STORY OF THE WEEK, #1, AUTHOR:
COLIN STOKES
All
good stories have a beginning, middle and end but as I have never been one for
conformity this tale begins in the middle. The start was over a week previous when
South Wales played host to a group Brazilians from the Tocantins state, but
maybe that is another story.
Friday
15th September 2000
At
05:30 it is still dark in Llantwit Major and very peaceful in fact far too
peaceful as Major Cabs fail to arrive for the short hop to the Airport. Crank
up the car and drive to St Athan where Dave’s wife Shirley can continue to
solve the Taxi problem. Maybe that omen should have been heeded because on
arrival at Cardiff Airport the Check-in staff were extremely reluctant to book
us on to the Paris flight. French Air Traffic control had occasioned a
45-minute delay and our original turnaround time at Charles de Gaulle of one
hour had all but disappeared. Kara, a very pleasant British Airways girl, tried
valiantly to rearrange our program but no amount of button pressing or phone
calls came close to a solution, eventually we boarded our original flight armed
with good luck wishes and a list of three alternative flight numbers if we
missed the connection…We missed the connection.
Changing
terminals at CDG within one hour is perhaps a suitable challenge for Aneka Rice
but for two Angleterres to do it in fifteen minutes is just plain stupid.
Terminal one
Satellite three to Terminal 2F is a ‘day out’ in itself- two underground moving
corridors two or three security scanning points and a ten minute bus ride with
associated waits at the collection points and 2A and 2C stops en route.
Not so Gay Paris,
six times we traversed the airport T1 –T2, T2- T1, T1- T2 this was most definitely
not an ‘isoterminal’ process. On one of our treks we managed to meet with our
Brazilian friends their timetable started and apparently finished with
impeccable precision. Oblivious to the
whereabouts of ‘checked in’ baggage our hand baggage was glowing with
radioactivity due to excessive scanning between terminal dancing routines.
Following French frowning at our original schedule we were led to believe that
our involuntary re-routing was reserved with the 3 alternative flight bookings.
Quest que c’est? Or “What is Theese?” as Mahir would say.
Un jour dans
France was not the intention but at least we received a meal voucher. Steak and
chips just how Jeannette would hate it – blood red, washed down with a few
beers and a few more. The extended delay at CDG gave ample opportunity for
perusal of the duty free shops. I was offered and confess that I savoured and
succumbed to the advances of a delightful seventeen-year-old. Before you get
the wrong idea it was a Bowmore 17yr old single Malt Whisky.
22:25 all aboard an Airbus A330 bound for
Sao Paulo.
Saturday
16th September 2000
Our first
re-arranged flight was peculiar in that the flight number was carried forward
to Rio despite landing and changing planes at Sao Paulo - This Fokke was no
Airbus!
17°C and cloudy
was the order of the day in Sao Paulo as day it now was.
Little
opportunity to view Sao Paulo as there were only minutes before the connection
to Rio, again views of Rio, aside from airport internals, were in short supply
due to overcast weather conditions. “Sugar Loaf is over there somewhere” but
only the nadirs of litter-strewn waterfrontages were visible on final
approaches.
Rio Airport,
again a two terminal facility but interconnection is self-propelled excepting
the assistance of moving walkways. Terminal two, our arrival one, seemed more
domestic in it’s purpose and our attempts to make plan B part two of our
journey were immediately thwarted at check in, despite paying the airport
taxes.
“Sorry sir you
are not registered for this flight” (Many thanks to BA in Paris for their
apparent skill in being consistently crap at organising air travel). “Go to the
Varig Desk” Ok “Well if the plane was not full you would be welcome to travel
but sorry you will have to go on the waiting list”. Ten minutes prior to the
Brasilia flight departure seats were released and the guy at the desk sends us
confusingly to pay taxes that we had already paid. More confusion – flight
missed – ‘we are getting good at this’.
Another missed
flight gave a ‘welcome’ chance to continue our extensive studies of airport
interiors. At Terminal One apart from a tasty burger we managed to update on
the progress or lack of progress on our unfortunate baggage, we apparently
missed one Paris - Sao Paulo flight, the bags, bless em, missed two.
Mon Sewer votre
valise est dans France… still. Would they ever make Rio? Doubtful. Would they
ever be seen again?
Later that day we
were checked in for a flight to Brasilia by a very apologetic guy who had
realised that our missing of the earlier flight was mainly due to his
misunderstanding of the situation but then again our Portuguese left a lot to
be desired.
Having failed
twice on rearranged flights common sense told us to check plan B part three –
same story The Brasilia to Palmas flight was equally insecure! Managed to
secure – we could well make it after all and only one day late.
Tres Fatigue we
arrive in Brasilia 40 hours after leaving South Wales still wearing or should
that be accompanied by the same socks we left home in.
