The pen of Simon Romero today brings us through the New York Times yet another damning article on the mismanagement and arrogance of the Bolivarian pseudo-revolution. He neatly describes how the famous Yanomami of Amazonas state have been taken for a ride by chavismo who expelled the long established missionaries. Chavismo has proven unable to substitute them. The reasons are very simple: the military were put in charge and in Venezuela the military is lazy, corrupt and arrogant enough when trying to hide its shortcomings. Required reading.
My personal addition.
First, Mr Romero observes some of the same things that I observed myself when I was in Delta Amacuro a few months ago. Namely, the resentment of the natives in front of the "criollos" who get the biggest share of the spoils, when not all. Second, how good intentions are only too often useless when the ideological and bureaucratic machinery comes into action.
But I can also add something that either Mr. Romero did not know or did not dare to add to his article: the FARC influence. This was certainly in large part the reason why the missionaries started to be expelled as chavismo did not want them to be reliable witnesses of the FARC and Venezuelan Army dealings. Although this is basically public knowledge in Venezuela it is not reported nor investigated in detail because, well, it is dangerous to go down there and do research as you are as likely to be shot by FARC irregulars or by corrupt Venezuelan Army officers. In fact it is so bad that I did not even require to go there to be shown an example on how this operates.
Last year I started contact with an operator who does visits to remote areas of the Orinoco,
Ventuari, Casiquiare and Caura rivers. He told me that he could still organize trips to visit such landmarks as Casiquiare or Autana but that it was risky not only because you never knew who you could meet but because it was very possible that you could get stranded for days if not weeks until you could come back. The reason? The army had taken over the gas distribution from the private distributors that ferried up river gas supplies. Now the army sold gasoline at any price it wanted, and giving priority to the FARC. That is right, if you had the bad luck to arrive at a relay station after the FARC did its "shopping" you could find yourself out of luck and in need to wait several days until a new supply arrived. Unless of course you were willing to paddle your way for days down stream. In other words, trips by that operator were now much more expensive as he needs to carry in advance or along his own supplies of gasoline, while of course becoming an even more desirable target for river pirates.
It is easy to imagine what other traffics take place under the cover of protecting the Yanomamis and Venezuela from US "spies".
The hypocrisy and cynicism of chavismo truly has no bounds....
-The end-
Showing posts with label delta amacuro. Show all posts
Showing posts with label delta amacuro. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Delta Amacuro News and Views (conclusion)
Paradise lost?
As readers might have gathered by now I have been very impressed by my trip to Delta Amacuro.
As soon as I arrived in Maturin I realized that I was going to learn more than what I was looking for, starting with my taxi driver explaining to me how PDVSA was the real power in Monagas State (and thus Delta Amacuro which is shielded by Monagas). This indeed is an area that chavismo has completely taken over, where it is almost running on its own and where political battles are among chavista factions. Besides nature gazing I was going to see the bolivarian Frankenstein working unfettered.
Within a day of having reached Caño Manamo I had understood that official life was all full of great feelings, not so good intentions and continuous Venezuelan indolence. The best example to illustrate that is the Warao school I visited: a brand new and expensive school, teachers from afar, and yet the forced acquisition of Spanish sounding names. The price for the Waraos to taste civilization would be in the short term a loss of identity, something that could subject them to chavista officials for a generation at least.
I am not the one to judge whether the sacrifice to be made by the Waraos is worth. However I must start by writing that no matter how magnificent nature is, it is not paradise. It is a sodden place, where you must built everything on stilts, were bugs and humidity and rain and heat will always torment you and where you cannot get easily what would help you to make the best of it, such as electricity to make AC run or efficiently purify water. With such an unfavorable situation to start with any real and coherent progress should be easily seen. It is not. What we see is yet another area of devil-may-care which is tempered by the harsh reality of the place which forces genuine collaboration among the people and a minimum of organization to survive.
The bolivarian revolution is not the solution for the Delta as the social programs I observed are useless to ensure long term survival of the culture, or even the permanence of the people (Caracas streets have been plagued for years now by Waraos as homeless folks). Since there is no question, at least for the time being, of transforming the delta in a rice breadbasket for the world, then social organization is useless as it cannot improve on the one formed over the centuries by the locals as they adapted to the place. It is not by coming and changing the architecture, the names, the needs, that things will get better. It is the same sad story all over again, where the natives are overwhelmed.
I would guess that only rampant capitalism through private initiative could change and improve the area, as long as it is the Waraos that become the new business people of the area. Besides the obvious health and education social programs, all the governmental actions should go to simple points: favor individual fisheries, favor individual catering to tourist willing to pay hard cash, organize a better production and distribution artisan system, protect and pay people to protect as much as possible of the delta. And preserve the Warao culture, make it a sort of bilingual area, truly.
Let's face it: the only possible source of hard cash in the Delta area is any oil that could still be found and tourists willing to pay for what can only be an expensive proposal. But the bolivarian mindset is unable to get that point, as we can hear form all the empty slogans of "democratizing" tourism, and making sure that all can "participate". The reality of the delta is the Occam's razor of such a system. Putting up lots of political billboards or changing the names of the kids is not going to change the reality of the delta. The type of tourists that go there is the hardy type, the one that is willing to pay big bucks and put up with significant discomfort in order to observe the wonders of nature. The bolivarian masses? Well, let's not be coy with words: most of these masses are more interested in hanging out at beaches or A.C. malls, Sambil style, than fighting bugs and spending hours sitting under the sun on a boat to get to see a few exotic birds.
But I suppose we cannot help it, Venezuelans have never been too much into that type of tourism and are even less able to understand it. The planes are full towards Miami and ten years of chavismo have not changed that. One night talking to my guide I asked him which were the more interesting tourists, or at least the most interested ones. He thought about it very little and said that the Germans were the best ones. The French tended to be a little bit more adventurous but the Germans were the ones that cared the most about all what they saw. I had to ask which where the worst ones. This time my native guide looked around to make sure no one would hear his reply. Then he leaned toward me "The Venezuelans: they only want to party and drink beer".
Thus I should not be surprised about all what I saw.
There is clearly no long term plan, no solid structure to trey to get the best of the area. Even at Pedernales which should be a well furnished base camp for excursions, you had trouble for running water. Tucupita and Caño Manamo have suffered from the dike crossing the Caño and so far, even though salinization is advancing fast, there is no talk of letting more Orinoco water spill to Manamo. There is not even regular flights to Tucupita, something that would be easy for the state to subsidize to attract more Venezuelan tourists that would content themselves with a visit at Tucupita and some local boating for a jungle experience. Instead the locals are offered motor boats and cheap gasoline whose ecological damage will appear sooner than later as the local river mammals numbers surely are starting to fall. Is there any agency monitoring them? The government could have started from the right foot by creating a river commuting system of sorts, but that would have required work and organization and commitment. Thus wild anarchy is paradoxically preferred on this respect!
I think that the Delta is still protected by its sheer size, even if burning land for ranches is advancing fast in the upper areas. But the danger to the Delta is clear and it is not necessarily at the Delta itself. Deforestation in the Andes, increasing pollution from the the growing population of the Orinoco and its tributaries are very likely to make their effect felt sooner than later. Right now the the real threat is for the Waraos to decide to chose a life of misery on the dry land as they realize that their original habitat cannot provide for them with the expectations that modernity offers them. Watching Direct TV on a sodden stilt house must have an effect when the government offers you mostly slogans and free aspirin.
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The Delta Amacuro series
The trip
From Monagas to Caño Manamo
Nature wonders
The Waraos: integration, acculturation, domination or extinction?
Pedernales, or the limit of a revolution.
-The end-
This is not paradise
As readers might have gathered by now I have been very impressed by my trip to Delta Amacuro.
As soon as I arrived in Maturin I realized that I was going to learn more than what I was looking for, starting with my taxi driver explaining to me how PDVSA was the real power in Monagas State (and thus Delta Amacuro which is shielded by Monagas). This indeed is an area that chavismo has completely taken over, where it is almost running on its own and where political battles are among chavista factions. Besides nature gazing I was going to see the bolivarian Frankenstein working unfettered.
Within a day of having reached Caño Manamo I had understood that official life was all full of great feelings, not so good intentions and continuous Venezuelan indolence. The best example to illustrate that is the Warao school I visited: a brand new and expensive school, teachers from afar, and yet the forced acquisition of Spanish sounding names. The price for the Waraos to taste civilization would be in the short term a loss of identity, something that could subject them to chavista officials for a generation at least.
I am not the one to judge whether the sacrifice to be made by the Waraos is worth. However I must start by writing that no matter how magnificent nature is, it is not paradise. It is a sodden place, where you must built everything on stilts, were bugs and humidity and rain and heat will always torment you and where you cannot get easily what would help you to make the best of it, such as electricity to make AC run or efficiently purify water. With such an unfavorable situation to start with any real and coherent progress should be easily seen. It is not. What we see is yet another area of devil-may-care which is tempered by the harsh reality of the place which forces genuine collaboration among the people and a minimum of organization to survive.
The bolivarian revolution is not the solution for the Delta as the social programs I observed are useless to ensure long term survival of the culture, or even the permanence of the people (Caracas streets have been plagued for years now by Waraos as homeless folks). Since there is no question, at least for the time being, of transforming the delta in a rice breadbasket for the world, then social organization is useless as it cannot improve on the one formed over the centuries by the locals as they adapted to the place. It is not by coming and changing the architecture, the names, the needs, that things will get better. It is the same sad story all over again, where the natives are overwhelmed.
