chapter_08

- Between Order and Chaos -

Trip from Saarbrücken to Lethem. How many people know about Castle City.


Ernst ist einer Blötmann. Just for the record on account this has to be objective recording of the truth and nothing but.

_bunnie stop_

The waiting game. Mr. Chaos was pushing us to be done so he could get back to Lethem so he could work on a tractor. Now we sit and watch the time, cows, steer, houses, chickens, pig, buzzards and parrots roll by. Which is okay by me. Ernst has over 10 hours of footage and almost everything we wanted and a lot more of things we hadn't expected.

It's Wednesday today. I don't know if we drive today. It keeps getting later every minute. We'll have Friday the 13th with a full moon in 2 days. Gerry wanted to fly us out. I'd be up for it if he had a place for us.

Suppose I should look at the scenery. May never sit here again. I wouldn't mind. I can handle Carl and Ashley. Good people.

Funny thing is, I'm a little home sick for Canada. Not to go live, just drop in on friends. Stay and visit my parents for a couple weeks.

And after that, I need some serious loving.

_bunnie stop_

I went for a swim. An hour or so of lying in the river. Almost as warm as I make my bath water. Not quite as deep though. Birds flying about, one of them a kingfisher, he sort of made it the point where I decided to go back. So up out of the sandbank and a long walk back to find everything at the foot of the steps. The train was about to leave.

Well almost. We took everything out to the river, loaded the boat, unloaded on the other side and Peter realises the sun is going down.

Ah, why we going. Funny, I wondered that before I started the packing deal, I think I knew it about the time I went for a swim. The day was late and the trail long.

So to keep a short story short, we are back at Daranawa Ranch what we didn't yet leave but had a nice go at it. Even had the Land Rover running.

Now it could be that Sharla is here. She's pissed at Pete. Ernst is also pissed at Pete. I don't know if I care to give a fuck. What's the difference if I have a nice sleep in a comfortable bed and attack the trip in the morning or go fight our way with a fucked up truck through a trail what isn't the same one day to the next and at many places deep swamp, I mean let it go. It's not as if sitting in the middle of no where with nothing to bug us but the odd bug, hell, what's for supper?

_bunnie stop_

It's October the 14th now. We survived the Friday the 13th with full moon and black cats and Ernst climbing long wooden ladders.

We decided to race up to Dianne's estate to get some shots.

After a few radio contacts and breakfast, we started our new journey. The 3 hour journey. Which meant lunch time.

But the truck had other ideas. It's not really a truck. It looks like a truck; it's more a collection of parts. Not really properly taken care of.

We stopped the odd time for minor adjustments and pushing and cranking until it was clear that the fuel pump was just not going to get us to our destination. This was realised under the noon day sun in the middle of the savannahs, not at all that far from the equator. Which meant it was just about impossible to stay out of the sun if you weren't hiding under the truck.

So we strapped the spare can of gas on the spare tire on the hood of our trusty Land Rover. Peter clamped the hose to the fuel to the carburettor and we continued without the bloody fuel pump.

The three-hour trip took seven hours and after another bit of filming we sat to our five o'clock lunch.

Fish they had caught in the river. I ate as much as I needed for my hunger then the same amount again just to enjoy the taste as long as possible.

After filming a few caiman down at the water, we had coffee and tea and watched the sun slide away behind us and the moon come up in front of us. Still as full as the night before and bright as a spotlight at a prison camp in the jungle of Vietnam.

Never been there, so I don't know how bright they are.

And Sam & Pete and I started telling stories. Cliff, Pete's son, was drifting off.

Sam loves fishing and prefers it out here. No town or village nonsense. He used to drive bush truck from Lethem to Georgetown and back and forth over the trail. Before the road, which is still pretty grim. Talk about winching up hills and out of mud. Waiting a day for another truck to pass by and turn you back on your wheels after falling on the side. Product going bad when you are stuck in a sea of mud and no one comes by.

