Suriname – Learning the Ways of the Jungle

As Herman and I went to bed in the sweltering heat of the jungle. His mother came in and placed some mosquito coils next to both of us. She lit one end, with a match, and over the night the smoke is released like a sort of incense, but it is clearly toxic to the mosquitos.
The next morning, I wake up because the jungle has become alive with the calls of birds and monkeys chattering away in their bid to welcome in the new day.
As I sit up, I look down at the mosquito coils that are now nothing but ash, and I see hundreds of dead mosquitos all over the floor, my sheet and my pillow.
Quickly, I check my body and while there might be one or two new bites on me, it seems the coils worked great!
(Though I do wonder how toxic such a thing might be to breathe.)
I get up to go to the bathroom, and I am about to the door of the bathroom that is currently closed, when his mother has jumped out of bed and is running towards me with a long stick with a hook at the top.
She is talking quickly and loudly. She is clearly trying to tell me something important, while waving the stick at me.
She insists that I take the stick.
Clearly confused, I take it, when I see Herman’s head pop around the corner of our makeshift bedroom and he says, “My mother is trying to tell you that there is a python in the bathroom. The bathroom is open to the air at the top and the snake comes in because the tile is cool, and it usually sleeps in the bathroom. You have to take the hooked part and lift its head up to the opening to coax it out of the bathroom.”
He takes one look at my shocked face and says, “Do you want me to do it?”
And I say … still stunned, “Yes, … Please!”
Herman then tells his mom that he will do it and satisfied with Herman’s answer, she goes to get dressed.
I hear Herman rustling to get dressed. Then with shorts on and no shirt, he comes around the corner … barefoot and looking perfectly at home … like he does this sort of python wrangling every day. He walks down the hall to me, takes the stick and without hesitation, he walks into the bathroom, as I peek cautiously around the corner to see what might be lurking inside.
Sure enough, on the damp tile where the shower is, there is a huge green python. Its skin shimmers in the dampness and it stirs as Herman walks in.
Gently, with no fear, Herman uses the hooked end to lift the head up, and the snake lazily glides its head towards the opening at the top of the bathroom wall, that is open to the air, and the outside wall.
The snake gets its head out the opening and then with a series of coiled motions, works the rest of its body up and out the opening, ready for its next excursions into the jungle that is … its home.
I am stunned!
Herman then calmly turns towards me still carrying the stick, looking like Tarzan from the old movies, and says, “Oh and there is no hot water here because it is so hot, there is no need for hot water. Mostly you will be trying to cool off as we are at the equator. Remember, to drink way more water than you are used to. Heat stroke is a real thing here and if you are not used to this climate, it can be deadly.
Then, he walks back to the living room.
As I am now in the bathroom alone, I close the door and say to myself, “Toto, I don’t believe we are in Kansas anymore!”
I go to pee, but I can’t keep my eyes off the opening where the python slithered out.
While it was not a giant python (as I know they can become 20 feet long) it was still a good 9 feet long and something I had never seen outside a zoo.
I get dressed and we take the sheets off the sofas, while is mother is cleaning up the dead mosquitos on the floor.
Breakfast is Coffee, with fresh coconut milk right off the tree. It made the coffee taste delicious and exotic.
She added in some fresh bananas and other fruits that I had never had before and some toast. And that was breakfast. It was divine. A tropical medley of yum!
All the while she is preparing breakfast, I am trying to help by cutting up fruit, and she is talking to me.
I have to say that I am not understanding much. While German and Dutch are similar, this Surinam dialect was not quite either.
She would point to something and then say something with a head nod in Herman’s direction. This pattern continued on even though I did not understand what she was saying.
I would look at Herman and he would occasionally roll his eyes and shake his head when she was not looking.
Based on his behavior and body language I gauged that she was saying something like, “If you marry Herman then you will get these family heirlooms!”
I just kept smiling and nodding.
After breakfast, his father and Herman start having a heavy conversation.
