Butt Numbing

For nine months I lived in Teresina, the capital of the state of Piauí, in the northern part of Brazil. Located just 5° south of the equator in high desert geography there wasn’t much sightseeing nearby. Every day you could count on 95°+ weather and humidity as high as 90%. But it rarely rained. In the eleven months I lived in Brazil it rained only twice in Teresina. Somehow this rainfall was enough to sustain the local mango trees and the cashew plantation that my first host family owned.

Being an American in a remote-ish part of Brazil afforded me opportunity to meet a lot of people your run of the mill Brazilian would not. For example, the governor of Piauí, Hugo Napoleon, was born in the US when his father was the Brazilian ambassador to the US. I met him at a party at his house. He, in turn, introduced me to one of Piauí’s senators. The senator was your stereotypical politician who kept himself busy drinking, shaking hands, drinking, telling jokes, drinking, and generally making an ass of himself. The senator shook my hand, slapped me on the back, handed me his business card and told me to look him up if I was ever in Brasilia (Brazil’s Capital).

I didn’t think of the senator again until a few months later when I was getting antsy to see some of the rest of Brazil. So I called the senator and told him I was coming to Brasilia. He welcomed me to stay in his apartment. My trip plans had begun.

Out of a sense of adventure and frugality I decided I’d take a bus from Teresina to Brasilia, some 1100 miles away. So early one April evening I climbed into a rough looking bus to start my exploration of other parts of Brazil. Although none of the passengers were carrying livestock with them this was no motorcoach: thinly padded seats that didn’t recline, no air conditioning, and no restroom. I took my seat and tried my best to get comfortable for the long ride.

For the first couple of hours out of Teresina the roads were smooth and in good condition. As the night wore on the paved roads worsened and eventually we were driving on improved dirt roads. Sometime during the night I was able to fall asleep.

I woke up around 3 the next morning when the bus stopped for fuel and a driver change. I was too groggy to acknowledge that we had been driving nonstop for 8 hours and would likely be going another 8 hours before the next stop. It didn’t dawn on me that I wouldn’t be able relieve myself some time. It really wouldn’t matter much in the end though since I didn’t think to get myself something to eat or drink either. The bus resumed its journey and I drifted back to sleep.

When I woke up next the sun had already been up for hours. The air was hot and dry. I was still slumped down in my seat when I opened my eyes and saw only sky outside. As I worked myself to a more upright position I continued to see only sky out my window; no trees, hills, or other vehicles. It was only when I looked out the window and DOWN did I realize that we were driving on a path along the edge of a “gorge” hundreds of feet deep. This man-made gorge was to become part of the highway that connects the northeast of Brazil to the capital region.

The path (yes, I do mean path) that we were on was only slightly wider than the bus. I have no idea what would have happened if we encountered oncoming traffic. I’m really not good with heights so I closed my eyes and pretended that I was somewhere else.

A few hours later we made our second stop on our journey. There was a clearing in the jungle (not really a jungle but not the rainforest either) that was maybe an acre in size where two buildings sat. One was the gas station/restaurant and the other, presumably, was the shack that the owner lived in. The gas station/restaurant consisted of a framework of salvaged boards and timber covered by mismatched pieces of sheetmetal. But they did have electricity there as well as food and cold beverages. We barely had enough time to get something to eat before we were called to reboard the bus.

We came to a stop a couple of hours later at the edge of a river. We had made a couple of “river crossings” earlier where we simply drove across the shallow river in our path. This river, on the other hand, was much wider and faster. It also had a small ferry at the bank. I use the term “ferry” generously since it was really just a wooden raft a couple of feet wider than the bus and barely as long. It was propelled across the river by two men and a rope. The driver positioned the bus on the ferry but the ferry wouldn’t budge. It had been very dry recently and the water level was low. The driver decided to lighten the load and had us get off the bus (and ferry). It still wouldn’t budge.

I had no idea how we were going to get across. As far as I knew we were over 16 hours from civilization (our earlier stopping points did not count as civilization) on this side of the river. I watched the driver and the two ferry operators try to figure out a solution until the driver ultimately shrugged his shoulders, got into the bus and backed it off the ferry. Great, I’m thinking we’re going to have to backtrack and find another route if there was one. Then I notice that the driver is still backing up; a lot farther than necessary to get turned around to head back. He stops about 50 yards from the ferry, shifts back to drive, and guns it. What the hell?!?

In a split second I realize what he’s trying to do and can only imagine a disastrous outcome. He’s going to try to dislodge the ferry by jamming on the brakes just as he gets on. More likely he will hit the brakes too late and end up in the river or he will hit the brakes too soon and end up partially dislodging the ferry with the front tires on the floating ferry and the back tires on dry ground. Either way we’re screwed.

The driver, of course, nailed it. He stops on the ferry (remember it’s only a couple of feet longer than the bus) and successfully frees it. His momentum carried the ferry nearly across the river. On the other side of the river the bus drove off the ferry and the ferry headed back for us “pedestrians”. When we reboarded the bus on the other side the driver acted like he did this all the time (maybe he did). We continued on without incident.

We stopped one more time for fuel and a driver change. Then, 33 hours after I boarded the bus in Teresina, we arrived at the bus station in Brasilia. I was in dire need of food, sleep, and a shower.



Next time: Brasilia and Beyond