Mistaken Journey

New Zealand Listener, Volume 12, Issue 303, 13 April 1945, Page 24

Mistaken Journey

Ty

ROY

SHEFFIELD

XVI. FTER two days’ rest Walter proposed another reconnoitring trip to discover the condition of the cattle’ But it did not take place, for that evening an Indian arrived from a settlement about twenty miles up river. He brought a message from a Bolivian man and his wife, who on their way down to Corumba had been stranded by the high flood water at the Indian’s home. Accompanied by two peons they had crossed from Bolivia with a wagon and a team of oxen, planning to reach Descalvados and to proceed from there to Corumba by launch. But the swamps had been too deep for them, and thev had failed by twenty miles to reach Descalvados. Mac and Walter listened to the Indian’s recital, and decided to send the biggest canoe to the rescue of the travellers. We made an early start in the morning, the party again consisting of Rufino, Carlos, Walter and myself. I wondered if the boys would be required to figure anything out on this occasion, and hoped that if they were obliged to do so they would not be quite so optimistic regarding the margin of safety. Such exactness of judgment as they had displayed before, I told Walter, called for more than a little luck, and the best interests of an expedition were not served by depending on that uncertain factor. He solemnly agreed, and we both burst out laughing. The canoe we were using was a bigger and much heavier one -than the other, and needed a deal of pushing.. But for the first part of the journey progress was easy. We followed the creek, and afterwards cut straight across the campo where in many places the water was too shallow to paddle the canoe and we | were obliged to drag it. It was intended

to strike another creek, which would bring us out to the Big River at a spot close to the Indian settlement, and Walter said he hoped to reach there in time to make the return journey downstream before sundown. All went well until we came to look for this second creek, and then our troubles started, for it was not to be found. We had passed landmarks which were familiar to the others, and had pushed the canoe into a tangle of undergrowth, expecting to come out on the other side and to discover the channel. But the deeper we went the worse it became. The trees and vegetation were so thick, and the canoe was so long, that it was impossible to turn it; once we were started ona course it meant going straight forward, or straight back, and any obstacles in the way had to be surmounted. Ahead of the canoe, Carlos hacked and slashed with his machete, felling saplings and chopping a passage through solid banks of bush and clutching vine. Pushing .and_ heaving, we forced. the canoe

through after him, and wiped countless ants, mosquitoes, beetles and heaven knows* what other insects, from our sweating bodies. Some of the bushes were simply alive with red ants, which we were careful not to disturb, for their bite can be poisonous. Even so, I was bitten on the little finger, which swelled up like a sausage and later earned me several doses of booze. At length we rested, and Carlos, who had been scouting ahead, reported that he had discovered no sign of the channel. That was a blow, for it meant our struggles of the past hour had been all in vain; not only that, but we should have to fight just as hard again to extricate ourselves. Two hours after we had struck into the tangle of undergrowth we finally fought clear of it, the net resultsof our labours being a multitude of scratches and bites, and a more intimate conception of the family life of the insect world. Walter took fresh bearings and we paddled a short distance before again plunging into the battle. This time it did not take us so long to discover that our efforts would be as unprofitable as they had been before, and a second time we retreated with hard feelings. I began to think that for once the outfit’s figuring really had gone wrong; but they were not the men to be beaten by a mere few miles of jungle, or the attentions of ten million ants and mosquitoes. Not they! We paddled along to a third place which to me looked just as unpromising as the other two, and in we went once more. * * * T was a case of third time lucky, for after heavy going at the start the vegetation thimned out and we entered the missing creek. Both the other places had been canoe roads the previous season, Walter said, which was a striking example of the amazing rapidity of the tropical growth.