I would guess that only rampant capitalism through private initiative could change and improve the area, as long as it is the Waraos that become the new business people of the area. Besides the obvious health and education social programs, all the governmental actions should go to simple points: favor individual fisheries, favor individual catering to tourist willing to pay hard cash, organize a better production and distribution artisan system, protect and pay people to protect as much as possible of the delta. And preserve the Warao culture, make it a sort of bilingual area, truly.
Let's face it: the only possible source of hard cash in the Delta area is any oil that could still be found and tourists willing to pay for what can only be an expensive proposal. But the bolivarian mindset is unable to get that point, as we can hear form all the empty slogans of "democratizing" tourism, and making sure that all can "participate". The reality of the delta is the Occam's razor of such a system. Putting up lots of political billboards or changing the names of the kids is not going to change the reality of the delta. The type of tourists that go there is the hardy type, the one that is willing to pay big bucks and put up with significant discomfort in order to observe the wonders of nature. The bolivarian masses? Well, let's not be coy with words: most of these masses are more interested in hanging out at beaches or A.C. malls, Sambil style, than fighting bugs and spending hours sitting under the sun on a boat to get to see a few exotic birds.
But I suppose we cannot help it, Venezuelans have never been too much into that type of tourism and are even less able to understand it. The planes are full towards Miami and ten years of chavismo have not changed that. One night talking to my guide I asked him which were the more interesting tourists, or at least the most interested ones. He thought about it very little and said that the Germans were the best ones. The French tended to be a little bit more adventurous but the Germans were the ones that cared the most about all what they saw. I had to ask which where the worst ones. This time my native guide looked around to make sure no one would hear his reply. Then he leaned toward me "The Venezuelans: they only want to party and drink beer".
Thus I should not be surprised about all what I saw.
There is clearly no long term plan, no solid structure to trey to get the best of the area. Even at Pedernales which should be a well furnished base camp for excursions, you had trouble for running water. Tucupita and Caño Manamo have suffered from the dike crossing the Caño and so far, even though salinization is advancing fast, there is no talk of letting more Orinoco water spill to Manamo. There is not even regular flights to Tucupita, something that would be easy for the state to subsidize to attract more Venezuelan tourists that would content themselves with a visit at Tucupita and some local boating for a jungle experience. Instead the locals are offered motor boats and cheap gasoline whose ecological damage will appear sooner than later as the local river mammals numbers surely are starting to fall. Is there any agency monitoring them? The government could have started from the right foot by creating a river commuting system of sorts, but that would have required work and organization and commitment. Thus wild anarchy is paradoxically preferred on this respect!
I think that the Delta is still protected by its sheer size, even if burning land for ranches is advancing fast in the upper areas. But the danger to the Delta is clear and it is not necessarily at the Delta itself. Deforestation in the Andes, increasing pollution from the the growing population of the Orinoco and its tributaries are very likely to make their effect felt sooner than later. Right now the the real threat is for the Waraos to decide to chose a life of misery on the dry land as they realize that their original habitat cannot provide for them with the expectations that modernity offers them. Watching Direct TV on a sodden stilt house must have an effect when the government offers you mostly slogans and free aspirin.
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The Delta Amacuro series
The trip
From Monagas to Caño Manamo
Nature wonders
The Waraos: integration, acculturation, domination or extinction?
Pedernales, or the limit of a revolution.
-The end-
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Delta Amacuro News and Views (5)
Pedernales, or the limits of a revolution
Pedernales sits at the end of Caño Mànamo where the murky waters of the Orinoco meet the muddied waters of the Ocean. All is flat, all is wide, all is far. For some of us, sensible to remote spots on Atlas that make us dream, Pedernales is almost magical, of that edge of the world magic.
Pedernales means "field of stones". There are not many stones there, but there used to be reefs hundreds of thousand of years ago far into the Ocean. The river one day reached and surrounded them with mud flats. Pedernales was named as such because they are the only rocky outcrops of the whole delta, and they offer the only place where houses can be built on ground. But not even that much, as the few rocky island are barely big enough, one for an airstrip, another for nothing except a rustic hotel and the largest one, at the strategic point, big enough for a Coast Guard station and a very few hundred souls.
Pedernales can only collect rain water and fish whatever swims in front. There is a single truck in Pedernales to carry the heavy loads that reach the pier as all must come from outside, probably even water (1). But that is OK, the streets can be gaily painted as only bikes can risk damaging the locals creations. (2)
And yet Pedernales could have been rich. Asphalt was found in the area and exploited in the XIX century. The Manamo was important enough a river road that Pedernales could have benefited from its privileged position, the one where the pilots would come on board to sail the liquid mud up to Tucupita. There they could seek oil in the first half of the XX century, or most of the timber that built cities like Cumana. All cruised in front of Pedernales.
But nothing came of it and Pedernales has remained a forgotten village, truly at the edge of the world. Still, it has failed to become miserable because PDVSA is there and because the coast guard has a nice and modern compound on what is perhaps the only tiny hill of the Delta. Just across the river there is a PDVSA set up, which by itself justifies the maintenance of the airstrip used for their own needs. But what a waste! There is huge gas torch that has been burning perhaps for decades while most of the Manamo lacks electricity. That gas is not even used to boil sea water to collect its dew, it is just a strange beacon that entertains folks seeking a fresh breeze on the river boardwalk at night.
Pedernales is a rather cheerful place. After all the climate is not unhealthy. True, it is humid, warm, but not unhealthy as the tides wash up all and the sea breeze reaches it. Three streets run through it with perhaps a dozen cross ones. It sits mostly on an isthmus between the Coast Guard hill and the swampy area. Its church is strangely attractive, in a naive way, paradoxically the only thing blue when one is surrounded by such brown water, and a gray sky.
Walking through Pedernales I quickly realized that it might a great laboratory to study how far the tentacles of the chavista experiment could reach. After all, it is as remote as possible, without roads to reach it, without regular flights, only boats from Guiria, Trinidad or Tucupita. And all depends from the state as only fisherman and artisans for the rare tourist would make a relatively independent living. Besides, Delta Amacuro is one of the three top vote getters for chavismo in percentage. And there was that fabulous PSUV house, so boldly presenting itself.
But our first surprise was to notice that if chavismo is strong there, it is certainly not overwhelming. Yes, for sure the PSUV house was for all to see and government posters where everywhere. But yet the old COPEI house was still up and was still showing that it had occasional activity, if anything to put posters for the NO.
Pedernales is reasonably clean and reasonably well kept if rather poor. Traditions have survived and even though chavista Venezuela has reached it, tradition is to be seen. These two Warao women were coming back from the market carrying a morocoy, a land turtle, of considerable size if you ask me. I did not talk to them but I talked to another one, a "criollo" woman, who was also carrying an even bigger live animal. They had just arrived that day and apparently it was a major event. The beasts will be settled in their backyard for a few days and fed it plenty. Then they will be killed to do a soup of sorts. I did not ask for the recipe.
But this picture also speaks on different levels. The Warao girls were well fed, well dressed, and yet they walked barefoot. The criollos you might see on other shots all wore shoes. The two cultures have still a long way to go to mix even if both enjoy morocoy sancocho, and even if both shop at the local and lone market.
That was that, the market. Inside only a stand that sold fish and a few vegetables and some dry goods. The fruits were sold on the left. All comes at high tide when the water reaches the market dock. And yet it was still better furnished than the competition: the Mercal located within the evangelical church. It is important to note that the Evangelical community in Venezuela is divided, congregations either support fervently the government or oppose it bitterly. Since I am not a religious person I cannot bother trying to understand the why of each, but it is still an observation worth noting.
At any rate, I visited that Mercal and it was rather bare. Oh, they did have a few things, laundry detergent, some canned stuff, even a fridge with some cold juices inside. But the fresh produce was at the water side market, morocoyes and all. By the way, you can also observe that some of the houses of Pedernales look like little villas, and all are equally fortified against thieves even
though I am at a loss to imagine where they could go and hide their loot. Enough money to build small villas makes it there, somehow.
Chavismo has certainly taken root in Pedernales and many folks are not afraid of flaunting their preferences. We entered in what looked like the lone cafe of the island, placed next to a culture ministry sponsored joint that claimed to rent DVD. It was not open that early morning, but the owner did welcome us anyway. The place was pleasant though already quite warm, but there was no running water and no coffee could be offered. We had to settle later for the lone general store of the island where we gratefully found cold Gatorade to recover from our explorations.
We also saw that chavismo penetrates in the most
unsuspecting ways. For example this "boutique", funded courtesy of some governmental grant, and paced deep inside the village. I suppose that location is not really an issue there: no one lives more than half a dozen small blocks from anywhere and thus the woman just needs to seat there, take care of her kids and wait for some one who at some point will have to show up, if anything to chat a bit. I doubt that she makes any money out of this venture, or if she will ever do. The little grant she gets will always be enough to cover her deficit. She is happy, and I can understand that.
But chavismo has also brought modernity in the form of the Cuban
clinic, a massive construction for the place, and one without much windows, generically made, an A.C. compound where unless you go in as a patient there is little you will know about. The picture includes the Cuban medic, bored, watching the street go by from garage step.
I did ask a little bit about the Cubans there. Apparently they mostly keep to themselves most of the time, and they even have their own diner place, half a block away, el "comedor de los cubanos". That is, they manage the biggest construction of the village outside of the governmental installations, and they have the biggest eatery of the place, with an upper story, all nicely decorated with all sorts of political mementos, least we forgot what is the other reason they are here, besides offering health care. I could not figure out their numbers but at least judging for the tables at that spot, together with their Venezuelan handlers we are talking of a least a dozen guys.
