Today we set off to Urada, an aboriginal village isolated from everywhere else (don’t get it mixed up with the afro Urada, I have been told). Despite weeks of planning, we are still not sure of what to expect. This is the first time MSF is going to set foot there. Contact with the community leaders has been difficult, but they are the ones that asked for our help; therefore at least we know that we are welcome. We know we are supposed to meet them at Pavarando, where there will be an x number of mules (despite insistent questioning we were still not sure how many mules would be available to carry all our gear).
The road to Pavarando was the usual gravel, muddy, holy and narrow road. At times I felt like we were driving through the bed of a dried stream, with the thick forest around us. Beautiful drive, and I would have enjoyed it even more if I were not dying with the heat. “Doctors without air conditioning...” I thought to myself, oh well, I survived.
At Pavarando we made a stop at the local health clinic in which MSF worked for quite a while and helped set it up. All looked well and the only thing I had to complain about was the big rat I saw by the bathroom. Oh well again..
The aboriginal women were waiting for us - on their bright and colorful skirts and shirts - ready with their baskets to help us carry our supplies. The men showed up shortly after, with ONE mule. Well, considering that we had at least 10 big boxes to take, 3 small coolers, food AND water… well, we had a problem. Not realizing the amount of gear we had, one of the men asked if all the mules we needed were for us to mount! I wish… Oh well again.
Unable to find any mules to rent at this time of the day (it was now past noon), we decided to take whatever we can and leave the rest behind at the health clinic, and the men would come back for it first thing in the morning, rent some mules and bring it up. So we set off with our backpacks, heavy sun hitting our backs. I prayed for rain.
We had been told the walk was rough and swampy. But that’s describing it lightly. By swampy, they were referring to one foot deep, thick slimy mud. The kind of mud that when your foot sinks in you need help to be pulled out. And no other way around it. Just thick deep forest all around. My favorite part was crossing the rivers, were I could refresh my face and arms with the cold water.
As I walked though the narrow path, precariously trying to keep my balance hanging on to leaves and whatever I could find (I only fell 3 times), I remembered that in Canada, one time I saw this bridge that the government maintained despite only a handful of people using it. But those people lived on the other side of it therefore the bridge was needed. A whole community, left with a muddy walking road, would just not happen in Canada. Somebody would protest, a road would be opened and maintained.
I also looked back at our MSF training in Germany, when we had to walk for 5 hours in this park carrying jugs of water for a “team dynamics” exercise, and thought with humor how I had found that hard. That was nothing! Now I was doing the real thing, with 30 plus heat and sun, on the mud and a heavy backpack to carry. Oh well again
Three hours later and water supplies exhausted (except for one jug) we arrived. I whish I could have taken a picture of our team, mud all the way up to the eyebrows, but all happy (MSF security policy does not allow pictures at the moment).
The village, was comprised of scattered houses, made of wood, with straw roofs, built elevated about 5 feet from the ground, with chickens and pigs walking around peacefully. In order to get up to the house one has to climb a little log, carved every 7 inches or so with a hole for your toes to fit. The village also had a soccer field and a school.
We were taken to the school, where we would work and live for the next cpl of days. I was impressed with it. By far the nicest building, organized, well built and planned. It had 3 large classrooms and even 2 bathrooms (real toilets, with a flush and everything). As everything else, it was made with large wood boards, except that these ones were stamped with “Bolivar lives, the fight continues” signs.
We set up camp, hang up our hammocks and the MSF banner, explaining who we are, what we do, etc. Then all the women in the group desperately set out for a bath in the river, and oh, what a nice surprise! What a beautiful river with clear crystalline water, so cool and refreshing. My spirits were renewed, and I stayed in there until the light went down; then put on my rubber boots again and set out for dinner and my hammock. Fell asleep, tired but happy, listening to the frogs sing, "reading" with my ipod and thinking about what we would find the next day.
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