Mistaken Journey

New Zealand Listener, Volume 12, Issue 290, 12 January 1945, Page 16

Mistaken Journey

ROY

SHEFFIELD

[1.] T was a relief when the boat train pulled out from Waterloo on that drab November morning. Saying "good-bye" is an uncomfortable business at the best of times, and one at which the average Englishman does not shine. They do these things much better on the Continent. There I remember once seeing a whole family assembled in full force on the platform; mother and father, grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. galore; none, surely, were missing. The departing relative, stiffly clad in his best Sunday clothes and loaded with suit-cases, wicker baskets and paper parcels was not a bit embarrassed by all the fuss and by the interest. his fellow-passengers were frankly displaying. Not he! Starting with the least important members of the gathering, he kissed them all soundly on both cheeks, their tears commingling with his own to the detriment of his freshly laundered shirt front. As it approached the turn of the old people emotional stress reached its height, and the air resounded to the quick-fire smack of fervent embraces. But suddenly, disaster nearly overtook the whole function, for, quite unexpectedly, the train began to move, and amid the screams and yells of the frightened family, the poor fellow was obliged to make a wild scamper for his compartment. His sobs continued in thfe train until he found something tasty in his basket, the slow and complete mastication of which successfully diverted his attention from the harrowing events of the previous few minutes. I was spared any such painful scene. There were neither embraces, tears, nor any other emotional show of grief, and the last remark to reach my ears as the train steamed away was, "Hi! Don’t forget my parrot!" At Southhampton, with all my possessions contained in a sailor's kit-bag and a haversack, I felt immeasurably superior to those ‘lesser mortals who wallowed in’ a sea of luggage. Bestowing myself comfortably in a strategic posi- — in the first-class lounge, I sat back study types, and returned haughty glances to the suspicious stares from the stewards who looked askance at my shabby old kit-bag. . * * days soon slipped past. The mornings were spent doing exercises and the afternoons in sunbathing, much to the surprise of the emigrants who, apperently, previously had. never

seen a human body exposed to sun air. In time, however, they recovered from their sickness and general depression sufficiently to play deck games, The most popular of these was one in which a person bent down, while the others formed a group round him. He would then be smacked resoundingly on the behind, to the hilarious amusement of everybody else, and, unless he guessed correctly the identity of his assailant, the procedure was repeated until he gid -so, when the aggressor had to bend down and become the recipient of the next smack. After calling at the first South American ports, Pernambuco and Bahia, we reached Rio de Janiero one blazing ee ae a ae a a LL Oe Oe OCU

afternoon. Better pens than mine have described that beautiful natural harbour and ‘its striking features. The Sugar Loaf Rock guarding the entran¢e; the encircling mountains; the colossal statue of Christ overlooking all; the cable railways, that test for strong nerves. But I was glad when two mornings later we landed at Santos. I felt that the trip had really begun. [II.] HAT Santos should ever become a fashionable resort would have been blasphemously ridiculed by seamen of earlier days. Then, appropriately enough, ‘it was called "White Man’s Grave," and as mary as 20 ships have lain there at a time, their crews ill or dead with the fever, waiting despairingly for fresh men to arrive to take them home. The story is told of one German steamer which had no less than seven crews sent out before finally she could be got away. Nowadays, the pestilential, mos-quito-infested swamps along the mouth of the river are drained and reclaimed, and the greater part of the world’s coffee is exported from Santos without _ its former dreadful toll of human life. The Brazilian emigration authorities ‘ate very strict, and a certificate proving

