My second host in the Siberut Island rainforest was Amanjano, a 62-year-old shaman who lived on a scenic bend of stream deep in the jungle. Amanjano proved to be more laid-back and happy-go-lucky than Amantiru, my first host – in part, I’m sure, because of his nature, but also because of his age.
Whereas Amantiru had three kids at an age when they would have to decide whether to stay in the jungle or live a modern life in town, Amanjano’s kids were all grown up – and one of them pictured on his lintel, a handsome fellow in his mid-30s, wore the suit-and-necktie uniform of a guy who’d been formally educated and now lived in a globalized setting.
Amanjano seems comfortable navigating his own traditions with the global modernity represented by tourists like me, and he proved a be a bit of a joker – teasing me about my receding-hairline widow’s peak (a detail that isn’t found among Mentawai men).
Near the lintel of Amajano’s house is a bit of graffiti drawn by a certain “Joana from Portugal.” It reads: “Every person you’ll meet today has a lesson to teach, a story to share, and a dream to live.” Inside of the house, in Amanjano’s bedroom, is another bit of graffiti drawn by some unnamed tourist, which reads: “Long hair, long life; Short hair, short life; big banana, happy wife.”
Though Amanjano doesn’t hunt as a much as he used to, he marked my visit by taking me on a poison-gathering expedition in the jungle, where he collected a pouch-full of green leaves that he later mixed with chili, ginger, and wild root to squeeze into a paste that he brushed onto his hunting arrows and dried over the open fire for later use.
Though I enjoyed an easy rapport with Amanjano he didn’t take an active interest in me until the second night of my visit, when we were out silently looking up at the stars and I pulled up my Sky Guide smartphone app to identify equatorial constellations I couldn’t recognize.
There was something about the Sky Guide app – perhaps the way it provided detailed illustrations of mythic figures like Ursa Major and Draco against the stars – that really captured Amanjano’s imagination. It was as if the app had taken something familiar to Amajano – the stars above – and seeded them with something exotic, with these old mythic European interpretations of what we were seeing.
Note: “Dispatches” are short vignettes, profiles, and mini-essays written and posted from the road, often in tandem with my Instagram account. For more full-formed writing, check out my book Marco Polo Didn’t Go There, or the Essays or Stories archives on this site. I don’t host a “comments” section, but I’m happy to hear your thoughts via my Contact page.
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