The Hunt for Supplies

Frances and I sat down the other day and contemplated the feat of buying supplies. It went something like this:

Me: Frances, Necessitamos buy supplies!

Frances: Yo sais!

Me: Where should we go?

Frances: No sais! But we need to get them! Nooow!

Me: Yo sais!

Iquitos is a small city, but it seems vast and without limit when you need to find something specific. Hardware stores can be found on nearly every corner, but that doesn´t mean they have what you want. For instance, they might have a machete and some handy tools, and then some buttons and stickers, or candy. So, you could potentially walk to 10 different stores and still not find everything that you need. Which basically leaves you wandering around like an idiot. Now, imagine this added to the fact that Frances and I have the vocabulary of a toddler. Interesting.

Yesterday, we had a stroke of good fortune, or

maybe we sought it out and in turn were taken pity on....

It came in the shape of this fellow.

Caesar Peña.

Or, as we secretly refer to him when he is doing something valorous: our night in shining armor, who´s help has been absolutely indespensible to our project. KUDOS CAESAR!

He has worked wtih Project Amazonas as a translator for about 10 years, and we got to know him durng the medical boat trip. He speaks English and a few other languages to boot.

Caesar´s office is across the street from our hotel (how convienent), and knowing this, Frances and I ambled over, doing our best at nonchalant.

¨Hola Ceasar, que pasa?¨¨we say. A raised eyebrow and a frown, ¨Nada, commo estas?¨

We are fine (imagine us rocking onto our heels and twiddling our thumbs)! Smiles all around and nodding. Then, to keep from bursting, we spill our predicament. Caesar, nodds in all the right places as we tell of our woes and shakes his head at us. Whilst chuckling he flags down a motocarro.

Despite the confusion between pvc pipe for wires and pvc pipe for AGUA, finding the correct sizes, and locating gasket material, etc, we managed to find everything in two hours! MUY BUENO!

Frances rode with the rotoplast tank all the way back to the hotel. YEEE HAWW!

When we arrived at the entrance,

we thought...wait a second...(hands on side of face, OH MY!) this is NOT going to

fit in our room (note: I say this for effect, really we knew it going in to the situation).

Frances and I share a glance, a

glance that says PLEASE LET THE HOTEL TAKE PITY ON OUR SITUATION! It is a good

tactic. We ask, their eyes buldge, we look downcast, and they heave some signs. Crazy gringas! Some awkward fumbles and stumbles

later, and the large black tank is nestled conspicuously amongst the shrubberies in the courtyard.

GRACIAS A LA PASCANA and Caesar, we couldn´t have done it with out you!

Tomorrow, LA SELVA!

Dear readers, please stay tuned as we are headed out to the jungle and will not be able to

update the blog for a good period of time. BUT NEVER FEAR, there will be more to come at some point. Don´t fall off the edge of your seat! Until, I am Brigitte Cronier, and this is WIIILD Peru!

Madre Selve : Mother Jungle

During the medical boat excursion, we got to check out Madre Selva, the place we will call home for the next month and a half. This field station is owned by Project Amazonas and is located 90 river miles east of Iquitos on the south bank of the Rio Orosa. It neighbors Yagua Indian community of Comandancia which is approximately 20 minute boat ride away. This village has our only access to the outside world: a satellite phone that was recently installed by the government. We will also be trading with these locals for their delicious crop of corn, yuca, and camu-camu (a new favorite fruit of mine!)

There are places to hang hammocks and also beds to sleep in. I imagine I will hang my hammock for chilling in the middle of the day, but retreat to a screened bedroom in the evening. We will have a large kitchen to ourselves which will be great to cook in! Brigitte and I will quickly become fast friends with Julio, the grounds keeper, since he's got all the know-how of the area that he can impart upon us.

