If you want to skip the yuca bread-making and head straight to the night-time creepy crawlies, scroll down! You’ll see ’em.
Transcribed from a travel journal:
24/11/11
Today we travelled upriver for an hour to make yuca bread with a señora from a local village. The day was hot but cooler on the boat, where trees provide shade and the wind is refreshing. Before heading ot the place where we’d make the bread, we pulled into another village and were approached by a very curious monkey.
Turns out the monkey (a woolly one) is called Nacho, a ‘pet’ of the village, and we quickly got over our nerves about disease and temperament when he climbed up the body of a Frenchman and started to affectionately lick his chest hair. He wouldn’t go to anyone else, but eventually the Frenchman shook him off and I became the next target.
Apparently it was my red hair that did it, and Nacho definitely had a very firm grip on it (at one point hanging solely from a handful of hair!) He was super affectionate… if you managed to get him off he’d quickly run in for a bear hug of your leg, nibbling gently on your knee. It got a bit much when he was cuddling my face while biting my eyebrow (breathing made difficult)… but you don’t often get love-attacked by a monkey so I let him continue.
William (manager of the lodge and awesome guide) pulled a fruit from a tree and cracked it open, revealing red pomegranate-like seeds inside. Then he stuck a little stick in it and painted mine and the Frenchman’s faces with tribal tattooing. We were the only two painted in the end, because Nacho ate the fruit before he got to anyone else.
We left to the second village -the heat in full swing and all of us dripping with sweat. I was nervous when we booked the tour that ‘visit an indigenous community’ might be an over-touristic venture… Paddy and I laughed on the boat imagining the villagers sighing, removing their jeans and putting on ‘traditional’ dress for their show for the tourists, but we needn’t have worried.
It was very relaxed in the village, nothing felt put on just for us. The señora who showed us how to make bread was wearing a simple, loose-fitting skirt and top – beautiful and cool for the weather – and had bare brown feet on the tamped dirt floor. She led us out of the kitchen – a hut with a fire in the corner – and down a path to where the yuca trees grow. The tree seems so insignificant, its spindly branches climb to just a few metres and it is all thin, bare trunk with a few bunches of leaves. But this is a serious Amazonian staple- used how we use wheat, and present in almost every meal in some form.
The señora asked someone to pull on the tree, and as they pull hard on the trunk the earth falls away and its roots appear – huge starchy vegetables that look like kumara and not at all like the roots of this slender tree.
The dirt is brushed off and one cut made in the yuca with a machete – and then we peel them. The thick skin comes of easily and reveals firm, slippery white insides.
From one tree we got 8-10 big yuca. The señora then cuts off one section of the tree with her machete (any section will do), sticks it back in the earth and halfheartedly brushes some soil over it. It will be ready to harvest again in 7 months. Amazing.
We walk back to the cooking hut where there is a small elevated boat-shaped trough and a large piece of thick metal pierced with holes to make a grater. The señora washes the yuca and shows us how to grate the root- a job made hard (and dangerous) by its slipperiness.
After all this, we have a big, wet pile of grated starch – and the señora tells us we need ot make it into flour. Impossible! We think. Not so…
The señora pulls out a long woven instrument with a loop ay each end. She scoops the yuca into its middle and loops one end over a post, positioning a bucket on the floor underneath. She turns the stick, levering it against a pole to wring out the liquid from the yuca (which we find out later is toxic in some plants).
It takes maybe 5 minutes, is checked once and given another short go over, then the señora unhooks the flax and puts it in the boat basin, opening it to reveal perfectly dry, coarse flour. It feels like dried coconut, but has very little flavour.
A big, thick plate has been heating on the fire, and the señora now scoops a bowl of flour and pours it on the plate, spreading it out into a pizza-sized circle and tamping it down with a rhythmic wrist. Within a minute, the yuca is somwhow moving as one object – like a pizza base – and is lovely and brown on its bottom.
She flips it and a few minutes later it is done. William opens a can of tuna and a jar of marmalade and we eat amazing, fresh bread that half an hour ago was a root in the ground. I LOVE THIS SHIT! The simple life is what I want and it doesn’t get much more simple than that, it’s the highlight of my day and one of the best moments of the trip.
After the bread, William brings out a packed lunch and we eat tilwe’re stuffed. Paddy starts to feel nauseous and notices rapidly appearing red spots all over his calves… which brings on a mild panic attack as he considers that maybe Nacho’s ‘friendly’ bites weren’t so harmless after all. After food, water and some calming conversation he starts to feel better (we think it was probably dehydration and heatstroke in the end)… and we depart, feeling good, for the Shaman’s house.
I notice as we arrive at the Shaman’s house that I am already skeptical, although I’m not sure why – I’m often idealistic and easily convinced. It may be the environment. I try to use the bathroom and find it to be the worst I’ve ever visited – used feminine hygeine pads and toilet paper are all over the floor and there’s shit all up the seat. “Doesn’t look like the medicine man’s medicine is doing the trick”, I think – but I force an open mind, block out the stink (hold on to my bursting bladder!) and head to the shaman’s room.
I do 100% believe that there are people with a profound knowledge of medicinal plants and alternative methods of treatment, and perhaps even that hallucinogens could provide access to a spiritual world of guidance. I also believe the man we met was raised and trained as a shaman – but the experience was still pretty underwhelming (the ONLY underwhelming thing about the Amazon). The trip to see him cost $2, and we sat in a room listening to a kind man in robes, feathers, paint and many beads tell us for a very long time about how he came to be a shaman – which was really just a lot of talk about daytura. He gave us a short demonstration of how he cleans a spirit before he treats the patient – I was his volunteer and ot be honest despite my skepticism I felt afterwards, for a short period of time, more open to it all – as if the weight of judgement had been lifted. But overall, we paid $2 to listen to a middle-aged man’s long-winded drug stories – which I can do for free at any NZ music festival or on any street corner in Newtown.
We hopped back on the boat and went ‘home’ for some bird watching from the tower at dusk (photos taken through binoculars!). I didn’t expect to be so into birds during this trip – but we’re so excited by sightings of new species that I’ve begun to list them all. We’re turning into birders…
After bird watching we covered up our limbs, donned gumboots and set out for a night walk.
The night walk as an idea is very exciting. In actuality it’s freakin terrifying – you only need to take a few steps into the pitch black jungle to feel the terror of ‘oh-my-God-what-the-fuck-are-we-doing-here’ sweep over you. There are spiders and scorpions and other poisonous bugs EVERYWHERE. You can trust nothing you touch, and it’s pitch black except when you stop and put torches on, so it’s difficult to avoid touching branches and leaves and cobwebs. And EVERY TIME you stop, put torches on and look around there’s at LEAST one huge, terrifying, hugely poisonous bug RIGHT over your head or RIGHT next to your hand. There were many screams and we all hugged the stranger next to us at least once, but back in the safety of our little jungle hut we talked excitedly about how awesome it had all been.. now that we were safely home.
“Wolf spider”
Scorpion spider!!
Scorpion eating a lizard!
Baby tarantula in her little house!
A moment’s respite from the terror.
Tomorrow’s our last day in the Amazon, and we’ve got plans for a day walk and pirahna fishing. I could happily stay here for a hundred times this long, but Colombia and the rest of this grand adventure awaits. We may not see many more toucans and anaconda once we leave… but there’s certain to be other strange new things awaiting us. Bring it on!