After we arrived in Rama with a busride from hell (suicidal driver,
clouds of dust) we were
as black as a coalminer. The boat to Bluefields had just left, so we
were stuck in this town for another day,
it was more a "shithole".
We thought about climbing the hill
overlooking the town. We first passed
a camp which was very sad. Whole families were making little rocks
from big ones by hitting
them with a little hammer. A bit like the Daltons in Lucky Luke. They
would sleep next to the rocks
at night, we hadn't seen such poverty before in this trip. The guys
who had instructed us the way before
showed up behind us when we were climbing the hill, and we felt
threatened. We waited, they waited, and
because we felt easy prey, we just turned around and forgot about the
plan.
The laundrette was in a woman's house, the only one with a
washingmachine in town.
In town we met a guy who said he was a doctor sent by Jezus. He would
collect herbs pointed
out by God, and feed them to patients, and that's how many people in
this town were medically treated.
All the man in the hostel would whistle at Flo when she went in the
corridor, no shame, the electricity had cuts, there was
another rat in the restaurant, the toilets smelt very bad, all in all
we were not so sorry to leave this town,
heading for our island.
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