Meeting the Tribe

Recommended by the tourism information this was my only option as the guide I came to find, Pato Juanak, wasn’t in town. We agreed on $100 per day, walking back to the hotel for my bagpack a man with a case full of maps stopped me. He spoke slow Spanish for once I absorbed every word.  He asked how I’d come to speak to the two men at the rio Napo docs and what were my intentions? His speed doubled with his hand on my shoulder to take me back to the waterfront, who should I trust? This guy looked shadier than the two I'd just shook hands with, and I’ve just agreed to go with them; trying to stop and turn back he almost pulled me round the corner.

And then I knew why…

Walking towards me was a small stalky tribesman; his genes brought with them raised cheekbones and long hair as he carried 2 fingers and 1 thumb on his left hand. Now side by side I asked if he was going to be my guide, without looking at me his chin held high as he stared straight forward to reply.... "si"

His name was Penti, and from this moment forward he proved to be somewhat of a protector. We agreed on $120 per day, I couldn’t stop smiling, think he liked me too. My luck had changed as Penti never came to town, he was here for the private tribal “fiesta” supplies, which I would now be a part of, and later learned I was about to be the first person to visit them alone, without a guide or translator and travel with the actual tribe themselves as they went home.

Heading back to the hotel for my bagpack we agreed on 1 hour to meet back at the waterfront, walking back we met again he was coming to my hotel, from the bank I withdrew 8 days of dollars and handed 4 days in a half now half when I’m still alive deal. He asked me to wait at the rio Napo.

Time had passed as his son came to check on me, brining me to a dark back street to wait, puppies and chickens locked in cages next to food stalls, homes made from sheet metal, eyes followed my every move, local men walked closer to stare through eyebrows from inches away, I would not have been there on my own. Penti came round the corner with 2 elderly ladies, 2 young women one with a baby, 3 teenage boys 1 teenage girl and a small girl with a puppy. Very difficult to put into words the way Penti's 5 year old grandaughter E'ta pushed through the locals sizing me up to show an enourmous beaming smile with tiny baby teeth and huge brown eyes, in seconds I felt soothed just by the gesture its self, taking my hand off the tomohawk handle.

The Waorani tribe had come for the celebration supplies, by truck for two hours they sat in the back with chickens and my bagpack, I sat in the front with the driver, it was late when we arrived at a jungle lodge where I happily let go of $10 for a private room. The next morning waking at 6:45 we left to take a 10 hour motorised canoe along the rio Shiripuno, by 07:00 we were on our way but not everyone that was there the night before was present, before I’d arrived they had already loaded the supplies as Penti added my bagpack to the mix sliding down the mud he pointed up at the oil pipes changing the pointed finger to a stern closed fist, Penti spoke broken Spanish well but not native, he explained a story about oil companies.  Sitting in the canoe they smiled and greeted me with curious touching of my tattoos. I couldn’t help notice they cherished the large new supply they had come by, and was happy to be a part of the fiesta catering.