Hell, along with karaoke singing realtors, the smell of roofing tar and freshly gutted chickens and the ubiquitous inferno like conditions would certainly also have kabuora flies there to further plague you for your sins. Having just returned from the Rupununi Savannah (home to thousands of these nasties) and despite the repeated plastering of my skin with smelly crab oil and Australian 50% deet spray (Thanks Kane!) and much time spent in and under mosquito nets I still managed to get bit exactly 24 times. This may not seem like a lot, but each bite is a swollen itchy painful rock hard lump the size of a pea and after six days they show no sign of abating any of these symptoms. I even got stung by a wasp and it was better than the fly bites. They also apparently often leave scars as they heal....Nice!!
Otherwise my time in the Hinterlands was fabulous....In Region nine where at least 20 VSO’s and Peace Core converged for the long weekend, we hiked the 1000 steps trail on Easter Sunday, swam in waterfall fed pools, visited Moco Moco Nature Park, trekked to Brazil on foot, ate meat on a stick, went to a old fashioned wild west rodeo, drove around in the back of a pickup truck standing up holding the roll bar, saw the Miss Rodeo and Mr Rodeo pageant and break dance competition outdoors under the most amazing star filled sky I have perhaps ever seen and spent much time walking, talking, eating and shopping. Six of us all bunked with our host Sonja who was such a good sport to have her lovely house completely invaded by such chaos. Sonja has perhaps the best hammock set up I have ever encountered, two aside under a lazy wooden awning with a perfect breeze always blowing, and with a view of iguana filled trees. In five days I managed to read 3 whole books while lounging for hours in a hammock, plus of course I also got to sleep there. I have mastered the art of getting in, out and comfortable in a large South American hammock and there is nothing like the gentle rocking to lull you to sleep, in fact I am now buying one to install wherever I may end up living in the future I am so captivated by their comfort. Life in the Rupununi is slow paced with a little attitude thrown in, a frontier style town if you will, where the dust is red, the insects and sunsets are spectacular, ant hills dot the landscape like modern sculpture, and the epic vistas are haunting and defy postcards, the air smells fresh and is tinged with the foreign languages of Amerindian and Portuguese, the water is clean, the food is meat, the main sport is drinking and the bus rides to get here are gruelling epic journeys of 15 – 34hrs depending...and maybe if I am lucky in life I will be back someday!
In my other trip to Mabarumba in the Region one hinterlands I went one day before my work due to flight schedules and was overwhelmed by the natural beauty of the jungle valleys. This is Jonestown country and you can sort of see why a crazy cult leader might choose this lush area to set up a remote intentional community. By the way the Guyanese have let Jonestown simply return to the jungle and I really respect that they have chosen to not make it a tourist attraction at all, although some crazy tourists do still apparently ask to get taken there, apparently to mostly huge disappointment. I was instead taken by motor bike to see two outlying Amerindian villages and it was surreal, the ride through beautiful long lost junglescapes that faded into a purple haze that at first I thought there were oceans, but were in fact more pristine jungle and upon arrival at the first village it was just like stepping back in time to an era of hunter gathers. The two VSO’s in Region one have done amazing work with these very remote and poor villages. It was quite impressive to see what they have accomplished: a water system, a wash house, a kitchen and community house, a plant nursery, a poultry and kitchen garden per family and an aqua culture facility have all been set up in their tenure. Region one as promised had tarantulas and vampire bats. The VSO’s there live with the bats and spiders inside their HOUSE!! I was encouraged to take pictures of the tarantulas as they looked for the big one for my photgrapic pleasure...hah! I was glad to be staying in my power optional guest house which was great other than they forgot my meals for two days straight which meant I basically lived on the few packs of crackers and instant coffee I had the foresight to bring with me! While working at the hospital I was informed that the week before someone died from a snake bite there, I asked where she was bitten and was told walking on the road in broad daylight right out front of the guesthouse where I was staying. Yikes and more yikes, I hadn’t really been nervous about snakes until then, so this did nothing to instil confidence in me for my long walk back to the guest house. I am getting in touch with the less aesthetic creatures in life it seems as I have encountered bats, rats, toads, lizards, frogs, cockroaches, spiders and been bitten by all kind of insects in the past week. In Guyana you are up close and personal with all fauna!