In a way I understand why the exclusive eatery (next to a sort of bar by the way) : what could the Cubans ever discuss with the locals whose culture is so obviously still bon enfant, so removed from Cuba? Because in spite of ten years of social division, just as SD managed to take the red shirted guy above, I had absolutely no problem to have this lovely daycare center pose for a picture as they were crossing the street for some reason. And no, the red shirt was not political, it was just to make sure that the kids were seen from afar.
Here you have it, the beauty of Venezuela, where criollo and Warao kids mix as nothing, as they have always done since independence.
But not all Warao kids were at school that day. Walking toward the shrimp factories we reached a seedier side of town and we came across this laundry scene, directly on the street. What you see there is a Warao family that got enough money to buy a washing machine, a luxury in the Delta since only Pedernales seems to have enough electricity and water to allow for washing machines. Elsewhere in the Delta I was struck by the amount of laundry scenes done directly inside Caño Manamo.
The Styrofoam of the package has been kept and children always been children turned it into a mini pool where three of them manage to soak. There is no sewer and when the wash is done, it runs to the street.
And there this other family who a little bit further could not afford a washer but did their laundry on the side walk as usual...
So you have it here, with the good and the bad, the limits of the bolivarian
revolution. Some are lifted up, but too many are still left behind, even if they have now a South Korea made cheap washer. Propaganda and gifts are not enough to make a real difference. Customs and religion are still everyday to be seen.
And yet the will to try exists, such as that woman opening a boutique or this guy who advertises on the main pier his "posada" for the errand tourist to stay at, with the blessing of Jesus. It is a cooperative, probably set with governmental credits, probably full of good intentions, plenty of will and love. But can it succeed? Why should tourist come to visit when the low tide reveals to you the sorry spectacle below? Certainly, we cannot expect a beach where mud goes up and down twice a day, but surely the tourism office could pick up the worse of the trash and paint with a fresher coat the edge of the concrete walk.
Again as it has always been done in Venezuela oil history: little grants to gain votes, little grants that are doomed to fail because the surroundings are not helping, are not taken care of.
And still I loved every minute I was in Pedernales. In my magical dreams I was not expecting anything but the feel to have gone as far as I could. I found more. Every detail spoke to me. Every corner had something that moved me, such as this strange add of someone selling a computer.
I was wondering if any of the inhabitants remembered when steamers sailed in front, if their parents lived there then, if they told them tall tales and if that is what makes them happy today. Or if I was the only one stupid enough to think about those things.
Or perhaps they are happy because they are at the end of things, and their peace cannot be disturbed by any political hurricane, any change in society, because they cannot even own a car if they could afford it, and because well, they do not even need a bike...
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
1) The paradox of Perdernales is that even though it is at the end of one of the second flow of the Americas, the tides make the water unusable.
2) Click on pictures to enlarge them.
-The end-
Pedernales sits at the end of Caño Mànamo where the murky waters of the Orinoco meet the muddied waters of the Ocean. All is flat, all is wide, all is far. For some of us, sensible to remote spots on Atlas that make us dream, Pedernales is almost magical, of that edge of the world magic.
Pedernales means "field of stones". There are not many stones there, but there used to be reefs hundreds of thousand of years ago far into the Ocean. The river one day reached and surrounded them with mud flats. Pedernales was named as such because they are the only rocky outcrops of the whole delta, and they offer the only place where houses can be built on ground. But not even that much, as the few rocky island are barely big enough, one for an airstrip, another for nothing except a rustic hotel and the largest one, at the strategic point, big enough for a Coast Guard station and a very few hundred souls.
Pedernales can only collect rain water and fish whatever swims in front. There is a single truck in Pedernales to carry the heavy loads that reach the pier as all must come from outside, probably even water (1). But that is OK, the streets can be gaily painted as only bikes can risk damaging the locals creations. (2)
And yet Pedernales could have been rich. Asphalt was found in the area and exploited in the XIX century. The Manamo was important enough a river road that Pedernales could have benefited from its privileged position, the one where the pilots would come on board to sail the liquid mud up to Tucupita. There they could seek oil in the first half of the XX century, or most of the timber that built cities like Cumana. All cruised in front of Pedernales.
But nothing came of it and Pedernales has remained a forgotten village, truly at the edge of the world. Still, it has failed to become miserable because PDVSA is there and because the coast guard has a nice and modern compound on what is perhaps the only tiny hill of the Delta. Just across the river there is a PDVSA set up, which by itself justifies the maintenance of the airstrip used for their own needs. But what a waste! There is huge gas torch that has been burning perhaps for decades while most of the Manamo lacks electricity. That gas is not even used to boil sea water to collect its dew, it is just a strange beacon that entertains folks seeking a fresh breeze on the river boardwalk at night.
Pedernales is a rather cheerful place. After all the climate is not unhealthy. True, it is humid, warm, but not unhealthy as the tides wash up all and the sea breeze reaches it. Three streets run through it with perhaps a dozen cross ones. It sits mostly on an isthmus between the Coast Guard hill and the swampy area. Its church is strangely attractive, in a naive way, paradoxically the only thing blue when one is surrounded by such brown water, and a gray sky.
Walking through Pedernales I quickly realized that it might a great laboratory to study how far the tentacles of the chavista experiment could reach. After all, it is as remote as possible, without roads to reach it, without regular flights, only boats from Guiria, Trinidad or Tucupita. And all depends from the state as only fisherman and artisans for the rare tourist would make a relatively independent living. Besides, Delta Amacuro is one of the three top vote getters for chavismo in percentage. And there was that fabulous PSUV house, so boldly presenting itself.
But our first surprise was to notice that if chavismo is strong there, it is certainly not overwhelming. Yes, for sure the PSUV house was for all to see and government posters where everywhere. But yet the old COPEI house was still up and was still showing that it had occasional activity, if anything to put posters for the NO.
Pedernales is reasonably clean and reasonably well kept if rather poor. Traditions have survived and even though chavista Venezuela has reached it, tradition is to be seen. These two Warao women were coming back from the market carrying a morocoy, a land turtle, of considerable size if you ask me. I did not talk to them but I talked to another one, a "criollo" woman, who was also carrying an even bigger live animal. They had just arrived that day and apparently it was a major event. The beasts will be settled in their backyard for a few days and fed it plenty. Then they will be killed to do a soup of sorts. I did not ask for the recipe.But this picture also speaks on different levels. The Warao girls were well fed, well dressed, and yet they walked barefoot. The criollos you might see on other shots all wore shoes. The two cultures have still a long way to go to mix even if both enjoy morocoy sancocho, and even if both shop at the local and lone market.
That was that, the market. Inside only a stand that sold fish and a few vegetables and some dry goods. The fruits were sold on the left. All comes at high tide when the water reaches the market dock. And yet it was still better furnished than the competition: the Mercal located within the evangelical church. It is important to note that the Evangelical community in Venezuela is divided, congregations either support fervently the government or oppose it bitterly. Since I am not a religious person I cannot bother trying to understand the why of each, but it is still an observation worth noting.
At any rate, I visited that Mercal and it was rather bare. Oh, they did have a few things, laundry detergent, some canned stuff, even a fridge with some cold juices inside. But the fresh produce was at the water side market, morocoyes and all. By the way, you can also observe that some of the houses of Pedernales look like little villas, and all are equally fortified against thieves even
though I am at a loss to imagine where they could go and hide their loot. Enough money to build small villas makes it there, somehow.Chavismo has certainly taken root in Pedernales and many folks are not afraid of flaunting their preferences. We entered in what looked like the lone cafe of the island, placed next to a culture ministry sponsored joint that claimed to rent DVD. It was not open that early morning, but the owner did welcome us anyway. The place was pleasant though already quite warm, but there was no running water and no coffee could be offered. We had to settle later for the lone general store of the island where we gratefully found cold Gatorade to recover from our explorations.
We also saw that chavismo penetrates in the most
unsuspecting ways. For example this "boutique", funded courtesy of some governmental grant, and paced deep inside the village. I suppose that location is not really an issue there: no one lives more than half a dozen small blocks from anywhere and thus the woman just needs to seat there, take care of her kids and wait for some one who at some point will have to show up, if anything to chat a bit. I doubt that she makes any money out of this venture, or if she will ever do. The little grant she gets will always be enough to cover her deficit. She is happy, and I can understand that.But chavismo has also brought modernity in the form of the Cuban
clinic, a massive construction for the place, and one without much windows, generically made, an A.C. compound where unless you go in as a patient there is little you will know about. The picture includes the Cuban medic, bored, watching the street go by from garage step.I did ask a little bit about the Cubans there. Apparently they mostly keep to themselves most of the time, and they even have their own diner place, half a block away, el "comedor de los cubanos". That is, they manage the biggest construction of the village outside of the governmental installations, and they have the biggest eatery of the place, with an upper story, all nicely decorated with all sorts of political mementos, least we forgot what is the other reason they are here, besides offering health care. I could not figure out their numbers but at least judging for the tables at that spot, together with their Venezuelan handlers we are talking of a least a dozen guys.
In a way I understand why the exclusive eatery (next to a sort of bar by the way) : what could the Cubans ever discuss with the locals whose culture is so obviously still bon enfant, so removed from Cuba? Because in spite of ten years of social division, just as SD managed to take the red shirted guy above, I had absolutely no problem to have this lovely daycare center pose for a picture as they were crossing the street for some reason. And no, the red shirt was not political, it was just to make sure that the kids were seen from afar.
Here you have it, the beauty of Venezuela, where criollo and Warao kids mix as nothing, as they have always done since independence.
But not all Warao kids were at school that day. Walking toward the shrimp factories we reached a seedier side of town and we came across this laundry scene, directly on the street. What you see there is a Warao family that got enough money to buy a washing machine, a luxury in the Delta since only Pedernales seems to have enough electricity and water to allow for washing machines. Elsewhere in the Delta I was struck by the amount of laundry scenes done directly inside Caño Manamo.
