Untold Tales from the Amazon (Part 1)

The adventures of three friends trying to escape the Argentinian dictatorship in the 70’s.

February, 1975. Somewhere in Amazonia…

We were living in the jungle, far away from everything. Our everyday friends were monkeys, lizards and an amazing array of birds of every color imaginable and of course, the caimans.

Humidity was very high, so we were always sweating. Rafael had the most experience, having been in other jungles and being too tired to talk, i just copied his moves. In this case it was mud. He covered every visible part of his flesh with it and I immediately did the same. Mosquito protection. Ronnie, his brother, has been napping for two hours. 

Still breathing. All good. 

We picked up a map and after conferring for a couple of minutes, we both cracked a smile of satisfaction. We have made great progress which brought a mix of satisfaction and excitement that I remember to this day.

--Get up, Ronnie!, shouted Rafa. It must've startled him, as always, his deep blue eyes almost popping out of his skull. Ronnie always thought the end of the world was coming when he heard loud noises, but only when they woke him up. It was kinda funny, really. 

Our immediate destination was unknown since we didn't even know where we were (with any real precision)...but we knew we had to keep on going.

Rivers or just wide streams were always a problem. We had to cross them before dark so we could spend the night in the next village. Unfortunately for us but great for the fishermen, these small rivers were everywhere. 

Since going back was not an option, we had to think quickly. 

Our options weren't abundant just like our food rations weren't. The best bet was always the Chinese boatman, "el Chino". For a few coins, he'd take us across. For a few more, he wouldn't go the opposite way to run some errand he just made up to squeeze more of a profit. Ronnie knew them well, having lived in Sao Paulo's Chinatown for years. He was in charge of the persuasion. 

They were, probably --looking in retrospect-- the best times, the best years of my younger life. We managed with what we had, which wasn't much. A tent, a sleeping bag, a backpack, mosquito repellents, malaria pills, and plenty of water.

I tried to keep a diary, but some of the pages got wet and broke off. I ended up with spare notes which I figured I'd edit later, assuming I survived the ordeal. Rafa handed me the hood of one of the ponchos to use as a "waterproof" container. 

The countries the three of us "visited" were sometimes a total surprise as we crossed invisible borders designated by plants and trees of the exact same kind. And the monkeys all spoke the same language, easy as pie to understand. We got used to knowing what the mood was by the kind of sounds they made. Sometimes we realized trouble among them was imminent, especially when --just like us-- the chattering got faster and exponentially louder. After that, it wouldn't be long. 

But no, no visible borders in the middle of the Amazon jungle. So, we hitchhiked from Porto Alegre in Brazil to a French speaking colony named Cayenne, traversing the entire Amazon covered savannah in the process. From there, there was no other way but North since anything civilized was by the coast. So, we ended up in a Papiamento-speaking nation (a Dutch/aboriginal dialect) in Suriname to outright English in Guyana. No customs, no passport checking and certainly no visas. 

--What do you mean we already crossed the border?-- we asked in broken English to the fisherman carrying his load. 

I pointed at a location on the map. He pointed back at the big letters that read: "Guyana".

So. It looks like we had indeed…