searching for pedro bach in the obligations of the forest
| Jimmy Weiskopf |
215 |
And that’s it? I asked myself. I was nevertheless impressed by the two men Jhonny got into a conversation with: one the director, who lived in the back, and the other an elder of the Tikuna community. In my experience, the pride in indigenous culture that motivated such efforts often had a bitter or militant edge. But they ruefully acknowledged that the museum was only a gesture towards the younger generation that might or might not do some good. No, the museum was great, Jhonny told them, particularly the posters on their language, with some of the common phrases alongside the translation into Portuguese and the phonetics. I already knew that he had a smattering of a few Indian languages, but this was my first inkling of his amazing facility. Tikuna, it seemed, was as tough as Chinese for the practically imperceptible intonations that might give one word six different meanings and he mastered their examples of it straightaway. Enchanted by something in the sounds absent from the objects, I bought a C.D. of their traditional music on the way out and when I looked at the little photo, surmised that the notice I’d seen at Enrique’s office was for a Tikuna menstruation ritual.
[From Pedro’s diary]
***
Just when it’s going right, it goes wrong for me again, but may turn out to have been a blessing in disguise. Three days doing a huge harvest, another two for the wood, borrowed some pots and got down to it, all going well until the boss has some second thoughts, suspect it’s that Brazilian freak badmouthing me behind my back. Resents me for being white, educated, clean-minded and so forth, but it’s underhand, sucks up till I’m sick of the sight of him. There’s something else—bad energy when the three of us are drinking on our own. Macumbeiro28, if ever I saw one! What tipped me off was his interest in my pipe the other night. Grabs it from me, supposedly just to have a look. Never seen one like it before: so big, with the quality wood and fine carving. Fixing his eyes on it, muttering something, fills it, hands it back. Here, try this, some special tobacco I have, happened to be out, so I did, tasted alright, but almost at once I got a warning in the miraçao, recited protective chant I learned from the Ashaninka29. Only works so far, so the next day went to Leticia, to be clear of his influence and also check in with that fellow Milos, possibility of doing something at his lodge. While I’m waiting for him there, look at a notice for this special ritual I’d already heard about, but without knowing the details, and all of sudden I’m sure it’s meant for me. Then I remember I haven’t got the cash to get to Puerto Nariño, and this gal brushes up against