We also got to check out the scene where we are going to install the digester. There is plenty of space around the kitchen to put a large tank which is good and there is already a fish pond established that can immediately benefit from the by products of the digester. One problem that we will need to figure out is that the land around the kitchen becomes flooded during the rainy season so we will need to make sure the system can tolerate these conditions.

We leave on Thursday, tomorrow will be tying up the loose ends before the next leg of our adventure!

Assessment of Need

While the doctors were attending to their patients, Brigitte and I worked on compiling information for a needs assessment for the area. How are these people living now? What do they eat? Where do they poo? What do they want to see change in their current lifestyle and has any outside help been beneficial to them before?

On average we visited two villages a day which is quite significant since there is sometimes a two hour ride between communities and it is seriously too hot to work in the middle of the day. We visited 14 different villages spending time learning about their daily life, agriculture, health issues, income sources, education, town layout, hierarchy, etc. We talked to many people and played with children.

Coordinates were taken at the significant landmarks of the village. Each had a very similar set up and layout with all the houses lined along the water for close water source, a school and generator house(for the larger villages) established by the Peruvian government and sometimes there was a secondary school. Many of our hand drawn maps looked very similar.

We found that some of their main crop is yuca, bananas, papaya, and sugar cane. To earn money for the family, men leave the home to work in lumber yards which is a two day boat ride away from the village. This is also frequently how disease is berought back to the villages. Women stay home to care for the children and tend of the house. All villages had a primary school but many of the small ones did not have secondary schools. As a resuly, many people do not matriculate past the 6th grade because students need to be sponsored to live in the larger villages to continue studies.

We quickly learned where their bathrooms were when one of the medics asked for el baño and a child directed him behind the school and said, "Anywhere behind there is fine." I belive the doctor held it for several hours before we got back to the boat. We were all relieved to relieve ourselves!

The aid that has been provided by their government has been limited in its utility. For example, the Peruvian government installed toilets in many of these villages and now most of them are now used as flower pots, chicken coops, or just left to decay. I asked on child what one of these 'contraptions' was and she had no idea...she just shrugged and giggled.

So now that we have a better idea of the people, communities, and lifestyles, we can focus our design so that we can get people interested!

Life on La Ninita

La Ninita, a two story barge complete with bunk beds, a kitchen, and a roof for jumping off into the turbid waters below. For ten days we ate, slept and made merry aboard this vessel, as we traveled up and down the lengths of two large tributaries branching from the grande Amazon River. Breakfast was at 7 30 am, with endless amounts of fresh pressed fruit juice from any number of strange local fruits. Camu camu, monkey brains, mango, pinneapple, and gigantic passion fruit. YUM!

A soft bump heralded our arrival at every village, as the boat came sidling right up to the shore, along with the high pitched voices of children drifting hither tither through the windows. Our welcoming committee. The boat would dock right against the muddy bank and everyone would scramble off, stethescopes swinging.

The medical students and crew would set up shop in the school. A large concrete block building with filled with tiny desk and chairs. Large tupperwares of boxes filled with Tylenol, permetherin cream, and various other drugs served as the pharmacy. The doctors worked in teams of two and saw every single person that came, which ended up being about 150 people per village (aka EVERY SINGLE INHABITANT). Frances and I sat and listened to the translators as they described the various ailments of every patient. Headaches, stomach aches, and flu. Lots of the smaller children had scabes, and were rubbed down liberally with permetherin cream.

I watched as someone demonstrated how to put on a condom with his thumb to a thirteen year old girl, nursing her first child. Her eyes were wide as she took the proffered prevention, a look of tredeptation on her face. I wonder how many of those will be made into to balloon animals after we leave.

There were so many sick people that the doctors couldn´t treat. A tube of antifungal cream and some tylenol only goes so far. I spoke with several of the medical students during the trip, and while they expressed some feeling of accomplishment at being there, doing something, they felt useless too. Before we arrived at the first village, I helped fill plastic sacks with Flinstones vitamins, which were essentially a placebo. When villagers come to the doctors, they don´t want to leave empty handed, so Flinstones vitamins are given to everyone. Here, take your animal shaped vitamins, FEEL BETTER.

