“ST O P, don’t run over the anteater”

After seeing in the new year with a good case of Malaria, surviving another birthday, and the first full moon of the year, I figured why not go for broke and accompany the local member of parliament on a field trip. As usual I totally ignored all the signs of the coming fiasco, scheduled 12 noon departure being just now-ed until 2:30. The first sure sign of trouble is being flagged down by another hapless bunch of travelers, who had been a week trying to reach Lethem from Yupakari(trip usually several hours) despite several major and minor breakdowns the final straw was the fact they had run out of gas, and needed to borrow a gallon. Borrowing a gallon Rupununi style, is a piece of garden hose carefully threaded into one old landrover gas tank, kind of like giving an enema to an snake threading through the loops and curves. End result gallon of gas obtained and we are off in another cloud of dust. 15-20 minutes later, the driver calmly asks someone in the back to take a look at the rear tire. “Yea, it’s flat, you going to change it or keep driving?”

“ Guess we’d better change it, that is if I can get to the spare under 6 bags of cement, kids, and bags.”

The spare is bounced on the ground, except it didn’t bounce at all, rather it landed
with a tired sigh. Seems that the day before these almost new tires replaced the
old faithful bald, seldom puncture, or if they did at least went out in grand style
usually with a loud bang, tires. Now, one would think that when placing almost
new tires on old rims, that you would want to ensure there is a tight fit, valves are
solid, seals are all intact. Of course not, put those puppy’s on because they still
have tread, therefore almost new. It never fails to amaze me that with this reason-
ing you don’t at least carry some sort of pump, be it bicycle, motor bike, set of
balloons, something beside an ole gal full of hot air. After much muttering,
grunting and advise from onlookers, the tire is changed and the decision is made
to continue the journey into the village and then on to the new eco-lodge in the

bush. All the while, I’m wondering how many days it will take one tired ole gal to
walk back to town from the middle of the bush. We arrive at the village and after
much discussion as to who in the village may have a hand pump that can be borrowed, and at least three stops at various places to discuss who knows what and pick up
a few extra people. A pump is borrowed, tire is lifted at least an inch above being flat, and it’s off to the bush we go. Since it has rained the last few days the road is standing water in several places, but our trusty driver manages to keep the vehicle out of the deeper holes, creek is forded, the last few yards of rutted mud is navigated and we are at last at the lodge. Here again common sense would have told me to off load the bags of cement, take the required pictures, and get the hell out of the
bush before that tire decides to not be pumped up again. Who ever said common sense rules, if it did there would no Spin in the Rupununi, so as usual what should have been a 30 min. turn around turns into a 2 hour run around. Pros and cons of how beds should be arranged in the two new cabins, if the windows should have shutters, or just left as is so that the cool night air may circulate freely. How the new walkway will be finished, and various other matters of concern. Mainly why the showers in the one finished cabin have no water pressure, after all they are gravity fed and the water tank is less than 10 feet from the cabin. Well it seems that the Plumber? Decided that the water pipe should not be run overhead, but should be buried underground so as not to spoil the view. Picture this if you will, water tanks 20+ feet tall, standing less than 10’ from cabin, pipe running down to the ground 90 degree angle underground, to side of cabin, up the side, and across to the two bathrooms. I of course had to ask the question as to why the pipe wasn’t taken directly from the tank to the cabin then run down and into the showers and such? “Well I didn’t think the guest would want to see a water line running from the tank.” Better to see a water line and know that you will have a shower wouldn’t you think? Besides you can always cover it with bark or something, hell paint the
white pipe green then it will blend in. By the time the lesson in proper plumbing of gravity flow is explained it is starting to get dark.

Now the real fun begins. We leave the camp about 6:30 for the hour drive back through the bush in the dark, hoping that that spare tire just keeps enough air in it to at least get us out of the jungle. Out of the bush and through the savanna to the village we go, when all at once from behind me come the shout, “STOP, STOP, LOOK OUT DON’T RUN OVER THE ANTEATER”

Anteater, what anteater, all I see in front of the landrover is an old palm boat.

This is the husk that covers some type of fruit some of the palms in the area produce. These palm boats as they are called by the local folks are used for all manners of containers, but usually for collecting cassava water that is matapeed from the grated cassava. Palm boat looks a lot like a Viking ship rather low to the ground with two pointed ends.

Anyway, I don’t know of any self respecting anteater that would have been out in the middle of the road at that time of the night, and certainly not taking a nap.
Note said palm boat/anteater was loaded into the rover to be dropped of at
Trails End. Figure I can always add a bushy tale to it. Pun intended

Now we had just came over this same stretch of road a few hours ago, but of course these savannah roads have ways of changing up if you don’t watch them.
I.e. never trust your tracks coming in, instead go where no other vehicle has gone for very obvious reasons, the ruts are deeper there fore the center is higher. Yep, only our trusty driver could manage to slush through creeks, mud and mire, only to high center, or one major hang up on dry ground. Out comes the big jack, the
one used to lift Bedford trucks, several Caiambay trees are hacked and wedged under the tires before the truck is lowered in an attempt to not go forward only a few feet to get off the high ridge, but reverse back to where you started to get hung up. No amount of reasoning is going to get through to this guy, and he promptly goes back to where the trouble started then forward to be hung even tighter.
While he once again brings out the big jack, hacks a few more trees and prepares to once again reverse into an even worse spot, one of our passengers takes the cutlass and proceeds to hack away at the high ridge enough to allow the drive shaft to clear. Now it is made very clear to the driver that it will be done the right way, wood is promptly taken from behind the tires and place in front of them and in a cloud of smoke we’re off the high spot and back on level ground.

Arriving back at the village passengers off loaded, tire pumped, gaff session, and 30-45 minutes later we are finally headed toward home.

10:30pm. Shefishs stumbles into Trails End promptly grabs the last drink in the bottle of vodka and OJ has a quick drink, clogs the shower with dirt and dust from the savannah, and heads for bed vowing never again to go on one of these quick turn-a-round trips.

Ha, wouldn’t have missed it for the world, besides what would I have to write about.

Shefishs

January 29, 2006