The green light on my wrist watch tells me that it's 5:45 am and in between the cracks of the wood planks of the wall, the sun is already shining through. Day Two has begun and like most of my mornings, the first thing on the agenda is the bathroom.
El bano is, well...friends and family, it is in the middle of the jungle. It is a short walk from the hut to the hole in the ground by the river bank. I only recognize it because right above the hole are four sticks holding up a square tin "roof". I inhale deeply in my approach to fortify my spirits and bravery in this first attempt. This was my first mistake.
I won't even try to explain the smell here, in writing, or ever in my life. There are simply no words.
With my foot, I gently push aside the rectangular wooden block covering the hole (to keep the flies away). This was my second mistake. But, you ask, don't you have to remove the block to uncover the bathroom? The answer is yes, but my eyes said no.
In that hole, as expected, was human excrement. What wasn't expected was. that. it. was. moving. Swarming. Squirming.
Terrified, I kick the block back and walk as fast as I can with a lame ankle to the hut. I discuss with Eve, James, and Adrienne. The two former decidedly state, "Probably human worms and parasites."
And in this moment I think of all the bathrooms I have ever had to use in my life and silently thank every toilet for its mercy. It's amazing to think how much we take for granted on a daily basis. I've always been grateful for the running water, heat, electricity in my house--because I knew that many people in the world are without. However, once these things are physically taken away from you, the appreciation for them deepens hundred-fold. A new understanding for what it means to be without develops.
(Just in case you were worried, I eventually did muster the courage to use the bathroom. It was an experience).
Breakfast is a "cake" of oritos (a platano looking potato plant) with canned tuna, tomatoes, and onion. I am beginning to dislike the taste of tuna.
Then, Gustavo declares that we are to see the waterfall today. Crossing the river, we hike up a steep mountainside, stopping occasionally to study a medicinal plant, its preparation, and its uses. It's amazing to think about how the Shuar came up with these treatments. How do you figure out that if you boil three leafs in water and combine it with the fibers of a stem of another plant that it will relieve diarrhea when consumed?
An hour and a half later (my feet hurt so badly at this point) Gustavo asks us to sit and paints our faces to prepare us for the hike down to la cascada. I am a tiger.
According to Shuar culture and tradition, every member of the community must partake in a particular ritual when they come of age. They spend two nights alone in the jungle, ingest a medicinal psycho-tropic plant called Maricoa, paint their faces, and swim in the pool by the waterfall to receive visions of their life's purpose.
Gustavo tells me that if I do this, I will absolutely know that I am supposed to be a doctor. I decline, politely, as do the other students in my group. Gustavo chuckles and, satisfied with his artistry, leads the hike down to the waterfall.
La cascada is a bit smaller than I expected (it is larger after a heavy rain) but nonetheless gorgeous. It feels like I'm standing in the middle of a secret.
But before we're allowed to touch the water, Gustavo pulls out a small package wrapped in a leaf. It is a wad of freshly cut tobacco. He squeezes some sort of water from the plant and tells us that we have to snort this through the nostrils to clear the mind and our sinuses. Not wanting to offend him, I weakly allow some water up my nose. It is unpleasant.
We swim and bathe in the pool by the waterfall, enjoying ourselves. Gustavo then leads the hike back, which is relatively uneventful and less difficult, except for three things:
1. Gustavo finds a hanging vine, studies it for a bit, and then, without warning, grabs a hold of the plant and takes a running jump off of an embankment. He is Tarzan. He motions for us to do the same, smiling. For those of you who know me very well, swinging in the middle of the Amazon is not something I regularly do. I did. It was awesome.
2. Gustavo chatters endlessly throughout the hike back, but will occasionally stop and revert to an animalistic mode. He will look up at the sky, study a branch, touch the ground...all in dead silence. I am at first worried that he is lost, because he breaks the branches off of plants here and there, almost as if to mark the place (think Hansel and Gretel...if you come back to the same broken branch, you're going in circles). I later find out that he had seen jaguar tracks and wanted to mark the spot in order to hunt later that night.
3. Gustavo stops at one point and starts to viciously hack away at some dead looking tree with his 3 foot machete. We are confused. He is looking for something. We don't see anything. He finds it. Three GIANT slugs. He keeps telling me that they are vegetables (or something like that). Clearly, the insect slithering across the banana leaf I am holding is NOT a carrot. He calls it Usano. And he means to say that they are edible (I misunderstand many things Gustavo tells me). Apparently, when cooked, they taste like fried cheese.
No, I did not eat them.
The night comes sooner than I like it to, and with it, the bugs return into the house. Mentally, the group is better prepared and plays a game of Eucer (cards) under my mosquito net. It is cramped. By the light of someone's head lamp, I see that the toes on my right foot are swollen due to blisters. One looks slightly infected. The med students take care of it. My ankle appears purple and bruised and I remember that I had sprained it nearly a year ago. As I fall asleep, I hope that I can rest it enough to be able to hike out of the jungle on Friday. A little sangre de drago and oja roja (medicinal plants) should do the trick, Veronica says.
And so, Day Two ends. I've survived my first 24 hours in la selva...
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