We marched 6 hours into the jungle on Wednesday, following our young female guide over fallen trees, through calf-deep mud and across a rain-swollen river. The forest was beautiful and crawling with life. We encountered insects, new fruits I had never heard of and a dead coral snake. Sweltering under the canopy, you can’t feel the difference between a crawling insect and sweat trickling down your skin. I stopped caring either way.
Eventually we arrived in a Shuar village nestled in a valley next to a small river. There were 6 thatched huts and a schoolhouse. Banana trees, corn stalks, yucca plants and a soccer field made up the rest of the settlement. We were greeted by several small children who just stood and stared, shy smiles breaking out from time to time. After setting up our mosquito nets in one of the huts, we joined a family for dinner and their children did a welcoming dance for us.
The following day, a male guide took us into the forest and showed us several medicinal plants, specimens among which could be used to treat snakebite, allergic reactions, gastritis and traumatic wounds. None of them tasted very good. The destination of the hike was a waterfall in which we washed ourselves with soaproot that we gathered on the way. When we returned, they had killed a chicken and made chicken soup for our late lunch/early dinner.
That night, our guide talked to us for 3 hours about his tribe’s views on childbirth and we discussed differences between our culture and his with respect to these issues. It was an interesting chat, but dragged on because our guide repeated everything he said at least 5 times.
We hiked 6 hours out the next morning, arriving back with our host family exhausted yet happy.
Your writing makes this experience so accessible to your reader. "Well done!" (understatement)
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