On my last night in the wilds of Region nine I slept inside as all of the other guests had gone, and was warned I might hear the rats in the night. I was a bit worried about what I might do upon such an encounter and warned Sonja that if I saw one I would probably scream and wake her up. She nicely said that was fine. Sure enough I woke up in the night and went to get a drink of water and right there on the kitchen counter was a fat scurrying rat, maybe I was far enough away, or have just been desensitized enough by my exposure to so many vile creatures on the planet this past few weeks and months that instead of screaming my default reaction was to forget the drink of water and to quickly bolt outside to sleep in the safety of the hammock instead! My first ever non screaming vermin encounter folks! Progress surely.
Proudly I have now been to all 10 Regions of Guyana and survived, with a mere 24 kaboura fly bites as souvenirs!
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Into the Hinterlands
In a few days I will head off on two epic journeys to the hinterlands and in the process will then have travelled to all 10 regions of Guyana. The purpose of my travel is of course for work and I will be meeting with the remote regional health centres to gather information and to do some training on data collection. I’m really looking forward to both doing the work and seeing the hinterlands.
First up is a 3 day trip to remote Mabaruma in Region 1 where access is by a 6 hr boat/bus trip, I plan to fly and then walk in instead. The guesthouse I booked had rooms with electricity being optional and at an extra $3000GYD ($15 CAD) per night! I agreed to pay for the decadent thrill of electricity (I want to see those tarantulas coming...as this region is notorious for large and frequent insect sightings) to then find out from a friend that electricity is usually only available there for a few hours per day if at all. I have been advised to bring my own food, water, mosquito net, candles, flashlight, batteries and insect repellent! All these supplies within my very scant weight allowance on the tiny plane, where you and your luggage are weighed before travel. Region one borders Venezuela and is apparently beautiful and the jumping off point for chartered trips to the alluring Shell Beach to witness the giant nesting turtles. Parts of the Guyana Venezuela border are in dispute and you can apparently easily cross illegally into each country from this area, but it is of course ill advised. As much as I’d love a quick day trip to Venezuela I won’t be doing it illegally, so my spare day in region one will likely be spent avoiding tarantulas and maximising my electricity options and computer work time.
Then it is off to Region 9 for six days, the wild west of Guyana, the region to the south that borders Brazil and is home to the famous Rupununi savannah. Many VSO’s are stationed in this region mostly working in agriculture and eco tourism development so it will be great to see them in action. The town of Lethem is home to around 2500 citizens and serves as the economic hub of this part of the country. Road access to this area is notoriously brutal with 12 – 20 hour bus trips reported depending on road conditions. Brazil is in fact in negotiation with Guyana to pave this section of road for them as it would give Brazil better access to the port in Georgetown. Once again I am lucky and will be flying down. But I inadvertently planned this trip during the busiest weekend of the year which means there are no accommodations available so I will now be sleeping in a hammock in the back of a VSO’s house for five nights...yes in a hammock strung outside, and I have been warned it is kaboura fly season to boot! The kaboura are a day time miniature black fly with a bite so nasty that it leaves welts and scars. Two VSO’s last week showed me the damage to their legs....and yikes....I seem to have the kind of skin bugs really enjoy snacking on here in Georgetown so have decided to take all the advised precautions...The locally produced Crab oil, which is called Andiroba oil in North America and is known for its healing properties and its particular bad smell is apparently a good deterrent. I have been advised to layer my skin first with the pungent crab oil, then spray as on much toxic deet as possible, then to wear tights tucked into socks and then spray again and also to spray your mosquito net!!! This approach sounds hot and well really really smelly….but better smelly than eaten perhaps? It is also a malarious and yellow fever area and they have snakes, biting scorpions and giant stinging millipedes…so ok maybe I will wear socks after all and will need to remember to take my nasuaa inducing malaria tablets in advance.
The rite of passage of sleeping in hammock will be exciting as it seems almost everyone else I know in Guyana at some point in their travels has been required to string up a hammock. I have had advice on how to best sleep in one, (diagonally and with net tucked in) and to be careful as it can cause an aching back and shoulders if slept in incorrectly. Realistically I will probably like the idea of sleeping in a hammock more than the actual doing of it. A few months ago I bought a beautiful maroon travel hammock and am looking forward to breaking it in, that is if I can get it strung up…I had trouble with this task when I last tried it out in Trinidad.
