Kakabila

Two weekends ago, I decided it was about time that I make a trip out to one of the communities and find out what life is really like for the people we are doing our best to help. One of the other volunteers was headed up to Kakabila for a rather long stay, so I opted to join him for the trip up and a few days in the jungle. It was a rather astounding journey that began with an early morning panga ride to Pearl Lagoon. Luckily, it wasn't raining when we set off, but a few hours later, as soon as we entered the Lagoon itself, our boat engine cut and we started drifting. luckily, our panga driver had done well enough for himself to possess a cell phone and was able to call around to some friends in the area. Just as we began drifting dangerously close to the shore, an empty panga showed up to give us a tow.

After a few false starts and some hard tugs that nearly dipped the edge of the boat below the waterline, we were on our way, securely tied behind our savior's vessel. At this point, a woman towards the back decided that she couldn't hold it any longer and asked the driver if there was some way she could pee. He told her to climb back beside him and hang off the back with one hand on the motor. Not too excited by this prospect after a brief, failed attempt to balance, she asked for another option. The driver scrounged around until he found one of his bailing buckets and handed it to her with the instructions to clean it out when she was done. Adamantly asking that he stay facing forward, she crouched down and relieved herself, dumping the contents of the bucket overboard and deftly rinsing her container. Much happier, she clambered back up to her seat and the driver settled back into his space.

Pulling up to a nondescript dock on a desolate strech of land, we all climbed out and huffed it out the road. Apparently, we hadn't quite made it to Pearl Lagoon. Instead, we were in some small town a few miles out and the panga driver was busy arranging transport the rest of the way. He had us set our things down in front of his house while he went to scrounge up some 3 wheel, semi open air taxis to get us on our way. Happy to take in the sights and chat with the small children that suddenly gathered, we hung out for about half an hour while two taxis ran shuttles of 2 people at a time over to Pearl Lagoon.

The drive over to Pearl Lagoon revealed a new view of the countryside. There was a surprising mix of homes along the edge of the road, ranging from tiny wooden shacks to McMansions of concrete. Interspersed were patches of lush tropical rainforest dense with jungle vines and riotous symphonies of birds. Eventually arriving in Pearl Lagoon, we got let out down the road from the dock and continued on foot through the torn up street they were in the process of repaving. The first dock didn't yield any boats headed towards Kakabila, so we went around the corner and down an alley to a small bar that happened to have a dock. Or maybe it was a dock that happened to have a small bar. Either way, we asked around and were pointed to a table of young men who were evidently headed to Kakabila at some point that day. Judging by the beers in hand, that didn't appear to be any time soon. We asked if we could hitch a ride and were welcomed to do so for the price of gas. Happy to know we had a chance of making it to our destination, Josiah settled in make friends and I headed off to the local power plant for a slight bit of research.

The journey to the generator turned out to be significantly longer than expected, but that gave me a chance to see most of the town along the way. Having gotten the info I needed by hollering at the top of my lungs over the roar of the diesel generator that powers the entire town, I found my way back to the dock. There, Josiah was well into his 2nd beer and there was a fresh one on it's way for me. Despite the early hour (I think it was about 10:30am), I couldn't very well be rude and hence accepted the nicely chilled bottle of toña that arrived shortly. At the time, I had no idea it was to be first of at least 4 more. Apparently, this was the regular agenda for the day. The boys we were chatting with had been out at the crack of dawn to lay their fishing nets and were now waiting for the evening when they would head out again to retrieve their blunder. Having nothing else to do, they typically spend the day drinking in town before driving their boats back home. Thankfully, one of the 3 guys we were with had opted to be DD and hence switched to soft drinks after his first beer. Rather surprised, but very happy to see such responsibility, both Josiah and I were quickly feeling our early morning booze. We were both drinking pointedly slow so as not to have too many, but every time they finished a bottle, they automatically ordered a full round, despite our protests. Not wanting too many to stack up and keep us from leaving, we dutifully kept pace the best we could.

A few hours and plenty of beer later, we all piled into a large dugout canoe. The majority of the boat was carved from a single trunk with a few extra boards added to each side. Unfortunately, the seams were unsealed, so water gushed through the gaps on every wave or turn. This made things more interesting as the bottom of the boat continually collected water. When it started to get too high, one of the boys would start bailing and the water level would reside. In this manner we crossed Pearl Bay and arrived at Kakabila.

Pulling up to a white sand beach with a long dock, we stepped through the last bit of water and onto shore. Just up the beach was a large, circular thatched roof structure that used to be a mini-bar and now functions as the teenage hangout. Beyond were towering coconut trees, spreading mango boughs and a collection of varied houses ranging from traditional wood and thatch to concrete block with tin roofs. I won't go much further into the architecture at this particular moment, but lets just say I was fascinated by what I saw during my stay and by the way people spoke about their homes.

That afternoon we shared a rather meager but delicious meal with our hosts of fried dough, beans and rice. Afterwards, I took advantage of some beautiful weather to stroll through the village. In total, there were only about 75 houses, each with anywhere from 2-14 people living in it. As I wandered around, various men (never women) would come up to introduce themselves and ask me what I was up to. Happy to chat, I asked lots of questions about life on the coast, about perceptions of materials, the history of the region etc. As the light began to fade, I headed back to our host's home and shared another simple meal of fish and rice.

That night, I watched the sun go down over the water with white sand stretching in a thin ribbon in either direction, framed by lush green trees and clear blue skies. I couldn't help but feel how incredibly lucky I was to be sharing this little slice of paradise with such generous people.

As the light faded completely, the true extent of our isolation became immediately apparent as the world turned pitch black. The moon had yet to emerge, so the only light in town came from one house with a generator. The only other glimmers were flashlights turned on and quickly off again to save their batteries. Suddenly, the work that blueEnergy does took on a much more personal significance.