Going Swimming

There’s a strange tension in the air. The kids, young and old alike, have become quite. Reserved. Anxious. They whisper to one and other as I finish eating lunch, and one of the twins finally gets the nerve to whisper a question to his mom. I barely catch the words “him” and “swimming” before his mom cuts him off, whispering a little more loudly, to “let him finish eating!! Let him rest a little!” before shooing all of the kids out of the kitchen. More than curious I stretch my mind to make sense of what’s going on. Anticipation. Everyone is waiting for something to happen. Everyone seems nervous.

As I finish my lunch Martha casually asks me how I’m feeling. “Are you tired, Benjamin? Do you need to rest? Or…” she adds nonchalantly “would you want to go see what Mario is doing down by the river? You could go swimming…”

The day is hot, overcast and incredibly humid. There’s no escape from the oppressiveness of it. I was already considering going swimming, so the decision was easy to make. I could see one of the twins and a couple other kids anxiously waiting to see what my answer would be. As I said that I’d love to go to the river, the sense of anticipation multiplied dramatically. The kids broke into smiles and began running around collecting items and changing clothes. I had no idea what to make of the situation. Up until that point the kids had for the most part not really interacted with me. They were obviously in a hurry now that permission had been granted to take me to the river, so I quickly changed and got ready to go. Before I had time to think I was whisked away by anxious guides onto a narrow path leading into the jungle. The path leads along the edge of a small river which empties into the much bigger Rio Anzu.

The tension is more noticeable than the humidity as we step out of the jungle onto the rocky beach of the Anzu.  I can see Mario sitting on a rock working on something, several other kids already seated quietly behind him. My guides quietly take their seats on various rocks behind Mario. Nobody talks. Nobody moves except Mario as he finishes up whatever he’s working on; some ritual that has the kids and teenagers alike in a trance of anticipation.

Mario finishes and sets down some small tool. With slow, deliberate movements he pulls a cigarette from his bag and lights it. The kids begin to quiver, unable to hold it in any longer. Mario gently rises to his feet, pauses, taking a couple drags, and begins to casually, though ceremoniously, make his way over to the edge of the river. The kids are on their feet. Mario takes another drag and bends over to collect a few small pebbles. The kids are bouncing, jumping, pacing back and forth on the beach. Mario turns a little, back arched to the wind, and I can see him blowing on the ember of the cigarette. The kids begin to move forward. Mario tosses the rocks, one at a time, into the river just in front of him, each one landing exactly where the previous one had. The kids begin to form a line along the riverbank, but still well back from the edge. Their eyes are wide, their pulses are racing. They can hardly contain themselves. It’s going to be a race. They’re all lined up at the starting line. In position. Anxiously waiting for the sound of the gun.

Mario, finished with the cigarette, drops it onto the beach. In his other hand he holds an object that I can’t identify. Gently, precisely, he tosses the object into the river following the pebbles. The moment the object leaves his hand the world stops. The birds don’t sing, the bugs don’t chirp, and nobody is breathing. The only sound is that of the object splashing into the water. Paralysis. Nothing moves. All eyes are riveted on the river, the splash not yet carried away by the running water. One second. Two seconds. Eternities without end.

The gun fires. The dynamite explodes. The ground jolts beneath me from the shock. The race is on!!

As the blast from the dynamite reaches the surface of the river it forms a strange bubble, which pops spewing water up like a geyser. With it come the fish. At the sound of the explosion the kids all run and dive into the river like they’re going for gold. Most of the fish are dead, some are just stunned, but all are being carried away by the current.

The older kids reach the area first and immediately begin to grab for fish. Some have nets, others use their shirts, and others simply grab and throw the fish towards the bank. Unaware of what was happening I find myself alone at the edge of the river. Alone except for the hail of fish that now begins to rain down on me. Scrambling I begin to grab for fish. If they made it to the rocky beach, they’re safe enough for now, most however are floating away in the shallow water near the edge. As fast as I can I grab and toss the fish onto the beach, aiming for a small depression where they’ll be more likely to stay put. More than once I’m hit by one that’s been thrown. 

Eventually we’ve got all the ones floating on the surface collected and the kids begin to dive down to feel in the mud on the bottom for any that sank. They come up with quite a few more and keep on diving. At the same time the women from the house appear from the jungle carrying nets, bowls and knives. Gathering up the fish from the beach they bring them to the edge of the water and begin to scale them using the knives. The cleaned fish are placed into a large net, ready to carry home.

In the end we came up with 20 – 25 fish, but none are very big. The biggest are between 8 – 10 inches. This river used to provide for the communities that lived along its banks. Industrialization has destroyed the river now. Mining and removing material for roads etc. has changed the river dramatically and killed off most of the fish. Today’s was the biggest catch anyone has had in a long time. They used to get baskets and baskets of fish every time they’d go fishing. Big ones. 18 inches long or more. There used to be so many fish that all the surrounding communities would come out to the river when someone was going to throw dynamite because the haul would be too much for anyone to handle by themselves. Everyone would dive into the river and grab what they could, taking it home to feed their family for days.

As the kids are diving for any remaining fish, one of them finds a bar of soap, still in its plastic wrapper. Taking advantage, we all soap up and bathe before climbing out of the river, gathering up supplies, and heading back into the jungle towards home.