Region nine will be hosting an old style rodeo and dance, and is home to restaurants, a peanut factory, beautiful nature hikes, waterfalls and savannahs and is right across the border from Brazil so there will be no lack of things to do on the days in between my work. A side trip to Brazil might be fun and is rather tempting, but will depend on my ability to get a VISA in time and if I decide it is worth it to pay the exorbitant fee they are asking for the privilege of day trip. But they do sell coffee and snazzy flip flops there!
So happy Easter to everyone, this will be an unusual one for me as I will likely spend it fending off giant insects and biting flies while trying to sleep comfortably outside in a hammock and will hopefully not incur any nocturnal sightings of jaguars or anacondas in the process. Oh and I might just go to my first ever rodeo, where chances of eating some Easter chocolate is very low but drinking rum is very high! Yehaw y'all.
First up is a 3 day trip to remote Mabaruma in Region 1 where access is by a 6 hr boat/bus trip, I plan to fly and then walk in instead. The guesthouse I booked had rooms with electricity being optional and at an extra $3000GYD ($15 CAD) per night! I agreed to pay for the decadent thrill of electricity (I want to see those tarantulas coming...as this region is notorious for large and frequent insect sightings) to then find out from a friend that electricity is usually only available there for a few hours per day if at all. I have been advised to bring my own food, water, mosquito net, candles, flashlight, batteries and insect repellent! All these supplies within my very scant weight allowance on the tiny plane, where you and your luggage are weighed before travel. Region one borders Venezuela and is apparently beautiful and the jumping off point for chartered trips to the alluring Shell Beach to witness the giant nesting turtles. Parts of the Guyana Venezuela border are in dispute and you can apparently easily cross illegally into each country from this area, but it is of course ill advised. As much as I’d love a quick day trip to Venezuela I won’t be doing it illegally, so my spare day in region one will likely be spent avoiding tarantulas and maximising my electricity options and computer work time.
Then it is off to Region 9 for six days, the wild west of Guyana, the region to the south that borders Brazil and is home to the famous Rupununi savannah. Many VSO’s are stationed in this region mostly working in agriculture and eco tourism development so it will be great to see them in action. The town of Lethem is home to around 2500 citizens and serves as the economic hub of this part of the country. Road access to this area is notoriously brutal with 12 – 20 hour bus trips reported depending on road conditions. Brazil is in fact in negotiation with Guyana to pave this section of road for them as it would give Brazil better access to the port in Georgetown. Once again I am lucky and will be flying down. But I inadvertently planned this trip during the busiest weekend of the year which means there are no accommodations available so I will now be sleeping in a hammock in the back of a VSO’s house for five nights...yes in a hammock strung outside, and I have been warned it is kaboura fly season to boot! The kaboura are a day time miniature black fly with a bite so nasty that it leaves welts and scars. Two VSO’s last week showed me the damage to their legs....and yikes....I seem to have the kind of skin bugs really enjoy snacking on here in Georgetown so have decided to take all the advised precautions...The locally produced Crab oil, which is called Andiroba oil in North America and is known for its healing properties and its particular bad smell is apparently a good deterrent. I have been advised to layer my skin first with the pungent crab oil, then spray as on much toxic deet as possible, then to wear tights tucked into socks and then spray again and also to spray your mosquito net!!! This approach sounds hot and well really really smelly….but better smelly than eaten perhaps? It is also a malarious and yellow fever area and they have snakes, biting scorpions and giant stinging millipedes…so ok maybe I will wear socks after all and will need to remember to take my nasuaa inducing malaria tablets in advance.
The rite of passage of sleeping in hammock will be exciting as it seems almost everyone else I know in Guyana at some point in their travels has been required to string up a hammock. I have had advice on how to best sleep in one, (diagonally and with net tucked in) and to be careful as it can cause an aching back and shoulders if slept in incorrectly. Realistically I will probably like the idea of sleeping in a hammock more than the actual doing of it. A few months ago I bought a beautiful maroon travel hammock and am looking forward to breaking it in, that is if I can get it strung up…I had trouble with this task when I last tried it out in Trinidad.
Region nine will be hosting an old style rodeo and dance, and is home to restaurants, a peanut factory, beautiful nature hikes, waterfalls and savannahs and is right across the border from Brazil so there will be no lack of things to do on the days in between my work. A side trip to Brazil might be fun and is rather tempting, but will depend on my ability to get a VISA in time and if I decide it is worth it to pay the exorbitant fee they are asking for the privilege of day trip. But they do sell coffee and snazzy flip flops there!