A shower, food
with a couple of beers and sleep before heads touched the pillow.
Sunday
17th September
Refreshed and
eager to resume the marathon trek we returned to Brasilia airport, a rather
half-hearted attempt to locate our missing bags was soon conceded and contingency
plans involving curtailed travel seemed to be the more sensible proposition at
this stage.
“In the absence of clean underwear you can
forget Uruguaiana” was the consensus as we boarded the flight to Palmas
Tocantins. Well that was the sentiment the words may have been somewhat
different!
So exactly one
day later than anticipated Divaldo and Stefano of Ecologica welcomed us at
Palmas Airport and his already amended plans were amended again to allow us a
little time in Palmas. – The idea being that maybe our bags would arrive before
we journeyed off into the interior. So much for ideas. We chilled by the pool
at Divaldo’s house for a few hours and enjoyed the company of some Ecologica
people and the visitors to Wales of recent times. The BBQ was particularly
pleasing and a very appropriate introduction for the inordinate amount of red
meat we were to consume in the days to come.
In the evening
Divaldo took us on a tour of Palmas but our efforts to enjoy the panorama from
an adjacent hillside were halted by the police. The road was closed because a
bus had gone off the road and someone had been killed. Not sure how long the
bus had been where it lay but to witness its resting place and learn of the
death put our travel difficulties in a different light.
We toured in the
air-conditioned confines of Divaldo’s car stopping at an open park area that
seemed to be a very large focal point for local people. A substantial fountain
offered a variety of differing displays and refreshed the many onlookers. Civic
buildings were much in evidence and their contemporary styles verified the
youthfulness of Palmas Tocantins. Divaldo recounted that Palmas was growing at
a staggering rate from 3 to 160 thousand people in about ten years. Why? No not
just a good Catholic country, we were told that rural depopulation was the main
cause, the poor indigenous farming communities continue to be attracted to the
‘city lights’ in the hope of prosperity. Yet I could not detect anything other
than centrally funded government administrative jobs aside from usual service
type employment, surely this prolific growth rate must have some socio-economic
basis but where? The material divide between rich and poor is patently obvious
and rural farmers have still to learn that the streets of Palmas are not paved
with gold. To address problematical
farming techniques is one thing but the urbanisation of large numbers of rural
people can also create real social problems.
Strange that in a
community where ‘communism,’ in it’s most literal popular conception prevails,
they have erected a monument graphically depicting the overthrow of some
Brazilian Communists.
Enough political
ramblings, the solutions to life’s problems became clearly visible through the
bottom of a beer glass and the Brazilian efforts to retain cold beer in the
sweltering heat are impressive.
Again close
encounters of the pillow variety in the air-conditioned bedrooms chez Divaldo
were very welcome in the scorching heat.
Monday
18th September
08:00 off to
work, well to the offices of Ecologica to be precise. Apologies to anyone
offended by this observation but little wonder Divaldo has a happy disposition,
the offices are full to overflowing with ‘Brazilian Works of Art’ (sorry I
cannot remember all their names).
Soon the Press
arrive and wish to interview the intrepid travellers returning from Wales and a
few questions for us also but we are spared TV interview due to our very
limited language abilities. – Munto Obrigaddo.
An extremely
speculative return to the Airport with the slender hope that our luggage might
be on the same continent as ourselves. (Just
in case our cases were ‘just in’).
Every cloud has a
silver lining and if it were not for the loss of our cases I would not have had
the rewarding challenge of buying clothes in this strange land. Outfitting my
ample proportions in the UK is not always easy so why should in the depths of
Brazil in Portuguese be any different? Size G-G located.
We eat a buffet
style meal at ridiculously low cost and then we start. Six of us in a small 2
door Coupe we hit the road on the long drive to Caseara many hundreds of
Kilometres away.
The roads are
linear in a way Romans would have been proud of and some of the stretches are
very reminiscent of Monument valley in Arizona, if you like accessories on your
vehicles then Air conditioning is far more useful than Power Steering.
Progress is
interrupted briefly by the Tocantins River. The Ferry, or more precisely the
floating barge that is shunted across, provides a welcome opportunity to stretch
legs and sipping the milk of fresh Coconuts purchased on board is an experience
not to be missed.
Travelling
onwards the terrain to both sides is of mixed Vegetation. We are still some
distance from ‘true’ Amazonian Rain Forest, this is very much a transitional
area but all around there are outbreaks of burning. The burn rate however seems
to defy science or at least my understanding of combustion. I thought that in
this heat the burn would be wild and frantic similar to those experienced in
Southern California in recent years but not so. The burn seems very slow,
remarkably slow, but effective as many areas show the histories of previous
burning. Post burning, some trees stand proudly defiant and alive having
survived the ravages of fire.
