Hearing LOUD music and fireworks, somewhat appropriate after successfully repairing the engine, Mike and I ventured into the town of Pedernales. There is no “public dock” so we asked in our Tarzan Espanol along with various hand motions if we could leave our dinghy on a dilapidated metal dock that was perhaps used for small shipments at some point. “Si, si,” was the response. There were a few fishing pirogues haphazardly tied off to it. We were amazed that almost every pirogue or dugout canoe has a new engine. Chavez has been passing out Yamaha 40 hp Enduro engines to each family. We managed to tie Rubber Ducky out of the way and carefully walked the slippery gangplank to shore. It had been raining so it was very muddy, explaining the color of the river. In town the first building we passed was the police station which was plastered with a huge poster of Chavez. This theme is repeated throughout the village. It was evident who the leader is here and that the people like him. It was evening time and most people were out wandering around the streets. The small cantinas were open. It resembled the Dominican Republic in many ways. There was green fluid running down the gutters and all the doors were open to the street. However, the streets here were all concrete and the sidewalks were elevated. The noticeable contrast is that the people here did not speak to you and most would not even look at you until you passed and then it was only a quick glance. It was an odd feeling.
To convey this scene is difficult. In the village there are no cars, but paved streets, sparsely furnished concrete homes and very few small stores resembling what we found in the Bahamas: a few shelves, a few items and degrading produce in crates or boxes on the floor. At the end of the street there was an enormous platform with very large, tall speakers resembling what you would see at a rock concert. We wandered toward the booming music to find a small crowd gathered around a woman with a microphone. She spoke for a moment and then led them in what appeared to be aerobic exercises, but as they continued mimicking her, we figured out that it was their equivalent of line dancing. Mike’s comment was “cheesy.” We continued down a side street where the homes were varying in that some were nicely painted while others were simply concrete gray. Some had tiled floors, but most were just concrete. The people living nearer the center of town were better off than those living closest to the river where they live on stilted log structures having one or two sides and a roof of sheet metal or palm fronds. A couple of hammocks were the only "furniture." The numbers of children in them were too many to count. Oddly some huts had TV's. This, too, was courtesy of Chavez. You could hear his propoganda broadcast in the streets. He is really rallying support from the people.
In the center of town was a Catholic Church. It was open and people were inside. The altar was full of fake flower arrangements. The celebration going on in town was explained by the poster on the church door. It was the Procession of the Virgin, a religious holiday. An older man seeing our interest tried to explain what was going on in rapid Spanish. We smiled and nodded and went on our way. It was getting dark and Phil was on the boat alone.
