May 19, 2017

That was a pretty eventful day. I'll try to keep it short. In brevity lies the spice, if at all, and after all, blog visitors are doomed to read and can't just feast their eyes on the pictures I can't upload.
In the morning, Mishkin, the Frenchwoman living in Ecuador, decided to continue on to Riobamba. She had come to visit Tzama and he had not returned as planned. He would only return in the next day, if at all. She knows how much she can rely on such statements.
At noon, Herrmann, Tzama's brother, the one with the white pickup truck, would pick her up and take her to the main road where she can catch the bus to Macas. On a whim, I decide to join. Not to Macas, but to 16 de agosto, where I can catch the bus to Palora. That's where I want to upload my reports and photos to the blog.
Herrmann even takes me to Palora.
He says he'll pick me up right at four. Three and a half hours for working on the blog? Too much!
At the Sol del Oriente hotel, I settle in, order lunch, and plug in the tablet. Now the automatic backup of photos through Google Photos should be running. And it is. After I upload and publish the unedited text, it's time to upload the photos. But the damn thing is currently downloading a software update for the operating system at a speed that bodes ill. So that won't work.
In the meantime, I can at least calmly, more or less without problems, talk to Andi on WhatsApp. It's good, but it hurts. It reminds me that everything is much easier at home than it is here.
As for the blog, you can see how that's going. I'll make another attempt on Sunday.
At five o'clock, I call a taxi.
In the village, Nankii joins me. He is Tzama's second eldest son. The oldest, as I mentioned, was murdered. He tells me that today I can accompany them to a birthday party. Yes, gladly. He says how happy he is that I, a brother from Switzerland, came here and want to get to know their culture. The joy is all mine, I explain somewhat complicatedly, because my polished choice of words in Spanish is a struggle and I have to be glad that messages don't come across wrong. Although, here they forgive you for everything. Everyone is free to do whatever they want. 'Don't worry!' I hear a lot.
Nankii hands me a Shuar spear and says it's now mine. I feel incredibly touched and express it with my gestures and facial expressions. Secretly, however, I'm worried about how I'll get this spear through customs in Miami. Don't worry. Of course, I can leave the spear here, I have to leave it here. But it's still a great honor.
I walk with it to my dwelling on the mountain. Once there, I put on nice clothes and return to the village, without the spear. On foot, we march, Herrmann picks us up and takes us part of the way.
The fifteenth birthday is something special for girls here. It's celebrated with great fanfare, called fiesta rosada. Everything is pink, the quinceañera is wearing a pink ball gown.
First, we eat: rice, potatoes, cassava, chicken, and armadillo. Luckily, I don't have any armadillo on my plate. But it's the second huge plate in two hours. I have concerns. Nakii says that will be taken care of. The rest of the plate eventually ends up in the trash with a generous portion of rice on top. Nankii received the chicken from me.
Afterward, at the San Pedro community soccer field. It's raining and we sit under the roof of the pink stage. Before the celebration, the rain stops and everyone sits down below. And now comes a celebration like the ones we have at an official highway inauguration. A program is carried out in a clear sequence with greetings, official speeches, and admonishing words from various adults.

At the very end, the official waltz and then the party starts with dancing on the soccer field and chicha and chatting. Nankii really wants to get me to dance and invites me to enter the dance floor with his wife. I naturally agree and it works quite well. At this point, I promised myself that I will fulfill an old promise at home and attend a dance class with Andi.
Basically, I am a rhythm person and if I want to dance with someone, it's her.
Nankii takes it to the next level and urges me to dance with the quinceañera. Sure, if you want to, no problem. Only the pink princess is not happy about it. But for this one dance, she has to endure it now that I'm practically forced to. She is currently still going to school and later wants to join the police force, I learn.
Later, around twelve, a few of Nankii's cousins want to take a photo with me. I have to admit to one of them that I really like his shirt. It says RF on it.
By the way, at some point, it started to rain, unbelievably. As if the sky had opened the floodgates from one second to the next. Right at that moment, we would have gotten into Herrmann's pickup. But instead, Nankii, his wife, and I fled to the stage, like everyone else. We stood close together, laughing and eating cake for some time. Schnapps was passed around and here were the smokers, who you rarely see in Ecuador otherwise.
Herrmann eventually left. Ah, good, I thought, he'll bring the others home and then come back. But you can rely on Herrmann. He didn't come back. When I tell Nankii around half past twelve that I'm going back now, he's concerned. He says he might have to come along. I say no. After some back and forth, he finds a friend who takes me back to the Tawasap community on his motorcycle. I'm glad, because it's about damn 4 kilometers. It would have taken nearly an hour.
Somehow, I was relieved when I had finished the way to my dwelling, used the toilet, arranged the bed with the mosquito net, and finally fell asleep in my jungle bed. Brushing my teeth?
tomorrow then. Now it's time to sleep.