It is hard to know where to start really, when describing
the Guyanas. Most folks don’t know where they are, and those that do have only
a fleeting memory of school geography, or perhaps collecting stamps.
The three “Guyanas” lie on the northeast coast of South
America. They are politically different, two independent (Guyana of Great
Britain and Suriname of Holland), and French Guyana remains an integral part of
France.
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A Saramaccan boy |
They are a part of the giant Amazon basin, and are characterized
by massive rivers flowing out to the ocean through vast jungles. They are home
to a wide variety of people, a reflection of the countries’ harsh history and
importation of slaves and indentured labour from Africa, India, China and
Indonesia. Added to these poor folks, were the settlers from France, Holland
and the Britain, and a few displaced Brazilian Jews, some Venezuelans and, of
course, the completely bewildered Amerindians to whom these lands had been home
and peaceful for centuries.
The cocktail was poisonous; the lands violent and difficult,
and by the end of the nineteenth century most of the plantations had died out
to be swallowed whole by the jungle, and the French left to develop their
ghastly penal settlements in peace.
The Camp de Transportation in St. Laurent, French Guyana
For contemporary tourists, however, this toxic history, now
settled, offers an extraordinary opportunity to see fascinating and friendly communities,
deep jungle, rich savannas, quirky cities and beyond all, friendly and
welcoming people.
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The Rupununi Savannah |
The Rupununi Savannah of southern Guyana, where I spent
such a splendid time at the Manari Ranch, is the complete opposite of the
jungles of central Suriname. So by the simple expedient of three plane rides
(Lethem/Georgetown, Georgetown/Zoorg en Hoop, Zoorg en Hoop/Kajana), I leaped
from turf to surf.
The Surinamese jungle is a wonderful place; in particular, I
love the Upper Suriname river, and the rich African culture that it embraces. Twenty-three
settlements, established by the Saramaccan tribe of “Maroons”, escaped
slaves of the late 17th and early 18th centuries, lie
along this gorgeous river. They are miles beyond the road system, and for many years
lived as a predominantly self-administering region. Their government had a
single leader, with captains for clusters of five or so villages each of which
had their own captain and vice-captain. This structure kept order, maintained
their culture and language, and lived their lives.
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The School Boat - The Upper Suriname River |
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Village Houses |
Traditional to this day, African anthropologist come to
study the language and culture of Benin and Dahomey, lost to contemporary
Africa, but preserved here in the Surinamese jungle. The villages are neat, clearly
structured and the people along the river busy and alive. Their societies have,
for all intents and purposes been cashless for centuries, as they have grown
and caught their food, and built houses, boats and furniture from the myriad of
available resources; life is slow, and iguanas plod gently through the
communities.
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A local house |
The need for cash, however, has gradually encroached; one
cannot pay a cell-phone bill with coconuts, and Facebook is as prevalent here
as it is in London. As is the way of the world, young men have gone away in
search of money, there being little cash in the jungle, and quickly, centuries
of carefully structured societies are being changed. One answer to this has
been to develop some tourism, and to this end there are now over twenty “lodges”,
of varying sophistication and comfort, spread along the river. This, of course,
is too many, and soon enough some will fail, and slowly disintegrate into the
water.
Now, however, visitors are spoiled for choice, and they offer a truly
authentic and unpasteurized experience of the deep jungle. The creatures, great
and small, are there; the forests deep, riding into the river system between
high canopies of massive trees one is simply in awe of the environment. Huge
walls of vegetables; villages made of leaves; trees offering a myriad of
wonderful medical benefits; food scuttling and swimming all around and not a
snowflake to shovel.
The Upper Suriname River is astonishing; only from the air can one realize that
it is significantly populated; the villages spread along the ribbon of water from
the Brokopondo Lake to the junction with the Pikin and Gran Rios. Communities
of fascinating, knowledgeable, friendly people trying their best to keep their
culture and spirit alive.
As a visitor, one feels like a voyeur; we are there to learn
and to appreciate, and to do so one must observe and inquire. It can be
awkward; some want their photos to be taken, some believe that by listening to
stories we are stealing their words. Women work at the river’s edge cleaning
and scrubbing paying little heed to contemporary clothing conventions, but too
many wanderers observing have made them self-conscious, and they are changing
their ways.
Traditional lives are lived; following the death of an
elder, the men of the community will take the body to a sacred place in the forest
for three weeks; women will bring some supplies, but other than this brief
contact, they are alone with the spirits of the people and the environment;
these traditions, such a vital part of the fabric of the Saramaccan society are
slowly being nibbled away.
It is, perhaps inevitable, but it makes the privilege of being welcomed into these communities even more precious.
It is, perhaps inevitable, but it makes the privilege of being welcomed into these communities even more precious.
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Boat Building |
Now is the time to visit; combining the Savannah of southern
Guyana with the Maroon villages of the Upper Suriname river is an extraordinary
combination; the “turf and surf” of the Guyanas, the yin and yang of the
northern Amazon. A prefect journey for those seeking an understanding of the
environment, the people whose lives are so intimately woven with their lands
and the cultures of this remote region before they are gone.
The Guyanas offer a fabulous experience for some travelers;
those with an inquiring personality, a liking for a little discomfort, an
appreciation of the delicious meat of the Tapir and a desire to escape the
relentless homogenization of the world.
The Guyanas are no theme park; they are the real thing.
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Transportation on the Upper Suriname River |