The Styrofoam of the package has been kept and children always been children turned it into a mini pool where three of them manage to soak. There is no sewer and when the wash is done, it runs to the street.And there this other family who a little bit further could not afford a washer but did their laundry on the side walk as usual...
So you have it here, with the good and the bad, the limits of the bolivarian
revolution. Some are lifted up, but too many are still left behind, even if they have now a South Korea made cheap washer. Propaganda and gifts are not enough to make a real difference. Customs and religion are still everyday to be seen.And yet the will to try exists, such as that woman opening a boutique or this guy who advertises on the main pier his "posada" for the errand tourist to stay at, with the blessing of Jesus. It is a cooperative, probably set with governmental credits, probably full of good intentions, plenty of will and love. But can it succeed? Why should tourist come to visit when the low tide reveals to you the sorry spectacle below? Certainly, we cannot expect a beach where mud goes up and down twice a day, but surely the tourism office could pick up the worse of the trash and paint with a fresher coat the edge of the concrete walk.
Again as it has always been done in Venezuela oil history: little grants to gain votes, little grants that are doomed to fail because the surroundings are not helping, are not taken care of.
And still I loved every minute I was in Pedernales. In my magical dreams I was not expecting anything but the feel to have gone as far as I could. I found more. Every detail spoke to me. Every corner had something that moved me, such as this strange add of someone selling a computer.
I was wondering if any of the inhabitants remembered when steamers sailed in front, if their parents lived there then, if they told them tall tales and if that is what makes them happy today. Or if I was the only one stupid enough to think about those things.
Or perhaps they are happy because they are at the end of things, and their peace cannot be disturbed by any political hurricane, any change in society, because they cannot even own a car if they could afford it, and because well, they do not even need a bike...
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
1) The paradox of Perdernales is that even though it is at the end of one of the second flow of the Americas, the tides make the water unusable.
2) Click on pictures to enlarge them.
-The end-
Monday, May 19, 2008
Delta Amacuro News and Views (4)
The Waraos: integration, acculturation, domination or extinction?
The original inhabitants of the Delta Amacuro are the Waraos (also spelled Güaraos) and they are perhaps the largest Venezuela tribe still living relatively close to their original lifestyle (1). Or do they? On one side they are very penetrated by modern trinkets and goodies (the amount of piraguas with motors tells you the story as soon as you sail off Boca de Uracoa) but on the other hand the uncompromising nature of the delta forces them to compromise as much with nature as they have been doing for millennia. No matter how the XXI century intrudes in their lives, at almost each turn you can be reminded of past ways, still very much present and sometimes very much actual, such as this late afternoon family outing.
In a way there was something oddly disturbing about inquiring about the Warao's lives: their villages follow the edge of the water, their huts lack walls and thus intimacy seems an unknown concept. Straight from the boat you travel in, you can scrutinize the whole village and its life within the cabins built on stilts, palafitos . Settlements range from the single palafito claim to perhaps a row of a few dozens platforms. But they are always along the water. It does make sense: there is probably better ventilation, the jungle behind is mostly on mud flats and with more mosquitoes than the river edge. Thus it is easy to have a direct peak into a Warao village, such as this much less idyllic image, yet quite telling.
Here you can see the old style open air living, now cluttered with civilization's offerings: motored piraguas, electronic devices and Direct TV. That is right, I was surprised at how many Direct TV dishes I saw in some villages whose electricity is provided by a small generator, probably not running all day long. I suppose that it is a great opportunity for any anthropologist to visit in a hurry the Delta remote villages to study how Direct TV and its profusion of media choices affect the world vision of the Waraos. As for the rest, as it has always been the case, any belonging that can be hung from the roof beams is still hung high, giving an oppressively cluttered feel in spite of the lack of walls. From my water roach scare, I can understand why concepts such as shelves are of little use.
Fishing seems to be still the main source of living, and judging for the amount of motor boats and the very nice and huge nets that on occasion one can see, tended with great care by the natives,
it must bring a relatively significant income. I would guess that due to the climate, the lack of refrigeration and the limited really cultivable land, regular fish has to be the main source of fresh protein.
This picture also offers us a glimpse of a major problem of the area: the lack of real good fresh water as we can observe from the large blue plastic buckets seen everywhere. The river water in the Delta is indeed of poor quality, and too salty as you near the coasts where the powerful tides run deep inland.
That picture also allows us to see somewhat the organization of these modern day villages. You can see in the background the electric networks of the village, that follows the river, as does the boardwalk that serves as main street. Yet you can also see what is lacking as far as public services: for example obvious sewers (there might be a sewer system but I could not see it). Outhouses are appearing, relatively
rare but you can see them such as the left scene of a family getting the bounty from some scouring party. And this stress again the problem of water and hygiene in such a watery zone: all falls directly in the river, giving a new meaning to "the river giveth and the river taketh". We also must note that this palafito has rustic walls in addition of an out house, indicating that some families are becoming more aware of privacy issues.
These pictures come from the villages of La Isla and Winamorena, the two most "advanced" we saw. La Isla was advanced enough to have a modern play ground, on stilts of course. And it comes, as everywhere, with a political poster to laud the great works of the government. I wonder by the way if the profusion of Direct TV, which transmits Globovision and RCTV, is something that chavismo can be thankful of. Still, we could see everywhere that state money was spent on these villages at the edge of the world. But is it well spent?
I had several talks with my local guide as I tried to gain his trust. Eventually I learned a few interesting tidbits. Many projects have been offered and many financed. Yet many were not completed or completed well under initial expectations. In fact apparently the natives feel robbed as part of the funds is simply spirited away by the "criollos". Yes, that is how the local refer to the emissaries of main land, the public officials. Just as the "criollos" refereed to the emissary from Spain as "continentales" or "españoles y canarios". Amusing, no? Whatever it is,
clearly there is separation between the Waraos and the mainlanders, be they tourists like me, or "criollos" public servants. I certainly will not be one to reproach that to them: we bought them enough grief! And I am afraid that in spite Direct TV and fast boats, grief is still coming. After all, the "criollos" do have their own compounds where they reside in these villages: compounds with walls as privacy does matter for them. They looked odd and even threatening in a way as no real effort to integrate is seen, except for the need to build on stilts!
And what about the people? Well, those I saw on these villages were nice looking and looked healthy enough. They were also welcoming and definitely not camera shy, enjoying, I would dare to say, waving to tourists as they take their pictures. And that I saw everywhere, from the
villages we sailed by to the the curiaras we crossed in little creeks. Perhaps the omnipresence of the river, the ever possibility to get lost or stranded somewhere makes you want to befriend all as you never know when and from whom you will need help.
There is also of course the wish to score something with potential tourists willing to purchase the very nice goods made by these people. On the left there is even a floating store that paddled close to us as we were waiting for the sunset on the Manamo. A mother with some girls, ravishing by the way. And they were paddling paddling this weakest of curiararas, breaking up at the tip and held with a rope. I assume and hope that these girls knew how to swim...
Children seemed everywhere happy. I am certain that they do suffer some hardship but I never saw any child that was clearly malnourished, or scared, afraid of us. Any nudity, with young boys, was a matter of climate and boys playing in dirt rather than the inability to clothe them with some old rag. By the way, note in the background of these three children a small red poster: politics at home!.
But the river is obviously a great playground which probably makes the lives of these kids much happier than in many a place in Venezuela. And for all its turbidity, there is so much water everywhere, and it moves so much courtesy of the tides, that it might not be that bad after all (heck, I even went for a swim one day at noon). In fact, the water in spite of all the rejects going into it, might be a positive health factor after all as children are never that dirty since they can "wash" regularly....
At La Culebrita, a third village and a less developed one we managed to go ashore and see from close how a Warao village looked like. It was truly something, learning more than what we had bargained for.
In the above picture you have main street (and only street) at La Culebrita (Little Snake), a broad walk wide enough for two people to cross, with the usual assortment of stray dogs and chickens seen in any small village of Venezuela. That they are on stilts is only a detail. As usual all is open air and as you walk along you have a direct peak into the people habitat. And even though we are more inland here, water remains
a problem as all the plastic blue typical reservoirs of Venezuela can be seen.
One interesting detail is the kitchen, something difficult to appreciate from a cruising boat. Since there is no solid ground where to set the fire, the traditional ways of the Waraos was to dry some mud and put it on a wood frame. This way it was far from the ground and could become a serviceable area for cooking, as you can see on the picture on the right above.
There were also some common areas to be seen. I suppose that what is next on the right side was the pub equivalent. Of all the thatched homes we saw in this village only two were not occupied on a permanent fashion: the one where we landed that served as a market of sorts (where the natives quickly came to display they wares in the hope we would buy something) and this space, littered with beer cans from a previous event. There was also a small "room" on the
right side with a petrol stove which apparently served to fry appetizers of sorts for that particular bash.
This of course raises two questions: alcoholism? and hygiene/garbage disposal? It is clear from what I saw that alcohol, at least in the form of abundant Polar Light, has made his entry in the Delta, and that is not recent. In fact, recent social programs can only have increased access to booze for the locals. When we sailed in front of the villages we wondered about the lack of men. That is, what we most saw where women and children and the very few men we saw where clearly divided in two groups: drunks and fishermen tending their nets. We can assume that most men were indeed fishing or scouring the Delta riches, but some where drunk on a Monday at 2 PM. You can draw your own conclusions.