And Pete about his mining camps and the trail and the bush and I get the feeling you could have adventures here still.

Today we got up at the crack of dawn, had tea or coffee and got in the boats and paddled up stream looking for things to film on our way to see the giant water lilies what you gotta see early on account by 9 they have folded up for the day. Usually with a beetle trapped in there till the next evening when it would open again, the lily, and the beetle, now covered in pollen, could fly to another water lily.

Very beautiful, the leaves that sit on the water are monstrous. Like something out of a jungle story or something.

Sam & Cliff caught a couple piranhas on the way back. Very big and pretty. Even their bloody red eyes and their shark teeth. We might eat them for lunch. They aren't really as dangerous as they show in the movies but I wouldn't feel so comfortable swimming in the same river as them.

But as long as you aren't bleeding it's not so dangerous.

We gotta go back to Lethem, I'd stay here a while if I could. Which if we weren't filming would mean when I make more money then I do. They want good money to put you up. It's hard to get supplies in here and they feed you and service you quite royally here. It's a place for freaks. I mean, I'd take my parents here if we could fly in but don't know if they would go for the bats about your head in the trash roof.

One sleeps with a mosquito net. And sometimes one gets bit when one isn't in bed. That's normal for outside. I've had much more black fly and mosquito terror in Canada.

Nap time now here in the hammock with the, do they still call them ham radios. Roger - 10 17, 10 17...

_bunnie stop_

The trip back was a little quicker. We left Cliff to fish another day and bumped over the trail back to Lethem. Fuel pump again not working so a hose from the can. And the sun went down and I don't feel like talking about the savannahs ablaze and it was like a dream. Everything smelling like a chimney. The fire a mile long, dancing against the dark sky and burned ground. And finally we passed it with flames licking the side of our trusty Land Rover. So I won't. I mean, I won't talk of it now.

I'll go to bed now. We are in Georgetown again waiting for luggage. Seems the thing here. Which always adds to the stress level, which I don't need on account we have tonight and tomorrow night then back to Germany. Which is pretty well my home and I've had enough of Guyana for now. It is a beautiful land and some beautiful people but either it isn't ready for me or I ain't ready for it. I suppose if one found one's place, it would change fast enough. There certainly are some lovely women.

But most of them want out. 2/3 of the population lives somewhere other than Guyana. America, Canada, England. 2 million. Which says something. But America will buy in and start their Americanisation, stabilisation, Christianisation plan.

First the churches
Then the schools
Then the soldiers
Then the rules.

_bunnie stop_

Finally a rainy day to finish up our trip. We are waiting for our luggage from Lethem still. For Ernst it is several thousands of dollars, marks, or Euro of equipment. For me it isn't so much, just a little hard on the nerves. I want to be on my way home, I've had enough of this lack of communication chaos nothing get happening land. It's only good if you don't have things to do. And I'm not in that situation anymore. You never know whom you can trust on account money is a new religion here. In the western world it has been around long enough. Here you never know who will do what for what.

Ring - it should be here at 12:00

_bunnie stop_

He had to pay to make sure it gets on. A little odd the whole thing. Gerry said he'd get us back up here on a complimentary flight and now we are wondering if it ain't a scam form Pete and Derick to take the 14,000 dollars and send us a bullshit receipt.

If they expect to open this place up for tourism they have to operate in a way that these kind of suspicions don't come up. Now I have to ask Gerry and tell him this whole con jog begging and rip off attitude just doesn't cut it for the tourism they want to do. On the other hand, it makes it more of an adventure to know these people are so hungry for your money. They'll do almost anything to get it.

We'll talk about Mr. Chaos later.

_bunnie stop_

Try getting something organised in Guyana. I mean if you have nothing better to do. That's of course from a German viewpoint. Not that I have a German viewpoint but most of my viewing has been in Germany the last 7 years.

"Hello, I'd like to talk to Terry Heldon, my name is..."

"He's out to lunch."

