Young
Warao
helps
with
communal
jobs
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2
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3
Legend
has
it
that
the
first
Waraos
came
from
the
eastern
part
of
the
Peruvian
Andes.
Later,
the
delta
became
a
refuge
for
tribes
who
fled
from
others
with
more
war-like
customs.
Their
inhabitants
sailed
in
hollow
wood
trunks
and
made
Indiana
Jones-style
bridges
with
lianas
to
cross
the
river.
The
discovery
of
the
Orinoco
delta
region
dates
to
1500.
The
first
person
who
was
able
to
dominate
the
winding
river
was
Diego
de
Ordaz,
one
of
Hernando
Cortez’
captains.
Nevertheless,
even
500
years
later
few
things
here
have
changed.
The
industrial
revolution
happened
far
away
from
this
aquatic
desert,
just
as
the
era
of
computer
science
does
nowadays.
The
only
fiber
that
they
know
is
not
the
optic
sort,
but
the
one
from
the
moriche
palm,
with
which
they
weave
chinchorros
(hammocks).
The
moriche
palm,
also
called
the
tree
of
the
life,
is
the
sustenance
of
the
whole
tribe.
From
this
tree
the
Warao
get
everything
from
their
homes
to
their
food.
The
tender
interior
of
the
trunk,
palmito,
is
extracted
to
eat.
With
its
fiber,
hammocks,
shoes
and
baskets
are
woven.
From
the
trunk
they
make
a
type
of
flour
called
yuruma,
which
they
fry
and
make
into
delicious
pancakes.
From
its
bark
flows
a
sap
called
dulzona
that,
once
fermented,
becomes
palm
wine.
Even
the
larvae
that
collect
in
the
tree
are
eaten
fried,
boiled
or
raw.
Of
course,
the
trunk
is
also
used
to
make
palafitos
and
curiaras,
as
well
as
bows
and
arrows.
At
two
in
the
afternoon,
the
air
is
redolent
with
the
sweet
aroma
of
fried
bananas.
At
first,
I
thought
that
the
bananas
were
for
the
children
who
crowded
together
around
us,
but
I
soon
realized
that
this
was
the
Warao
way
of
welcoming
us,
to
which
we
responded
by
giving
them
bottles
of
refreshments.
After
satisfying
our
hunger
we
continued
up
the
Pedernales
channel
towards
the
home
of
a
man
named
Julian,
where
I
was
to
stay
for
a
few
days.
We
arrived
at
dusk,
and
in
just
a
few
minutes
the
violet
sky
darkened
to
an
intense
navy
blue,
with
bright
stars
shining
everywhere.
The
first
night
seemed
to
last
an
eternity.
Animal
howls
could
be
heard
in
the
distance
and
my
mind
wouldn’t
stop
imagining
great
packs
of
felines
that
would
come
to
devour
us…
Finally,
the
sun
rose.
Nicholas
had
already
departed,
and
with
him
the
few
modern
comforts
left
to
us,
such
as
electric
light.
Julian
was
lighting
the
fire
to
prepare
breakfast,
and
I
approached
him
in
search
of
some
reassurance
that
would
allow
me
to
sleep
peacefully
for
the
rest
of
my
stay.
It
seems
he
was
anticipating
my
questions,
because
he
spent
a
good
while
chuckling
before
responding.
He
told
me
that
the
fearsome
howls
that
I
heard
came
not
from
any
dangerous
animal,
but
from
the
monkeys,
which
take
advantage
of
the
calm
at
night
to
drink
from
the
water
that
collects
in
the
trees
nearby.
What
a
relief.
My
goal
is
to
avoid
being
an
annoyance
at
all
costs.
I
wish
to
be
a
mere
spectator
of
their
daily
routines,
so
I
take
advantage
of
the
morning
to
observe
the
construction
of
a
new
palafito
not
far
away
from
Julian’s.
The
house
will
be
ready
in
less
than
three
or
four
weeks.
After
choosing
the
most
suitable
place
they
cut
the
trees.
They
are
always
cut
a
meter
above
the
water
level
of
the
river
to
avoid
flooding
when
the
volume
of
water
increases
in
the
summer.
The
stumps
will
be
the
pillars
that
support
the
weight
of
the
whole
structure.
Once
the
trunks
are
cut
they
are
classified
by
size.
The
biggest
will
support
the
enormous
dry
moriche
branches
that
form
the
ceiling.
The
rest
will
comprise
a
central
platform
that
serves
as
a
silent
witness
to
the
daily
life
of
a
Warao
family.
Returning
from
the
palafito-raising
party,
the
sight
of
a
hunter
returning
with
a
pair
of
gorgeous
blue
and
yellow
macaws
left
me
stunned.
They
were
wounded,
and
although
they
could
move
around
the
boat,
it
was
impossible
for
them
to
fly
with
broken
wings.
I
have
always
been
against
the
practice
of
hunting,
especially
of
such
beautiful
creatures,
but
I
realize
that
under
these
circumstances
the
act
is
justified.
Those
two
birds
would
be
the
sustenance
of
a
whole
family
over
the
next
two
days.
For
the
Waraos
hunting
is
not
something
that
depends
excessively
on
luck.
They
firmly
believe
that
the
gods
can
reward
or
punish
individuals
depending
on
their
acts.
Kuai-mare
is
one
of
those
gods,
whose
name
means
something
like
“the
happy
one
that
lives
above”,
and
he
is
the
origin
of
the
good
and
bad
spirits.
Kuai-mare
is
white,
with
long
hair,
huge
eyes
and
ears
so
extraordinary
that
when
one
is
in
east
the
other
one
still
is
in
the
West.
Another
god,
Mareiwa,
son
of
the
thunderclap,
had
the
power
to
wield
fire,
and
kept
it
jealously
guarded
in
a
cave.
Then
one
day
Junuunay,
a
young
peasant,
stole
two
live
coals,
and
from
then
on
the
Warao
began
to
use
fire
consistently.
Although
for
the
Warao
every
new
day
is
comprised
of
a
very
regular
routine,
the
traveler
who
never
has
been
in
this
place
is
simply
impressed
by
the
forest’s
silence,
that
once
in
a
while
is
broken
by
singing
of
exotic
macaws.
There
is
no
other
place
in
the
world
like
the
delta.
The
intense
blue
of
the
sky
can
fade
in
an
instant
and
be
covered
by
threatening
clouds
that
quickly
unload
their
entire
haul.
That
is
when
the
forest
truly
comes
to
life.
The
animals
become
more
excited
than
normal,
the
green
of
the
vegetation
intensifies,
and
a
rainbow
forms
a
kind
of
tunnel,
which
seems
to
devour
the
river
itself.
At
sunrise,
a
fine
layer
of
dew
covers
everything.
Time
seems
to
reawaken
with
the
start
of
the
day’s
first
birdsong,
which
serves
as
the
Warao’s
alarm
clock.
After
a
filling
breakfast
of
corn
pancakes,
fruits
and
instant
coffee,
we
get
to
work.
We
set
a
course
to
a
nearby
forest
to
cut
moriche
palms,
while
the
women
dedicate
themselves
to
their
daily
tasks.
Continued
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