As for garbage and hygiene. Let 's say that 50 years ago this was not a problem. 95 % of the goods that the Waraos might have handled back then where "bio degradable", that is, made from what they found in nature and discarded in nature as needed. Besides there was not that much to discard anyway: fish bones, broken woven baskets, used moriche fiber hammocks and the like. The amount of water passing under their "palafitos" made instant dilution of whatever they tossed out. Thus it is very likely that Waraos never developed a culture of "garbage" and its handling. Even a culture of hygiene probably was not necessary as the only relief from heat and mosquitoes was a frequent dip into the river, then certainly much cleaner than it is today where it still feels safe enough for yours truly to take a swim (2).
Clearly there is a lack of education, a much needed thing in this XXI century. And how is education goign on in Warao lands? At La Culebrita I was lucky enough to visit the school and
even talk to the teachers.
These two pictures are taken from roughly the main point, one turned toward the brand new school of La Culebrita and the other toward the traditional village itself. With of course the tacky usual pro Chavez advertisement which includes the local potentate who would never dare to take for himself any of the achievement of the
revolution: all comes from the beloved leader, never forget!!!!
There is already one problem here: the school, which comes even with its flag hosting mast, is not in tune with local architecture, except for its construction on stilts. You can see for yourself that the isolating thatched palm roof has been replaced by something that can only be warner in this climate, no matter how many covers of asphalt it has. True, thatched palms can harbor dangeorus bugs, but with a good ventilation it is not really a problem. After all these kids will return to their homes after school, no? Observe also that the compound is walled. If indeed distraction is to be avoided, I cannot help but think that the Warao kids, raised semi wildly, will have a hard time to learn to be walled in at school.
I could have understood a half wall for example, so that when kids sit down they are not distracted anymore by river activity, but a full wall, no matter how nicely varnished it is?
At any rate, the compound contains three class rooms as education is imparted by three teachers at three levels. After, the children must migrate to a bigger school elsewhere. The class rooms are also amazingly simple: all children sit directly on the floor (then again they do not have chairs in their homes). Since we were late in the afternoon, the kids had long left for home, so we could visit at ease and talk some with the teachers, who considering me just another anglo tourist had no problem talking to me as I restrained from probing too much. The compound includes the teachers room and living quarters (three women by the way), a kitchen area (a real one) and two external bathroom who apparently go to some septic tank rather than the river. I understood that the bathroom are also shared by the kids when at school. The day was overcast so it was not any warmer inside than outside, and yet the teachers were sitting outside, on the covered board walk that leads to the bathroom, and which is open on all sides. Clearly, they are used to prepare their classes there instead of the inside teachers room....
But the shock came when we saw the picture above. One of my companion, who had clearly seen that there was no criollo kid living there noted that all the names of the kids attending this classroom were Spanish, NOT Warao!!!! Heck, there was even a kid with Cooper as last name (click to enlarge, as you can do on any picture). That really picked up my curiosity and I went back to the teachers inquiring as to why the names were all in Spanish. Clearly the women did not know what I was talking about at first. As I pressed on eventually the one that seemed to be the leader of the group told me that the Waraos have no name the way we understand it and thus they were all content to have Spanish names given to them. Besides they all needed to have a Venezuelan ID, something that supposedly they did not have access to before. She stopped short from some revolutionary hash because I was too astounded to pursue the conversation, amazed that the woman was not seeing the contradictions in her own speech. Besides, it must be rather hard to work in such conditions and I could not find in me the energy to pursue the discussion and discourage her form her work.
That there was in another classroom the national anthem of Venezuela translated in Warao means nothing. In spite of the 1999 constitution which is supposed to guarantee the rights of indigenous people, rights that include the obligation of the state to give them the means to preserve their culture, what we see is the same assimilation of the pre Chavez era going on. True, now they sing the national anthem in Warao every morning, but at school they do not even keep a Warao nickname! Thus, the teachers, for all their merits and good intentions, are only just one of the tools that the chavista administration has to recruit new supporters that will be told who to vote for. Even the official school calendar posted next to the roll call of the students carries the clear political messages: the highlighted dates include chavismo dates of February 4, April 11 and 13.
The blackmail seems very powerful along the Manamo.... the "criollos" are still in charge, still telling the natives what to do and what to think. And to mark the point, as tourism is not seriously developed, Waraos all become more dependent than ever from the state. A reservation in all but name, socialism and human rights included as a perversion.
PD: There is an excellent book on the Waraos, which I unfortunately found out a few days after my return; and not even myself, a friend pointed it out to me. I got it at once because it is also a rare book of which the first 2005 edition carried only 500 copies. Unbelievable! If you are interested, it is a fabulous coffee table book, a loving tribute to these people. The reference:
Hacedores de Pais
Sudán A. Macció
ISBN: 980-6816-01-03
It carries texts in Spanish, Warao and English. They prefer the term Guarao, but Warao is more traditional and I stuck to it through these posts.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
1) The Waraos are thought to be Arawak, the main indigenous group in Venezuela until the aggressive Carib invaded and pushed them into less welcoming regions such as the Delta.
2) The Orinoco as a huge volume of water and settled area are hundred of miles upstream, giving plenty of time for the river bacteria to process most of the waste carried. The development of the main source of river pollution has occurred in the last half century with the boom town of Puerto Ordaz, and much smaller Tucupita. Puerto Ordaz waste goes mostly to the main Orinoco mouth, while the Manamo receives Tucupita open sewers.
-The end-
The original inhabitants of the Delta Amacuro are the Waraos (also spelled Güaraos) and they are perhaps the largest Venezuela tribe still living relatively close to their original lifestyle (1). Or do they? On one side they are very penetrated by modern trinkets and goodies (the amount of piraguas with motors tells you the story as soon as you sail off Boca de Uracoa) but on the other hand the uncompromising nature of the delta forces them to compromise as much with nature as they have been doing for millennia. No matter how the XXI century intrudes in their lives, at almost each turn you can be reminded of past ways, still very much present and sometimes very much actual, such as this late afternoon family outing.
In a way there was something oddly disturbing about inquiring about the Warao's lives: their villages follow the edge of the water, their huts lack walls and thus intimacy seems an unknown concept. Straight from the boat you travel in, you can scrutinize the whole village and its life within the cabins built on stilts, palafitos . Settlements range from the single palafito claim to perhaps a row of a few dozens platforms. But they are always along the water. It does make sense: there is probably better ventilation, the jungle behind is mostly on mud flats and with more mosquitoes than the river edge. Thus it is easy to have a direct peak into a Warao village, such as this much less idyllic image, yet quite telling.
Here you can see the old style open air living, now cluttered with civilization's offerings: motored piraguas, electronic devices and Direct TV. That is right, I was surprised at how many Direct TV dishes I saw in some villages whose electricity is provided by a small generator, probably not running all day long. I suppose that it is a great opportunity for any anthropologist to visit in a hurry the Delta remote villages to study how Direct TV and its profusion of media choices affect the world vision of the Waraos. As for the rest, as it has always been the case, any belonging that can be hung from the roof beams is still hung high, giving an oppressively cluttered feel in spite of the lack of walls. From my water roach scare, I can understand why concepts such as shelves are of little use.
Fishing seems to be still the main source of living, and judging for the amount of motor boats and the very nice and huge nets that on occasion one can see, tended with great care by the natives,
it must bring a relatively significant income. I would guess that due to the climate, the lack of refrigeration and the limited really cultivable land, regular fish has to be the main source of fresh protein.This picture also offers us a glimpse of a major problem of the area: the lack of real good fresh water as we can observe from the large blue plastic buckets seen everywhere. The river water in the Delta is indeed of poor quality, and too salty as you near the coasts where the powerful tides run deep inland.
That picture also allows us to see somewhat the organization of these modern day villages. You can see in the background the electric networks of the village, that follows the river, as does the boardwalk that serves as main street. Yet you can also see what is lacking as far as public services: for example obvious sewers (there might be a sewer system but I could not see it). Outhouses are appearing, relatively
rare but you can see them such as the left scene of a family getting the bounty from some scouring party. And this stress again the problem of water and hygiene in such a watery zone: all falls directly in the river, giving a new meaning to "the river giveth and the river taketh". We also must note that this palafito has rustic walls in addition of an out house, indicating that some families are becoming more aware of privacy issues.These pictures come from the villages of La Isla and Winamorena, the two most "advanced" we saw. La Isla was advanced enough to have a modern play ground, on stilts of course. And it comes, as everywhere, with a political poster to laud the great works of the government. I wonder by the way if the profusion of Direct TV, which transmits Globovision and RCTV, is something that chavismo can be thankful of. Still, we could see everywhere that state money was spent on these villages at the edge of the world. But is it well spent?
I had several talks with my local guide as I tried to gain his trust. Eventually I learned a few interesting tidbits. Many projects have been offered and many financed. Yet many were not completed or completed well under initial expectations. In fact apparently the natives feel robbed as part of the funds is simply spirited away by the "criollos". Yes, that is how the local refer to the emissaries of main land, the public officials. Just as the "criollos" refereed to the emissary from Spain as "continentales" or "españoles y canarios". Amusing, no? Whatever it is,
clearly there is separation between the Waraos and the mainlanders, be they tourists like me, or "criollos" public servants. I certainly will not be one to reproach that to them: we bought them enough grief! And I am afraid that in spite Direct TV and fast boats, grief is still coming. After all, the "criollos" do have their own compounds where they reside in these villages: compounds with walls as privacy does matter for them. They looked odd and even threatening in a way as no real effort to integrate is seen, except for the need to build on stilts!
