DAY 49. O BRAVE NEW WORLD

I finally managed to leave around 8 o’clock when I had said goodbye to everyone and bought some fresh bread in the bakery which had been closed all these days. I treated everyone to it at breakfast. I wanted to do some small thing to show my gratitude. The breakfast was delicious – we had coffee with mashed bananas which reminded me of potatoes, the bread and butter. I have especially missed the butter; I have not had it in a long time.

I am back on the river. I spent only two nights on dry land with people and again the river feels like a complete novelty to me. Ever since I left Tonantins, I sense a different atmosphere. Today I find it particularly disturbing. Is it because my new acquaintances prayed for me when we were saying goodbye? It is hard to get used to the fact that everyone here sees me off with the phrase “Cuidate” (which is Spanish for ‘take care’) and wishes me God’s help. I do not know much about God, but I will do my best to keep myself safe. The thing is that my predecessors who were killed in this area probably did their best to keep themselves safe too.

The stretch of 500 kilometres of the length of the river ahead of me is the place where several gringo travellers were killed. They say some of them even managed to press the panic button to call for help via satellite connection. But who is going to come to the rescue here? In the civilized world, where there is some kind of law in place, there is a chance that someone will save you. Here, it is different. If there is one thing I can count on, it is humanity that all of us possess to some degree. Every single person in the world has some of it left.

This morning is particularly gloomy. I have been travelling along the river for an hour now, and no one in any of the boats I encountered on my way has returned my greeting. It is frightening. The river is a place with the same rules as any settlement – one runs into people, albeit at a distance. People say hello, people smile back. And then, just imagine, at some point, everything changes. I smile, I wave to the crew of a boat that passes 10 metres away from me, and there is complete silence in response, no emotion, total indifference. They stare at me, expressionless, and nothing else follows. It resembles some typical scene from a horror film.

The highlight of today was this weird scene: another 7-metre-long canoe passed by. There was a fridge on board, and three men were sitting in the boat. They did not respond to my greeting, just passed by quietly. At the very stern sat a boy, about 6-7 years old, and I waved to him. He responded by raising his hand and making a pistol out of his fingers, which he pointed at me and then fired a symbolic shot. Huh? Did you learn that from your dad? I had better get out of here.

I wrote Mum’s phone number on my diary. Who knows what might happen to me, and perhaps the diary will be found by someone. Then my experience will not go to waste quietly. Unfortunately, not all is under my control. No, I have not begun to fear death, this kind of fear is alien to my personality. Fear of death gives nothing; it only takes away. There is a saying that a coward dies a thousand times while a brave man dies only once. I do not identify as the former or the latter, I just want to finish this story safely. I can feel very scared, but that is no reason for me to stop or give up.

That is interesting. It seems that as soon as I pulled myself together, the world responded accordingly. The people on the passing boats started waving back again. It was like a nightmare had ended. That is surprising.

I heard the rumble of an engine and saw a motorboat coming straight at me, directed into the side of my boat. I had seen this boat an hour earlier when it was on its way to Tonantins. The crew, three young men, had laughed at the sight of me and ignored my greeting. And there they were again – at speed and coming straight at me. At the last moment they turned the rudder, passed along the side of my boat only a few metres away, creating a dangerous wave. Are they trying to scare me? Maybe they do not like gringos. Or did they decide to get back at me for the news reports from the distant war after they read the note ‘Rusia’ on my boat? I am at a loss. There are victims of propaganda everywhere and they have similar traumatic experiences.

The funniest moment happened next. It was obvious to me what reaction they were aiming for, so in the moment when they were expecting a grimace of horror on my face, I just smiled and waved at them – by reflex. Immediately I grabbed the paddle and with a sharp motion turned the bow of the canoe 45 degrees to the side of the incoming wave. Ha! These waves are no surprise to me. You should have seen their faces! They made grimaces I would love to have captured on camera, but my hands were otherwise occupied, and I did not laugh, of course, so as not to hurt their egos.

I had been advised to spend nights in villages, especially on this part of the river, but I had no chance to do it if I wanted today. A heavy downpour with a brisk wind broke out, and my boat was pinned to the bank. I was so used to the waves now that I kept paddling along in my waterproof jacket. I need to find a better spot for the night.

By the way, I almost forgot to mention that in the afternoon I was itching to test my new fishing net, so I tried casting it into the water right on the current. In a canoe with a tent it was a difficult task, there are too many different add-ons and nails around. The net was constantly snagged and tangled. The problem was partially solved by covering the bow of the boat with my emergency blanket. Then I slipped the net into the water almost unhindered. Now, as I found a quiet place where the water was almost motionless, casting the net proved to be even more difficult. I spent half an hour spreading and adjusting it. It is difficult while the boat is on the river, especially when the boat is heavy, and the current carries it away. I finally cast the net clumsily, so I do not think anything will come out of it. It seems like I am not a particularly good poacher.

I have nothing to do now. I have been looking at the net for an hour, hoping to see a nibble, just like when I use a fishing rod. It is an ingrained habit – I cannot help it. I noticed some huge fish with yellow fins splashing nearby, and dolphins followed them – both the blue and pink varieties. Now I keep worrying about them. They are hunting right at the entrance to the bay. It means that place is good, and there are plenty of fish here.

In the afternoon I washed my white shirt with great difficulty. It was almost back to its original colour, but that did not last long. As I was pulling the boat out into the flooded forest, I got all muddy again. I just wasted my time on doing the laundry. Besides, as I was trying to tie the rope to a tree, I somehow ridiculously bumped my face right into a wasp hive! I dodged it just in time. The wasps seemed to take pity on me and gave me only a couple of stings. My right cheek is a little swollen now. This is the usual consequence of fatigue – one grows careless and makes mistakes.

I covered the large bright letters “Rusia” and the blue part of the boat’s stern with the tent. This way it would not reflect light and attract unnecessary attention at night. It is better to be out of sight of the locals long before sunset, as rumours spread faster than the current, and pirates, as I understand, are just common inhabitants of the villages.

It is getting dark. There are a lot of boats on the river, some of them have good motors and no lights at all, which raises my suspicions. However, my curiosity got the best of me, so I checked the net by moonlight before going to bed. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. The torch I bought in Tonantins for searching for crocodiles is good – it sends a dense beam of light for a hundred metres!

Thanks to the fact that I covered the boat with a tent, in the darkness it became completely unnoticeable, but once a motorboat passed by and slowed down nearby. They were shining a torch into the bushes, and I think they noticed the buoys of the net. It is good that I hid the boat downstream so that my net would not give me away. I was bracing myself for the worst, but nothing happened. The boat went downstream, and I fell into a deep sleep.

2 June, ~50 (2052) km covered.