Where the jungle book lives
The best way to retell the next bit of my venture, must be to start with where I am at.
You'll find me, under a large tree, with plastic wrapped lights and a dripping glass of cold water, it is almost the hottest part of the day, and my soul has longed for a quiet clean place, as it has seen many salt & sandy places.
We just spent three weeks in Guyana, the country tightly fit between Brazil and Suriname. A country where kisses are blown freely, army officers, and mountains of rice.
But let me share my thoughts with you as we pick grains of rice and let them drop again.
Our host, Pastor Deo, warned us of unrest in the city and on the roads, as the election was coming up and they expected unrest. This year the Green party, the opposing party, stood a good chance of winning, but if this was to happen, supporters of the governing party could show their discontent in a number of ways, including looting and public acts of violence. Pastor Deo lives in the jungle and supports a variety of outreaches and programs. These include a girls orphanage, supporting and visiting different churches, as well as his own political involvement. With the times being unsure, pastor Deo recommended that we stay indoors and rest.
Three weeks is a long time to rest, and with the rainy season at hand, you could spend days waiting for your washing to dry. My team stayed in a house next to the church, were we slept like sardines, on stripy American flag themed mattresses and under multi cultured mosquito nets.
While we waited, the mosquito troops nightly changed their strategies and ambushed and deployed their mini attacks on us, as soon as dusk fell. Every casual on their side was avenged with blood, our blood. We would win some, as we fought back with green coils that we burnt and locally recommended bug spray. The mosquito troops on other hand, found holes in our nets and would send extremist groups that would attack our limbs.
They went for our faces or any ligament that touches the nets during sleep. In the mornings we would compare bites and realize our sad loss. If only the United Nations had a little anthropod peace core...
On a larger scale political success was ushered in, as the Green party won the elections. (After several recounting of votes and with international pressure when results were not made available.)
Our local friends explained to us, how the previous party oppressed them: " the VAT is killing us, the taxes are killing us." When I asked a small Guyanese boy how he thinks the new government will benefit him, he explained that he wants to become a professional cricketer. He also said that the new government will create jobs, take away taxes and look after the elderly. "I will have a good job and will buy a house for my parents."
I marveled at this little dude's selfless outlook on life.
I also marveled at the promises that were made by the evergreen party, but a nation needs hope and the chance to believe that things can get better and that its people will be looked after.
And how we were looked after by our neighbours, as we daily received gifts of bunches of plantines and ripe papaja's. And then there were the amazing amounts of Cockup rice pot. The national dish of friend coconut rice and chicken prepared in bulk, in black cooking pots over a fire. The secret was using copious amounts of coconut milk and rice. Our cells were fortified with rice and if Blood tests were to be taken, our very blood ran thick on rice.
As church activities were temporarily halted due to the political season, we were encouraged to venture into the community and make friends. And so we did.
Only 6 minutes walk out of our back door we found a rain forest and a little jungle community living beneath the trees.
As we first ventured there, we prayed for a person of peace and kept our eyes open for a dwelling with an open door. We met an old lady staying on the other side of the river.
After crossing a small bridge, we sat on her wooden steps leading up to her home.
She asked for prayers of peace as her neigbours did not speak to her.
We were also advised to continue walking and to look for a lady in a blue house further down the river. She said that the people on the opposite side of the river were friendly and that the river ran stronger and clearer there.
We never found the blue house, but we could see that the river ran stronger.
After it rained, entire families swam and washed their clothes in the river in front of their stilted homes. I joined in on the swimming. Doing breast stroke like an arctic frog swimming in the black water with layers of mussy rotten undergrowth beneath my feet.
Hundreds of years worth of jungle carpet.
We became acquainted with a family of 7 children. Most of the children were only clad in their underwear, and the father was not to be found. The jungle book must have been a true story rewritten here. The children had bright eyes and welcomed us over the bridge to their little wooden house. The house seemed to cry dry tears as it longed for a farnish job. The second youngest son caught my eye, as he showed me how to fish and made jokes with me, calling me an old lady. I love it how once somebody feels the liberty to joke around, the assumption that we are friends is sealed. As our time passed these jungle book kids, came to church and to the Saturday bible kids club. When attending these events the siblings were scrubbed and glowing in their Sunday bests, the sisters in big ruffled dresses, all spotless.