And what about the people? Well, those I saw on these villages were nice looking and looked healthy enough. They were also welcoming and definitely not camera shy, enjoying, I would dare to say, waving to tourists as they take their pictures. And that I saw everywhere, from the
villages we sailed by to the the curiaras we crossed in little creeks. Perhaps the omnipresence of the river, the ever possibility to get lost or stranded somewhere makes you want to befriend all as you never know when and from whom you will need help.There is also of course the wish to score something with potential tourists willing to purchase the very nice goods made by these people. On the left there is even a floating store that paddled close to us as we were waiting for the sunset on the Manamo. A mother with some girls, ravishing by the way. And they were paddling paddling this weakest of curiararas, breaking up at the tip and held with a rope. I assume and hope that these girls knew how to swim...
Children seemed everywhere happy. I am certain that they do suffer some hardship but I never saw any child that was clearly malnourished, or scared, afraid of us. Any nudity, with young boys, was a matter of climate and boys playing in dirt rather than the inability to clothe them with some old rag. By the way, note in the background of these three children a small red poster: politics at home!.
But the river is obviously a great playground which probably makes the lives of these kids much happier than in many a place in Venezuela. And for all its turbidity, there is so much water everywhere, and it moves so much courtesy of the tides, that it might not be that bad after all (heck, I even went for a swim one day at noon). In fact, the water in spite of all the rejects going into it, might be a positive health factor after all as children are never that dirty since they can "wash" regularly....
At La Culebrita, a third village and a less developed one we managed to go ashore and see from close how a Warao village looked like. It was truly something, learning more than what we had bargained for.
In the above picture you have main street (and only street) at La Culebrita (Little Snake), a broad walk wide enough for two people to cross, with the usual assortment of stray dogs and chickens seen in any small village of Venezuela. That they are on stilts is only a detail. As usual all is open air and as you walk along you have a direct peak into the people habitat. And even though we are more inland here, water remains
a problem as all the plastic blue typical reservoirs of Venezuela can be seen.One interesting detail is the kitchen, something difficult to appreciate from a cruising boat. Since there is no solid ground where to set the fire, the traditional ways of the Waraos was to dry some mud and put it on a wood frame. This way it was far from the ground and could become a serviceable area for cooking, as you can see on the picture on the right above.
There were also some common areas to be seen. I suppose that what is next on the right side was the pub equivalent. Of all the thatched homes we saw in this village only two were not occupied on a permanent fashion: the one where we landed that served as a market of sorts (where the natives quickly came to display they wares in the hope we would buy something) and this space, littered with beer cans from a previous event. There was also a small "room" on the
right side with a petrol stove which apparently served to fry appetizers of sorts for that particular bash.This of course raises two questions: alcoholism? and hygiene/garbage disposal? It is clear from what I saw that alcohol, at least in the form of abundant Polar Light, has made his entry in the Delta, and that is not recent. In fact, recent social programs can only have increased access to booze for the locals. When we sailed in front of the villages we wondered about the lack of men. That is, what we most saw where women and children and the very few men we saw where clearly divided in two groups: drunks and fishermen tending their nets. We can assume that most men were indeed fishing or scouring the Delta riches, but some where drunk on a Monday at 2 PM. You can draw your own conclusions.
As for garbage and hygiene. Let 's say that 50 years ago this was not a problem. 95 % of the goods that the Waraos might have handled back then where "bio degradable", that is, made from what they found in nature and discarded in nature as needed. Besides there was not that much to discard anyway: fish bones, broken woven baskets, used moriche fiber hammocks and the like. The amount of water passing under their "palafitos" made instant dilution of whatever they tossed out. Thus it is very likely that Waraos never developed a culture of "garbage" and its handling. Even a culture of hygiene probably was not necessary as the only relief from heat and mosquitoes was a frequent dip into the river, then certainly much cleaner than it is today where it still feels safe enough for yours truly to take a swim (2).
Clearly there is a lack of education, a much needed thing in this XXI century. And how is education goign on in Warao lands? At La Culebrita I was lucky enough to visit the school and
even talk to the teachers.These two pictures are taken from roughly the main point, one turned toward the brand new school of La Culebrita and the other toward the traditional village itself. With of course the tacky usual pro Chavez advertisement which includes the local potentate who would never dare to take for himself any of the achievement of the
revolution: all comes from the beloved leader, never forget!!!!There is already one problem here: the school, which comes even with its flag hosting mast, is not in tune with local architecture, except for its construction on stilts. You can see for yourself that the isolating thatched palm roof has been replaced by something that can only be warner in this climate, no matter how many covers of asphalt it has. True, thatched palms can harbor dangeorus bugs, but with a good ventilation it is not really a problem. After all these kids will return to their homes after school, no? Observe also that the compound is walled. If indeed distraction is to be avoided, I cannot help but think that the Warao kids, raised semi wildly, will have a hard time to learn to be walled in at school.
I could have understood a half wall for example, so that when kids sit down they are not distracted anymore by river activity, but a full wall, no matter how nicely varnished it is?At any rate, the compound contains three class rooms as education is imparted by three teachers at three levels. After, the children must migrate to a bigger school elsewhere. The class rooms are also amazingly simple: all children sit directly on the floor (then again they do not have chairs in their homes). Since we were late in the afternoon, the kids had long left for home, so we could visit at ease and talk some with the teachers, who considering me just another anglo tourist had no problem talking to me as I restrained from probing too much. The compound includes the teachers room and living quarters (three women by the way), a kitchen area (a real one) and two external bathroom who apparently go to some septic tank rather than the river. I understood that the bathroom are also shared by the kids when at school. The day was overcast so it was not any warmer inside than outside, and yet the teachers were sitting outside, on the covered board walk that leads to the bathroom, and which is open on all sides. Clearly, they are used to prepare their classes there instead of the inside teachers room....
But the shock came when we saw the picture above. One of my companion, who had clearly seen that there was no criollo kid living there noted that all the names of the kids attending this classroom were Spanish, NOT Warao!!!! Heck, there was even a kid with Cooper as last name (click to enlarge, as you can do on any picture). That really picked up my curiosity and I went back to the teachers inquiring as to why the names were all in Spanish. Clearly the women did not know what I was talking about at first. As I pressed on eventually the one that seemed to be the leader of the group told me that the Waraos have no name the way we understand it and thus they were all content to have Spanish names given to them. Besides they all needed to have a Venezuelan ID, something that supposedly they did not have access to before. She stopped short from some revolutionary hash because I was too astounded to pursue the conversation, amazed that the woman was not seeing the contradictions in her own speech. Besides, it must be rather hard to work in such conditions and I could not find in me the energy to pursue the discussion and discourage her form her work.
That there was in another classroom the national anthem of Venezuela translated in Warao means nothing. In spite of the 1999 constitution which is supposed to guarantee the rights of indigenous people, rights that include the obligation of the state to give them the means to preserve their culture, what we see is the same assimilation of the pre Chavez era going on. True, now they sing the national anthem in Warao every morning, but at school they do not even keep a Warao nickname! Thus, the teachers, for all their merits and good intentions, are only just one of the tools that the chavista administration has to recruit new supporters that will be told who to vote for. Even the official school calendar posted next to the roll call of the students carries the clear political messages: the highlighted dates include chavismo dates of February 4, April 11 and 13.
The blackmail seems very powerful along the Manamo.... the "criollos" are still in charge, still telling the natives what to do and what to think. And to mark the point, as tourism is not seriously developed, Waraos all become more dependent than ever from the state. A reservation in all but name, socialism and human rights included as a perversion.
PD: There is an excellent book on the Waraos, which I unfortunately found out a few days after my return; and not even myself, a friend pointed it out to me. I got it at once because it is also a rare book of which the first 2005 edition carried only 500 copies. Unbelievable! If you are interested, it is a fabulous coffee table book, a loving tribute to these people. The reference:
Hacedores de Pais
Sudán A. Macció
ISBN: 980-6816-01-03
It carries texts in Spanish, Warao and English. They prefer the term Guarao, but Warao is more traditional and I stuck to it through these posts.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
1) The Waraos are thought to be Arawak, the main indigenous group in Venezuela until the aggressive Carib invaded and pushed them into less welcoming regions such as the Delta.
2) The Orinoco as a huge volume of water and settled area are hundred of miles upstream, giving plenty of time for the river bacteria to process most of the waste carried. The development of the main source of river pollution has occurred in the last half century with the boom town of Puerto Ordaz, and much smaller Tucupita. Puerto Ordaz waste goes mostly to the main Orinoco mouth, while the Manamo receives Tucupita open sewers.
-The end-
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Delta Amacuro News and Views (3)
Nature wonders
Scarlet Ibis feeding at low tide under the mangrove, Pedernales
Far from me the pretense of being a nature photographer: neither do I have all the necessary toys nor the patience to sit in vigil for hours. In fact I even passed on a night excursion to try to see the local croc: I was promised at best to see a pair of eyes gleaming in the dark. The Baba has become near extinction in the Delta as the natives and locals hunt it to eat (1). And yet, in spite of this negative inclination from my part, I was regaled with a spectacular display of wild life, sometimes all but posing for me.
Several things are striking in the Delta when wildlife is concerned. First, there is going to be a scarcity of mammals relatively to other places. After all, it is swampy, it requires you to swim treacherous canals full of piranhas and other vermin. Favored mammals will be those living on trees rather than on ground since there is little dry ground available. Monkeys I saw, Araguato and Capuchins jumping from palm tree to palm tree, but no pic good enough to post. The only other mammal that I saw, besides the cats and dogs at one camp, was a real prize: the Boto, or fresh water dolphin. Unfortunately they were not pink, I only saw their shiny gray backs on occasion and it was impossible to take a picture. But I saw them.
Neither did I see snakes. I looked into branches whenever we went through a small channel, or hoped to see some anaconda considering an attack on us, but no such luck. Snakes must have long ago learned to retreat as noisy motor boats approach.
