Guna Yala

Since we were in The Gambia, I have not needed to whittle my thoughts down to mere chapters. Moments in time are all I can share with you because, in Guna Yala, there is too much wonderful to put into writing.

Chapter 1: Guna Yala

I practiced some Dulegaya, the Kuna’s native language, and when an ulu (traditional canoe) approached Gerty, I knew it was my chance to try it out.  

“Igi be nuga,” I said, and the men smiled.

“Hoy,” the man gestured to himself and then pointed to his friend, “Alberto.”

I was amazed by how well my words worked. They wanted to know our names, too, and we told them.

“Nuegambi,” I said next, but this phrase fell flat.

“Nu-e gam-bi?” I tried again, enunciating each syllable.

“Bede nued guddi?” Alberto asked. I didn’t understand. 

“Cómo estás?” he said, and we chatted in Spanish. I think I arranged for them to bring us a crab tonight, but we shall see.

Chapter 2: Raking the Sand

At daybreak, I saw a man on Chichime Cay raking the sand. So, that’s how it stays so clean! I wonder if they wash the palm trees and rinse the water in the Caribbean Sea. Do they scrub the clouds from the sky until it turns blue? Perhaps the sun is so bright because they shine it every day here. That would explain a lot.

Chapter 3: It’s Hot

We figured out the fridge stays cooler if we drink warm “iced” tea. Lying in bed, corpse-like, makes us forget we haven’t installed the fan yet. Slipping into the water three, four, or five times daily is standard. The Kuna sell cold Cokes from their homes for a dollar and chill it in solar-energized refrigerators. We drink, chat and learn about their history. Sometimes, we slurp from coconuts instead. Wielding a machete, our hosts prepare them. Without a straw, the milk drips down our chins, and we laugh.

Chapter 4: There Are Puppies at the End of the World

Practicing for the Tuomotos, we break out the Opencpn charts to navigate through the reefs in Los Bajos Lagoon. Michael is at the helm, and I’m inside at the computer. We’re wearing headsets so we can talk to each other, but still, it’s nerve-racking. One wrong turn, and we’ll be aground.

This anchorage is worth it. It looks like a fantastic end to our world. We’re the only boat in a vast watery field of gorgeous nothingness. Or so I thought. It turns out it’s crowded down there among the healthy reefs, and on Sibadup Island, there are puppies!

Chapter 5: The Nurse Shark

Giant purple fans waved in the current, and thick magenta spaghetti wiggled toward the sun. The underwater garden distracted me from the fish until a lollygagging neon blue school caught my eye. Then a spotted eagle ray, a sea turtle, a yellow fella whose quizzical fins went this way and that. Suddenly, I saw Michael backing up fast, and I knew why. He pointed her out to me. Shy, she buried her nose under a hardened mound of lava coral, but her two dorsal fins gave her away. Surprising myself, I was not afraid. We were just two nurses enjoying our time in the sea.

Chapter 6: The Rain

Not drizzle or drops, but monstrous sobs fall from the sky here. Torrents of water flow down the mast and drain from Gerty’s canoe boom. Rivers gush from the cushions, forming a deluge in the cockpit, and I love it. I hope the blistering sun calls out sick today. The crispy skin on my right shoulder needs respite. Let me bask under the clouds till noon. I’ll watch lady drops splashdance with ocean gents on the sea. 

Chapter 7: Elio Fruta y Verduras

We’re down to our last mini banana.

Gone went the pineapple, bread, zucchini, and oranges. We devoured the greens ages ago. Defrosted, and into our bellies went the chili and soups. Still, we have chocolate, but one can’t live on that. However, being in Guna Yala is undoubtedly not the same as sailing in the middle of the ocean. There are luscious grocery boats here. Elio stocked us up. It won’t be like this crossing the Pacific. There will be no floating supermarket there. I will miss this treat!

Chapter 8: The Darién is Close

We’re anchored 51 miles from Canaán Membrillo as the crow flies. According to the New York Times, this indigenous village is where approximately 500,000 migrants hoped to exit the Darien Jungle last year. However, many did not survive the roadless, lawless stretch of mountainous rainforest straddling Columbia and Panama, the infamous Darién Gap. They were trying to make their way to the United States, mainly from Venezuela, Ecuador, Haiti, Columbia, West Africa, and China. The government forced Doctors Without Borders to leave the area. The situation is grim, and I am afraid for the people.

Chapter 9: El Rio Saiba, The Mermaid River

We sailed to Salaradup to meet a Kuna guide named Liza, but we didn’t have the minimum four people required to go on her tour.  Itchy and irritable from the bugs and humidity but unwilling to give up, we set out in Love Me Tender (our dinghy) to find more participants. The first boat we visited in the anchorage was SV Luna, where we met Leif, Helle, and Tina. They wanted to come, and things immediately changed for the better.

The small boat that took us from the islands to the mainland got stuck. Having been reassured that there were no crocodiles, we waded and pushed it from the open ocean, over a sand shoal, and into the jungle-banked river.

Mangroves, palms, and Maracuja flowers dangled over the water. Iridescent birds and butterflies fluttered in the trees. 

On the way to a waterfall, we hiked past six types of banana plants. We passed many Kuna men gathering food for their families so they could stay home the following day, shielding themselves from the solar eclipse. We also walked through a Kuna cemetery, where graves resembled mounds of mud topped with tokens from coffee cups to baby shoes. Past the jungle crops, our surroundings grew more dense until the thick canopy gave way to a river, El Rio Saiba. Tauntingly, the clear water rushed 20 feet below as we stood, dripping in sweat. 

Then Augustine jumped! Liza did, too. Leif followed suit, leaping off the rocky cliff. I couldn’t believe how crazy they were, but I wanted to get wet. Michael, Helle, Tina, and I kurplunked into the refreshing water from a slightly more sane height. 

“Do you want to hike back in the heat or take the river?” Liza asked as we snacked.

Having no idea what we were getting into but feeling dreadfully hot, we opted for the river. Sliding down waterfalls, swimming, and balancing our way across slippery logs, we journeyed back to the boat.

Side note: Liza and Augustine came to have coffee on Gerty after the lovely Rio Saiba tour. Liza noticed our LGBTQ flag and, feeling acceptance, opened up about her experience as a trans-Kuna woman. She was proud of a video featuring her that you can view here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5vRbTcWcqis

Chapter 10: Portobelo

We’re back where we started, in Portobelo, the howling harbor (monkeys!). This city was the beginning and end of the road for the Spanish, who transported gold, silver, and slaves over the Camino Real de Cruces and along the Chagres River. There’s a museum about the Afro-Congo culture, but we can’t get a sense of the modern-day town. So, with children’s books in our packs, we set out early to see what we can learn.

Señora Anabelsy welcomes us into the primary school, El Centro Educativo Jacoba Urriola Solis, and the six-year-olds are good for our souls.

Energized, we decide it’s safe to hike into the jungle because jaguars don’t come out during the day. It’s only the mosquitoes we have to fear.

Last Remarks

• Must remember the sailors!!! SV Bohemia: Peter and Tom, SV Wind Whisper: Luis & Manon, SV Cool Ship: Will, SV Miraflores: Saxon and Neeksy, SV Hope: Wane and Barbie, SV Maracuja: Arnaud and Coraline, SV Pinecone: Peter and Wendy