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Experiences in the Amazon
Alison Duffy
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During her visit, the author encounters many people and
animals, including this caiman. (Andrew Heflin)
Click image to enlarge.
The ship sliced through peels of gray-silver water, and I noticed sediment begin to seep into the color, suddenly turning everything a muted brown. Velvety chocolate water swirled and bubbled around the ship’s mast. We had officially entered the waters of the Amazon River. Working as a performer on a cruise line, I have experienced many cultures, seen the nooks and crannies of the world. The majestic glaciers of Alaska, noble palaces of Europe, kitschy towns and perfect beaches. Nothing prepared me for the majesty and mystery of the Amazon. At once a treasure chest of living things and a denizen of poverty and depression, the river showed me a duality of life. As the waters of the river met, clashed and blended, so did our American culture with the Brazilians’ simpler way of life. Through the jungle and its purity, I have been taken on an awakening journey to find a more spiritual, more loving and altruistic self.
Our first stop along the Amazon’s waters was Devil’s Island, which used to house a French prison isolated on a tiny 34.6-acre island. The atrocities described in historical accounts of this penal colony are haunting, but the remote beauty of the island surpasses expectation. I disembarked the small tender boat that transported us from the ship to the island and scanned my surroundings. I saw enormous palms, crashing waves, and dilapidated buildings that looked nothing like the cold, steel barred jail cells I pictured. These were slightly run down but beautiful brick facilities with sophisticated architecture and an almost breezy appeal. If this were a prison, then I could stand to commit a crime!
Hiking up hills and around hidden corners, I noticed wildlife all around me. Tiny monkeys raced through the branches of trees, taunting me with delighted shrieks. Colorful birds, large rodent-like animals, and spiny lizards scampered around me as I invaded their turf, uprooting their usually isolated lives. Although a few hundred others were on the island with me, I was alone: I could see or hear no one, and it was such a sweet aloneness listening to the waves crash against the rocks and watching the animals climb through the brush of the island. I thought of the atrocities that had happened on this very patch of land, but none of the horror remained on the island: only peace and tranquility. The nature of it all came over me, and I breathed deeply, reminding myself to etch every moment in my memory.
As we approached the mouth of the Amazon, where its muddy waters meet the crystal waters of the Atlantic, I could see Brazil stretch vastly to either side of the ship, land coming alarmingly close to the sides of our ship. It seemed that the ship could not fit in the narrow passageway, but the Amazon’s watersd up for us to explore and float atop. As I leaned on the railing of an outside deck, I suddenly heard a wailing sound that gradually became louder and more piercing. We seemed to be sailing toward this alien sound that seemed neither joyful nor mournful. I noticed a tiny speck in the water that enlarged as we approached. It was a pair of young boys in a handmade canoe paddling toward our ship. The naturalist onboard explained that the boys were welcoming us in their native language (which she did not know). We waved and bellowed our hellos, and I then noticed where the canoe had come from. A tiny shack made of grasses and small branches sat along the shores of the water. It was anair shelter and tied to a nearby tree was an emaciated cow. The naturalist said this cow and shack was all they owned in the world. Imagine the life of a young boy who has to forage for food and build his own house! I gazed at the young men in the canoe, and the look on their faces was breathtaking. They were unmistakably happy. How could this be? I wondered. One more wave to the boys and a glance at the oppressed shack, and the ship sailed onward.
Manaus, Brazil was the next port of call, and we were docked here for three days. Manaus is a city in the midst of a jungle. Bustling and baking in the steamy sun, Manaus was a surprising hotspot in the middle of the Amazon River. Although the city itself resembled both the grimy and affluent sections of American cities, nothing in the United States compares to what lay beyond the city in the rainforest. An excursion into the jungles called the “Survival Jungle Trek” introduced me to the plethora of edible plant life in these forests. Our survival guide, who is a member of the Brazilian Army, had a makeshift table set up in a clearing in the jungle for us to sample about twenty varieties of fruit and nut provided by the Amazon rainforest. Most of the fruits I had never heard of but tasted like candy. In addition to their succulent taste, most also provide the body with valuable nutrients and medicinal benefits. Our guide led us deep into the jungle to show us wildlife and plant life, and to demonstrate proper techniques for surviving in the jungle. He showed us how to make traps to catch small animals, how to make rope from plants, how to collect fresh drinking water and how to make fire.
A rustle in the leaves sent our guide diving to the rainforest floor and he strictly ordered us to get down low. Pulling out a gun, he crept slowly toward the noise and explained to us that it was a wild boar, who would have no fear or sympathy for humans. He shot the gun once in the air, which promptly sent the boar flying past us into the brush. My heart raced with excitement and I immediately wanted to encounter another animal as beautiful as this boar, but our time in the jungle was over. What an adventure! The rainforest is such a complex and dangerous place to even walk around, but the most simple and natural environment one can encounter. I was starting to wonder what we Westerners saw in technology and speed, in processed foods and spoiled pets. Why can’t we live simple lives again, and relish the joy of eating a piece of fruit or building a shelter? My life in America suddenly seemed shallow and selfish.