Leaving behind
the luxury of Tarmac roads we travel on dirt tracks reaching the home of Gerci
late afternoon. The house is of Brick construction but no Electricity so
lighting and cooking is from portable gas appliances. Water is drawn from the
well nearby, adjacent it might be but the water is a long way down! A field to
the rear is full of Manyon, a root vegetable which if anything resembles potato
but they harvest the crop and prepare in a variety of methods, most often it is
ground to a coarse flour like consistency and served on salads. We tried the
raw and were pleasantly surprised at its carrot like crunchiness and fine
flavour. We also nibbled at the ‘Pikki’ a local delicacy not much appreciated
by our western tongues. The flavour defies comparison but more than that if you
are over zealous in attacking the Pikki and break into its innards your mouth
will be full of very sharp needle like barbs.
Back to the dirt
track and only a short distance away we arrive at the nursery at Caseara, which
adjoins the Santa Barbara School. Caseara nursery was the first to be opened by
the project and to see it full of many differing plants somehow made everything
seem worthwhile. Two young students were attempting to find reasons why one
particular specimen was ailing. The need was for different kind of ‘Plant’ Technician. The inability to provide
a solution to a faulty irrigation pump merely compounded our feelings of
impotence, but solutions to mechanical problems are elusive in this remote
area.
The school was
basic in every sense, no electricity, no running water just a large hand pump
and ‘hole in the ground’ toilet facilities.
Northwards again
over dirt and some tarmac we arrive at the ‘town’ of Caseara where Neidline is
re-united with her family. This amazing six-year-old was welcomed back but
perhaps more poignantly her younger baby sister was evidently overjoyed to see
the return of her surrogate ‘six year old mother’.
A very materially poor community
consistent with other settlements viewed en route. Poor by all our recognised
definitions but if they are unhappy at their circumstances they certainly did
not show it.
A short
refreshment halt in a local ‘café’ where we met a worker from the nursery then
it was forever onwards southbound into the darkness over many miles of dirt
tracks. Passing many isolated settlements and remote farms we disembarked for a
difficult traverse of a dry riverbed, the rickety bridge was too feeble to
accept even our small vehicle. Battered, hot and sticky we arrive at Cangucu
and immediately we are welcomed by Roseanne, a phenomenal lady, who had
prepared a magnificent meal especially for our arrival.
The accommodation
at Cangucu is very impressive considering its location, the bedrooms sleep up
to four people have en suite bathrooms supplied with pumped /filtered river
water for all ablutions. Entombed within the ‘Muzzy’ nets sleep again is much
appreciated.
Tuesday
19th September
Daylight reveals
more Cangucu secrets and I marvel at its substantial structure, brick toilets
spring to mind but this is timber at its best. Animals and Artwork harmonise
but the intrusive beat of the Diesel generator and computer terminals give a
surreal view to this amazing construction.
After breakfast its
‘Cast off forward’ as Auriman, Diego, Dave and I set sail (well 15hp outboard
actually) downstream (North) on the Javaes River. Forget zoos, this is it,
within minutes we encounter numerous differing species of wild life too
numerous to list before or after Portuguese translation. A number of Jacare
(Crocodiles) were basking on a sandy beach (or should that be reach in a
river?) their peace shattered by the approaching verb of our outboard engine
they glide effortlessly back into the depths. Onwards we travel arriving at
another scene of peace disturbance. A Jaguar had predated upon 8 large
Amazonian turtles; at least that was the speculation since most of the turtles
were still very much intact. Apparently it is not unknown that Jaguars attack
like this but the extent of the kill was disturbing. The black vultures were
eager to accept the invitation to dine.
One poor
unfortunate turtle lay dying, fatally injured with no hope of survival on the
sand, Auriman and Diego carried this massive creature to the water and it
managed to swim into deeper water but with open wounds its chances of survival
against water born predators were minimal. We journeyed on by boat stopping at
one of the Ibama bases on Bananal Island there we met a Biologist and Vet nary
student who were researching the nesting habits of the turtles. They to were
distressed to hear of the turtle slaughter and returned to the scene to
continue their research taking samples from the victims.
This threatened
species can live for longer than humans but their changing habitat has left
them exposed to extinction. They nest on the river banks but their slow
progress up the sand, laden with eggs, makes them particularly vulnerable to
Jaguars or even human hunters.
We return to the
centre grateful of Diego our guides expertise in navigating the shallow parts
of the river, getting out to push when crocodiles abound was not really an
attractive proposition no matter how timid they were!
