Living in Peru : your everyday companion

The first of three planned expeditions is over and the results couldn't be more encouraging. The trek produced over one hundred rolls of film, daily chronicles—consisting of text and digital photographs—transmitted along the way and lots of memories from the Aguaruna community. Project members have plans for a coffee-table book and a photo exhibit that will feature the trip's best images and testimonies. In addition, the Terra Incognita-Prom Peru team has achieved something unprecedented in the world of modern-day exploration: keeping the public up to date on the team's progress and discoveries in real time, thanks to cybernetic technology.

Each night, city dwellers could, from the comfort of their homes, enter the wilds of the tropical rainforest, navigate the turbulent rivers and confluences of the Cenepa, or send questions to an elderly Aguaruna chief.

The entire technological package was developed over the course of several months and would not have been possible without the support of sponsors like Telefonica, Tans, Ripley, Kodak and El Comercio, all of which jumped aboard the project without a moment's hesitation.

Join us as Rumbos de Sol y Piedra accompanies the travelers on a trek through Aguaruna territory just as it was transmitted that afternoon from one of the most remote sections of the tropical rainforest.

Today marks our first week in the tropical forests of the border region. If yesterday was a rainstorm, today must be three rainstorms put together. It's seven o'clock in the morning in the Aguaruna community of Haumpami, and we're in the midst of ferocious downpour.

It's been raining since midnight yesterday with such intensity that, at times, we think the entire heavens are flooding down upon us. Our campsite is a tangle of sticks and windbreakers, but it stoically resists the punishing rain. Every few minutes we have to drain the huge puddles of water that collect on the tarps, since if we don't the tents are in danger of collapsing. It's time to get to work and secure the equipment. If only the weather would improve.

Miguel, the village Apu (chief), has traveled this far with us, determined to make good on his promise to guide us, come rain or shine, to an Aguaruna community deep within the jungle, near the base of the mountains.

We prepare the equipment. We carry plastic bags, several cans of tuna, water (something there's plenty of at the moment) and raincoats. We depart around 8:00 a.m., headed north.

We are accompanied by Segundo, a young man from the community of Achu, our destination point. He will guide us through the jungle and convince a village chief to let us enter his town and observe his way of life.

Thus began the team's first incursion into the heart of the Land of the Rainbow. The trail starts out as a long climb, then passes through small plots of land growing yucca—"tsanim," as it's called around here—beans and sachapapa. Along the way, we are joined by an Aguaruna child called Alan. He's ten years old and this is his first visit to Achu.

Slip-ups
Segundo tells us that didn't make his first trek to Huampami until after he turned sixteen. He's now twenty-two, married, with two children and a farm. Machete in hand, our guide clears the path, which is ever steeper and wanders through the dense vegetation of the tropical forest. The steep incline and the mud--product of the many hours of rain--make the going even tougher.

Alejandro and Alex are in the midst of what appears to be a falling contest, and after a few hills are soon covered in red mud. The remnants of what were once clean clothes can just barely be made out. Little Alan, barefoot, only smiles as he practically floats along the trail. The path is difficult, following the ridge of a mountain range that becomes an interminable succession of arduous climbs and dangerous descents, but the landscape of mountains covered by mist is, quite simply, spectacular.


Aguaruna wisdom
The forest is to the Aguaruna what a supermarket is to city-dwellers. Here, the Jibaro find animals that feed their families, medicines to cure their ills, construction materials to build their homes, and even the elements needed to communicate with their gods.

Our guide, Segundo, is quite an expert at identifying jungle plants, in spite of his young age. Every so often he stops, points with his machete, and says, "This is cahua. Its wood is good for making canoes; this is a'hanke, the well-known cat's claw that cures even the worst bodily afflictions; this is conoco, good for relieving a sore throat."

We come upon a tree with bark white as snow, and Segundo stops to show us a plant he calls uhushmun, which is used to treate cuts. The plant is also known as sangre de grado, a powerful healing agent that modern science has recently begun to "discover." We also find edible mushrooms (called kuish, or 'monkey's ear'), a type of silvery cabbage called eup, and even a small snail with a beautiful round shell. "That's called inish," he tells us.

"Women hang the shell around the neck of their small children, so that they grow up healthy and safe."

Appearances
We continue along the trail, and Alejandro, Alex and Flavio's constant falls soon become routine. Segundo decides to stop at a lookout point from which we can see huge limestone outcroppings amongst the green of the mountains. When we ask him what the place is called, he tells us, "It's Wayap, which means 'the biggest mountain' in Aguaruna."

We sit down to rest our battered bodies while Segundo takes a container from his knapsack. "It's masato," he explains. "Good for fatigue." We drink a little of the milky liquid made from fermented yucca and continue along the downhill path.

All of a sudden, we're faced with a strange apparition. We catch a glimpse of what appears to be a wet ball of hair moving about above our heads. It turns out to be a sloth, or manchum, as the Aguaruna call it, interrupted during his afternoon nap to pose for our cameras.

In a flash, Segundo is hanging from a tree branch six meters above the ground. A few photos later, we thank the sloth for his infinite and habitual patience, and for distracting us, if just for a few minutes, from our aching backs.

Achu, finally…
12:15 p.m. If there's one thing we recommend, it is never ask an Aguaruna,"How much further?" while still on the trail. The invariable response is "Not much," while the actual number of hours remains entirely unclear. I don't know exactly how long it took us to reach Achu, but I do know that our legs were extremely happy once we'd arrived. The village was a clearing in the jungle with a few thatched roof huts scattered among small farm plots of yucca and sugar cane.

Once there, we headed to the hut of the Apu or local leader. After exchanging a few words with Miguel, the Huampami chief who had accompaniedus, the Achu leader announced he would call a special communal assemblymeeting in order to decide whether to grant us permission to enter Achu.

Instantly, we heard the sound of rhythmic drum rolls coming from a nearbyhut. It was the tuntui, or Aguaruna drum, calling the villagers to attend the impromptu meeting.

Villagers arrived from all directions and filled the communal hall. As is the custom, the speeches were long and eloquent. Finally, after an hour of heated debate, the village of Achu unanimously welcomed us to their town.

We walked through town hand in hand with several local children—always the first to break the ice and cultural borders—exploring Achu's houses and public buildings. We visited its modest school house, without carpetas or a blackboard; the stream that children must cross each day to get from oneside of town to the other; and the small health post, now almost in ruins that had been without a doctor for quite some time.

4:00 p.m. It's time to leave. Much handshaking, bananas given away as goodbye gifts, smiles all around. We climb aboard the peque-peque that will take us across the Huampami River and back to our campsite. It is almost the end of a day spent in the heart of Jibaro territory.

Dinner special: snake
Back home at our campsite, we are surprised to find the river has risen significantly, threatening our campsite. Last night's rain was strong enough to raze the lower part of the town. We consult with local residents who advise us to wait a bit before changing campsites.

It's 5:30 p.m. and the local children arrive with some unusual prey in their narrow canoe: a huge snake, an "azulejo" almost three meters long that they encountered trying to escape the rain. Our photo session of the children with their bounty caused such a commotion in Huampami that even the oldest residents came down to see what was going on. Tonight it will be our dinner. As I finish this dispatch I can already hear the frying pan beginning to sizzle. Until tomorrow, bon appetite."