Broken axles & lolling locals
If you’ve been following my adventures over the last few issues, you may remember the decidedly dilapidated minibus that was waiting for us on the opposite bank of the Rio Telire, to carry us on the remainder of our journey into the heart of the Talamanca jungle, and for the duration of the next 5 days.
With its screaming clutch, blistered paint, desiccated seat covers and wonky chassis, clearly, it had seen some action.
And it was on day 4 of 5, that it finally shuffled off its automotive coil.
After a full morning treating indigenous BriBri tribespeople, we’d had another delicious home cooked lunch back at Radio Cultural La Voz in Amubri village, then boarded the minibus to head off to the first location of the afternoon session.
A handful of kilometres and half an hour later, the squawks of scarlet macaws above, the dense jungle in every direction, we threw on our rain ponchos and donned our backpacks ready for whatever the afternoon had in store.
Splitting into 2 groups, a Hands with Heart team leader and 2 Bri Bri guides with each, we moved off in opposite directions into the dense canopy, to find the homes of the next patients on the list.
The first house that afternoon was set in a clearing amid a large expanse of soft green grass, dotted with grumpy chickens and white Muscovy ducks. A pair of tethered mules briefly raised their heads, as a tribeswoman carrying the day’s crop in a bag suspended from her forehead passed through, a pig and a dog at her heels.
Respecting BriBri tradition, we waited a few metres away from the single story, block built structure, as our guide called out to the family elder to announce our arrival, and to request permission to enter. A wave from the doorway, and we approached the house, removing our wellies before stepping onto the raised concrete porch.
Entering the home single file, our eyes adjusted to the darkness beneath the corrugated metal roof, the only light in the narrow hallway peeking around the edges of a window draped with a heavy blanket. One by one we introduced ourselves to the family elders, shaking hands, repeating the traditional Bribri phrases of respect and gratitude, in a manner, which after almost 4 days living within the indigenous community had become almost second nature, and set to finding out what the family needed, and how we could best help them.
A couple of hours later, 2 elders and 2 children successfully treated, we said our goodbyes to humans and livestock alike, and hiked back through the trees to find the minibus to carry us onward to our second location of the afternoon. Already waiting, doors open, we hopped aboard, to find a newly acquired passenger.
Head thrown back over the metal seat frame, heels up on the seat in front, grinning ear to ear, a plastic bottle of the local firewater thrust into the air in greeting, the extremely friendly young chap was absolutely soused off his bazookas!
The engine idling, our driver, guides and team leader discussed the schedule for the rest of the afternoon as our inebriated friend lolled his head side to side, unable to focus; it really was a very funny few minutes, as he chatted away utterly unintelligibly, as we took turns to push him back onto his seat each time he swerved into the aisle.
But up front there was an issue, it seemed we needed to be heading in the opposite direction to pick up the other team, but the dirt road was not only rutted and extremely narrow, it was lined either side by a dense screen of banana and cacao trees as far as the eye could see. We were already pressed for time if we wanted to reach all of the patients on today’s list, and combined with the lack of somewhere to turn the minibus around without travelling a long way in the wrong direction, this was clearly a bit of a problem, given that we had limited time remaining in the jungle.
A moment of tension, as the team decided how best to proceed, when suddenly, in a moment of sheer bravado, our lovely, though it would turn out, misguided driver, threw caution to the wind, attempted to hang a U-ey, and slammed us nose first into a ditch. There was a very loud bang, followed closely by what can only be described as a wail of despair from the direction of the driver’s seat, and well, that was that.
Miraculously, after a lot of grinding of gears, and muttered obscenities, he eventually managed to manoeuvre us out of the ditch, all of us still aboard, Horacio home-brew completely oblivious to the drama.
We got out to ascertain what level of catastrophe we were dealing with. And there was our horror-stricken driver, standing in the middle of the track in front of the minibus, head in hands. Prior to our sudden plunge off piste, the front axle of the minibus had already clearly seen better days, but it was now, most definitely, an ex-axle: The front axle was no more.
So the situation was…..the other team were waiting to be collected, we were a long way from a workshop, there wasn’t likely to be a tow truck available this side of the river, and time was getting on. We needed a plan, we also needed a phone signal.
Our guides leapt into action and marched off to find higher ground with less tree cover. 20 minutes later they were back with good news. Someone was en route to collect us. Another 10 minutes passed, until finally we heard a vehicle approaching, and there it was, our saviour, the school bus! With team 2 already aboard!
Now facing in the right direction, we wedged ourselves in, and off we went to our next destination, to finish what would turn out to be a very long day indeed.
To this day I don’t know how long our driver waited with the bus, or where it went, or how it got fixed so quickly. Or in fact, what happened to our new friend. But the next morning to our amazement, there was our driver looking a far sight less stressed than the last time we’d seen him, waiting at the entrance to Koswak Lodge, our home in the jungle, alongside the now burned into my memory forever, white and sky blue minibus, with its spanking new front axle.
Astonished, but happy to see that both driver and bus were fighting fit and raring to go, we climbed aboard, and headed off to treat the last few patients of our jungle mission, before our final stop, a very traditional and very special cacao ceremony.
