Note to the Reader: This is Chapter One of the Guyana Chronicles, my first attempt to write a longer story. More chapters will follow as I have time to write and edit them. The story itself is mostly biographical, sharing a season of my experiences after college. The names of characters have all been changed and some of the characters are composites of people I knew then. Guyana though is how I recall it in my memories. I hope you find the story interesting to read, it was for sure an interesting life to live in that time period. Also the rushed, rapid feeling of the first chapter's pace is done with intent. It is meant to convey a sense of excitement mixed with some alcohol. Enjoy!
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The heat was sticky, mixed with her sweat the viscosity causing her shirt and shorts to cling to her clammy skin. The Carolina blue color running a deeper hue to cobalt in the wetness she felt. A ball cap protected the top of her head and shaded her pale eyes from the equatorial sun that baked everything in sight. Every piece of her outfit exclaimed her pride in the place she acquired her education from though now she was a long way off from the Franklin Street bars and protest marches.
She was down on knees in the mud that covered the ground, it rained everyday down here in Guyana it seemed. Not loud storms with thunder, it was more just a heavy curtain of rain with big drops coming in the afternoons and giving relief from the heat. Her slender fingers darker in color from her time here at the Equator grasped around the thick heavy mass of slick clay on the ground, lifting it and dropping it into a bucket with a thud. Caliche, a material she never knew before was now the bane of her existence.
The stuff was everywhere; streaking across her exposed skin, under her broken fingernails, matted in the cotton of her blue clothing, which never came really clean. She stood up straight then, back aching, a lithe figure, more taut muscles and sinew than fleshy curves, she lifted the cheap plastic bucket full of caliche, lugging it to the next person in the chain and watching as the bucket swung hand by hand over towards the foundation of the house-to-be they were working on.
Wheelbarrows would be easier, but the one they had was broken, all there was were the plastic buckets. They had no shovels or mattocks either, the heavy caliche was being carved from the ground with a trowel tied to a long stick and used like a spear. The process was slow but it needed to be done and it was a lesson on working within the means of the local population, honoring them and their labor, honoring their culture and their place among humanity. A concept many westerners did not understand. It was a thought that never occurred to her before coming to Guyana.
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"I like that journal you have there it is really cool looking, I journal as well, I find it helps a lot."
She looked up from the page of her carefully crafted thoughts hearing the northeastern voice and saw the tall willowy redhead though her red hair was all wrapped in a white towel fresh from the shower. Ellen was her name and she was the leader of the volunteer group who came down to Guyana for two weeks to help with the project. It was summertime, most of the group were college age girls and a few older guys all bearing a desire to do something positive and helpful with their vacation time.
Jade's mind was not on that though as she looked up from her journal entry and stared at the redhead a bit harder than she knew she should.
"Of course." The words rambled in her mind but not aloud, she hoped.
Of course the team leader would be someone that looked just like Celeste, same body, same hair, same spirit, smart and wanting to make the world a better place. Jade's mind drifted for a moment back to treasured memories of a heated morning as she laid over Celeste body in her dorm room bed. Fingers over her smooth pale skin, the soft slope of her pelvic mound and the hollow of her hip as she kissed over every inch of Celeste's naked body that morning.
Stirring herself back to the present and finding herself still staring at this redhead wearing a clingy green cotton top and tight jeans. As Ellen gracefully sat down next to her at the table Jade remembered Ellen's hand.
"How is your hand, may I see it?"
Ellen's hand got smashed by an errant tool at the work site earlier in the day, it was bruised and there was an open cut over her first knuckle that Jade tended to on site, but she knew the risk of infection was real and highly possible on construction work sites especially in the third world, so Jade was concerned.
As Ellen offered her bruised right hand to Jade, she caressed it tenderly with her darker slender fingers. She almost majored in physical therapy and almost went to that massage school out in the Carolina woods not far off from the university, but she didn't, Jade stayed to the things that were deep in her heart and studied Sociology. Growing up though on a western ranch along the edge of the Colorado plateau, she possessed a strong body of knowledge in first aid and used her talents to serve as the team's nurse.
Jade knew Ellen's hand was okay, nothing was broken thankfully, just needed careful tending to now and protection so it did not get infected. She leaned her head in closer to Ellen, her dark hair hung like a curtain half covering her face. Her hair, the height of her cheek bones and the ease in which her skin tanned all revealed the traces of the Blackfoot people in Jade's bloodlines. But she never knew what to call herself, some folks preferred the word Indian while other used Native American, either way Jade did not care for labels or anyone telling her who she was or was not.
She pushed that dark curtain of hair behind her ear and glanced to Ellen's blue eyes with her own eyes that were the color of sage or even jade. Their heads not far from one another, Jade had been testing how close she could get into Ellen's personal space and Ellen's responses so far seem to say that she did not mind Jade's presence close to her, in fact it seemed that Ellen would often seek Jade out to be where she was.
"That still needs to be covered and I think tomorrow you should focus on just bossing people around."
Jade raised an eyebrow as she looked to Ellen's face and simpered at her own joke knowing already that Ellen was not the sort to just stand back while others did the work. She then imagined what it would be like to kiss Ellen's mouth, her lips were a bit lissome and her features softer than Jade's own. Ellen was brash and loud though and would have no trouble bossing others around if she chose to.
"I just need a Band-Aid; I will be fine." Ellen quipped back, displaying no uneasiness as Jade held her hand.