recent vaccination is essential before @ person is allowed to land. Even this is not sufficient, at any rate for a steerage passenger, unless the marks are inflamed and plainly visible, and while awaiting my turn for medical examination before leaving the ship I saw several people summarily vaccinated for this reason. I had been vaccinated several times, the last occasion being a few days prior to sailing, but big scars and swellings do not result in my case, and I was practically unmarked. A judicious pinching and squeezing, however, gave me a very. red and sore-looking arm to show the doctor, and I was spared the possible inconvenience of a further operation. Santos beach looked very attractive, and the taxi-man having driven me to a most imposing looking hotel, I decided to stay there and to treat myself to a few days’ holiday. This, incidentally, was the first of my many fortunate chances, and one which made possible all subsequent developments. * * * AFTER five pleasant days spent in bathing and looking around, I arranged to leave for Sau Paulo early on the sixth morning. The last evening I spent at a cinema where an English film was being shown, and something we laughed at together gave me the impression that my immediate neighbour was a fellow-countryman. So it proved; or, at least, nearly so, because he was a Scotsman, It was a truly remarkable encounter, since we were the only two British in the place, and after the show we became better acquainted in the lounge of the hotel. When I told him my plans and explained that I proposed making for Puerto Esperanca on the River Baraguay, and then canoeing down-stream through Brazil, Paraguay and the Argentine in the hope of reaching Buenos Aires, he thought he was either talking to a raving lunatic or else was having his leg pulled. On the other hand, I discovered that out of all the people in the whole of South America, he, in particular, was just about the most helpful one*I could have met. Not only had he, himself, travelled extensively by launch along my projected route down the River Paraguay, but he was also the manager of a large land and estate company which had concessions in that part of Brazil. En route to Buenos Aires, he was staying just that one night in Santos, which made the coincidence of our meeting even more amazing. Briefly and lucidly he gave several reasons for condemning my trip as utterly impossible. First and foremost, Paraguay was at war with Bolivia, a fact which I already , (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) knew, but since I was not proposing to enter Bolivia, it had not seemed very important. My new friend assured me that, on the contrary, it was exceedingly important, inasmuch as no combatant country would ever allow an unknown foreigner to meander at large along the main line of communications, which was what I proposed doing in Paraguay. Anyone who attempted that, he said, would most certainly be arrested as a spy. That is,,if they were exceptionally fortunate. He shuddered to think of my probable fate if ever, by some crazy mischance, I actually did manage to get so far. Uneducated peons and Indians, he said, armed with rifles and masquerading as soldiers were most unlikely to be impressed by a passport; and a pair of English boots would be of more value to them than a live prisoner. This was getting interesting, and I begged my companion to tell me more. Dismissing further hazards in Paraguayan territory as not worth discussion, since I could never arrive there to encounter them, he enumerated a few of the more unpleasant features of river travel in the Brazilian stretch of the Rio Paraguay. He doubted my ability to understand the native patois which differed from the Portuguese spoken in the towns. I had no doubts at all, since my total knowledge of Portuguese, or Spanish, either, was limited to saying "Good morning," "How much?," "Is it too dear?" Being by this time somewhat , reconciled to dealing with a madman, my new friend greeted this admission with only a comparatively mild outburst of scornful invective. I then heard about the immense volume of flood-water which from December to April turns hundreds of miles of land along the Rio Paraguay into ‘an inland sea; of the places where any ohe of half-a-dozen different channels may seem to be the right course; and of. what happens to a person who unwittingly chooses the wrong one, He told me how the vain efforts of many days’ travelling would lead nowhereexcept further and deeper into trackless swamp and forest. I learnt of storms which lash the waters into waves big enough to swamp a launch, let alone a canoe. Of the piranha, the scavenger fish, which attacks in shoals and picks a body clean to the bones in five minutes. Of mosquitoes, snakes, and alligators. Of the rains, and the impossibility of obtaining supplies. What a Job’s comforter he was! But it was getting late, and we arranged to meet at the station before my train left next morning. Besides, had I heard more I might have become a little discouraged! * * * EXT morning, having had time to consider the matter more fully, my friend was even more emphatic in his protestations. I, however, had not come to South America to be turned back by the first person I spoke to, and was equally determined to havega shot at it, pr to find out for myself just how impossible a project it was. But, good fellow that he was, I had become a responsibility to him and weighed heavily on his conscience. So he compromised by giving me a letter of introduction to one McLeod, who was to be found some 400 miles up the Rio Paraguay from Puerto Esperanca, and in whose cattle ranch his company had an

Interest. Life there, he said, would be} wild enough to satisfy anybody, and I should find all the adventures I wanted, probably without seeking them. This, indeed, seemed a likely alternative should the canoe trip prove so outrageously impracticable, and I thanked him sincerely for his kindness. Little did I realise at that moment how very much more grateful I should feel towards him later on, and how I should bless the lucky chance of our meeting. [III.] AU PAULO is only two hours’ rail from Santos, and with its population of about a million is a fine, wellequipped, progressive city, the second in Brazil. Indeed, its rate of progress and development gave rise to the belief that Sau Paulo State as a separate entity would fare better than as a province of Brazil. In 1932 this was probably the primary cause of a widespread revolution, or, more correctly, of the insurrection of Sau Paulo State against Brazilian jurisdiction. There is little doubt that had the Paulistas been successful, they would have effected a separation. But several months of fierce fighting, with trenches, field artillery, aeroplanes, and all the implements of modern warfare, saw them forced to capitulate. Their defeat was due, not to their own faint-heartedness or indecision, but rather to the procrastination of certain neighbours who played the old game of sitting on the fence, and from whom the promised assistance was not forthcoming. So Sau Paulo remained an integral part of Brazil and continued to make contributions to the national exchequer. Santos bore extra taxes derived mainly from the export of coffee, and many prominent Paulistas left the country in preference to taking a.one-way ticket to Fernando Noronha. One of these gentlemen subsequently proved a resourceful companion, whose friendship provided me with many inspiring noments. One of the things to do in Sau Paulo is to visit the famous Butantan Institute, where snakes are received from all. parts and where their poisons are extracted to make the antidotal serum. The enclosures resemble an apiary, for the snakes are housed in small shelters like beehives. One is impressed by the nonchalant way in which the keepers handle the snakes. These men reach into the ‘shelters with their sticks or probe among clusters of snakes lying on the grass, and, until they get the particular one they ‘want, the others are flung aside like so many yards of sausages. The keepers are protected by leggings up to their knees, since the deadly snakes cannot strike higher than that. But to the casual observer they appeared to take fearful chances by handling several reptiles at once with their bare hands. : Poison is extracted by opening the snake’s mouth and pressing a small dish under the fangs. Horses are kept at the snake farm, and after a period of six months, during which tifme they are repeatedly injected with the poison, they are bled from the neck and from this blood the serum is collected. Afterwards their own blood is restored to them again, and at no time are the horses allowed to suffer any ill-effects from the treatment. Indeed, the authorities are at pains to point out how well the animals are looked after; and the clean, airy stables, with blue glass windows to discourage the mosquitoes, certainly support this claim. (To be continued next week)