The Amazonian Curtain Opened

Sitting back in the classroom I knew so well, I stared sadly at my atlas wondering why I had believed its lies merely two weeks earlier. I knew it did not represent the reality of the Amazon. Not at all. I had been there; the majestic river was only hiding a misery. I had seen that behind the curtains of Amazonian jungle existed another reality. One that would rather be ignored by many tourists.

It was navigating through the narrow channels of the murky river that we caught a glimpse of a village in the thick green jungle. We had been sailing up the mighty Amazon for days without far sighting a single soul. By curiosity we anchored by the riverbank and made our way towards the shore where the tiny huts looked so isolated. As we stepped on land, the children shyly hid in their mother’s skirts while the adults greeted us with warm smiles. The village composed of a few huts, each with their individual clothes line where the colourful dresses seemed to dance in rhythm with the soft Amazonian midday breeze.

One young girl, obviously my age, caught my attention. Sitting on old wooden stairs, she waved for me to approach. Shyly I did. As she prudently touched my white skin and light hair I could not help to wonder if she had ever seen outsiders before.

As we conversed in a mix of broken Portuguese and sign language, every sentence uncovered a clear difference between her upbringing and mine back in Australia. All my beliefs of equality faded with each information she mimed. As I glanced around the small hut made of recycled wood, the initial feeling of inquisitiveness was replaced by confusion. The reality slowly sank in. While I was complaining about school, she could not read and write. While I nagged my parents for a double bed, she slept in a hammock surrounded by her whole family. And while I negotiated once again for permission to go out, she had to gently rock her child to sleep.

A curtain had been opened. I was seeing the world through other eyes.