Herman would periodically tell me what was being said. It was something to the effect of, “The military has really taken over this time. It is very dangerous out there. Right now, there are curfews and all performances, shows, movies, and restaurants are closed till further notice. You cannot have a show without those curfews being changed. You will have to go down to the military offices and plead your case with top officials otherwise the shows will not be able to happen. And you cannot get to the International Hotels, they are surrounded and the people inside are not able to go anywhere. They are stuck in the hotels and things are not safe downtown. And you also can’t get to the US Embassy, all the roads are blocked so you will not be able to get through to let the embassy know that she is here.”
Herman takes it upon himself to start to find a way to talk to the top officials and explain what we are here to do.
He also takes his dad’s car and goes with his pregnant other sister to try to open up a conversation with the military. Seems they think that him going with a pregnant sister will help get them in the door. He also starts to talk to the ballet studio and what kind of rehearsals we need with the other dancers and he begins to organize the times, and days, when we might be able to get started.
Me? I am told to stay put! I am told that if I see or hear of military vehicles coming our way that I am to run into the jungle!
I think to myself, “Are you kidding? I have been in jungles, you go in 30 feet and you can’t see how you came in, much less how to get back out.”
I just nod in agreement.
But the seriousness of our current situation is starting to register. I begin to wonder if my parents know what is happening.
I am pretty sure my savvy dad knows, but the question would be if he told my mother. I asked if there was a way that I could get a message, or a phone call out to them but that was clearly impossible. The military had cut all phone lines going out of the country. All transport was stopped. All trains, cars, trucks, and planes were not moving.
Initially the National Military Council (NMR) imposed a tight curfew that lasted from 10 pm to 5 am each day.
I discovered that in Suriname that the performances happened when everything got dark because they could not make the theater completely dark because there were again no real windows, as in such heat one had those large Venetian blinds made out of wood so a breeze could move through. For the second act of Giselle … it was supposed to be a spooky scene and the darkness is required to create the mood.
At that time, it got dark about 7 pm. But the other dancers also were doing their ballets with our program, and the audiences needed to get home before the curfew.
I don’t know exactly how Herman did it, but he did manage to eventually lift the curfew just enough so that we were able after a few weeks to have the opportunity to do the performances.
In the meantime, we needed to rehearse with the company in Suriname so we could make sure our choreography worked with the other dancers.
We started rehearsing and that is when I learned about that life moves in “Suriname time.”
What is Suriname time you ask?
I was to discover that it is not uncommon for the people of Suriname to have a more relaxed attitude towards time and punctuality compared to other countries. Coming from Germany and the ballet world in general, punctuality is essential and expected. But in Suriname things tended to go more slowly because the heat of the day stops all things until it cools off. That means from 11 am till 3 pm not much happens. They have a sort of siesta cycle (similar to what the Italians do).
We were supposed to start a rehearsal at 3 pm.
But that did not happen.
4 pm comes around and still no other dancers. Finally, about 4:30 people started showing up.
To them they just do not get going until it begins to cool off. Their body is regulated that way.
In February while it is the dry season, the humidity is still way high. Then when you add, 90 plus degrees to that, it become sweltering. And 90 degrees feels like over 100 degrees with that level of humidity.
I wanted to be ready and so I was warmed up and was raring to go at 3 pm. I tried to stay warm for that extra time and Herman and I rehearsed without them. Once they arrived, I was too hot, sweating profusely, and starting to feel lightheaded.
We manage to do the rehearsals, but as the rehearsal went on, I realized that in that humidity my point shoes were turning into mush. The sweat from my feet was so much that the shoes were falling apart. The layers of paper and pressed glue were peeling off.
I began to worry if I brought enough shoes for the performance. Now I needed to find a store that carried shellac. Dancers use this to harden the toe after the shoes have been softened by wearing. But even as I think about it, I wonder if in this sweltering humidity that the shellac would dry.
We finish the rehearsal, and we manage to get the shellac for my shoes. By the time we get back to Herman’s parents’ house, I just don’t feel good. I feel sort of woosey and I was beginning to get confused.