Back at Cangucu
we discuss some of the history of Bananal Island and learn that in 1995 the
Brazilian government stopped between 500 - 1000 families using the island for
farming purposes. They were not really indigenous to the island but about 40-50
years ago the surrounding areas became very dry and the island being fluvial retained
water, consequently the wetlands became very attractive to these people for
raising cattle in the dry season. Assistance to re-locate was given and after
‘political’ difficulties with the area near Lago-dos-Confusao eventually a lot
of the displaced people found the inhabitants and land around Christalandia and
Pium suitable for resettlement.
The federal
directive asserts the National Park Status and now prohibits anyone from living
on the island within the Araguaia National Park.
Funi – this is a Federal
body for the protection of the indigenous Indians that live in the southern
part of Bananal Island. Differing laws apply to these people but their culture
is very much threatened as non- indigenous people seek to exploit the situation
by paying the Indians to hunt and fish on their behalf. I formed the opinion
that, with or without tangible Carbon capture, the social consequence of the
project in re-enforcing the isolation of Bananal Island can only be viewed
positively.
We took time out
to view the research centre and again marvel at the resourcefulness of
Roseanne, to say she is an active environmentalist would be a gross
understatement. I was staggered to see that she and her husband make paper out
of… well basically anything, rice, pineapple, onion and garlic skins, palm
leaves, old magazines, shirts, wheat, orange peel, sugar cane and an assortment
of grasses. What use is all that paper?
Well if you could
see the papier-mâché artwork that adorns the walls of Cangucu all would become
clear.
At around 4pm we
depart along the dusty tracks towards Christelandia arriving at Marcelais’s
house before dark. There was just time to wash and brush up before guests
started to arrive. Marcelais had invited a lot of her schoolteacher colleagues
and friends along for food and merriment. A wonderful evening was provided and
the hospitality extended by our hostess was second to none. The 17 year-old
Bowmore single malt Whisky would have looked nice in my collection at home but
a more fitting occasion for its consumption would never again present itself.
So if in years to come a strange affinity for Scotch Whisky emanates from
central Brazil perhaps you have the answer.
Wednesday
20th September
After breakfast
it’s off to school where we meet with two classes of children aged about twelve
years old. They quiz us on the whys and wherefores of the project asking
similar searching questions to those asked by Welsh Schoolchildren. I thought
explaining combined cycle power stations in South Wales was difficult enough but
in Brazil using
Portuguese is
even more ‘fun’. We viewed the schools efforts on the re-cycling topic and
recognise that this is very much a novel concept in Tocantins, - maybe disposal
of unwanted goods is far less a problem when there are too few goods to start
with.
A ten-minute
stroll across town in the sweltering heat was a thoroughly enjoyable trek in
the company of what seemed like hundreds of schoolchildren. On the outskirts of
town every man and his dog was in attendance to witness our official opening of
the nursery.
Media coverage
included three TV crews and they were busy interviewing local dignitaries,
teachers, Ecologica people and via interpreters ourselves, I think they
believed we were VIP’s from afar, one interviewer seemed a little surprised
when told I was only a turbine jockey. Anyway the ceremony went well with
speeches and unveiling of the notice board to signify the opening, Dave and I
then proceeded to plant a Cagu tree at the front of nursery before climbing up
the steep hill to savour pastries and juice prepared in our honour.
We return to
school after a brief lunch break at Marcelais’ house, well more break than
lunch since recent over indulgence and elevated temperatures had seriously
impacted appetites. In the afternoon we took time to view the very strong
social messages portrayed on the school perimeter, undoubtedly artwork but what
would be the attitudes of British teachers be to the graphically explicit
drawings on sex, drugs and alcohol? We were invited into an English lesson with
older pupils and again exchanged views on Carbon sequestration and Power
generation but this time the questions were a little more technically probing.
Returning to the
road we travel to a crystal mine to see some of the crystals responsible for
the Christalandia name. They appear in abundance, why I could not say, but
considering my geological knowledge is limited to watching the ‘Flintstones’ on
the flight to South America it’s hardly surprising. On the road again and
returning to Palmas we stay at Divaldo’s overnight and enjoy a quiet evening by
the pool with Cheese and Wine before retiring. An eventful day for travel,
school visits TV appearances etc but without doubt my biggest story of the day
was to be re-united with my long lost luggage!
Thursday
21st September
Our
final day in Tocantins we spend time at the Ecologica offices discussing the
project progress and the administrative change sought by Ecologica to establish
the Ecologica Institute. With a few small reservations I concluded that the project
was very well structured and felt confident that Ecologica were advancing along
lines consistent with our views. Maybe some of the project components were
developing in ways that were not envisaged initially but basically it appears
to be progressing well. Formal meetings concluded, lunch meant that we had to
partake of more Brazilian beef before our evening flight to Brasilia.
You may recall
this tale had no beginning and now you learn it has no end – We are off to
Uruguaiana.
But that is another story!
Colin Stokes October 2000