Our creek, with many a twist and turn, led us to the Big River, and for half a mile we had to paddle upstream. At times our most strenuous exertions did not prevent us from losing ground against the strong current and in that heavy canoe it was a struggle all the way. The Indian settlement was some two miles inland from the river and, leaving our canoe, we finished the journey on foot. Actually we might well have gone almost to the doors of the huts in it, for during the last mile the water was always above our ‘knees, and frequently up to our waists. ; The Bolivian couple proved to be a voluble little man, all greasy hair and gold teeth, and his large, panting wife. It was easy to guess for whose benefit the ox-wagon had been brought along, and I hoped that with her in the canoe the boys would have no occasion to do any figuring on the way home! We had lost so much time Over our fruitless excursions in the bush that the afternoon was well advanced before we reached the settlement, and if was too

ee SS See Oe el ell late to think about returning until the morning. As I was wearing a pair of football shorts under my ordinary trousers, I was able to take off my wet clothes and to hang them in the sun to dry. Rufino and Carlos did the same thing, and, very properly, were unashamed of their nakedness; but Walter could not be tempted to follow suit. He said his social ambitions would be ruined, and contented himself with removing his shirt, % * % W HEN we arrived the womenfolk of the community were engaged in a very curious operation. They were squatting in a circle under the shade of a tree, and in the centre was an earthenware bowl. All were busily engaged in the noisy mastication of mouthfuls of barley, which, when reduced to the required consistency, they spat out into the bowl. "What on earth are they doing?" I asked Walter in surprise, looking at the horrid mess which filled the pot. "T'll tell you in a minute, son," he answered, "but let’s see if there’s a drink goin’ first, before I start gettin’ the shivers." A visit to the headman proved fruitful, and we returned to where the squaws were chewing and spitting. "Now, if you’re going to be sick," he said, "don’t do it on me, but them beauties is makin’ the booze you’ve just been drinkin’." And at the look of consternation on my face he burst into shouts of laughter. "Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise." It is indeed, and Walter, the villain, did me no service in imparting that particular piece of wisdom! This revealing insight into local brews -ing-methods discouraged me from making any further enquiries, and what other ingredients went into its manufacture besides barley and saliva I never knew. But later on, when I felt better, I did ask Walter why they chewed it and spat it out, and he said that the saliva acts as a fermenting agent and saves the use of sugar. * * * UR departure was not delayed, and after a breakfast of corncob and maté we drove the ox-wagon down to the: canoe. This part of the journey provided me with an unusual mount, for I rode down on a saddle bull belonging to the Bolivians. The bullock was either a stubborn beast, or else I could not manage him properly-probably the latter-for he insisted on following his own course, and sank into a patch of deep water. Even in his swimming he was equally resolute, and obstinately refusing to turn aside he swam for about twenty yards with me perched on his back, holding my camera above my head with one hand. The large lady was plumped down amidships in the bottom of the canoe, and an endless variety of goods were packed round her. I thought she looked like Mother Goose, but Walter had never heard of her, and said she looked more like a mother hippopotamus. The two peons who had accompanied the Bolivians were going to return home

An account of adventures in Central South America by an English "Innocent Abroad." He is now on a cattle ranch in the Matto Grosso.

