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A Journey to the Rainforest
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~ from the journals of Sharon Bladholm ~
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In the pilot's office, we follow our course on a huge wall map of Roraima. Soon we are on the plane, a little five seater. Its a bumpy ride through a lot of air pockets and I feel nauseous. Below us the river's path snakes and shimmers flashing silver through an unending expanse of green. We pass the tiny specks of the Catramani mission and, in a short time, the outpost of Demini. Flying on for several minutes more, the pilot circles a great round shabono which peers up at us like a giant eyeball staring from the unrelenting mass of vegetation of the jungle below. We can see the dark stone mountains of the Serra Do Lua, translated as the Mountains of the Moon, their big humped backs struggling up from the jungle's carpet. A flock of eight Macaws screech past, their bright red and blue feathers streaking overhead our plane which is now beginning its descent.The landing is bumpy as the wheels make contact with the ground and after a while the entire party is on the runway blinking in the glare of the blazing morning sun. We all struggle to quickly transfer our gear to the cool shade of the outpost so as to escape the staggering heat. Soon we are greeted by a group of twenty or more of the Yanomami who have come to see the visitors. Someone in their group complains of a headache, a child has a fever and some of the medicine we have brought is past out. The people are curious as to who these new strangers are but are warm and open. A small girl approach me and wraps her arms around mine.
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The shabono before the Serra Do Lua mountains.
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After a brief midday meal of beans and rice, we all head into the forest toward the shabono which is an hours walk away. The tangle of vegetation above our head shields us from the intensity of the fierce rays of the equatorial sun. Yanomami men, women and children of all sizes walk along side of us. Their language filters through the trees, mixing with the flopping of rubbers thongs displacing the debris of dead vegetation as we plod on through the forest The women and young girls wear only woven red waist bands which are punctuated by long strings of brightly colored beads which are looped about their bodies. Their brown skin is stained with urucu and their ears are punctuated with feathers of iridescent greens and blues, the total effect completed in some cases with flowers. Some mouths are adorned with thin sticks pushed through the skin, one in each corner and one below the lip. These small holes left by piercing with barley show when not in use.
Most of the men, besides their plastic flip flops, had another outside innovation in the form of brightly colored nylon shorts and swim trunks. This did not deter some of them from remaining with the traditional garb which was simply to tie up their penises with a string.