My day began early in the morning
(early for me for summer vacation), meeting Seeta, Vanie and the gang
at 8AM. Not too difficult when you consider they live across the
street from me, but nevertheless, if you know me well, early for
school vacation. I rolled up with my camping backpack full to the
brim – considering it was full of food supplies, a first aid kit,
blankets and two hammocks, it was quite a light packing for me. The
63 Bus arrived to the house and we piled in, loading all of our bags,
the kids and the fishing gear. Down the Correntyne highway we went,
racing towards Suriname. We had no expectations; just excitement.
Arriving in Skeldon at 10AM, we learned our boat wouldn't be making
the journey until 2PM. Thank goodness I have adjusted to the “Just
Now”. So we headed on over to a local Halal restaurant for some
fried rice/Chow Mein and chicken, and a few cokes. I showed the kids
a magic trick my uncle Buddy taught me when I was about 9 – still
was as
impressive as ever... except the 7 year old solved the magic
trick immediately after – perhaps he was watching me lay the cards
a little too closely. Finally the time arrived and we jumped the sea
wall (well, climbed down a rickety old ladder to the concrete beach).
We literally walked the plank to get onto the little boat (see
pictures) and quite proud of myself I raced across only to bash my
head on the low roof... an excellent way to start a vacation no
doubt.
As I climbed on, my first thought was “oh my god, I hope it
floats” , quickly followed by, “Now THIS is an adventure”.
After stringing up our hammocks across the small boat with the other
passengers the boat looked like it was swathed in a multitude of
beautiful fabrics floating in the air (see picture). We waited while
bags and bags of cement and rocks were loaded high into the boat,
again making me question the sturdiness of the floating vessel.
Finally we were on our way. We left Skeldon, traversing down the
brown river, surrounded by a green ocean of jungle on both sides:
Guyana on our right, and Suriname on our left. The contrast among the
blue sky, brown river and green trees was breathtaking. I looked hard
for monkeys, but unfortunately didn't see any. What we did see
however, was a beautiful rainbow high in the sky woven through the
clouds. Eventually, as the sun set, I crept over food supplies,
luggage, bags of rocks, and lumber and nestled into my hammock for a
night time rest.
We docked at Siparuta late in the
evening (or early in the morning depending how you look at it: about
1 or 2 am – long before we reached Siparuta my cell service had
gone down so my phone didn't know the actual time), and loaded with
our luggage, climbed the sand hill to our hosts house. The house was
on stilts overlooking the river and during the day, would have the
most gorgeous view of the river, looking across to Suriname. We
strung up my hammock across the veranda and piled mattresses out for
the rest of the gang to sleep on (4 adults and 2 kids, with me in one
hammock and a teenager in the second). Before bed, we filled buckets
and took nice cold bucket baths under the house. I have said it
before and I will say it again... bucket baths are a MUST try –
they are beyond refreshing after a long hot day!
The day started even earlier than the
day before, at 4am the rooster began to crow and by 5:30, the whole
house but me was up and going about the day. We met more of our hosts
children and our tour guide for the few days we would be there. I
greeted him as I stepped out of my hammock – what a sight and first
impression I must have made; hair flying everywhere, crinkled
pajamas, 3 hours of restless sleep. But time doesn't wait for you in
the jungle... so up I went in search of the bathroom. It was
discovered that the 
Moving along... our guide took us all
over Siparuta on a hike – through the village, by the river, passed
the schools and town volley ball net, to the sandpits and to the
black water creek. (see pictures). 
Siparuta is a remote, isolated, Amerindian village far down the Correntyne River, beyond Orealla. There are approximately 600 people living in Siparuta. The major employment of the villagers is in the timber or sand business.
Later in the day, we loaded up a boat
with the adults and headed out on the river for a fishing adventure.
