To Georgetown for Heritage

The entire month of September is dedicated to the celebration of Amerindian heritage. Clare had never been to Georgetown so we felt this would be an opportunity for her to visit Guyana's capital city and enjoy some of the festivities.

Our first night in Town found us at the Heritage grounds in Sophia. There, Clare met some local artisans...and had her picture taken with President Jagdeo.

After we returned to the interior, football (soccer) took over my life. I was asked to coach the North team. We went into camp, trained and then headed south to Lethem for a week of playoffs. My September consisted, in its entirety, oftraveling with Clare, parties, celebrations and soccer. Life does NOT get any better.

Her name is Clare

On August 18, 2009, during a trip to Lethem my life changed...I met Clare Bernadette Daniels Clement. As innocently as, "does your cellphone have Blue Tooth?....can we swap some music?" a whole new world opened before me. We sat for over an hour exchanging musical selections from mine phone to hers and the reverse. We chatted, learned a bit about each other, agreed to meet again when she was in Kwatamang Village and I was back at back at Bina Hill Institute...about 3 miles from Kwatamang.


Clare is a 32 year-old widowed mother of two sons, 8 and 10. She is tiny...just 5 feet tall and has the smallest feet I've ever seen. Have you ever tried to buy dress shoes for a woman with a size 5 foot...really size 5! Her feet are only this long...tiny.

She is a full-blooded Macusi Amerindian...she speaks three languages: Macusi, Portugese and English. Since 2003, shortly after her husband was killed, she has lived in Boa Vista, Brazil. One of her sons, the younger, Kelron lives with his grandmother in Hiowa Village, while her older son, Douglas lives with her parents in Kwatamang. Clare hopes to be able to return to Kwatamang where she will be able to re-unite with both of her sons.

Like most Amerindian women I have met, Clare is incredible...she is patient, thoughtful, resourceful...nothing phases her. And best of all, she takes absolutely no crap from me. I hope this relationship will go forward...she is wonderful.

And this is what her very beautiful looks like...she is letting her hair grow back out similar in length to many of the women in the village.

Trinidad

As is typical, many flights into Guyana land in Trinidad. Since I was going to be here, I wanted to take a quick run out to Chaguaramas to visit friends I hadn't seen since I left back in 2006.

I went by David Morand's capentry shop, wandered around Power Boats and Peakes, saying hello to old friends. Most importantly, I got to see Chicky. It brought back great memories, standing at her vendor stand eating the great sanwiches she always prepares.

It was funny when we drove up. At first, I had forgotten where her stand was...so, I thought she was not there. Then, I spied her just down the road (where she has always been). I told the driver to drive right up to her table. I wnated to jump out and surprise her....welllll, the surprise wa on me. Chicky came around the car a greeted me with a great big hug just as I got out of the cab.

Leaving Maine

My last stop in Maine was in Portland. I had a late afternoon flight out to JFK, then on to Trinidad, so Brant took me to Portland where Maya Cohen picked me up.She took me to a funky little outdoor Mexican place where we had some great Mexican food...and icy, icy cold cokes. I did some last minute shopping, sorting and packing before Maya took me to the airport where I would depart Maine for probably the last time...I was surprised at the lack of sadness. i was actually happy that I was leaving one chapter of my life behind and opening up a whole new, as yet unwritten, volume....now it is on to Trinidad.

Maya at the Funky Little Outdoor Mexican Place

On to Bowdoinham

Ron and Sherry were heading to Portland to watch their daughter run in the Beach to Beacon 10k., so they gave me a drop to Brant Miller's farm in Bowdoinham. It felt good...and it felt strange to be back in the town where I had spent more than more than half of my life.

I took time to walk around to see what had changed during my absence...not much. Things seemed to be about the same. To validate this, Brant and I went to the Town Landing Place Restaurant where I had eaten many, many meals...and absorbed huge amounts of abuse. True to the tradition of the place, I wlaked into verbal flack from the moment I walked through the door.
I had a wonderful time staying with Brant. I got to walk through familiar fields with Nell. It was painful watching here try to run the way she did when she was young...she wanted to run, run, run, but her body is just too old. But it was fun walking with her.

