Back, oh, about 8 or so years ago, Jean was cruising through the grocery store, minding her own business and helping the local economy. Coming up rapidly behind her, heedless of anything, was a mother talking to her child who was sitting in the cart. She slammed into Jean’s Achilles heel, nearly sending her to the ground in pain. The mother blithely said, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jean, with her hereditary Southern manners, said, through gritted teeth and tears, “That’s okay.”

As she explained it to me, what more could she have done?

I don’t know, but the aftermath was horrendous. She had to have her Achilles tendon surgically removed, then her heelbone scraped to remove the shattered pieces from the shopping cart impact. The tendon was reattached, but the surgery was kinda sloppy (we had a half-off coupon), because she still has a Frankenstein scar running up the back of her ankle. And we both had 6 months of recuperation, her immobile for 3 of them, and me waiting on her hand and, er, foot for the same amount of time. We both managed to maintain our sanity and good humor, and one day we woke up and she was free. But not really.

She’s still doing therapy on it, and it’s no picnic for walking on uneven ground or for long periods. Hence her opting out of the jungle hike that the Kennemers and I were on.

Her trip was going to be to another village to see manioc processing, and buy some souvenirs. She took her box camera and these shots. I don’t have any narration, but you’ll get the idea.

Here they are coming into the village from the water.

Looks kinda like any small body of water in Alabama during the 50s, inhabited by modest houses for the modest people that used to inhabit such places. Today there would be a 6,000 square foot house with floating boat dock and azaleas planted all over the bank that was created by bringing in dirt.

Probably the best way to tell about her trip would be to relate in bullet form what she told us:

• The villagers have a satellite dish that hooks up to one TV in the main town building and they watch Brazilian soap operas all the time.
• By watching the soaps, they are exposed to all kinds of technology that they don’t have. They desperately want to be like the people on TV.
• One guy in town used the money he made processing manioc to buy a refrigerator. He has no electricity to run it.
• Another guy used some of his money to buy a cell phone. They have no service out there, he doesn’t have electricity to charge the battery nor know how to use it, but he walks around town acting like he’s talking on it.
• The Amazonians have a very low tolerance to liquor. That explains why Captain Piranha refused a beer when we offered to buy him one. They very rarely drink, but when they do, there are sometimes consequences.
• In order for the guys to meet girls, every so often, two villages will get together for a few days to generate some permanent hookups. There is usually drinking and partying, and both villages realize that “somebody is gonna end up crying.” Or dead. Which usually happens. The death, that is.
• There’s a missionary faction there that has opened a town hall with activities for the villagers. They can only be admitted, however, if they join the church, accept Christ and renounce Candomblé or whatever religion they currently practiced.
• The new missionary-sponsored town hall is being built with material containing asbestos because it’s cheaper. The old town hall probably has a thatch roof and is made with natural materials. Those who don’t heed the religious requirements are relegated to the old town hall.

Here’s Marino, her guide for the day, fiddling around with something that looks like a lawn mower motor. They must use in the processing of manioc. I imagine it’s to get the cyanide out. I would hope so.

Here’s the manual labor squad prepping the manioc.