around upside down and spinning it around. When I express dismay the adults look at me like I´m crazy, the turtles shell is very strong they tell me. One day one of the disease ridden mangy dogs starts snapping at me. A tiny child comes out and I tell her I´m a little scared of the dog, so she lays into the poor things belly with her boot, kicking it hard and repeatedly until I pull her away. I address the children around and tell them firmly NOT to hurt animals, that animals feel pain and they should treat them like friends. Later I hear the children telling their parents what I said and the adults laugh uproariously. Every insect and snake found is killed instantly. When they see a bird in the tree, they cry TUMBALO, knock it down. One of the men bought a wild anaconda at the market for a pet. At my other volunteer project in Bolivia we campaigned against this and now I´m with the indigenous people and they are doing just that.
I spend most of my time teaching in the school. The first two days the teacher isn´t there and it is me with 20 kids all different levels trying to teach maths, language and science. With imperfect Spanish and no teaching experience lets says this was just a little CHALLENGING. The End of the class found me with my head in the rubbish bin crying NO MORE! The kids are amazingly behaved but alot of the older ones can´t read or write and the younger ones can´t count past ten. There were no games, no story books, no Reading guides, no source materials, paint, very Little to work with. After the teacher came back things were alot easier and i really loved to work with the kids. I amused them singing JOLENE on the guitar, which they made me repeat endlessly and We Don´t need more education, which is probably not the best sentiment for them, but hey they didn´t understand they just liked it when I sung rock.
I also gave Shiatsu massage to the Grandmother of the place Teresa who complained of pain all over her body. Every time I saw her she would groan and point out all the sore parts of her body for me to massage. She spoke very Little spanish and as I don´t speak much Kichwa we comunicated very Little but it was fun to treat her, she was amazingly strong. The woman have to be strong they give birth so many times, the families are all large and keep growing. They start Young of course. When they found out that I was thirty with neither husband nor child they looked at my like I had two heads, then with infinite compassion…
We were fed standard fare of White rice, beans, fried bananas and fruit. I tried some interesting jungle fruit, including a purple palm nut which tastes like chocolatey avocado.
One night there was a seismic tremor and my cabin shook for 3 minutes, I was half asleep and thought the world was ending.
We also made the weekly visit to the market, which is far away over rivers etc. The men get stuck into a jungle liquour called 25 becasue it costs only 25cents for one glass and you only need a few glasses as it is over 90% alcohol. On the way back they were slippering around and waving their machetes wildly. I really worried that we wouldn´t make the canoe crossings, it had rained alot and the rivers had all grown and were wild and full of logs and twigs. Drinking is a problem only so far as they have Access to alcohol and can afford it. Another thing which may be worsened with the new road. After the market Paula our cook, tells us distressedly about how the men are going to go home and beat their wives after the drinking sesión. She is scared about tonight and her husband beating her and the kids…. What the hell? It makes me feel helpless and conflicted. I talk to the community president the next day, telling him that they need to ensure the protection of women and children and control drinking. He agrees with me in a conciliatory manner, but I know it won´t change things. I felt so ANGRY at the men who use their strenth so brutishly and DEPAIR for the women because what hope do they have to escape it. I want to help but feel so naive and full of fault. I judge the men quickly but have Little ideas of their lives, upbringings, minds etc.
The people are the best thing about being in Wachimak. The woman are supermodel beautiful and so full of humour, they are all mothers, nurturing and practical and kind. Also there was a guitar and a really good hammock, man hammocks are the way of the future FOR SURE! Long live the Hammock Revolution.
After the other volunteer left I spent a very quiet weekend in the jungle with the biting flies and decided to leave myself. I felt lonely and homesick and there wasn´t quite enough for me to do so Monday morning at 5 am we left for the first canoe. It was beautiful the sun rising as we walked and then seeing the Rio Napo in the fresh morning light.
I had such mixed feelings to be with Communidad Wachimak, I wanted to learn about their spirituality and wisdom, but you would have to stay alot longer to absorb it all. Instead I learned how alot of idigenous are living now, between worlds. They lack good educational resources, they are exposed to White flour, White sugar and alcohol, they spray pesticides on their clearings and their buildings, hiegine is bad, teeth are often terrible, and birth control is known of but never utilised.
I Heard in the jungle the radio only once and it said something about the Australian Election. I asked what did it say, i only caught John Howard and eleven years. The men told me, the leader from before won again. Can you imagine? How heart breaking, how devestating. Can you imagine my joy to get to my hotel room, get clean and well fed and then check the internet to find that its not true, that HOWARD is gone!!!
Hoorah Hoorah…
xxxxx

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Comments

[Arnie]

WOW
Dude, you're very inspiring... I read your blog entries and think "my god, I am SUCH a pussy!"