I drove by the old house...Carol's car was in the yard, but I just couldn't summon the courage to stop. I did go by Matt's house to say good-bye. He was away on vacation, but Bear was there. We had an abrupt, one-word at-a-time conversation. I suspect that was the last contact I will have with any of my sons. I know they will do well...I wish them all the best. They reamin the pride and joy of my life.

Saying good-bye to Ron, Sherry and Molly

On the last day of July it was time to say good-bye to my wonderful hosts. Ron and Sherry had shown me every courtesy. My time with them was wonderful. From chatting with Sherry, sipping bourbon with Ron, sitting on their porch looking out over Bangor and the rest of northern and western Maine to dodging Molly's wet sloppy kisses in the morning I could not have asked for more congenial hosts.

An Unexpected Surprise

I went to visit Jean and Bud Lyford who had been on my paper route those many years ago. They told me that their son, Peter, had recently received the Silver Beaver Award at the new lodge at Camp Roosevelt. They urged me to visit the new facility which they described as, "spectacular"....and it is.

One evening i drove to the camp where I had spent so many happy hours as a Scout camper and a Scout Leader. While I was checking in, I was very pleasantly surprised to have one of my former Scouts, Mike Cuskelly, walk in. Mike is the Camp Director...and offered to show me around the facility. He reminded me that we first met right here at Camp Roosevelt. In a moment of nostalgia, we went to Snow Shoe campsite to talk for awhile. I've always been proud of the fact that a number of my former Scouts went on to become Professional Scouters...Mike being one of the best.

Old Scoutmaster and Old Scout in front of the new lodge

It was amazing how small everything looks compared to when I attended camp back in the fifties and sixties. One thing, though, has not changed. The old lodge still holds great memories for me. Here I was awarded my Life Scout badge and was inducted into the Order of the Arrow.

Visiting Mum

One of the most important reasons I returned to Maine was to visit my mother. So, after reunion weekend, I drove out to Hermon to visit Mum. When I arrived she was very upbeat. She had just received news that she would not have to undergo dialysis...nad someone was there (me) for her to prepare a meal. Mum has always enjoyed preparing meals for people...and this gave her the opportunity to fix something other than her restrictive diet.

She is doing extremely well on her diet, mostly because she is so disciplined and follows her doctor's directions. I certainly hope I will look this good when I reach 84.

We chatted for awhile, I showed her pictures of Guyana...and then when she had had enough she simple said, "OK, that's all I want to see."...we said our good-byes and I began the the rest of my journey through Maine and then on back to Guyana.

46th High School Reunion

46 Freakin' years?!?!?!? Can you
believe it??? 46 years since we walked out of the halls of Brewer
High School into the unknown...let's see now, what was happening?
Viet Nam was ramping up, the Civil Rights Movement was in full
swing...just five months after we graduated, our 38th President would
be assassinated in Dallas, 8-track players belted out our favorite
tunes, DVD's and iPods were nearly a half century away, the first
computers would not be introduced for another 7 years, there was no
Internet, no IMing, no texting, Al Gore had yet to develop global
warming, the air was clean and sex was dirty.

Reunion weekend began with a joint party at the Ohmart and Ivers camps at Beech Hill Pond...that place has changed quite a bit as well. It was great fun to just sit around, chatting and laughing with friends I've not seen for nearly half a century...and may never see again.

Having been away from good ol' American
food for more than a year it was a real treat to pig out on cheese, dips, salty potato (is there supposed to be an “e” at the end of this word??? George Bush or Dan Quayle?) chips, burgers, pickles and real American booze. The next morning proved to be a continuation of my gastronomic journey into gluttony. Friends from far and wide gathered at the Ohmart camp bring all manner of breakfast delights...eggs, sausage, some kind of omelette/souffle thing that
was delicious, donuts (doughnouts for the purists out there), bagels,
bagels and more bagels and real honest to God COFFEE!!!

It was interesting watching everyone gather, chat and eat...for me it was especially enjoyable to see who
had changed the most and who had changed the least...my vote for having changed the least is Joe Lunt...that same great irrepressible happy laugh that can make the most moribund person smile, the quick smile and the
happy-go-lucky attitude about life. Yep, Joe hasn't changed very much...well, except for the hair thing.

