PART 3 - LIFE ON THE ALDEA

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PART 3 - LIFE ON THE ALDEA

So as I said the Brazilians and Joshua left Tupe before midday and here I was…. In the sunshine of the bright and beautiful white beach sand dune beach with my Indian escort…

hmmm….. do you want a beer? Sure… why not. So he bought me a beer- the first of several. We sat on the beach and talked about stuff. I wasn’t nervous but I liked him.

We went for a swim in the river and then back up the hill to grab another beer. I was hungry, having skipped lunch, so it was time to find some dinner. We walked down the hill towards the antichrist’s house to see what he was selling that day. Maybe he had killed a chicken. The antichrist was a hilarious man that dressed in the same bright blue parody of a Muslim garb from dusk to dawn, with a white sheet and black band around his head. He drank, made jokes, and sold good food and cold beers, and played old, old music on a stereo system that echoed across several nearby rivers and lakes at whatever hour he felt like.

On the way down the hill, without thinking or volition, Regi took my hand, and the gesture felt so profound it took me back to high school. I felt nervous, and happy, and scared, and worried, and calm, all at the same time. Happy because I had secretly wished for it, without knowing, and worried because I wondered what would happen next, and how would I respond, how hard would he make his play….. After all, I was foolishly or not foolishly, not the type of girl that took these types of things lightly.

So we arrived at the antichrist’s hand in hand. Oh brother!! In a community as small as this, a simple act like that spelt girl-friend or lover, and we travelled light-years in minutes. Man, oh man, my whole body was giggling with the awkwardness of the situation, but I didn’t seem to mind cause it made for a different type of adventure.

Antichrist was talking a mile a minute, all of which I couldn’t understand, except that he was beaming with the new development that Regi had a girl on his arm, at which point he put his arm around me and we were holding hands as if we had been dating for years…

Chicken it was, with rice and beans and a little farina as always- a crunchy delight that would become my newest vice. Full and satisfied (FROM THE MEAL, lol) we went back up the hill and back to our…. Aldea (our homestead if you will). Time to set up my “room”… hmmmm…. Where to put my hammock… I like those two trees! 3 meters from the cliffs edge is plenty of room, and nothing spells morning like watching the sun rise from behind the giant river than seems more like an ocean from this vantage point (except for the fact that you could see Manaus lit up at night far on the other side).

Tired and pooped I went to “bed” in my hammock around 8 or 9 pm. Regi asked for permission to sleep several meters from me in his hammock, as he usually slept outside by the cliff’s edge, except when it was raining, he would bring his hammock into his room (that had no bed, or furniture for that matter). I fell asleep within my mosquito net listening to the sounds of crickets and frogs, in the bright light of the moon that outshined the surrounding stars. The soft warm breeze swayed my hammock as I gently drifted off to a night of vibrant dreams that would accompany all my peaceful nights on the aldea, the most peaceful nights of my life.

My eyes opened to pear over the edge of my hammock and see the burning orange glow of the shimmery sunrise, mirroring off the water. The type of beauty I had just witnessed I knew would be stamped in my mind forever, well into the old age I would hope to grow into one day. So I let my eyes shut, knowing I would keep the image forever, and thanking god for giving it to me, and I let myself give way to the slumber that still accompanied my mind and body.

Not more than an hour or two past before I woke to the full pleasant glow of bright daylight, but under the protective shadow of my trees. The tremendous heat of the days on the aldea would not begin until 10 am, when all you could do would be to sweat and swim, and soak, and move slowly. It was maybe 8 am and Regi made the first breakfast of his life (having been a Brazilian Indian whose mom always cooked every meal, did every dish, and washed every garment- but all that was about to change… hehehe). He made me eggs, coffee, and even bought fresh bread- a bit of luxury.

After my first bath, I managed to get in a full session of yoga by the cliffs edge before midday, despite the intense heat. Then I took another bath, as the custom here was to take 4-5 baths a day, but I should describe the geography a little better.

So as I mentioned the aldea, or rather the tribe’s houses, were situated on top of a hill just past the community’s edge. The aldea was bordered by a cliff on one side and forest on the other. Beneath the cliff laid the rather extensive beach to which you could gain access to by descending a staircase that was located at the opposite edge of the aldea, in relation to the entrance to the rest of the community. The stair case also continued upwards into the forest where the “maloca”, or dance house was located. Every morning the family would descend the staircase for our morning bath, but instead of bathing in the giant river (rio negro that bordered Manaus) which was located across the beach to the left, we would bath in the lake that was located next to the jungle on the right, because it was so-called “cleaner”. However, despite the lake’s breathtaking beauty it was rather heavily polluted with soap because the entire indigenous community would take there 5 daily baths there, and do all their dishes and laundry there as well. There were wooden planks set up in the water for laundry and dish washing, and it seemed that every “family group” had their own preferred plank.
So after my second bath, I returned upstairs for our giant family lunch, that was typically ready by 10 am. Later that afternoon Regi and I went to the beach, and when I say “the beach” I’m referring to the main community beach located at the bottom of the hill where the community was located. We never bathed at the beach located beneath the aldea. The community beach was composed of several beautiful, bright, white sand dunes, and it was divided by a river that was a mouth to another lake located more to the interior of the jungle. The beach was gorgeous and a popular tourist destination on the weekends due to the beauty of each beaches, and so people from the city would come on giant, loud, music-blasting, boats every Saturday and Sunday to the beach located across the mouth of the river (opposite to the community). They would seldom if ever enter the community, except to watch the daily indigenous dances in the malocas, but that was only when they docked on the aldea’s private beach.

