Daddy Daddy

Been a rather unusual week, Sunday was spent with friends in the near by mountains, where we trekked through the bush to a water fall. Was really a nice trip, saw a lot of birds, flowers, and our guide even cut some fresh bananas for us to bring home. Of course I couldn’t miss the opportunity to tangle my feet in some vine across the path and get down on all fours and check out the gravel in the path. I’m proud to say that it done a fine job on one knee and heel of one hand.

Monday morning in Lethem dawns bright and welcoming to a 4x4 with California plates, and a couple who have been on the road from San Francisco for the last 11 months. He’s some kind of political journalist writing about the problems in S. A. with politics and oil. They have the appearance of old hippies, except his head was shaved and the fact they were about as concerned with the quality of weed grown here as they were with the politics of the country makes one wonder. But then again what can you expect from California people. Anyway seems they have driven from Ca. and got as far as panama then had to ship their truck to Venezuela then drive to here. Well they were looking for somewhere to pitch their tent, so naturally my yard was offered. They were advised to set up in the front, where they would get the breeze at night. So what do they do, park behind the house, set the tent in the tall grass under the mango tree, and park the truck in front of the tent. Well of course the first morning all they could do is complain about how hot it had been that night, and the fact that the tent had gotten full of sand flies. It was explained to them that the grass is full of those things as well as the biting kabora flies, and where the grass is low or none as in the front yard they are no problem. Real bunch of greenhorns, thought they wanted to rough it, but just didn’t want it too rough. Anyway they left this morning heading to Brazil for a month or so, and as he said they needed to do laundry. Didn’t want to do it in the creek thing, were looking for a laundry mat. Good luck, maybe in Manaus, here strictly scrub by hand and beat on a rock in the creek.

Thursday morning dawns bright, Californians heading south, dogs scratching on Main Street, dust boiling behind vehicles being driven too fast, all is well.

The usual morning circus sounds are interrupted by the caterwauling of some little kid, in front of the Cyber café.

And the story goes this way…..” Auntie Pat, this here child was running down the street in front of the Takutu Guest house, and he was coming speed (enter one ole boy who was driving a vehicle down the road coming into town) he see this child running up the road” He stop and pick he up (snotty nosed little black kid about 2yr) he try asking he who is he, who he mamma and pappa, but he no talk. Now my little girl she only 3 and she talk, Blab blab etc(3 year history about her kid)

Being the sensible ole white gal, I call the local police, the day care center near where they picked him up, and a couple of other places, day care say’s all their kids are accounted for, and they really don’t want any more. Police don’t know what to do, several others think he looks like half the guys in Lethem so there fore could belong to just about anybody. By now Shirley, comes in and ask what’s going on, then comes that look “what do you think YOU should do”. To which I quickly to reply, “ hey, I rescue dogs, cats, lizards, and snakes I DON”T do kids” With this made clear the kid sets up another howling spree, interrupted with coughs, and more snotty nose running. Now M.P./Mother Melville takes over, back to the kitchen for a good dose of the local cough/cold/what-ever-else ails you remedy, good ole Ferrol. This noxious substance contains not only a gagging dose of cod liver oil, but other sundry items like, vitamins A-Z, malt extract, msg., sulfuric acid, citric acid, battery acid, and last but certainly not least something like 20% alcohol per dose. Well when Mother Melville returns with the kid, nose is no longer snotty and the caterwauling has been replaced with a silly grin.

Now in the midst of all this confusion in drives, one local pastor, the little kid starts yelling DADDY, DADDY, Pastor swears it’s not his, but knows who the child belongs to and that he lives about 3 miles out of town and he’ll take him to his real father. Mean while the mother is called at work and gets ripped over the coals by another woman, because she had a worthless baby sitter. ( later in the day it’s learned that the babysitter was supposedly in the bathroom when the kid made his get away) And in the mean time I go have a cup of coffee and think what the consequences to this episode would have been if they had been in the states.

Only time will tell if the babysitter still has a job, or if the infamous outhouse claimed yet another victim , will the little kid grow up to look like the preacher and sprout 2 gold teeth, why did the ole white gal at the cyber café not want a un-housebroke rug rat, will the Californian’s find a laundry mat, and what happened to all the mud that was in the road last week?

Stay tuned As the Rupununi Spins

Shefishs

September 2004