Suriname – After the Show – The Black Water Resort

Up to that point, Herman’s and my total focus was to just get the shows off the ground and complete the agreements that he had with the small ballet school and company that was in Paramaribo, Suriname.

Now that that was completed, the focus changed to having some fun with the other dancers and the much more difficult assignment of figuring out how to get out of the country.

By this point, I have been there for weeks. Already longer than I expected. Fortunately, the Berlin Ballet had 6 weeks of paid vacation for the dancers every year and while much of it had been used up, I still hoped to spend some time with my family in Dallas, Texas before going back to work in West Berlin.

The problem was that there were still no flights or trains leaving the country. There was currently no way out.

Through his new connections in the military government, we were told that they did plan on opening things up, but they still did not know when.

But the performances did get us some connections with those with wealth and power in the country.

We were invited to see the massive strip mining of Bauxite operation outside of Paramaribo, and while that was impressive with the massive machines that were as tall as 5 story buildings, it was also very sad to see that the environment really was being destroyed and there was no accountability by the mining companies to do anything different with little regulation and the only desire to create employment.

One day, Herman and I were invited to one of the gold jewelry stores to shop. I did not know that Suriname also mined gold and diamonds. But being a dancer on a budget, I only bought one small chunk for a necklace. After we bought it, the owner told us that he would have our stuff delivered to us at Herman’s house because he did not want us to leave and get robbed. Evidently, it was quite common for tourists leaving the store to get robbed.

I was more than happy to have him deliver it to us.

The owner of the ballet school and the man that invited Herman and me to come to Suriname offered to take us deep into the jungle for an excursion to an old resort called, The Blackwater Resort. It sounded like fun, and so we all hopped on a small bus (it held about 20 people), and we were off on an adventure deep into the Amazonian jungle.

Evidently, it is called, Blackwater because in that area, the water is black from the massive amounts of decomposing foliage in the water. It turns the water so dark that when you put your hand under the water, your hand disappears from sight just a few inches under.

The challenge was that the place we were going was about a three-hour drive into the jungle. And as I was about to discover, that we had to cross the multitude of big rivers as this area is a tributary to the mighty Amazon.

We are on the bus, and everyone is chatting away and having fun. We have to take two ferries across these big rivers, and as we go, the landscape becomes more wild.

We finally make it to the Blackwater Resort, which was built in WWII, and the bus driver stops, and everyone is looking out the window, pointing at something. I stand up and walk to the other side of the bus, and I see the largest anaconda I have ever seen in my life. It was clearly over 20 feet long. It was massive, and everyone was admiring it.

Me? I am now slightly … terrified because we are about to swim in water that is black, and we will not be able to see the snake under the water!

Instantly, I think, “I am going to stay in shallow water!”

We get to the resort, and everyone is jumping into the water, playing, screaming for joy, and having a great time.

Knowing full well, that I am a light-skinned person here, I put on lots of sunscreen, a hat, and a shirt to wade through the small creeks and waterfalls in the more shallow end of the water.

It is the first real break we have had, and the seriousness of the entire adventure to get here in a military takeover, with no access to the American Embassy … still, with no way out, and with most roads closed that leave the country.

But it was a great time to let go and just have fun.

At least there were no armed guards with submachine guns anywhere.

I sat under a tree and looked at the dense undergrowth of the jungle and realized how hard it would have been for anyone to build roads out here, much less to settle this landscape. It was clear that we were not in charge here and that Mother Nature was alive and well (at least in this area).

I remember laying on my stomach in the sand in the shade of a big tree and just feeling calm for the first time in weeks.

The other dancers invited me to play a sort of Game of Tag. I agreed but was unclear about the rules, and ended up not doing much because they knew I did not know what was really going on.

It did not matter because I am a people watcher anyway. It was so great to see everyone having so much fun, and the smile on Herman’s face was so big it went from ear to ear. This was clearly his home, and he was very comfortable in this amazingly complex jungle.

I saw a side of him that I never saw in the ballet studio. While Herman had a very comical sense of humor, and we would often see it in the studio. Here he was … free. He was home. And he understood a way of life that most of us will never experience. He was unguarded and open. Taking this trip meant so much to him. It was his chance to give back and inspire others through dance.

I could see how such wild places teach us so much but how we have become less and less connected to such places, and it is us that is the loser in such a choice.