FIRST however, we needed to catch bait. We crossed the river and
ducked beneath overhanging branches to the bank. Out we waded and
entered pure jungle. The sounds and smells were invigorating and
fresh; this was untouched jungle here. We found a small little creek
and were taught how to flick the muck up on the bank and search for
little fish... All I could think was.... SNAKES SNAKES SNAKES. There
was a strong possibility that they were in that creek with us, but
eventually, and probably stupidly, we were having so much fun
slinging muck I forgot about my fears. In time, no thanks to me,
Seeta and Vanie, we had enough bait. We had about 6 lines loaded with
hooks and bait, for about two hours of solid fishing... and didn't
catch a single fish. My ancestors would be extremely disappointed in
my fishing skills. We passed by a lone fisherman in a hallowed out
canoe and he proudly held up five fish that he assured us he just
caught in the last hour. Giving up fishing, we parked the boat by the
biggest sandpit I have ever seen and mountain climbed up the cliff to
reach the top. Once we were racing around frolicking through the
sand, my tour guide and some of the local teens who went with us
pointed out some tracks in the sand they said were 'tiger'... I am
pretty sure there aren't tigers in Guyana... but what do I know.
Jaguar? Ocelots? Panthers? OK – when you are in the jungle... same
difference!
The next day, we piled onto a tractor
for the most unique hay ride I have ever been on... through the
jungle to the savanna! The flat, grassy savanna dotted with trees and
flowers was breathtakingly beautiful... until one of my travelers
showed me a giant metallic silver spider... but I was assured that
this wasn't one of dem biting spiders. Even still, keep it away.
We went back and swam in an icy cold
black water creek. There is a saying in Guyana that you won't leave
if you eat the wild meat (labba) and drink the black water... who
knows what is floating in there, so I haven't yet drank it... jus'
now.
We packed up our bags and said goodbye
to our wonderful host and tour guide, who quickly became our friends.
We piled into a much larger boat with several decks and spots for
hammocks, but as our trip was short, just up river a few hours to
Orealla, we skipped the hammocks and limed on the top deck watching
the scenery pass us by and gaffing. We saw another beautiful rainbow
on the trip.
As we docked into Orealla, I looked out
over the village and saw that this was much more tourist geared than
Siparuta. There were snackettes along the river walk, a gazebo and
even a volleyball court. When you arrive at an Amerindian village in
Guyana, the first thing you must do is find the
Tochou (“too-shou”)
or chief of the village to ask permission to stay in the village.
With this accomplished we began a short walking tour before the sun
set. In Orealla, you better be prepared for some leg work – there
were houses nestled into the mountain cliff and to reach them, you
hiked straight up the hill. We watched little old ladies race up past
us as we fought for breathe. The view looking out over the bay, yet
again, was breathtaking. The bay looks out onto three islands called
“the three sisters”. We watched boats come and go, birds of all
variety, including giant carrion, and people going about their
afternoon.
The next day we hiked up the giant hill
and waited for a tractor to take us and about 60 other people to the
resort that was being created deep past the savanna and into the
jungle. When you hear the word resort, like me, your mind undoubtedly
goes to those fancy Marriott or Hilton beach side resorts... but this
was not that kind of resort. The resort had benabs to sit under,
campsite fire pits for cooking and latrines. The beach side water was
typical black water creek... but surrounded by lush jungle. The owner
of the resort was training the locals on guest hospitality to promote
ecotourism. We were their guinea pigs. After a meal of ramen
noodles, we jumped in the cool water and swam for a bit...
realistically... I swam... my fellow friends are not the swimming
abled. Yet again, I wondered how many snakes we were swimming with. A
small boat pulled up from down the creek and I immediately
volunteered to be the trainees guinea pig to take me on a tour
through the jungle creek. Initially, we had about 12 people pile in
the boat and as it rocked back and forth, I wondered yet again about
the buoyancy of Guyanese vessels...
fortunately, my tour guides realized
that the boat was way overloaded and quickly turned back. We cut the
number in half and went on our way. I asked my guides how old they
all were, and they responded from age 16-18... MY LIFE WAS IN THE
HANDS OF A BUNCH OF TEENAGERS! Once we left the other trainees and my friends,
we were surrounded by silence broken by chirping of birds and
the rustling of jungle leaves. White bright light poked between the thick
jungle canopy. The feeling of being alone with nature was
overwhelming. The boat rocked back and forth with every move we made
and I asked my guides if there were snakes in the creek. I probably
shouldn't have asked the question, but my curiosity got the best of
me. “oh yes,” they said. “The bone crunching kind.” GREAT! I
chuckled thinking they may want to work on a better answer for their
tourists. As we went along, our path was suddenly blocked by a downed
log. We simply could not pass over, so my tour guides got the idea
that we would lift the boat over the log. Now mind you, we are in a
creek that is way over our heads, with bone crunching snakes. I
did what any reasonable Peace Corps Volunteer would do... I agreed
that the adventure needed to continue and precariously climbed out of
the boat onto the log. All 6 of us balanced on this one log and
put our efforts into heaving and lifting the heavy boat over the log.