So happy Easter to everyone, this will be an unusual one for me as I will likely spend it fending off giant insects and biting flies while trying to sleep comfortably outside in a hammock and will hopefully not incur any nocturnal sightings of jaguars or anacondas in the process. Oh and I might just go to my first ever rodeo, where chances of eating some Easter chocolate is very low but drinking rum is very high! Yehaw y'all.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Bubbles and Cigarettes at the Races
The question of fate is one of life’s great mysteries and not something I have an answer to. I’m humbled though at times to witness its impact on our planet and to ponder the fairness of application. Last weekend the stark contrast of the different kind of lives children here in Guyana may have came to light in a most poignant moment.
I accompanied my VSO friend Selina to the races. She had been asked to go by one of her neighbours and basically I was along a chaperone, so that the outing would clearly not be a “date”. We were picked up by the neighbour and his friend in a 4x4 outfitted with a tent, a food cooler, an ice cooler, a beer cooler, plates, a few different machetes, cutlery, chairs, fresh coconuts on the vine...it was like jungle camping! A bumpy hour or so later and a 4X4’ drive up a large sand hill we arrived at our destination and prime viewing spot reserved by another guy who had arrived at the crack of dawn to secure it...so we were now front row at the races and the men set up camp central. Very exciting indeed!
The day progressed with very loud and intermittently thrilling car and motorcycle races in the extreme heat and much showing off of us two “white gayls” to the crowd of almost entirely men at the races. We were served hand and foot by our hosts....(humorously this is not what would happen if we were say married to these guys, then we would be doing the serving as is custom here). We decided to enjoy it for what it was and so we were served salad and fried chicken, then later curried chicken with puri, fresh fruit, iced drinks of fresh coconut juice and vodka ...and beer and then more beer...all before noon on a Sunday!!!.......The owner of all the camping gear had also brought along his 10 year old son for a day of manly fun, and as all the vendors walked by he was bought a sun hat, then chips, then another hat, this one with a solar panel operated fan built in (way cool), a pack of bubbles and well basically anything he wanted he was able to purchase from the passing vendors. He was a cool kid, not spoiled, funny, sweet, smart and thrilled to be out at such an event with the guys, he was clearly not taking any of it for granted. We enjoyed spending the day with him. We were also thankful for his presence as he was apparently the reason the driver kept his drinking down. (Whew!)
Shortly after lunch we were sitting in the chairs (brought just for us gayls) with the boy between us playing with his bubbles when two other boys about the same ago walked up to us. These boys were without shoes or hats in the hot sun and were wearing ill fitting and dusty clothes, they looked tired, hot and well kind of desperate...they were vending you see. They both had cigar style boxes around their necks with their scarce wares for sale on display out in front of them. They had so little for sale it was quite sad, an open pack of cigarettes and gum cut out of the packet so you could buy it one piece at a time, some very pathetic looking packets of biscuits, a few sun bleached peeling packs of mini-pringles, and a couple of bags of cheese stix (a Jamaican cheezie that I am actually quite fond of). The other boys father immediately tried to shoe them away, but something made me want to purchase from them, and I tried to but I only had a thousand dollar bill ($5 CAD)...a “BIG” bill here. They had no change of course. As they were being shoed away for the second time I asked them to come back when they passed again. Sure enough about an hour later they were back, dustier than ever and if it was possible even more desperate looking, they really wanted to make the cheezie sale. We had bought something else to get change. They sold me the cheezies and no words needed to be said... a look passed between Selina and I, and later we discussed we had been thinking the same thing.... of the huge and stark contrast of these two children’s lives to the boy here happily playing right beside us with his bubbles and solar hat, as ten years old should.
The vending boys took their money and walked off without shoes in the hot sand to make another round, maybe they would sell another bag of cheezies or a few cigarettes before the day was out. What was their story, did they have a home to go back to?...how much money could you even earn selling singles of cigarettes and gum?.... why did they have so little for sale?..were they made to work by their family and if so how long do they vend for on a hot day like this?....do they even have a family?..or maybe optimistically they were simply young entrepreneurs trying to make some money at the races with high hopes of a future expanded vending empire? I will never likely know their story yet the question of their fate sat soundly with me and I have thought of those two boys all week.
I have occasionally heard people in the 1st world talk of the poor and of poverty and a few times have heard some place blame on those that are poor themselves, that they should get a job, and that they can and should be able to change their circumstance, but it’s seldom true, if ever that those who find themselves in such circumstances truly have the power to change things around them. Sometimes maybe you are just a little kid forced into an adult dog eat dog vending world and you can barely acquire enough things to re-sell on a hot day...and if fate was kind - all kid’s would be playing with bubbles at the races instead of selling cigarettes.