At Good 'ol Brewer High School

Before heading down the road to the evening's festivities, a number of us took the opportunity to visit the hallowed halls of BHS. The only word that I can find to describe it is...BIG!!!

Everything has changed around, but mostly it has just gotten a whole lot bigger...more labs, more wings, more class rooms...more buildings.

After the tour, some of us went outside to have a group picture taken in front of the Brewer High School sign...how many former classmates can you identify?

...and just to prove a point...I do clean up pretty well when I'm not driving a boat, boating up some river in Guyana or riding my horse across the savannah, or exploring the Kanaku Mountains.

Arriving in Maine

Just before midnight on July 22, I set foot on Maine soil for the first since leaving a year ago May. Ron and Sherry Treat were waiting for me at Bangor International Airport. Ron, Sherry and Molly would be my hosts (incredible, wonderful hosts...why Molly woke me several mornings with her version of a "wet French kiss") for my time in Maine.

Into the car and away we drove...my GOD!!! we haven't even left the airport and I'm already lost. I could not believe the changes. Not until we got into Brewer and were headed for Holden that I finally got my bearings...and even then, the changes were astonishing. What happened to Wilson St.? Now it goes all the way to Whiting Hill? Whoa...a Loew's???...way out here??? Unbelievable.

We turned right onto the Copeland Hill Road and things started to look familiar...well, sort of familiar. After a bit of chatting, a bourbon and some reminiscing, we retired sometime after midnight.

Off to St. Thomas

I know, I know...it has been sometime since I submitted anything to my blog...so, here goes. I am going to get you all caught up. On July 16th, I flew up to St. Thomas to pack and ship the "stuff" I had left in storage when I left last November. I have now successfully reduced my ownership of "stuff" to 11 small boxes. Mostly, my tools, some books and a what few clothes I need for the tropics.

I had a great time visiting friends...and eating steak at Latitude 18. It was wonderful to hear Jason again, feast on the best steak on the island and "gaff"...the Guyanese equivalent of gossiping...with friends. My most memorable night was spent aboard Silver Moon with Captain Bob and Mary. We swam, drank, listened to Captain Bob croon and dined on Mary's superb dinner. It was definitely the highlight of my trip to St. Thomas. Technorati Tags: St. Thomas, Silver Moon, Latitude 18

All Roads Lead to Surama Village

By tractor trailer, mini-bus, pick-up truck, motor cycle, bicycle and on foot football players and fans made their way to Surama. From all across the North Rupununi footballers and their fans descended on Surama. The football event of the year, the Playoffs are here.

As tractor-loads of fans arrived, grills were fired, the smell of wood smoke mingled with roast chicken and beef sticks. Plastic boxes and Styrofoam coolers unloaded farin, popcorn, salara, cold beer, soft drinks and a dozen other Rupununi delicacies for the hungry fans.

The Teams Assembled for Opening Ceremonies

Over the next two days, four men's and four women's teams would meet in eight matches to determine football bragging rights for the North Rupununi. the first game saw the Bina Hill women absorb their worst loss of the season 4-0 at the hands of Rupurtee. Next up, Iwokrama (dubbed Tokarama because of the number of players from Toka Village) edged Annai 1-0 on PK's. In the third game of the day, the Surama women fell to the unstoppable Annai women, led by their superb attackers, Fionna Sandy and Julie Scipio.The last game pitted top-seeded Massara men against the third-seed, Rupurtee. Late in the game, Massara edged ahead to take a 2-1 decision, vaulting them into Sunday's championship game against Iwokrama.

Annai Men
2009 Regular Season Winner
North Rupununi Football Association

Saturday nights in the North Rupununi are usually reserved for the all important social event of "liming" where gaffing, drinking, dancing and incredibly loud music pulsate until it is time for the "chickens to brush their teeth." But tonight was different. Everyone bedded (hammocked...there are several things I have learned here. Always walk with a plate, a spoon, a cup, a roll of toilet paper and a hammock and mosquito net) early to be prepared for the championships on Sunday.