That evening I embarked on another exiting journey, this time on a small boat down Lake January which is just off the Amazon River. We were going alligator watching. We set off at around 10:00 p.m. through the dark and rippling waters of the lake. I wondered what was lurking below our boat. I stood on the bow and watched a thunderstorm in the distance, lightning piercing the pitch-black sky with violent streaks of light. Low rumbling thunder in the distance calmed me, and I could smell the green mustiness of the Amazon that would never again leave my memory.
We disembarked at a remote dock and shelter, and boarded eight-person canoes. Each canoe carried a professional Brazilian alligator handler who watched in the waters for the red eyes of the caiman (a type of small alligator) to appear above the water’s edge. To the inexperienced alligator watcher, it appeared as though we were merely taking a canoe ride through shallow water, reeds smacking us as we sliced through them. The canoe stopped and our guide crouched low in the canoe. Suddenly he dove into the water and seemed to be struggling, splashing and flailing around. He rose above the water with a small alligator in his arms, and proceeded to climb back into the canoe with it! I was shocked. I was then given the opportunity to learn the technique of holding an alligator, and held the caiman for myself, feeling its sharp spine and sandy skin. Another close encounter with wildlife proved to me that humans could, in fact, interact with animals under certain conditions, and not negatively affect their environments. I had never felt so in touch with nature and so instinctually appropriate.
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Santarem, Brazil where the author went piranha fishing with a
local crew. (Alison Duffy)
Click image to enlarge.
Speaking with some of the Brazilian team of handlers (those who spoke my language), I was told that the caiman are endangered in the Amazon because of all the motorized boats that race through the waters. It made me sad to think of these magnificent creatures being lost to us because of our reckless behavior. It reminded me again of humans’ selfish lifestyle, and its impact on every other living creature. The guides sold me a necklace made of locally grown seeds, and a mask made of piranha teeth, anaconda fangs and fish scales. I hope the guides will continue to teach people the dangers of our destructive lifestyles, and how we can each affect the quality and length of life for so many other living beings. They showed me that this planet is made up of many creatures that contribute their own important piece of structure to keep the Earth in balance. What an awakening!
The ship stopped next in Santarem, Brazil where I went piranha fishing with a local crew. Embarking a small fishing boat, I was instructed in the rather simple fishing techniques we would use that day. They consisted of: 1. Tying a piece of twine around a stick, 2. Attaching a hook to the end of the twine, 3. Baiting the hook with raw meat, and 4. Throwing the line in the water and hoping for good luck. A rather elementary method of fishing, but I trusted the crew’s resources. As we sailed along the river, I again took note of each small hut we passed, watching the Brazilians enter an exit their homes, and go about the business of milking their cows, cleaning leaves out of their homes and fishing for their next meal. They tended to use nets to fish and would camp in their canoes under the shade of a tree, throwing out their nets over and over.
Although at first glance the sun-baked, poverty-stricken status of these locals seemed lonely and depressed, children ran and played with each other just as they do in the United States. They laughed and waved to us, not a care in the world. Families joined together and held hands as they greeted us, smiling and waving, content to have only each other. Maybe car insurance and Ipods and Botox aren’t the only things that can make us happy. How did we Americans get here to this place of greed and excess? I was deep in thought by the time we arrived at our fishing destination. I was sweating profusely as the sun hit my face, but I was happy to throw my plain piece of twine into the river again and again. I caught only one silvery piranha that day, but the guides cooked it on our little boat and we ate the salty fish. I grinned thinking of the simplicity and ease I felt in the presence of so much nature. I felt almost cleansed after these few days in the natural beauty of Brazil.
During the few weeks I spent in the Amazon, I discovered a new way to think about life. The Amazonians made the most of the natural resources they had, and were satisfied to simply live alongside each other. Every time I feel the stress of bills or the latest violent trauma in the news start to creep in, I picture the faces of the Amazonians smiling at me, their simple lives encompassing more wealth and natural knowledge than I will ever know in America’s large cities. I was told that many tribespeople in the Amazon rainforests have never seen a white man before. This fact was truly shocking, and jolted me into realizing that we are not all after money and speed and trends, as we are in most of America. Some of us still only wish for peace and love. Humans instinctually are drawn to each other. I have changed my way of thinking to include other people, and now care less about how I look to others, but instead, how I can love others better. We must protect the values and resources of the Amazon so that we may introduce future generations to the majesty of it. I will remember the Amazon as a haven of nature and wonder. I will take with me memories of a life so far from my own, but so close in spirit.
Alison Duffy is a dancer, writer, and graduate student earning
an MFA in Choreography at the University of North Carolina at
Greensboro. She has worked as a dancer/singer for Holland
America Line, and has contributed to North Carolina Dance
Theatre's educational outreach program. She has published her
work in various dance publications and in The Longwood
Guide to Writing.
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