While at the resort, I saw a young woman, who must have been maybe 16-18 years old. At first, I saw her from the back. What I saw was a tall, beautifully muscled woman. She was combing her very thick, straight black hair that was down to her waist. As she pulled it into a ponytail, I noticed how her stature reflected much of Herman’s body. They were both tall, with well-defined muscles. From behind, she looked like a Serengeti woman, but her skin was like a mixture of coffee with milk. It glistened in the sun like melted butter. But what shocked me the most was that when she turned around, she had a mixture of African and Asian features on her face, but bright blue eyes! It was stunning to see. She was gorgeous! She took my breath away. Her movements were graceful, confident, and easygoing. It was clear that she did not even know how stunning she was.

I felt compelled to go up to her and tell her how striking she was.

As a woman, I feel that we do not tell each other how beautiful we all are. I think it is important to do … when such a moment strikes.

So, I went up to her and asked her if she spoke English. She said, “Yes!” And I told her how, from where I saw her over there, she was a vision. Like a beautiful Goddess of the Jungle. I told her how her coloring and light eyes were so striking and unique. She told me her father was descended from North African slaves that escaped from Cuba, and her mother was Dutch. The combination of genes created a vision of a woman that was even more beautiful because she was so authentic and understated.

She was almost embarrassed that I had pointed out her unique look. But I could tell that it was a compliment and something that she knew was special and that she would remember.

Finally, it is time to leave.

We all pile onto the bus, and we are off, retracing our path back to Paramaribo.

At first, things seem uneventful. But then my back starts itching. Within a few minutes, it is itching more. Halfway back to town, I am so wildly uncomfortable that I want to claw my skin off my body.

It was so bad that Herman has to hold my hands, so I don’t do just that. It was terribly frightening. I did not know what was going on or … why. I am trying not to cry or scream. It felt like something was burrowing into my skin. I felt like something was trying to eat me!

Once we get back to town, Herman’s mother is greeting us there with the car to give us a ride back to their house.

She takes one look at me, and my tear-stained and strained face and clearly asks what is wrong with me.

Herman explains everything to her, and there is a heated exchange going on about me. I am so stressed that I cannot follow what is going on completely. I am desperate to stop itching.

She puts me in the car, and Herman explains that we are going to the doctor.

I gratefully agree.

We get to the doctor’s office, and he does speak English. He says that with my fair skin, I could have a very bad sunburn, but I told him that I had put on sunscreen. While I was slightly red, I have been more sunburned than this in my life. He explained that the sunlight here was much stronger than I was used to, and the UV rays penetrate the deeper layer of skin. But then he went over to his wall of books, pulled out a book, and started rummaging through the pages till he found what he was looking for.

Pointing to a picture, he asks me if I had been under this particular tree for any amount of time.

I am still in agony, and it was difficult for me to focus on the small textbook picture of a tree. I say that I am not sure. I was under a tree in the shade for a long period of time, but I could not recall if it was that tree.

He then explained to me that, this tree carried a particular type of jungle parasite on its leaves, and it will occasionally drop down onto the ground, hoping to catch a ride on a mammal. That it burrows into the skin and then lays eggs. He continues to explain that what might be happening is me having the sensation of this parasite digging into my pores.

But with a smile, he says that the solution is easy. He was going to spread a liquid plastic on my back and all the itching areas. We had to let it dry, but then it would suffocate the parasite, and it would die in my skin. He explained that if this was the case, then within minutes, I would feel relief. But that I had to keep this on my back for a few days just to be sure.

I agreed, and he put this liquid over my back that was flexible when it dried, kind of like “Nu-Skin” now.

Within minutes I am feeling better, breathing better, and the itching is easing off.

It was a huge relief on all levels.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, I get into the car, and once we get back to Herman’s family house, his father runs up, clearly with exciting news.

The news was that the following day was going to be the first day that any flights were going to leave the country.

We were gone when they heard the news, and his pregnant sister had gone down to stand in line in the heat for hours to get the plane tickets for us and to get our passport visa exits approved. She was almost not able to get it all done. They started to close the door in her face, and she pretended to faint from the heat. Out of pity, they took her inside to cool off, and they gave her the necessary paperwork out of pity on her.

I complimented her on her acting job and quick thinking.

Happy, exhausted, but now concerned, I realize I am leaving tomorrow.

It was going to take me over 24 hours to get home. There were no direct flights to the US, so I would have to go from here to Trinidad, then Aruba, to Curacco, then to the Bahamas, then to Miami, and go through customs there. Then catch a flight to Atlanta, and then I would finally be able to get to Dallas, Texas, and my own family.

I am beyond excited to get home. And I hope that I don’t start itching going through customs and end up in quarantine because of carrying a foreign bug into the country under my skin!
~Suzanne Wagner~