River Travels

In our part of Guyana, the river is an integral part of our lives. It is our interstate, many times the only way to get from one point to another; or at the very least the shortest way. Cars are nearly non-existent in this area, instead families own boats. Something I discovered early on, is that the river rises and falls with the tide. When I first arrived I was able to step from the boat directly onto the dock, but the next time I was down at the river I was surprised to see the water so low that we had to climb down the steps onto another boarded ramp to get into the boat.

Riding up or down the river in our mission boat we pass smaller wooden dugout boats with dinky outboard motors, young school children paddling together to school, large lumbering flat barge type boats carrying logs down river to the sawmill, and many other miscellaneous boats being paddled or motored up and down the river. Some carrying goods to the market, others returning from the larger village with supplies, boats carrying families, or being paddled by a single individual, boats of many different shapes and sizes.
As we travel the river we are greeted by friendly waves from the passing boats. The shore is interspersed with stilted wooden houses, some with tin roofs and others with thatched roofs, but all with docks leading up from the river. At many homes the members can be seen bathing off the docks, or washing their clothes on the steps of the dock that lead down into the water, they always wave to us as well.

During our trips on the river we may glide along the glassy, unbroken water that stretches out before us, perfectly reflecting the trees and clouds, other times we bounce and jolt over wakes caused by other motorboats. We may travel in the cool mist of the morning before the sun has broken over the green canopy for the day, or head home in the gathering darkness after the sun has long since set. We travel on large rivers where the distant shore appears almost absent on the horizon, on smaller rivers that are lined with coconut trees, houses, and thicker jungle, and at times up even smaller rivers where we seem to be enveloped in jungle above and on either side or us. At times we see beautiful displays of color in sunsets, other times all that is visible above is menacing clouds and we hope we arrive at our destination before the next deluge of rain begins to pouring from the skies above.

Many times we are not lucky enough to evade the rain, so everyone quickly ducks under canvass coverings trying to keep their belongings dry, and as many body parts as possible out of the pouring rain. Then as the rain stops heads begin to emerge from under the canvass and sometimes are greeted by a brilliant rainbow as we continue our journey along the river that seems to stretch endlessly ahead, promising some new discovery around the next bend. Or perhaps just the arrival at our destination.