Fish I only saw them on my plate. The water everywhere is too charged in sediments and debris for any possibility of snorkeling. Only a piranha was caught for show and quickly returned to the river. The fish there is mostly a variation of cat fish, something that I would normally balk at eating since they are bottom feeders. However int he delta I think that the bottom is organic enough to be safe and I enjoyed the lua-lua and the bagre I was served. Well, it was that or nothing to eat anyway...
Thus the only option left were birds and greenery. I will pass on insects although I almost got cardiac arrest when I saw something that looked like a gigantic circular almost silvery roach like critter that had chosen for its night lodging the ankle folds of my pants. I did not kill it, you will know. Now I know why the natives keep everything hanging from the ceiling instead of neatly staked on a shelf.
Greenery is of course your first vision when you reach the delta: a green wall everywhere. Nothing better to illustrate this than a tiny video shot. It was taken when we were exiting from a small creek. You can see at the end the much larger arm where it merges, with the tide current.
Too many plants were spectacular. I will limit myself to three pictures, first the huge green walls that the mangrove offered for miles unbroken.
And this fabulous tree where fruit and flowers, with their very own special limb, sprout directly from the tree trunk at the same time. It also exists in Asia under the name of Buddha tree, I was told. The smell is not pleasant at all which explains why flies seem to be the pollinating agents as the flower pic shows.
But the big excitement was looking for birds. Even though I am not a bird watcher, I could not fail but get increasingly excited at the perspective of our next bird sight. That a bird watcher carried her book in our small party did not hurt, of course. We saw: scarlet ibis until we got saturated; cocoi heron; cormorants; king fishers; tucans; white egrets; all sorts of little waddler birds; turkey vulture; some kind of eagle; little red necked cardinals; hoatzin; and more that I fail to remember now. One thing was shared by all of these birds: they were well fed, strong and little scared of humans. I mean, you certainly could not touch any of them but approaching by a few yards was often quite possible. Clearly, the Orinoco Delta is a good provider for many birds.
I will add only three more pictures to this post as it is already long enough. The first one was a fantastic cormorant nesting area. Since there is nothing rocky where to spend the night safely, cormorants nest at the tip of an island where they clutter an area of the mangrove, tearing all leaves and giving a strange silvery tone to the wood, courtesy of abundant guano formation. This picture was taken close to Pedernales, at one of the mouths of the Manamo.
And while we are talking about nesting, check these nests hanging together (probably some "cacique" type of bird, we did not see any bird flying in or out).
And to end, more scarlet ibis, in flight.
But enough gorgeous nature, next posts will be on the human reality of the area. Not as pretty I am afraid....
1) The baba is more current elsewhere and can even reproduce in captivity where it is bred for consumption. Thus it is not endangered. But in the wild of the Delta it is having a hard time when man comes close. At least that is what my competent guide explained to me.
-The end-
Scarlet Ibis feeding at low tide under the mangrove, PedernalesFar from me the pretense of being a nature photographer: neither do I have all the necessary toys nor the patience to sit in vigil for hours. In fact I even passed on a night excursion to try to see the local croc: I was promised at best to see a pair of eyes gleaming in the dark. The Baba has become near extinction in the Delta as the natives and locals hunt it to eat (1). And yet, in spite of this negative inclination from my part, I was regaled with a spectacular display of wild life, sometimes all but posing for me.
Several things are striking in the Delta when wildlife is concerned. First, there is going to be a scarcity of mammals relatively to other places. After all, it is swampy, it requires you to swim treacherous canals full of piranhas and other vermin. Favored mammals will be those living on trees rather than on ground since there is little dry ground available. Monkeys I saw, Araguato and Capuchins jumping from palm tree to palm tree, but no pic good enough to post. The only other mammal that I saw, besides the cats and dogs at one camp, was a real prize: the Boto, or fresh water dolphin. Unfortunately they were not pink, I only saw their shiny gray backs on occasion and it was impossible to take a picture. But I saw them.Neither did I see snakes. I looked into branches whenever we went through a small channel, or hoped to see some anaconda considering an attack on us, but no such luck. Snakes must have long ago learned to retreat as noisy motor boats approach.
Fish I only saw them on my plate. The water everywhere is too charged in sediments and debris for any possibility of snorkeling. Only a piranha was caught for show and quickly returned to the river. The fish there is mostly a variation of cat fish, something that I would normally balk at eating since they are bottom feeders. However int he delta I think that the bottom is organic enough to be safe and I enjoyed the lua-lua and the bagre I was served. Well, it was that or nothing to eat anyway...
Thus the only option left were birds and greenery. I will pass on insects although I almost got cardiac arrest when I saw something that looked like a gigantic circular almost silvery roach like critter that had chosen for its night lodging the ankle folds of my pants. I did not kill it, you will know. Now I know why the natives keep everything hanging from the ceiling instead of neatly staked on a shelf.
Greenery is of course your first vision when you reach the delta: a green wall everywhere. Nothing better to illustrate this than a tiny video shot. It was taken when we were exiting from a small creek. You can see at the end the much larger arm where it merges, with the tide current.
Too many plants were spectacular. I will limit myself to three pictures, first the huge green walls that the mangrove offered for miles unbroken.
And this fabulous tree where fruit and flowers, with their very own special limb, sprout directly from the tree trunk at the same time. It also exists in Asia under the name of Buddha tree, I was told. The smell is not pleasant at all which explains why flies seem to be the pollinating agents as the flower pic shows.
But the big excitement was looking for birds. Even though I am not a bird watcher, I could not fail but get increasingly excited at the perspective of our next bird sight. That a bird watcher carried her book in our small party did not hurt, of course. We saw: scarlet ibis until we got saturated; cocoi heron; cormorants; king fishers; tucans; white egrets; all sorts of little waddler birds; turkey vulture; some kind of eagle; little red necked cardinals; hoatzin; and more that I fail to remember now. One thing was shared by all of these birds: they were well fed, strong and little scared of humans. I mean, you certainly could not touch any of them but approaching by a few yards was often quite possible. Clearly, the Orinoco Delta is a good provider for many birds.
I will add only three more pictures to this post as it is already long enough. The first one was a fantastic cormorant nesting area. Since there is nothing rocky where to spend the night safely, cormorants nest at the tip of an island where they clutter an area of the mangrove, tearing all leaves and giving a strange silvery tone to the wood, courtesy of abundant guano formation. This picture was taken close to Pedernales, at one of the mouths of the Manamo.
And while we are talking about nesting, check these nests hanging together (probably some "cacique" type of bird, we did not see any bird flying in or out).
And to end, more scarlet ibis, in flight.
But enough gorgeous nature, next posts will be on the human reality of the area. Not as pretty I am afraid....
1) The baba is more current elsewhere and can even reproduce in captivity where it is bred for consumption. Thus it is not endangered. But in the wild of the Delta it is having a hard time when man comes close. At least that is what my competent guide explained to me.
-The end-
Monday, May 12, 2008
Delta Amacuro News and Views (2)
From Monagas to Caño Manamo
The Orinoco delta can be divided in three parts: the main exit running West to East, the former secondary exit, Caño Manamo, running South to North, now significantly blocked, and the area in between. If all share climate and soil similarities there are still differences, in particular when Caño Manamo is considered.
Caño Manamo used to be a secondary mouth of the Orinoco, its rhythms of flooding following the Orinoco, but the construction of a dike to link Tucupita to the mainland all but clogged the fresh water flow of the Orinoco, now all going through the main maritime channel in the South East. Caño Manamo is now marginally fed by the Orinoco and some lesser rivers out of Monagas. Considering the strong tide effect from the Atlantic this has resulted in a salinization of water deeper inside the North West corner of the Delta, with the concurrent salinization of potential agricultural land, and wildlife changes. On the other hand the semi flood control set up upstream the Manamo has also allowed for an expansion of agricultural lands and increased settlement. Still, this area which is the one I visited, posses loads of wild life and spectacular scenery in spite of the human pressure now visible the closer to Boca de Uracoa you get, the only real landing between Tucupita and Pedernales.
Caño Manamo used to be a main penetration way half a century ago.
After all, the main mouth was more treacherous, too big perhaps whereas the Manamo was somewhat more accessible. The discovery of some oil resources earlier last century resulted in the growth of Tucupita into a small boom town while the Caño Manamo was duly marked for navigation. From this busy past where small merchant boats could go up to load in oil and wood there is only one remaining marker, which should be declared a national monument. Right now it sits lonely, forgotten even by the locals who do not seem to recall this not so distant past. Yet, when you see its size and the quality of the make that allowed it to survive the rather harsh conditions you cannot help yourself but dream of the days when small steamers sailed the Manamo. Today only fast motor boats and piraguas sometimes with odd 50HP motors are the ones sailing by.
Water indeed rules even if the Orinoco does not flow freely around there anymore. The last solid construction you see before you sail is a now rather decrepit landing at Boca de Uracoa. This is truly an end of the road village, where the only food available for tourists waiting for their ride is a grease spoon joint which rich smells scared away the semi vegetarian that I have become. On a Sunday the activity seems limited to the tourists dropped off by their ride and waiting for their boat ride. From the start the humidity hits you as you watch the already large secondary arm of the Manamo in front of you as the tide current carries the green floating islands formed by the bora (water hyacinths).
The pier at Boca de Uracoa is truly an ending. From then on transport will be through boats or piraguas which even serve as school boat, carrying cheerful children in white uniforms. All your traveling will be done sitting down under an inclement sun, as rare is the boat who has a cover of sorts. All are designed for speed, the only real recourse against the heat and the sun. No more AC, from now on SPF 30, liberally applied, and bug repellent when needed.
You even need to go by boat to your nearest grocery store such as this “bodega” with outhouse included on the river. Though the bodega is not necessarily the most visited corner of the river.
