Correspondence fromâ¦the jungle
They are a couple of adventure seekers: cameraman Bogdan Slavescu, director of photography Ovidiu Gyarmath, producer Victor Melian, director Cristian Carcu, the photo editor for Jurnalul National, Alexandru Molovata, and director Dan Chisu, all embarked into an expedition taking them into the deep jungle.
Stuck In the Orange House - Letters from the Jungle
Correspondence fromâ¦the jungle
foto: Alexandru Molovata
They are a couple of adventure seekers: cameraman Bogdan Slavescu, director of photography Ovidiu Gyarmath, producer Victor Melian, director Cristian Carcu, the photo editor for Jurnalul National, Alexandru Molovata, and director Dan Chisu, all embarked into an expedition taking them into the deep jungle.
They wanted to reach shaman Juan Flores, in the village of Mayatuyacy, for Carcu to be initiated in the secrets of shamanism. In Chisuâs own words:
"We were sorry to leave Pandisho. Crossing the water seemed less dangerous now, after I had seen boats far more loaded than ours getting safely across the river all through the evening.
We reached the city. On the river bank the fish mongers were ending their business day. Poor people, who could not afford to buy fish, were fighting for the leftovers. So did sick dogs, caught in the commotion. I felt sorry for the dogs. I felt sorry for the people too - lost in that lost port on the banks of the river Ukayali.
A gigantic loudspeaker dominated the market, and one did not have to understand the language to know votes were asked from those very poor people. Elections were to take place in a few days and buttered bread was expected to be a strong currency for buying votes.
We entered an Internet café after the owner took out three motorbikes in disrepair, to make room for us.
When we finished sending our messages, three cars were waiting outside for us. We rented them at a price equal to their market value; they should have been all-road vehicles but stopped being that a long while ago.
We crammed inside, and off we went. The first three kilometers were on a bumpy road, and I already started thinking that then and there would be the end of the three cars.
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Clouds - a sea of clouds with unknown meaning yet. |
At one point our guide, Sandra, told us we would leave the highway and enter the jungle! I felt proud of the highway back home...
The road was more and more difficult. The rain a night before turned the orange clay into an obstacle, and finally what should have happened it did: the car before us came to a halt. We all got out - all of us, men and women - and started pushing it, deep in clay to our knees, with clay climbing up on our clothes, getting into our hair, nose, years, and most intimate places. I had mud in my mouth too.
Finally we managed to move the car, but the sky turned darker and darker, as if rain was going to start pouring again. We were all scared our trip might end there, if the rain started. The red mud clang to our shoes and to the wheels of the cars.
Each hour passing by presented us with a new mishap of others: stuck cars, tricycles turned over on the sides of the road. We understood the fear in the eyes of our guide and all prayed God for the rain to not start again.
The locals kept telling us we will get there in a few minutes, but the minutes turned into an eternity.
Finally, we saw the river again, in front of us, and we relaxed.
We boarded in silence the two boats with which master Juan Flores was waiting for us since the early morning. At first I did not even notice the water came up to the rim of the heavily loaded boats.
We were on the last leg of our journey.
Everything was calm around us. I was shocked by the huge tree trunks which passed by us, floating down stream. I was thinking we might bump into them if the night would fall before we reached the end of our river trip.
We had another reason to be worried when the engine of one of the boats stopped, but in the end we made it all to the place on the river bank where our luggage carriers were waiting for us.
We were so exhausted that we were thrilled to find out we were to carry nothing of our luggage. They were ten people in all.
I asked the master shaman how much time will take to get at the initiation place. He said a few hours, but we all knew that could have meant anything. So, aligned one behind the other, we started walking.
It was so hot we could barely breathe. We stopped a few times to take shots. We moved along with no word spoken, bathed in our own sweat, which sprung out from our bodies.
Insects and mosquitoes converged on us as if attracted more by the protection creams and oils we had used. We had no patch of skin free of their sting.
Reality was beyond what words may describe it!
Finally, when we almost lost all hope the end of the trip was near, we made it.
We were all shocked to discover, with every meter we moved further, a true paradise. A cloud was moving up, letting us see the beauty of the place we had reached.
Only later we were to find out that the clouds were not really clouds, but something entirely different.
For now, we were lost for words when faced with so much natural beautyâ¦
Translated by ANCA PADURARU
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