It was hard to imagine that the kids must have slid and sloshed through the river and mud to get to the sanctuary. After several visits to our jungle friends, my clothes were stained and I had given up on wearing shoes, as my flip flops got stock In the mud.
The little girls starting calling it Cinderella, as we lost our shoes countless times, and would then have to go back to retread muddy slops, but with the relieve of finding a perfect fit, just like the princess of old.
With each visit, the kids trusted us more and allowed us to escort them to Sunday school and kids club. I was impressed at how the kids instantly memorized our program and little drama's we did. I got to share my testimony and talk to the kids about forgiveness. One little boy told me that he did not like the part of my testimony where I use to tell lies and was mean to my sisters. The young audience did not miss a thing and we prayed that the truth of what we shared will remain with them.
I want to tell you of two more Caribbean friends that we made.
As on our continual wifi quest, two of my friends were walking to the airport where wifi is free and you can buy coffee in a paper cup. But long before we could reach the landing strip, the tropical showers started pouring down on us. At times, you could shake off the rain, but this day was different, with my ipad only protected by flimsy plastic bag and my black dress drenched and starting to run with little streams of it's own, we sought shelter. Our little wet company ran past a temple and entered a yard that had an inviting looking house on stilts. We stood dripping under the house where Saturday washing was left to dry. As the rain continued and our internet connecting plans were rained out, we decided to venture upstairs.
Pinky, the lady of the house met us with open arms and welcomed us into her spotless floral dwelling. She told us her life story and offered us cold water. Pinky had been married but now enjoyed living by herself. She works in the city and earned an honest living in which she could enjoy an independent, life of cleanliness.
Our friendship grew and Pinky weekly introduced us to locally made dishes and her favorite music. She shared life advice and spicy chutney with us. We learned of her political views and how the Green party was going to change everything. After a month, we celebrated Mother's Day together and shared our thoughts on most important topics. Saying good bye we were friends and if ever we were to return to this region, I know we have clean beds in her little floral wooden house.
Wifi brought us to our third set of friends.
With the election unrest, the airport shut down its internet and what should not have been a biggy, did effect us greatly. When contact with homes ceases the traveller's heart is wearied. But to our rescue sailed in a wireless ship from a dear family from the church we attended. Denice and her sons opened up their home and gave us their wifi password.
Denice's husband grew up without a father and he promised himself that he would always share his blessings. This was evident from their hospitable and generous lifestyle.
Denice's 10 and 13 year old sons, would entertain us with neighborhood stories, facts about fauna&flora and allow us to play cricket with them. We were also aloud to use Denice's oven to bake a birthday cake for a team member's birthday.
I have never before met such a loving and practical family. Denice's husband plays with his sons when he gets home after a long day of driving a taxi. While the boys in turn, cook, and clean after themselves as their mother goes shopping or looking after relatives. When we went to go say goodbye, the youngest son started crying, not trying to cover his tears.
They are raising men with real feelings.
And these are my feeling, show love dearly from the heart.
As we were allowed more freedom and liberties as life continued after a peaceful election, pastor Deo took us to visit the Girls home in the jungle.
Jungeling ( loose term to describe bumping and jingling along a jungle path in the back of a truck, as you have to duck giant vines and tree branches) we reached the girls home. My friend who studied social work and I was given the opportunity to talk to the young girls that had things taken from them and were given traumatic memories in their place. The experience left me both overwhelmed and thankful that forgiveness and restoration is possible. Also what you see in little prince and princesses around you, is often only branches from seeds that were sown in young gardens.
Yet in the gardens of Guyana, even though mosquito infected we could find fresh water and young plants reaching upwards, towards the sunlight.
May you too see clearly enough to avoid the puddles, avoiding loosing too many pairs of shoes.
With much fondness,
your traveling friend
Kotie-Alet