It seems that most people are still close from the “hunter gatherer” condition even if some can afford a motor on their piragua. The river gives all, even the vegetation which lives off and for the river. When you live on a stilt house, watching the bora float by according to the tide rhythms, I suppose that you can satisfy yourself with a simple life style and simple goodies. Indeed, the alluvial land must contain significant riches, when not water logged. The traditional conuco agriculture is still easy to find even if sometime the conucos are hidden by the river bank dense vegetation. The technique has not changed much. Trees are fallen but not really removed. The land has to be rich enough for the natives to satisfy themselves with the little bit of corn or tubers that grow in between the dead tree trunks. Maybe their long decay serves as a fertilizer of sorts?
But the conuco is not the only form of agriculture as more large scale forms are advancing from neighboring Monagas. I was impressed at how often I saw huge billowing smoke columns rising
from deeper inland areas, and sometime not that deeper as the boat passengers suffocate briefly while crossing the smoke clouds drifting over the water.
Humans advance and are slowly taking the drier areas of the delta. Already cattle and huge pastures can be seen close to Boca de Uracoa, probably the main activity for a while until someone decides to try its luck at rice. Global food scarcity make this prospect a short term thing. I can already guess that the upper delta is doomed. Where are the deforestation permits? In my 4 days I never saw a national guard, a policeman, a ranger, nothing. Meanwhile river traffic flowed, and new smoke columns arose.
Eventually the upper delta will start resembling the Monagas flat land that you see on the road between Maturin and Boca de Uracoa. Temblador, the only thing vaguely resembling a town in between is a rather non descript place, also with an end of the world feel that is only alleviated by a strangely cheerful church. Yet, even at Temblador we already see the scourge of Venezuelan urbanism: the dreaded “invasion”.
Temblador is not spared from the population growth without a parallel growth in personal opportunities. Temblador is far from everything and thus its unoccupied folks cannot even leave to invade Maturin idle lands. Instead they build a shack outside or end up as the two drunkards passing out under the precious shade of the Church door.
But the drunkards at the church steps are not the only primitive behavior. All is primitive still, even before reaching the Delta, and even in spite the Direct TV antennas now spotting the few Warao villages blessed with electricity. But could it be otherwise when faced with the Southern Monagas emptiness, where even the hand of the governmental INTI land seizure system does not seem to quite reach yet?
Thus how can I fail to be surprised when stopping to visit Rio Morichal Largo, a tributary of Caño Manamo I saw on a Wednesday afternoon this strangest of fish markets by the Rio? A spot on the road which by the way serves as beach for the locals on week ends and as a cooling spot on week days for weary truckers lacking an AC in their cabin. Nothing has really changed here in 50 years, at least since the first path crossed that shallower river area. The natives now wear baseball caps in lieu of their straw hat protection.
Oddities are never in short supply, even if all looks the same at times. Even medicine evolves there and tries to reach out the crowds with this crudest of road side advertisement listing a mobile phone numbers. Yes, mobile phone reaches Boca de Uracoa even if it does not reach anything else in the Delta outside of Pedernales and Tucupita. It is a strange feeling to see modern technology to look already so old in its quick integration to the down to earth simplicity of Temblador natives.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Click on photos for more detail.
This is the second in a series of post. The introduction can be read here. At least two more posts will come in the next few days.
The picture of the fish market was not taken by me, but by SDC, my traveling companion. Other of her pictures will be shown on occasion as we traveled together depending on who was fast enough to catch a given scene.
-The end-
The Orinoco delta can be divided in three parts: the main exit running West to East, the former secondary exit, Caño Manamo, running South to North, now significantly blocked, and the area in between. If all share climate and soil similarities there are still differences, in particular when Caño Manamo is considered.
Caño Manamo used to be a secondary mouth of the Orinoco, its rhythms of flooding following the Orinoco, but the construction of a dike to link Tucupita to the mainland all but clogged the fresh water flow of the Orinoco, now all going through the main maritime channel in the South East. Caño Manamo is now marginally fed by the Orinoco and some lesser rivers out of Monagas. Considering the strong tide effect from the Atlantic this has resulted in a salinization of water deeper inside the North West corner of the Delta, with the concurrent salinization of potential agricultural land, and wildlife changes. On the other hand the semi flood control set up upstream the Manamo has also allowed for an expansion of agricultural lands and increased settlement. Still, this area which is the one I visited, posses loads of wild life and spectacular scenery in spite of the human pressure now visible the closer to Boca de Uracoa you get, the only real landing between Tucupita and Pedernales.
Caño Manamo used to be a main penetration way half a century ago.
After all, the main mouth was more treacherous, too big perhaps whereas the Manamo was somewhat more accessible. The discovery of some oil resources earlier last century resulted in the growth of Tucupita into a small boom town while the Caño Manamo was duly marked for navigation. From this busy past where small merchant boats could go up to load in oil and wood there is only one remaining marker, which should be declared a national monument. Right now it sits lonely, forgotten even by the locals who do not seem to recall this not so distant past. Yet, when you see its size and the quality of the make that allowed it to survive the rather harsh conditions you cannot help yourself but dream of the days when small steamers sailed the Manamo. Today only fast motor boats and piraguas sometimes with odd 50HP motors are the ones sailing by.Water indeed rules even if the Orinoco does not flow freely around there anymore. The last solid construction you see before you sail is a now rather decrepit landing at Boca de Uracoa. This is truly an end of the road village, where the only food available for tourists waiting for their ride is a grease spoon joint which rich smells scared away the semi vegetarian that I have become. On a Sunday the activity seems limited to the tourists dropped off by their ride and waiting for their boat ride. From the start the humidity hits you as you watch the already large secondary arm of the Manamo in front of you as the tide current carries the green floating islands formed by the bora (water hyacinths).
The pier at Boca de Uracoa is truly an ending. From then on transport will be through boats or piraguas which even serve as school boat, carrying cheerful children in white uniforms. All your traveling will be done sitting down under an inclement sun, as rare is the boat who has a cover of sorts. All are designed for speed, the only real recourse against the heat and the sun. No more AC, from now on SPF 30, liberally applied, and bug repellent when needed.
You even need to go by boat to your nearest grocery store such as this “bodega” with outhouse included on the river. Though the bodega is not necessarily the most visited corner of the river.
It seems that most people are still close from the “hunter gatherer” condition even if some can afford a motor on their piragua. The river gives all, even the vegetation which lives off and for the river. When you live on a stilt house, watching the bora float by according to the tide rhythms, I suppose that you can satisfy yourself with a simple life style and simple goodies. Indeed, the alluvial land must contain significant riches, when not water logged. The traditional conuco agriculture is still easy to find even if sometime the conucos are hidden by the river bank dense vegetation. The technique has not changed much. Trees are fallen but not really removed. The land has to be rich enough for the natives to satisfy themselves with the little bit of corn or tubers that grow in between the dead tree trunks. Maybe their long decay serves as a fertilizer of sorts?
But the conuco is not the only form of agriculture as more large scale forms are advancing from neighboring Monagas. I was impressed at how often I saw huge billowing smoke columns rising
from deeper inland areas, and sometime not that deeper as the boat passengers suffocate briefly while crossing the smoke clouds drifting over the water.Humans advance and are slowly taking the drier areas of the delta. Already cattle and huge pastures can be seen close to Boca de Uracoa, probably the main activity for a while until someone decides to try its luck at rice. Global food scarcity make this prospect a short term thing. I can already guess that the upper delta is doomed. Where are the deforestation permits? In my 4 days I never saw a national guard, a policeman, a ranger, nothing. Meanwhile river traffic flowed, and new smoke columns arose.
Eventually the upper delta will start resembling the Monagas flat land that you see on the road between Maturin and Boca de Uracoa. Temblador, the only thing vaguely resembling a town in between is a rather non descript place, also with an end of the world feel that is only alleviated by a strangely cheerful church. Yet, even at Temblador we already see the scourge of Venezuelan urbanism: the dreaded “invasion”.Temblador is not spared from the population growth without a parallel growth in personal opportunities. Temblador is far from everything and thus its unoccupied folks cannot even leave to invade Maturin idle lands. Instead they build a shack outside or end up as the two drunkards passing out under the precious shade of the Church door.
But the drunkards at the church steps are not the only primitive behavior. All is primitive still, even before reaching the Delta, and even in spite the Direct TV antennas now spotting the few Warao villages blessed with electricity. But could it be otherwise when faced with the Southern Monagas emptiness, where even the hand of the governmental INTI land seizure system does not seem to quite reach yet?
Thus how can I fail to be surprised when stopping to visit Rio Morichal Largo, a tributary of Caño Manamo I saw on a Wednesday afternoon this strangest of fish markets by the Rio? A spot on the road which by the way serves as beach for the locals on week ends and as a cooling spot on week days for weary truckers lacking an AC in their cabin. Nothing has really changed here in 50 years, at least since the first path crossed that shallower river area. The natives now wear baseball caps in lieu of their straw hat protection.
Oddities are never in short supply, even if all looks the same at times. Even medicine evolves there and tries to reach out the crowds with this crudest of road side advertisement listing a mobile phone numbers. Yes, mobile phone reaches Boca de Uracoa even if it does not reach anything else in the Delta outside of Pedernales and Tucupita. It is a strange feeling to see modern technology to look already so old in its quick integration to the down to earth simplicity of Temblador natives.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Click on photos for more detail.
This is the second in a series of post. The introduction can be read here. At least two more posts will come in the next few days.
The picture of the fish market was not taken by me, but by SDC, my traveling companion. Other of her pictures will be shown on occasion as we traveled together depending on who was fast enough to catch a given scene.
-The end-
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