Limol #1

Wow, we just arrived in Limol and I can't believe it. What a long, difficult journey filled with surprises and gratitude. 

Musato found us a boat and boatman to take us to Limol Saturday morning. Our original hire had been thwarted by the infamous Sam George who took us to Limol our first year. We went down to the wharf on a prayer, hoping that a boat and boatman would appear. Before ours did, a boat came in with a man who had fallen off the boat onto his motor. His arm was very badly cut, and a big crowd surrounded him as he was helped to the hospital. When our boat arrived, we had also amassed a crowd for much happier reasons. The boat was smaller than we would have liked - we had to leave some people behind - but we did fit all of the gifts and supplies that we bought for Limol under two large tarps. I was very pleased with the packing except two large pots with handles were placed behind my seat of honor to dig into my back for the next two days. 

The ride through the Pacific and Fly River was pretty smooth sailing. A constant spray of water kept me wet and covered in salt, and made it difficult to keep sunscreen on in the hot, direct sun. Our motor was smaller than our first year in and we only made it as far as the mouth of the Bituri before nightfall. As I had hoped, we did sail down the Bituri to enjoy the beautiful trees that explode with fireflies at night. We arrived at a sleepy riverside village quite late, and trudged through a few feet of mud before making it to the mainland. Luckily we had thought ahead and had everything we needed to sleep in a separate bag.

We stayed in a Magayam village called N-- in an Ende woman's house. The village was right on the river, but that meant a hike through knee-deep mud and a ton of mosquitos. We cleaned up as best we could and went straight to bed. Grace and I shared my small mosquito net. The heat from our sun burns radiated, filling the room and making for a long, hot, strange sleep. We woke in the morning to find that the boatmen required even more fuel (we bought it). We also saw a juvenile cassowary and a pig! We slugged back through the mud after a breakfast of bread and peanut butter to continue our trip. 

Our second day on the boat was much more eventful than the first. We made constant stops along the Bituri to wait for the water and tides to change. The breaks on the riverside forced you to either slog through the mud into some shade or stay a few hours in the boat under the sun. We covered an umbrella with my rain jacket to try and protect us from the UV and heat and it worked better than yesterday. We slowly floated past villages and junctions until we finally reached the junction to Limol. A huge storm cloud had rolled in and we could see thunder and lightning in the distance. 

This was the most difficult part of our journey. The creek to Limol is narrow and shallow and requires plenty of pushing, pulling, and slogging to get the heavy boat through. This effort was carried out mostly by the women, including us, but was really only effective when the guys put out their cigarettes and pushed from outside the boat. This terrible channel was filled with admonishments from Wagiba (don't push, you'll hurt yourselves, you don't know how!) and terrifying cracks of lightning that didn't seem to bother our lazy boatmen. It took nearly three hours to push the boat through, in pouring rain/insects and with cut hands and feet. I cried hot tears of anger only once when I slipped and hit my knee while pushing; Wagiba told me to sit down and the men were sitting watching in the rain. But I got back out and yelled 1-2-3-push until the whole boat got going and we eventually made it through. Only twice did the lightning crack right above us, it was so loud and reminded me of my climb up Mount Olympos in Greece. I told Lauren the story and sang Russian folk songs to pass the time. 

When we made it through the channel, it was too dark to go fast to the canoe place, so we inched along until we arrived - everyone from Limol who had come to greet us had already gone home. We unloaded the boat onto the tarps, tried to clean our dirty feet to stick in hiking boots, grabbed our heaviest most essential bags, and began the 45-minute hike up to Limol. I followed a young girl named Amanda, who had been on the boat with us, and her little feet struck the ground in a sort of meditative way that I forgot about my heavy bags and quickly made it into the village. We passed three groups of men and women coming down to help with the bags. Such lovely people and so generous. 

We arrived in Limol at midnight - the village was dark and disorienting. The grass is tall in many parts and many new homes have been built. Our house has been expanded. Matthew (the owner and Warama and Wagiba's other son) has returned and there is now a beautiful garden out front. The language house was taken down and replaced by one that is twice as big with two long tables and benches. Beautiful. We bathed with buckets under the house, shook out the floor mats (and spiders!) and went to bed around 3:00 am. So so happy to be here. Now it is time to get up, get clean, and get greeting people!

Until tomorrow,

Kate