The people suffer daily with ailments that would incapacite me, yet they go out and work for 8 hours in the sun, tambien. Talk about relativity.

Around midday, when the sun is at its zenith, the earth steams. Time for a swim! The water, though completely opaque with floating particulate, feels amazing. From the top of the boat, two stories above the rush of the current, you can see into the canopy of the forest. Strange birds swoop in and out of the dense foliage, and bright blue butterflies the size of dinner plates waft lazily on the breeze, dipping and glinting in the wide shafts of light coming through the leaves. A bird call like the sound of water dripping from a pipe into a metal basin followed by three short chirps, the hum of a billion insects, the distance cry of some unnamed creature. Monkeys swing through the tree tops, chattering happily amongst themselves. The smell of sun warmed earth, sticky ripe fruit and flora makes for a heady scent, unlike anything I have ever smelled before. You stand and take it all in as the sun heats reflects white light from the fiberglass of the boat. Looking down, the water streams in whirls around the hull, continuing its swift passage downstream. Close your eyes and jump. The air whips past cooling damp skin, and your stomach drops. A large splash announces your arrival at the surface and you plummet into the cool depths. All of your senses are obliterated for those few seconds before you surface, take a gulp of air, and wiggle your toes hopping the pirhanas have had their fill of lunch today.

Carnival!

The sun is hot, and it beats down on our pale, t-shirt covered backsides like a blistering hammer. Today is Carnival and there is a hush about the streets as we walk along the dusty road, the heat coming off the ground in heavy waves. Frances and I are going to lunch with our new friend, Christian. The restaurant is called the Arena, and we order sour cerviche, which is a sort of seafood salad. It is delicious, the tangy lemon taste brings tears to the eyes, and it is spicy too.

After lunch, we head to la casa de Chrisitan. It is still incredibly toasty outside, and I am glad I applied a layer of sunscreen before departing. Stools are presented to us, and we sit on the vacated street that has been blocked off on either side by a line of motor-carros and wooden benches. Little girls, their clothes already dripping, are filling multi colored water balloons. They smile and giggle at us as we take our positions. The two white gringo girls.

Christian takes up a water gun, aims, and fires. I cover my eyes and cower for a moment, but it feels so good that I eventually relent to the onslaught. The cool liquid drips off of my face, and I can but relish the feeling. The heat is inescapable, but this in one way to flee from its grasp for an instant.

Moments later, I am filling my own water balloons from a bucket of murky water, and stacking a reserve on my lap.

Ammo.

Frances is doing the same, and the little girls are helping us. Between each balloon that is filled, we are splashed with water, our clothes becoming drenched and heavy from the weight of it. Soon, we forgo balloons and resort to dumping the buckets on our foes. There still that small part of you that wants to flee, but really you just stand still and wait for the onslaught that shocks your system, and cools it, leaving you feeling FRESCA and happy.

We drink small plastic cups of cerveza, mostly foam and water from the balloons. Then they break out the clay. It is yellow and sticky, and we smear in on our faces. It dries into a stiff mask that loosens after every balloon, leaving a new mask; the mask of a warrior.

Vamanos! It is about three in the afternoon and Christian leads us down the street to a stage. Workers on spindly ladders are hoisting speakers with chains, and a line of hombres are carrying four foot blocks of ice on their bare shoulders to the tubs that cool the bottles of beer, breaking them into bits with a hammer.

A group of boys, hands covered in sticky yellow clay and purple dye, spy our entrance. We duck and cover, but the chase it on. A short sprint down the street and we are caught, yellow and orange clay-covered hands plaster our faces, fingers leaving brighly colored tracks across our cheeks. We emerge filthy, yet decorated, bent over with laughter. Carnival! Awaiting our reprieve are buckets of cool water that redrench our already sopping clothing and track smears down our painted faces. The smell of fresh clay and river water runs into my nose and I smile with unadulterated joy.