Rain through the night promised a wet, slow field for Sunday's matches.
A field covered with puddles and muddy conditions in the goal mouths faced the Surama women and the Bina Hill Institute women as they took the field to vie for 3rd and 4th places. The Surama women mounted attack after attack on the Bina Hill goal until the defense finally cracked sending Bina Hill to fourth place in its first season of organized football.

By noon conditions had improved significantly as traditional rivals Rupurtee and Annai took the field. Both teams fought valiantly to a 1-1 score that held until the 85th minute. When it looked like the contest would be settled by PK's, Rupurtee attacked the Annai goal...as the ball rattled around the goal mouth a Rupurtee player slapped the ball with his hand into the net. The linesman raised his flag and signified the point where the penalty occurred, but the field official rushed in, indicating that it was a goal...Annai went down 2-1.

With offensive juggernauts Fionna Sandy and Julie Scipio playing at their best, the last thing hapless Rupurtee needed was Julie's sister Vanessa and Pauline Browne lifting their games to championship form. The final 4-0 does not do justice to the total dominance Annai held over Rupurtee.

The final match of the day pitted top seeded Massara against powerhouse Iwokrama led by former national player Ewert "Wire Rope" Smith and a contingent of Toka players. Neither team could mount a sustain offensive attack as the battle see-sawed up and down the field, frequently lapsing into boring sessions of "boom ball". At the end of regulation, both teams had managed to score twice on less than stellar play, setting the stage for a PK shootout. The final result...Iwokrama buried everyone of its PK's, Massara made just two mistakes...one directly at the keeper and the other directly at the left post...Iwokrama collected the first place trophy.

The Jubilant Winners--Annai
2009 North Rupununi Football Female Champions

With the games and celebrations behind them, it was now time to celebrate...and celebrate we did until 4am Monday morning. As revelers tired of the celebrations and obnoxiously loud noise, hammocks were strung up wherever room could be found...between two trees, in the church, on front porches. At 6am the tractor driver fired the diesel on his Massey-Ferguson, bags and tired party-goers crowded into the trailer, on the tractor fenders, the draw bar, beside the driver...anywhere room could be found. Out the Surama road to the junction, right on the Linden-Lethem Road home to Bina Hill and Annai...it is impossible for life to get any better than this.

Tulip's Puppy

There is a small brown hunting dog here at Bina Hill who effectively adopted me when I first arrived. Over time she got more and more comfortable with me. She accompanied me on my walks across the savanna, always greeted me enthusiastically when I returned and would sleep in my hut from time to time.

Well, you know how it is...dogs will be dogs and Goddess of Canine Fertility that she is, she got pregnant for the third time in just over a year. I've been told that she had delivered 16 pups in her two previous pregnancies.

When she was obviously pregnant again, and decided that the space beneath my dresser was a perfect maternity ward, I was expecting a whole bunch of pups. The night of May 3rd, I awakened to her panting and the sounds of muted squeals. By morning, things had quieted down and I checked on her. I could only see one pup, so I went about my day thinking that she would deliver more during the day...but, no...just the one.

Last week, she finally decide that it was time for her little girl to venture outside. It was comical watching her cavorting in the grass. I've tentatively named her "Fatso"...with no other pups to compete for nipples, she is being very well fed...and shows it.

Tulip and her pup

Fatso Outside for the First Time

Think this might be the father????

The Bina Hill Institute Women's Football Team

Recently some of the girls here at Bina Hill Institute decided that they, too, should be represented in the North Rupununi District Football Tournament. All they needed was a coach... “Captain Mike, would you be our coach?” “Oh, sure, why not…nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

So, I became the coach of a team of woman who are excellent athletes, but have very few basic football skills. They do have great enthusiasm, laugh all the time and just love to run around the field kicking the ball.

In truth, I am still adjusting to coaching here. None of the girls has her own football cleats (boots)…they share a plastic bagful of shoes that were donated by someone along the way. If they are too big, the girls just stuff socks into the shoe to fill the voids. If one girl doesn’t have shoes, one of the other girls will happily share one of her pair. At any one time I will have girls practicing barefooted, wearing just one shoe…or in some cases a complete pair of shoes…the shoes may be different colors, but then, nobody really cares.

