Misahualli, The Jungle Hut

The Jungle Hut

So, I left you back at the hut when I introduced you to the small ad-hoc tour group we recruited to go into the jungle. We're still taking in the hut and our surroundings. 

                                                                        * * * 

<-- A jungle hut similar to the one we stayed in. 

I looked down the cliff at the river and said, “There’s something exotic about bathing in the same river where you wash clothes.”

“Preferably not at the same time,” Mark pointed out.

I rolled my eyes.

On a grimy blue board in front of our communal hut sat a small monkey. As we approached, it stood up and reached out its hands to be held. Just like a baby. It wore a thick rubber tube around its neck and a small chain, which linked it to the board where it sat.

“So cute.” Marie cried. “Can I hold?”

Antonio handed it to her, chain and all. “Spider monkey,” he said.

Baby spider monkey

She cuddled it close. “Aww. But where…?”

He mimed holding a pistol and aimed off in the distance. When he pulled the imaginary trigger, he said, “Hunter shoot mama. Bang-bang.” He shrugged. “Is orphan.”

I didn’t know if he was trying to entertain us, be funny or simply supplement his poor English skills with the action-packed gestures to clarify the tale, but it got to me. I eyed the rubber tube and the slender, rusty chain. Did this baby miss its mama? Confined to the board by a few short feet of chain, it spent its time in the blistering heat. I hated the round tube. It seemed so cruel to be tugged anywhere by the neck. When I bent over and touched the monkey’s dark, course fur, my fingers brushed against the hot tube. “Poor baby,” I murmured.

Joe appeared at the door waving something. “Mosquito nets.”

Eager to check out the premises, we scrambled into the hut. With the Amazon below us, the thatched-roof hut, the monkey and now, mosquito nets, we immersed ourselves in the adventure.

Mark riffled through his bag. “That reminds me. Joe, we still have to take the malaria pills today.”

I stared. “Malaria pills? Wow. You guys came prepared. What else did you bring?”

Pretty pink pills...

“Pretty pink pills in case anyone has…” Mark lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper and looked around to see if he had everyone’s attention. “…diarrhea. You know the rest—mosquito repellent, sunscreen, first-aid kit, blah-blah. We got all our shots ahead of time.” He patted a side pouch. “Waterproof backpacks, boots and rain gear. Did we overlook anything?”

I had none of those things. Well, how could I know I’d be jungle-bound? “I…you’re…way ahead of me.” Uh-oh, how did I ever think I could just up and go to the Amazon without any advanced prep? Just as quickly as my fears came, they went. Travelers who don’t live in other cultures have to go by what they read in the guidebooks, all of which prepares a traveler for the worst case scenario. I’ll be fine.

I picked up my lightweight canvas army surplus backpack—containing only a few clothes, my toothbrush, sunscreen and a hat—and plopped it onto a cot with the mosquito net already in place. “I claim this bed. Hey, there’s not much light in this hut, is there?”

“You might see better if you took off your sunglasses,” Mark said.

“Very funny. I’m not wearing any.”

Just what we needed—a wise-cracker in the group.

* * *

Apple-bananas - the perfect size
for orphaned baby monkeys 

Monkey screeches woke me up early the next morning. I lifted the canvas that covered the so-called window—a square hole—and saw the monkey trying to climb down from the board. I threw off my light cover and slipped on my sandals. Some very fat, ripe bananas sat on the table so I unpeeled one and popped a bite into my mouth. It tasted faintly of apples. Apple bananas. I’d heard of them. They were the perfect size for baby orphaned monkeys. I grabbed a couple extra and headed outdoors.

The monkey caught onto the banana immediately and grabbed it from my outstretched fingers. Oooh, so clever.

It seemed to appreciate my offering as it plowed the banana into its mouth, chattering as I handed over the second one. With its mouth full, the monkey grasped onto my finger with its own. Even at this early hour, the pale sun projected faint wavy lines in the muggy air. “Come here. You need some shade.” The monkey put its arms around my neck and lay its head on my shoulder. My motherly instinct kicked in as I stroked it protectively. Eventually, I set it down away from the sun.

I wandered over to where Joe and Mark practiced some martial arts moves near the cliff. 

"Hey!" The faint shout came from the water below.

Mark stopped and peered down at the figure. Although a little overweight, Marie exuded a subdued sexiness as she spoke and moved. Joe crowded next to him and looked down. She waved and blew a kiss.

“Hello, my dear,” Joe called and waved back. 

They made me nervous standing so close to the edge of the cliff.  I had to hold myself back from reaching out and ushering them away from the edge of the cliff.  Instead, I said,  "Careful. Don't fall."

Joe nodded.  He retrieved his sturdy stick and snapped his fingers in front of Mark's face a couple of times to get his attention. "Dude, over here!" 

The two began their sparring match again.

Then something a little odd happened. For a moment, they completely disappeared from my line of sight. I looked away and rubbed my eyes.  Then turned to look again. About thirty seconds later, Joe and Mark reappeared, still sparring in slow, methodical movements. I blinked.  The sun must have been in my eyes. I can’t forget my sunglasses today. We’re right on the equator. Of course, the sun is going to blind me. 

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To read more, go to http://amybovaird.com/jungle/