The heaviness of my privilege is at times here almost unbearable.
I accompanied my VSO friend Selina to the races. She had been asked to go by one of her neighbours and basically I was along a chaperone, so that the outing would clearly not be a “date”. We were picked up by the neighbour and his friend in a 4x4 outfitted with a tent, a food cooler, an ice cooler, a beer cooler, plates, a few different machetes, cutlery, chairs, fresh coconuts on the vine...it was like jungle camping! A bumpy hour or so later and a 4X4’ drive up a large sand hill we arrived at our destination and prime viewing spot reserved by another guy who had arrived at the crack of dawn to secure it...so we were now front row at the races and the men set up camp central. Very exciting indeed!
The day progressed with very loud and intermittently thrilling car and motorcycle races in the extreme heat and much showing off of us two “white gayls” to the crowd of almost entirely men at the races. We were served hand and foot by our hosts....(humorously this is not what would happen if we were say married to these guys, then we would be doing the serving as is custom here). We decided to enjoy it for what it was and so we were served salad and fried chicken, then later curried chicken with puri, fresh fruit, iced drinks of fresh coconut juice and vodka ...and beer and then more beer...all before noon on a Sunday!!!.......The owner of all the camping gear had also brought along his 10 year old son for a day of manly fun, and as all the vendors walked by he was bought a sun hat, then chips, then another hat, this one with a solar panel operated fan built in (way cool), a pack of bubbles and well basically anything he wanted he was able to purchase from the passing vendors. He was a cool kid, not spoiled, funny, sweet, smart and thrilled to be out at such an event with the guys, he was clearly not taking any of it for granted. We enjoyed spending the day with him. We were also thankful for his presence as he was apparently the reason the driver kept his drinking down. (Whew!)
Shortly after lunch we were sitting in the chairs (brought just for us gayls) with the boy between us playing with his bubbles when two other boys about the same ago walked up to us. These boys were without shoes or hats in the hot sun and were wearing ill fitting and dusty clothes, they looked tired, hot and well kind of desperate...they were vending you see. They both had cigar style boxes around their necks with their scarce wares for sale on display out in front of them. They had so little for sale it was quite sad, an open pack of cigarettes and gum cut out of the packet so you could buy it one piece at a time, some very pathetic looking packets of biscuits, a few sun bleached peeling packs of mini-pringles, and a couple of bags of cheese stix (a Jamaican cheezie that I am actually quite fond of). The other boys father immediately tried to shoe them away, but something made me want to purchase from them, and I tried to but I only had a thousand dollar bill ($5 CAD)...a “BIG” bill here. They had no change of course. As they were being shoed away for the second time I asked them to come back when they passed again. Sure enough about an hour later they were back, dustier than ever and if it was possible even more desperate looking, they really wanted to make the cheezie sale. We had bought something else to get change. They sold me the cheezies and no words needed to be said... a look passed between Selina and I, and later we discussed we had been thinking the same thing.... of the huge and stark contrast of these two children’s lives to the boy here happily playing right beside us with his bubbles and solar hat, as ten years old should.
The vending boys took their money and walked off without shoes in the hot sand to make another round, maybe they would sell another bag of cheezies or a few cigarettes before the day was out. What was their story, did they have a home to go back to?...how much money could you even earn selling singles of cigarettes and gum?.... why did they have so little for sale?..were they made to work by their family and if so how long do they vend for on a hot day like this?....do they even have a family?..or maybe optimistically they were simply young entrepreneurs trying to make some money at the races with high hopes of a future expanded vending empire? I will never likely know their story yet the question of their fate sat soundly with me and I have thought of those two boys all week.
I have occasionally heard people in the 1st world talk of the poor and of poverty and a few times have heard some place blame on those that are poor themselves, that they should get a job, and that they can and should be able to change their circumstance, but it’s seldom true, if ever that those who find themselves in such circumstances truly have the power to change things around them. Sometimes maybe you are just a little kid forced into an adult dog eat dog vending world and you can barely acquire enough things to re-sell on a hot day...and if fate was kind - all kid’s would be playing with bubbles at the races instead of selling cigarettes.
The heaviness of my privilege is at times here almost unbearable.
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