Anyways we went for a swim on the beach, and the water was almost uncomfortably warm, but still delicious, and it contrasted the white beach with its rich orange color produced from humic acid, that appeared black with greater depth.

The day quickly became cloudy and a strong wind started. The wind got so strong a sandstorm started and I wondered if a hurricane was coming. Seriously strong!! Regi assured me this was normal before a storm was coming. It began to rain and we hid under the shelter of the antichrist’s beachfront roof. It poured so heavily with SUCH intense wind, that I can honestly say it was the first time I had seen a storm with such intensity and I was lucky to have my sunglasses to protect my eyes from the sand. It was beautiful and intense. Luckily it passed so we could put our hammocks back up by the cliff to sleep. That night, as many, Regi fell asleep before I even got to my hammock, him having the custom of going to bed around 8 or 9 pm, while mine was more like 9 or 10.

That morning I awoke before dawn in the still darkness of the night. I went to the “bathroom”, which was a hut with a hole in the ground, and a wooden box for a toilet. (The fact that it was wooden, as you could imagine, was slightly distasteful between the intense heat and sweat, but nonetheless it was better than those awful porcelain toilets without seats that were common in less fancy areas here). As I walked back to my hammock, the moon had set, and I could see the milky way as clear as milk, pouring across the sky and spilling salt out like spider legs across the deep, dark, blue nebula. I didn’t care if I fell back asleep as the beauty of the still night echoed a silent comfort through its quiet blue desert.

But I did fall back asleep, and woke in time to watch the sun rise. It was freezing cold, as often the break of dawn was, and I was fully wrapped in both my sheets, dressed in long warm pants and a t-shirt. After all some nights it dropped to a bone chilling 22 degrees!

Soon the sun grew high, and the earth grew warm quickly. It was probably around 7 am and Regi’s mom, Aurora, 57, the strongest women and person of the tribe, for she worked from dusk till dawn without pause, had already prepared porridge for breakfast. It was delicious, as most food was. I went to take my first morning bath doing yesterdays last load of laundry, as was becoming my routine to do laundry every time I bathed, as I changed and washed my clothes several times a day. Except my 5th bath, which was different, my night bath before bed, I usually didn’t do laundry and I preferred to take it at the beach for there were less mosquitoes and you could appreciate the stars and moon reflecting off the black water, between the white boarders of the beach more.

After my bath it was time to go to the Maloca to watch the daily dances, that were nearly every morning, and afternoon. Tourist guides, friends of the tribe would arrange to bring boat loads in order to subsidize the cost of living for the tribe. I sat with the other tribal women, watching the men dance, having already been accepted as Regi’s “woman”. The tribal culture was a little bit different, and I was the first women Regi had ever “brought home”, so to speak. In actual fact, I was his first girlfriend and his parents, having wanted Regi to find a women and start a family for years, to my surprise couldn’t be more thrilled. I had worried, being a white woman, and a foreigner they would be appalled at our relationship, but the reception I was about to receive I could have never imagined…

So the men danced, and then the women joined in, and then at the end each Indian would grab a tourist and dance with them, and Regi would always grab me. And soon became the tradition that Regi would grab me well in advance and dance with me, while all the tourists wondered who this white Indian was, as in later days I would be painted too. As the dance would come to an end I would find myself in the middle of the circle and Regi would kiss me in front of everyone. It became the strangest of tourist attractions and traditions. How my life had changed…


One of the tourists guides that came daily, was affectionately called Conpadre (godfather), who was a dear friend of the family and raising one of Regi’s sisters children (as she had many more children than she could raise, producing one or two a year). Conpadre was hilarious, and immediately took a curious interest in me. Who is this girl? Raimudo, Regi’s father and chief, said this is my son’s woman (which is basically another way of saying wife). “Oh Mirupu!!! You got yourself such a beautiful girl!! Wow!!” Big smiles all around. There afterwards Conpadre took great pleasure in introducing me to all the tourists at the begging of each dance session as the newest white Indian edition, the wife of Mirupu. This just days after my arrival!!! It was hilarious! (-and a little scary…). On one occasion, a tourist came up to me and asked if I was “with child” and if that was why I was staying here, Jesus Christ, no! On most others, they would ask about how long was I there, what my parents thought, etc, etc. I usually would smile and run away with Regi before they could catch us.

Wow, my world was spinning with the novelty and hilariousness of the situation. However, it was a little special, and quite touching to be surrounded by such joy, acceptance, happiness, and good will.

Nonetheless, the situation did cause me to worry a little for the family was accepting me a little too much. After having been there for just a few days, Regi’s father sat down with me, and said that he would really like me to marry his son and start a family with him, and that they were already planning to build us a house on the land right next to theirs!!! Holy crappers!! Woe Nelly!! Now was the time to explain I was just passing through, but I didn’t have the heart, or courage, for the first time in my life to answer him and tell him the truth. A part of me was so touched by the open sincerity of his impossible offer, and his accepting attitude. He told me these were modern times, and that I would be just as much an Indian as anyone else, that it didn’t matter I was white, etc, etc, etc…. My head was spinning!! REGI!!! HELP!!

That afternoon, I had a long talk with Regi who totally understood my position. He never had thought that I was going to stay or anything; he just genuinely liked me and wanted to spend as much time as possible with me before I left. He knew I was just passing through and could not stay. As much as I liked him too, and enjoyed his family, my life was not here and my journey not over. Regi understood and promised me he would make things clear with his father.

Anyways, the ritual became that after the morning dances, we would bath, have lunch, bath, dance again, bath, have dinner, bath, sit, and bath again. In fact the bathing actually became quite exhausting, and definitely an exercise in itself.

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