with the wagon, and when we were all settled in our places they pushed us out into deep water, and the current swept us downstream. This time Carlos set a leisurely stroke, and, with Rufino guiding us always where the stream was strongest, our progress down the river was fast and easy. Twice we saw flocks of green parrots conducting their squawking arguments in the treetops, and among the other varieties of birds and waterfowl I liked best the big white storks in their swift, low flight across the water. Once we heard an excited, highpitched jabbering coming from the. forest. It was a troop of monkeys passing the time of day, and from the volume of noise I imagined there were hundreds of them; but Walter said they probably did not number fifty, for they were the noisiest creatures in the jungle. The little Brazilian had great fun pointing out the alligators to his wife. She hated the brutes, and gave a horrified wriggle every time she saw one, but he kept giving her a resounding slap, and went off into peals of laughter at her discomforture. I asked Walter what was tickling him, and he replied that the little man was telling his wife that if the canoe upset the men would not get gobbled up, because there was enough of her to keep the alligators busy while we swam all the way to Descalvados. The trip passed off without that unfortunate contingency arising and we arrived back before midday after a most enjoyable journey. * * N important social function took place on the night following our rescue of the Bolivians. It was a dance to celebrate the end of the spell of work in the slaughterhouse, and it took place in the shed adjoining the peons’ houses. A dance was a customary thing after a long killing, Mac said, and during the past few days they had killed nearly’ four hundred beefs. The shed was lit by two oil lamps hanging from the roof, and the band was in a corner. The best corner, too, for in it were several bottles of booze, from which the players assiduously refreshed themselves. The band numbered three instrumentalists, and they variously performed on a concertina, a guitar, and a native drum. The concertina player was the key man; he used no music and his repertoire seemed limited, but he was a rare worker, and put all he knew into his playing. The guitar was game to follow anything the concertina started, and was always with him at the finish. But the drummer had the best job: he was able to thump his drum with one hand and to drink his fire-water with the other, a definite advantage over his brother instrumentalists. : : The dance floor was just the natural earth, but things had not had time to liven up when we first arrived, and only two or three couples were dancing. They were doing a hoppy sort of one-step which did not appear very difficult, and, encouraged by Walter and Mac, I chanced my arm, or rather my foot, and winked at a dusky bride in the corner. She rewarded me with a coy smile from ear to ear, and we were off. She was a charming creature, dressed very simply in a sack, with two-holes for her arms and one for her head, and she «suffered from that complant about which, we are informed, her best friend could not tell her. I apologised each time I trod on her bare feet, but she only grinned, so apparently it did not matter. When the

band felt thirsty they stopped playing end I thanked my partner and went .outside for a breath of fresh air. Soon afterwards they had a general dance with a swinging chorus, where the men and women stood on opposite sides and jigged backwards and forwards in time to the music. This, and the exhilarating effects of the liquor, soon put some life into the festivities, so that when the very large Bolivian woman appeared in the doqrway she was greeted with such a shout that she hastily withdrew and contented herself with looking in through the window. I had two more dances, thanks to Mac’s prompting, and discovered that my first partner was not alone in her affliction. It was getting unbearably hot in the room, and when he suggested that it was time to go I was pleased, to agree. Things never got into full swing until after he and Walter had gone, Mac said, for the men felt a constraint in their presence, and were afraid to really let themselves go. We heard in the morning that the dance was a great success, and had only terminated at a late hour when the concertina player fell down and was unable to get up again. * ciel * , HAD been wondering for some days past about returning home. Having to be back in England by the first week in April, and-it then being the middle of February, I could not afford to lose much more time. Mac said there had not been a launch down to Corumba for some considerable time, and he was expecting one daily; that was reassuring news, and much as I regretted leaving the fazenda all things must come to an end sometime, and I proposed to depart on the first available boat. Meanwhile, Walter was preparing for another canoe trip, and, of course, I’ was anxious to go with him. Another killing was planned for the following week, and many head of cattle would need to be rounded up for the purpose. But the flood water was so deep that horsemen could no longer go roaming all over the campo in search of a herd; the position of the cattle would have to be located by canoe, and conditions studied to judge the best route for riders to follow. The trip would take two days, he said, and it looked like being my farewell to the campo. We made an early start, the party again consisting of Rufino, Carlos, Walter and myself in the big canoe, with little Pietro and another of the gang in a smaller one. . For five or six miles we paddled downstream, and then turned off along a narrow creek which brought us to the home of a family of river Indians. One | of them was carrying a bow and arrows, and I remarked on the fact to Walter. To my surprise he told me that it was a common means of fishing in shallow water, and that a spear was frequently used too. I suggested a demonstration, thinking that the posed body of the Indian aiming his arrow at a fish would make a splendid picture; but Walter seemed doubtful of the native’s willingness to submit to a photograph. His doubts were well founded, too, for when the Indian understood what was wanted he was most reluctant to do anything of the sort and looked at my camera with sullen suspicion. (To be continued next week) |