We practice each evening on the Bina Hill “ground”. The girls are coming along nicely and should be in very good shape by our first game on the 23rd .

The 23rd has come and gone and a new page has been entered in the history of Bina Hill Women’s Football. On the sandy field of Ruputee, the Bina Hill women opened their premier season with a win over Kwatamang. Pauline Johnson’s first half goal would stand up as the defense lead by Captain Debbie Jacobus stymied any offensive threats by Kwatamang.

There were numerous last minute details before our game scheduled for 9am. Ivor, filling in for our regular manager, Bertie Xavier, rode in on his bicycle laden with a box filled with new boots (cleats). Shortly thereafter, Brian, the Bina Hill driver, arrived with another box filled with new uniforms. After hurried, last minute details…hair re-combed, uniforms tried on and discarded, boots fitted, shin guards and socks located, the team was ready to take the field at 9:30am…which in Guyanese time is real good.

Getting our first win made this another great day of football in the North Rupununi.

Last minute preparations

Team members sorting out their new boots

The women's changing room

The 2009 Bina Hill Institute Women’s Soccer Team

The Annai Men's Football Team

Bernie Johnson dropped off a letter to me from John Abraham from Annai Village. John represents the men's football club. His letter announced the beginning of the North Rupununi Football (soccer) Tournament...and went on to ask me to be the coach. Whew!!! What to do. On the hand, I know nothing about the players...no idea of their skill levels, have never seen the play, don't know how the game is played down here, not to mention I've never coached Amerindians, nor for that matter any Guyanese or even South Americans.

What I did know from watching some players, most are athletic. They have great body shapes to be good players...somewhat short, excellent balance, very good feet and they can run for--ever!!! I had also observed that few players have good basic skills. They do not pass the ball well, receive it poorly and have little understanding of team tactics. So, what do I have to lose...let's give it a try.

I met with the them the next day...a group comprised of 14 & 15 year-olds all the way up to the old man, Capitash John at 36. Some of the players have their own "boots", but most do not. Look at the picture closely...you will notice that more than half the players are barefoot...and that's they way the play...barefoot.



Now this makes for an interesting situation when substituting during a game. The rules require that each player must be wearing boots, socks, shin guards and a shirt. When a substitution is made, there is usually a quick undress and dress routine as the player coming off doffs his uniform, socks and boots, gives them to the substitute to don...and on the field goes the new player.

Speaking of the field, the Annai "ground" is one of the best fields in the league. We have a great maintenance crew. They work round the clock preparing the field...and they are very efficient. Never wasting a motion, the cut the grass with one end as they fertilize it with the other. The fertilizer mixture is roughly 30-30-30-10...horse, cow, donkey and other. As you can see in the pictures, the don't do a real good job of broadcasting the fertilizer, rather, they tend to leave it in steaming piles that get flattened during practice and games.

I am looking forward to a great season. John comes for me on his motorcycle at 5:30am. We practice from 6:00am to 7:30am, then I walk the 3 miles from Annai to Bina Hill, take a great shower, have breakfast and begin my day.

Kofi's Pick Truck "Rupununi Way"

There are very few resources here in the Rupununi, so, if you want or need something, you better be prepared to grow, catch, build, fix or repair it yourself...we call it doing things the "Rupununi Way." And that is the beginning of the story about Kofi's pick-up truck, Rupununi Way.

First, a bit about Kofi. Like many Guyanese, he has very little formal education, but is incredibly intelligent. Somewhere along the line someone decided that Kofi, Bina Hill Institute...somebody needed a truck. Kofi started the project without aid of service manuals, a few tools and a whole lot of just plain smarts. It was amazing to watch him as he put the puzzle pieces in place. Now, down here in the interior, there are only two trucks...Bedfords that do the heavy hauling and 1/2-ton toyotas, generally crew-cab, solid axles and leaf springs...these are the toughest little trucks on the planet. Oh, there are pretenders...Land Rovers, fancy Hi-Luxes with chrome winches and independent suspensions...Hell, there are even a few GMCs and Fords...but when the going gets tough, the tough get going...here come the Bedfords and the 1/2-ton Toyotas. The big problem is buying a new one...they are prohibitively expensive. So, when you need a truck, what do you do? You buld one.