"Who isn't. I'll try later."

I mean, I said he can call me but he didn't so I did.

"Hello, Steve here, what up, is the man there or he don't talk."

"He not at his desk, man, he other where."

"Well hot dam, have him call me if he has a spare minute."

"Okay."

"You me too."

Try again.

"Hello, hello, hello."

"This is a machine."

"Hello."

"This is Steve."

"Click. Talk to the machine."

"Nice to see public relation at GT&T has no interest in even telling the German people they have no interest in the German people and would rather just not be in all day. Have a nice day."

Try other story.

"Hi Sharon."

This is the sixth time here.

"Hi Steve."

A voice to melt ice caps. And she is naturally a natural beauty. Just for the record. It doesn't pertain to the story except she might have been the one woman that might have convinced me I was in love with her. Which is likely just the heat of the country. Or something like it and this ain't a love story. Dam it. It's: can I get a confirmation that Sharla gets out of Lethem like Gerry said she would and why can't I talk to someone other than someone I can't talk to because they aren't there. Someone has to have the say there. What up?

So finally I get Mrs. Gouveia to talk to and the problem is gone.

Lesson to be learned. Go straight to the top if you want to save time.

But if you want to hear Sharon's sweet voice, wait for something to happen. And it likely won't.

And what up anyway.

Anyhow, the thing is really; it is a frontier land with a long way to go. They got TV so they know what they want now. Hopefully they don't make the mistake the rest of the smart-ass first world countries have made and chop down and murder species of animals out of short sighted, idiotic greed.

We can't point our fingers; we gotta make desperate calculated action. These bloody last bits of wild are making oxygen, which I've mentioned, as have others, before, we are terminally addicted to.

I don't know who the hell, well I know but it's only a theoretical knowledge on account I don't ever really see who's doing what behind the scenes on account they are always behind the scenes, but this American Christian propiganda that alcohol is the sacrament and drugs are evil, hello, is alcohol free of the drug classification? How'd cigarettes get freed? What up with caffeine or teaeine or what all not.

There is a serious alcohol problem here and no one gives a fuck.

Because alcohol makes you better -

I'm not religious, well, that's a lie, I'm too religious, just try not to define what it is, anyhow. Someone knocked on the door. The bill what I ask for on account we take off tomorrow.

Nice place this house actually. The Rima Guest House. Not luxury but certainly comfortable and reasonable. What ain't often the case here.

But it's the same madness, not the guesthouse, the city. This poverty thing; with little islands of wealth, or something resembling it, where the outside man can enjoy his little luxuries fenced off from the outside. It's not so serious as other places; one can be out at night if one is careful and armed to the teeth. Just kidding. But there is danger. The danger of desperation. The hungry man is an angry man and they aren't so dumb as not to know that we, the first world, have been very little help to their situation. Bring the Africans over as slaves. Brought them to new lands but it wasn't at anyone's request. And they, the poor people may not have rights or justice or any of those altruistic bullshit lines we like to drop around like Pete's favourite, empower the Amerindian. It's all bullshit. We have made a fuckin' mess of most everything with our short sighted greed.

So now what. So now we better think about if we want to make things a little less desperate.

Of course there are advantages to the over the over lords, the capitalistic giants, to have poverty, hate, violence and what not. It's true we ain't designed to be content with a utopia. Heaven is a lame thing to sell when no one wants it. We want to struggle. But fuck; let's try something else now. This fuck off attitude, fuck you if you ain't like me baboon mentality has been beaten around long enough.

Stay tune for world shattering news on how to make a planet work so we don't gotta go hating and whatnot and get on with the real struggle we got and that is: keep this planet form dying, and it certainly has a serious illness like what we call the humans and all. And the meteorite thing. And aliens. and musak and soap operas.

And what all.

_bunnie stop_





by john rah, editorial lack of assistance from barbaralba, thanks anyway

go to number nine, the last in this story, which is only part of the big story of namor and barbaralba



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