I was just so … hot!
His mother takes one look at me and then opens my hand and pours the entire saltshaker into my palm and indicates that I am supposed to put in all in my mouth!
She grabs a fresh coconut from their yard and hacks off the top and pours the milk into a glass and indicates that I am to swallow the salt by washing it down with the coconut milk/water.
Herman makes sure I understand, and I do as I am told. He also says that his mom said that I was on the edge of heat stroke and that was a very bad thing.
Sure, enough she was right. Within 20 minutes I was feeling much better. I was on the verge of heat stroke.
I hugged her and profusely thanked her. I did not want to end up in a hospital for heat stroke in Suriname during a military takeover.
After that I paid more attention to what my body was trying to tell me. I clearly was not used to this type of humid heat after living in Berlin for 2 years with its very cold and damp weather. At Herman’s families house, there was no freezer or ice.
After weeks of negotiation and much back and forth. We manage to get a special approval to have the curfew changed to 11 pm so that the audience and ourselves could get home after the performance. Of course, in exchange … the military officials would get free tickets for them and their wives.
Slowly over a few weeks the performances finally arrive and we go to have a dress rehearsal at the theater.
Herman drops me off, while he has to run some sort of errand and I go into the theater with all my costumes and stuff.
I see other dancers and say, “Hi!”
There is a bit of excitement in the air. This is a very big deal to them. And that makes me very happy. I know the power of performing and the great thrill that it is. I am glad Herman was able to pull this off.
As I go into the theater, I notice that there is a woman on the stage doing something odd. I drop off my stuff and go back up to where she is in the center of the stage to see what she is doing.
She is dancing with rattles, and singing. She is dressed in a colorful skirt with beads around her neck. On the ground I clearly see tools of magic. There are conch shells, bowls with seeds and herbs in them, feathers, bones, and … a dead chicken with its head cut off. And the blood of the chicken is flowing into a bowl.
Being the curious person that I am, I go up and introduce myself and ask if she speaks English.
She does and then I ask what this ceremony is?
She politely explains to me that this is a Winti Ceremony of the Creole tradition.
Through her, I discover that in that area that the West African, European, and Indigenous populations have combined their religions and that while this is a form of Voodou, they are a very Christian based culture and this is a blended version of religions for them where they invoke the ancestral spirits and deities through dancing, singing, drumming, and offerings. Winti is an honored tradition of the Surinamese culture and history.
I asked her what this ceremony was for? She said that this theater was next to a graveyard and the spirits will tend to wander into the theater unless she clears and seals the theater from those spirits by honoring them with a ceremony. And that was what she was doing.
I asked if I could help in any way? She smiled but said, “No. But your request shows respect for the traditions of the ancestors and that this pleased them.”
I continued to watch her till she was done.
It was so very interesting to watch. There was no feeling of evil involved, it was a lovely celebration of tradition, respect, boundaries, and a blending of many cultures.
Too often we judge things before we are willing to understand them or feel them. I would in this life, learn many things from the complicated weavings of the religious traditions that have integrated into the South American tapestry.
This was my first introduction.
But it would not be my last.
She explained that if she did not do the ceremony that people would not come to the show. Their tradition dictated the necessity of such decorum.
I nodded and accepted that this was very true to her, and I could see that her heart was fully involved.
In all rituals, integrity matters. Intent matters. An open heart matters.
Ritual is important for all of us to find peace in our life. It anchors us into places that are familiar and feel safe. It connects us to our past and the ancestors that are there to help us. Traditions are how we express love to our past, those that have come before us, and hopefully our intention is to give those connections to those in our future.
But during opening night, I was to discover that certain ghosts or souls from the graveyard were not quite … appeased … enough!
Seems that some dead souls decided that in the second act of Giselle (which is a scene of unsettled ghosts and spirits) that it was their opportunity to remind everyone that this was their space and that they were in charge.
I will tell that story tomorrow.
~Suzanne Wagner~