Yep, you build one. Starting with only a frame and a bunch of parts, Kofi proceeded to build a truck. First, the frame was finished, axles and wheels attached...then the motor was mounted, drive train installed, all the parts started coming together to build a truck.

Parts were pirated from the several relics scattered about the institution grounds. Along the way, Gilbert (Kofi's right-hand man) helped the project by rolling an almost identical truck over off a bridge into a stream...the steering arm let go allowing the front tires to go anywhere they wanted to go. Much to Gilbert's dismay they chose to go into the stream. Instead of grief, there was joy...MORE PARTS!!!

On Kofi toiled, little by little bringing the project closer to completion. A welder was brought in from Lethem to do some major re-fabrication on the frame and motor mounts. But...a problem arose. The welder's generator would not produce enough amperage to operate the welding equipment, sooooo, in fine Rupununi fashion, the truck was rolled...pushed by some students nearly half a mile to the Annai Secondary School where theschool's generator WOULD produce enough amperage to run the welder. Mission accomplished. Kofi's truck was returned to the garage...oh, did I mention that in order to get the truck out of the garage, the front wall had to be knocked down??? Not a problem. A sledge hammer, then minutes of pounding and Kofi's truck is out the door.

The first item to be attached to the frame was the cargo body pirated from one of the derelicts who so generously gave of themselves through the "body-parts donor" program. The body was in relatively good condition, needing only some minor sledge-hammer detail adjustments.



Next on the list was the passenger cab. Now, Kofi had one that had been in a rollover (not Gilbert's), but it needed some minor body work. Again, in the finest Rupununi Way, jacks, blocking, hammers, etc. were employed to reshape the crumpled cab into something that closely resembled its previous condition. However, there were some minor problems...you know, half to three-quarters of and inch misalignment...not to worry. Hugh, another welder, was brought in from Lethem to do some acetylene body work. It was determined that the best course would be to cut the top off Gilbert's rollover. That done, Kofi's Truck was taking shape.

Then, one afternoon, with a roar and a cloud of diesel smoke, Kofi's truck fired to life for the fist time. All was not perfect. Several more days of tinkering would be required before Kofi's Truck' Rupununi Way would roll down the road to Lethem. On Monday, may 4th, 2009, Rupununi Way, with Kofi behind the wheel headed for Lethem. The word is...he made it.

Wild Life Festival

They came from Apoteri, Annai, Aranaputa, Crash Water, Fair View, Kwaimatta, Kwatamang, Massara, Rewa, Surama, Yakrinta, Yupukari and Wowetta. They came by boat, by tractor, mini-van, on foot and by bicycle...250 young Ameridians descended on Bina Hill for three days of parades, native skills competition, camaraderie, laughter and fun.

Wild Life Festival is the single largest social event for youngsters in the Rupununi. Once each year they come to talk, eat, display their skills, attend workshops that cover subjects from healthy life-styles to self-esteem and good decision-making. It is a wonderful time for the youngsters.

The Festival exists because of the incredible vision and work of Samantha James, a Guyanese-Canadian of Chinese ethnicity. For months, Samantha "Sam" works tirelessly with her committed team to raise funds, get donated prizes and handle the gazillion details required to make this whole event run without a hitch...and she did this year's event while in her third trimester of pregnancy.

Logistics for this event are a bit different than one might think. Sam has to budget the number of gallons of gas the youngsters from Apoteri will need to come by boat...and make sure they have a boat captain; determine which villages need tractors to bring them out...and will they even be able to get to the road or are the streams and rivers too swollen to allow even a tractor to pass. Other incidentals include: ordering four cows..that have to be slaughtered and brought to the festival site each day. Reminding every youngster to "be sure you walk with your hammock, plate, cup, spoon and 25 lbs of farine."