I wish we had holidays like this in the United States.

Pure, city-wide fun. We were definitly a sight to see, to say the least. A pair of gringo girls, out to experience Carnival. Esta bien!

Brigitte

Plasic Bags

Hokay, I am here to tell you about shopping for supplies in Iquitos. Let me tell you, it´s nuts! As you followers know, Brigitte and I were on a mission to find plastic bags that would hold the off-gas from the decomposing material. From my last experience of supply shopping in Iquitos, I knew it would be difficult so we had enough forethought to bring our new friend, Christian along with us. So with our choppy Spanish and our wits about us, we embarked.

First we were offered bags that were used to hold large amounts of grain and would obviously not hold any methane in it. As a side note, did you know that there is a whole block of stores in Iquitos that only sell chickens and chicken eggs. I´ve never seen so many eggs in a single place...and boy did it smell! After Christian finally understood plastic bag vs burlap sack, we were getting closer when we went into hardware stores to find big rolls of plastic...yet no sacks. Finally, we came upon a store that solely sold plastic bags. (well, they also had ice cream available which I was tempted to get since it was so hot even at 5 in the evening) Finally! What we were looking for!

The search lasted about two hours...one less item to get! Hopefully the rest will not take so long. But since we´ve gotten those sacks, we can now do the educational model. More later about how that progresses.

Frances

Las plantes medicanales

Oi, Frances y yo went to a research station outside of Iquitos con nuestros nuevo amigo Rudolph, who is starting an ecotourism buiness in Peru. Esta un amigo muy bueno! We partook in a guided tour of the reserve surrounding the station and learned A LOT about plants.

We set out on the trail at 10 in the morning, sunscreened, bug offed, con mucha aqua. It is muy caliente in la selva, or jungle. Pero, in the shade, it is much cooler. There is so much verde all around, large vines snake through the canopy, a close reminder of the real thing. There is one vine that is as thick as an anaconda, and a dard orange red. If you are lost in la selva, try to find it. Tiene mas agua that is clean and parasite free.

The guide picked a small yellow flower from some low laying plants and crushed it between his fingers before lifting them to his mouth. He mimed tasting it and pointed towards the ground. I bent low and picked one of the small cushy amarillo buds and bit down on its furry head. The taste was mild and unremarkable, so I frowned, ¨Esta para que?"
He pointed towards his mouth and said nothing, all the while looking at me expectantly. Gradually, my tongue began to sting and develop a slight burning sensation. Not unpleasant, but very strange. I ran ma lengue around my mouth and realized I was starting to lose feeling where the flower had touch my gums. The guide pointed towards the sign, which read something along the lines of anaesthetic locales. Mes ojos widened and I licked my lips, to which a throaty chuckle was his only response.

I took pictures of everything. My favorites were of mushrooms and various slime molds that seeped from the soft crumbly logs, droplets of moisture clinging to their spongy surfaces. Our guide pointed out a small rojo cosa on the ground and I bent down, my camera a lista. It moved, jumping about three inches away from the lens and I leaned closer to realize it was a TINY TINY frog!!! Five minutes of chasing it about, the guide and our friends trying to trap it in their grasp, and I only got three shaky pictures of a red dot!!! Que devertido!

Rubbery spinned seed pods, filled with bright red seeds that burst when you pinch them and leave a thick opaque residue on your fingers, perfect for face painting.

Trees that extrete a viscous milky juice that can be used to set a cast, like plaster. Others that when cut, bleed a dark red liquid, called sanga, the spanish word for blood. Appropriately, this can be applied to cuts, because it has antiseptic properties.

Hallucinogenic vines, magic plants and various aphrodesiacs galore!

Basically, we learned mucho, and bebemos mucha agua. Antonces, vamos a el bano....

Muchas mas tardes,

Brigitte