The Narrows

We are getting way too accustomed to living on a boat.  We love our home in Anã, but we might start wishing it were afloat.  Of course, it’s obvious that the people of the Amazon live a large part of their lives on and around boats, but we hadn’t really thought about it that way until we got to be part of that culture. 

We let ourselves sleep in after the boat started up around 7am.  Some of us stayed in our hammocks until 8 but others wandered down to the breakfast that was waiting for us whenever we felt like eating it.  Little fish were jumping all around our boat but Louro (our excellent cook) said that they wouldn’t bite at this hour of the morning so we didn’t bother to try to catch them.  

Once we were all up and about, we started to motor toward the area that Jesse and Shawny call “the narrows,” though that’s not necessarily what the locals call it, whether in Portuguese or any other language. The area is more accurately called Jarí, which is the name for the loosely connected community(ies?) that populate the channels between the Arapiuns River and the Tapajós.  At times in the year, the whole area is underwater but right now there are huge marshes surrounding the land mass and some deeper canals that our boat can navigate. 

This area allows us to float closer to the homes of the locals than we have been able to get in the more open areas of the rivers.  We can see the entire property that a family is managing, including their pretty elaborate stilted house (one brick house on wooden stilts!), their corrals for their cattle, and their small planting areas, probably for manioc.  

We stopped off at one church that looked a lot like the church in Anã.  No one was around so we walked around the grounds (after the herd of cattle that were out front scooted out of our way) and checked out the church itself, the gathering area that seemed to be a community center with a low stage next door, and another raised gathering area that had something we haven’t seen yet on this trip: a stilted (two-story) outhouse with a little chimney/chute to direct things into the ground from about twelve or so feet up.  (We didn’t test it out.)

We went further up the channel and saw the famous vitoria redes, which are huge lilypad-like things that are up to six feet across.  There are places where there are huge patches of them but they are far away from here; we found a small patch to at least get a sense of what they are like.  It’s impossible to see them and not get a deep desire to walk out onto them and lie down.  Not an option.  

We also got some signal as we got into the open parts of the river, so we did our best to send out texts and ask for phone calls back so that we could at least talk to a few people.  We know we missed some of you, but it was nice to hear some voices from far away.  

A couple of us got some terrible news from home and we are all processing it together to the best of our ability.  A young and vibrant friend has died and now we have to figure out together how to support the two of us who are most affected.  We are on our way to an indigenous community right now and will pass out of signal range soon, but then back into range tomorrow morning (but very early California time).  We’re quiet again, as we feel for our friends and we are working together to figure out the next steps for all of us.  We’ll report in as soon as we can . . .

 This is what we call “the narrows”. We don’t know what they call this place in Brasil, but nonetheless this place is quite interesting. Every year, the water raises up and down, covering and exposing this land. When this land is exposed, which is about half the year, farmers move their cattle there to raise them on the land. 

A small church we found along “the narrows”. Farmers along the river boat here and meet here every Sunday. 

This place became quite the joke – it’s a bridge to a raised bathroom, to which there is a chute for everything to drop into the earth. We called this the “POOP CHUTE!”

 If you look closely, you can see giant, 5 ft lily pads. 

Traditional performance by an indigenous tribe who so kindly welcomed us into their home. 

Today two of the DIRTies found out about a huge loss of this individual. This photo is not from the trip, but shows how his loss is with us as many of the DIRTies hold their heads in solidarity. 

A photo capturing the DIRTies hammocks on the boat featuring Rylee. 

 Cows were a common site while navigating the canals outside Santarém. 

Random stops on the DIRTies boat tour allowed for glimpses into the day to day life and culture of those who live on the edge of the river.  

After a heavy day for some of the DIRTies the view from the front of the boat provided some comfort to those who need it.