It is a wonderful time for everybody. It starts with a parade from Rupartee community building, through Rock View to the benab at Annai. Each village is represented by its wild life club. The members, many of whom are in costume, carry banners they have hand-painted. The banners are truly works of art...they are beautiful. Following the festivities in Annai it is back to Bina Hill for traditional skills contests in cassava grating, cotton spinning, archery. In the evening the youngsters perform traditional dances, present skits, recite poetry, tell stories and sing native songs.

At meal time they line up, nearly 100 at a time, waiting patiently for their meal that consists, not surprisingly, of rice, farine, chicken or beef. There is no pushing, shoving or horse play. They thank the cooks and walk away to find friends with whom they can eat and "gaff".

After 3 days of unending activity, banners are collected, mini-busses, tractors and boats all depart, bound for their respective villages until next Wild Life Festival.

Into the Interior of Guyana

To Apoteri, Rewa and Crash Water

On Tuesday, March 24th a team from Bina Hill Institute headed for Apoteri, Rewa and Crash Water, Amerindian villages on the Rupununi, Rewa and Essequibo Rivers. The party consisted of Mike Williams, Samson Bartholomew (aka Medex), Tracy, our cook and Neal, our boat captain and me. The trip is one of the outreach segments of a project funded by the European Union. Mike Williams was carrying information about the project, Medex was carrying new health care information and I was being introduced as a business consultant at Bina Hill who is available to work with the villages with economic development. The journey began with a six mile tractor ride across the savanna from Bina Hill to Kwatamang Landing on the Rupununi River.

At the river Tracy brushed her teeth while we loaded our equipment into the 20’ aluminum boat.

Then it was onto the river for the 70 mile, 4+ hour boat trip to Apoteri. Neal is an experienced boat captain on the local rivers…and it became obvious as he steered the boat from one side of the river to the other, always searching for the channel, avoiding the many sandbars and other unseen, underwater dangers. I marveled at Neal’s ability to read the water surface as our trusty 15 hp Yamaha pushed us downriver at 15+mph.

Amerindian Hospitality

After traveling about three hours we came to the village of Rewa. Here I was introduced to a new (to me) aspect of Amerindian hospitality…without a prior invitation, and totally unexpected we were invited to lunch. Our meal was basic, cassava bread and fish. The fish was delicious…better than any expensive salmon I’ve ever eaten. When I asked what it was, our hostess glanced in the pot and said, “Skin fish”. The meal is eaten by laying pieces of cassava bread in a bowl, saturating it with broth from the pot and then spooning out chunks of fish. For the uninitiated, cassava bread is thin, very hard bread made, not surprisingly, from the cassava plant.

Following lunch, Mike briefly gaffed with the Touchoa about setting up a village meeting for two days hence. Then, it was back into the boat and on to Apoteri.

Sitting on a bluff high on a point of land that separates the Essequibo River from the Rupununi, is the delightful village of Apoteri. We made our way up the steep embankment, across a grassy field, the sandy play field, by the old school to the residence of Nydo Lall and his family.

Again, in the finest Amerindian tradition, we were invited to sit and eat. Again, it was cassava bread and fish…only this time, the fish was whole, only about six inches long and looked for all the world like it was the aquatic cousin to an armadillo. It had huge armored plates down its sides. Once I figured out how to get to the meat inside, it was, as before, delicious.

Zachary Xavier

After gaffing a bit, I laid down to take a nap. I had just dozed off when Mr. Lall approached my hammock, “I have someone here who wants to talk with you.” I shook hands with a very enthusiastic Zachary Xavier (pronounced Chavier). He explained that he was Wapashaina from Deep South. He had come to Apoteri years ago to work in the balata industry. Mr. Xavier invited me to go with him to the site on the other side of the point where the remains of the balata processing facility slowly deteriorated. With a wave of his hand he pointed out where some 200 homes had existed before the balata industry ended… “It was quite a city…electricity, underground water pipes…we had the first air-conditioned office in the North Rupununi”, he stated proudly.