After about 5 minutes of teamwork, and two tour guides falling in the
water and quickly jumping out, we got the boat over. I was so glad I
hadn't fallen in and encountered the bone crunching snakes. Again I
chuckled realizing that we would have to do the same on the way back.
We continued on our adventure, ducking below low branches and gaffing
about their lives in Orealla, and my role as a Peace Corps Volunteer.
I asked the guides if they come down the river a lot... to which they
eagerly replied...”No... this is our first time!” - OH MY GOD!
What had I gotten myself into! On we went and we came to a fork where
we could go left or right. At this point, my guides decided that we
had gone far enough – perhaps because they didn't know what was
either way. We turned around and headed back to the resort. When we
reached the log the second time, we got it over much faster – but
still with a few guides taking a dip. We made it back to the resort safely and
headed 'home' back on the tractor. I will never forget this boat ride!
Later that day, we did some fishing by
the dock, and Seeta's son caught a giant piranha (Piri in local speak
pronounced “Peer-EYE”)! I finally got to see a piranha! Let me
tell you... you do NOT want to encounter one of those ever in your
swims. The teeth were giant and sharp, reminding me of a bear trap;
its eyes were red as blood and angrily watching us as we took
pictures. There is a “joke” that in the rivering area people
never have the same number of toes or fingers they were born with –
because of the piranha. Later that night, Vanie and I went for a walk
and sat on the dock looking across the water towards the B&B, and
there were about 5 kids or teenagers bathing in the river RIGHT where
Seeta's son caught the piranha.
The next day, I caught some sort of flu
from sleeping outside in the cold and moist air in my hammock for so
many days, so I stayed in my hammock and read a book. A few of us
actually got sick so we decided to take it easy. When we planned this
trip, we were planning to come back on Saturday, but as with
everything, the boat schedule is unpredictable and sporadic. The boat
going on Saturday was canceled because someone on the crew got his
arm chopped in a drunken brawl with a brother. Literally severed with
a cutlass. But we later found out that a next boat was going but
wouldn't be docking into Orealla until 9:30/10:00. Two of us sickies
elected to take this boat to get home and to our own beds. The boat
rolled up to the dock around 11:30 at night and we loaded our bag and
tied up the one hammock we had (left the other one for Seeta and her
family). We decided we would alternate through the night and I piled
up my life jacket and rain coat into a little nest on the bottom of
the boat.
About 15 minutes into the trip, the skies let loose its
tears and I was soaked. The captain took pity on me as the only one
NOT under the secure overhang and NOT with a hammock and got a tarp for me.
I pitched my umbrella opened and made myself a little tent on the
bottom of the boat and slept. I woke up hours later when we arrived
back in Skeldon at 5:30 am. My phone chirped with life as it
connected to civilization and messages came pouring through.
It is easy to look back at this trip
and reflect on the poverty of the communities we visited in
comparison to what I am used to in the United States, and even in
Adelphi... There wasn't a flushing toilet in Siparuta; electricity
was from a solar panel and water had to be lugged from the well up
the stairs to wash dishes and cook. There were no fancy electronics
or cars, no designer clothing and certainly no excess of imported
food. But then I reflected further. A person shouldn't be labeled as
poor just because they don't have the latest ipads, trendiest
clothing or state of the art electronics – these are first world
interpretations of what we consider a lack of wealth and therefore
gain our pity. They had enough food, enough clothing, enough water
and a beautifully stable house. They weren't tied to a desk, slaves
to the clock. All around me on that trip were lush forest and nature,
fresh fruit plucked ripe from the tree, natural black water swimming
pools for the villagers to play, fish in the river (unless you were
bad at fishing as we were), picturesque views, beautiful people,
laughter and love – if that isn't “rich” I don't know what is.
This was a once in a lifetime trip and
I hope you enjoyed my retelling of this adventure. I saw a quote the
other day and I think it fits quite nicely into one of the main
reasons I joined Peace Corps. “Live the life you Love. Love the
life you Live.” I believe we only get one shot at this thing called
life, so better enjoy it while I can. Life is an adventure.