Mr. Xavier led me on a tour of few remaining buildings in the compound. Interestingly, one structure that still exists…on the very banks of the Rupununi River is a ‘bathing pool’; now just four deteriorating concrete walls with a set of steps. Apparently one of the previous managers wanted to cool off when he came to the compound but did not want to swim in the river. We walked over the grounds while he pointed out where the office had stood, the cook house, the sleeping quarters. Then he took me to the building where the balata sheets that were brought in from the forests were compressed into 400 pound bales. From here the bakes were airlifted to the coast by DC-3 until the industry collapsed about ten years ago. Mr. Xavier demonstrated the press that even today could still press bales of balata.

On to Rewa

Following our meeting with the villagers the next day, we departed Apoteri, heading upriver to Rewa , 20 miles east. As we departed a party of curious school girls gathered on the riverbank to wave good-bye.

Like all the villages along the river, Rewa sits well up on a bluff, far away from the floods that come with the rainy seasons. As we travelled upriver, I was amazed to see the scum line on the trees along the banks ten feet or more above the current water level. During the rainy season, the river extends miles out into the savanna making land travel nearly impossible, even by tractor.

We arrived in Rewa in late morning following an uneventful trip from Apoteri. Mike met with the Toushoa, arranging a village later that afternoon. Rewa is only slightly different from Apoteri…with two big exceptions. Apoteri has neither an eco-lodge…Rewa has a gorgeous lodge, nor a store of any kind where the villagers can buy salt, sugar, flour…any of the staples most people take for granted. Rewa has a small, but fairly well stocked shop. Although the morning we were there, they had no flour or salt. But the Toushoa was going out the next day to collect provisions for the shop.

As we left Rewa headed for Crash Water, our hostess walked to the river with us where she took advantage of the Rupununi version of a “Laundromat.”

Next Stop Crash Water

The last stop on our trip would be Crash Water. We expected an uneventful trip, and it was…until Tracy spotted two small wild pigs that had just swum across the river but could not get up the precipitous river wall. Neal pointed the boat to shore to begin “Operation Rescue Two Little Piggies”. As we neared the shore it appeared that one piglet had a broken rear leg. On closer inspection, Medex determined its rear leg had been nearly severed by a Piranha. Knowing it would not survive, Medex dispatched itas mercifully as possible. That left “one little piggy” on the loose. With Tracy and Medex in hot pursuit down the river bank, Neal guided the boat to the shore where the piglet was last seen. As it scrambled up the bank, it tumbled backwards, nearly landing in the boat.

With a deft scoop, Neal captured the piglet, much to the pig’s displeasure. Now the party had been joined by a small wild pig, not over a week old who was dubbed “Tracy’s Pig”.

With the pig firmly in hand, we continued to Crash Water. It is the least distinctive of the three villages we visited. I was surprised how different each village is. At Crash Water, very few inhabitants speak English. Mike conducted the entire meeting in Macusi. Terrance, one of the village elders took me to the guest house the village constructed in an effort to stimulate some kind of eco-tourism business. It is an admirable beginning, but they have a long way to go, especially when the infrastructure and business growth is compared with Rewa and Surama.

While in Crash Water, I was treated to a part of cassava processing that I had not previously witnessed. In true “Rupununi Fashion”, the women of Crash Water have devised a crude, but very effective cassava grating machine. A bicycle frame is turned upside down, the front wheel removed and the entire affair secured to the ground. A belt, piece of rope, inner tube…what ever is handy runs over the rear wheel of the bike to a pulley on the grating machine. While one woman pedals the bike, another feeds cassava into the whirring teeth of the machine. I got very nervous filming this piece because the woman feeding the cassava was not using a push stick of any kind and, with her fingers only inches from the razor sharp spinning blades, she kept looking at the camera.

As I travel around, I’ve found that a camera is the greatest ice breaker there is. As soon as it comes out and I’ve taken pictures of the first few kids…and shown them their picture (you gotta love digital cameras)…other kids come pouring out of the woodwork. Even adults start to loosen up when I show them pictures of the children. Usually after a modest refusal, the adults will consent to having their picture taken…and do they laugh when they see themselves!!!
Look how fast the kids multiplied in these pictures, taken just moments apart. The little girl wearing the print dress came running out of a house pulling her dress on so she would look her best for the picture.

From here it was on to Kwatamang Landing, Bina Hill and home…the end of an incredible trip into the interior of Guyana.