"The man who makes small fish with sticks"

"The man who makes small fish with sticks"

Since I only had a green loincloth, a barefoot Indian came up to me. Slim and muscular, her smooth black hair was hooked to her ears in a "boy style" style typical of "cholos" or people with smooth hair. His flat and wide feet were covered with sand. A machete of two and a half feet was fastened in the back by a braided tendril rope. A small bag with a rope was suspended from the ropes under one arm. We looked at each other. The Embera glanced at the scattering of wood chips around my feet and finally broke the silence.

"What are you doing?" he asked in his native language.

"I'm fishing for bait."

Curious, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the almost woody wood in my hands. I continued to whistle. More wood chips fell around his feet. He did not move. The waves of the Pacific Ocean raged like a lullaby, less than a hundred yards from the sandy road. The end of the afternoon had painted the sky with purplish orange and violet hues. A light breeze brought a smell of salt and refreshed us against moisture.



Heavy rains and rough seas had destroyed all the fishing plans I had this morning. In the clear afternoon, I opted for baits for conditions similar to those of a sauna on the Pacific coast. The Choco area is one of the wettest parts of the world, according to the Guinness Book of Records. More than 50 meters of rain fall each year - enough to flood a building above its fourth floor.

He took a bait in my hands and turned it while holding it to show an old Indian who was approaching now. They chatted a bit and continued to turn the bait in their hands, keeping an eye on the middle tail and triplets of stainless steel. The first man waved the bait in a floating motion that imitated a dancing and jumping fish. Smiling, he gave it back to me.

"Do you have more?"

I acquiesced an answer.

"Do you sell them?"

"Not this one, I'll use it myself tomorrow."

"The fish will love these, especially these." He pointed a bait with red hair and a white body; his hooks were raised in the evening light.

"If all went well, a few days later, when I was fighting a 14-pound Dorado against the guns of my boat, my hands were cutting and bleeding, it took us two people to throw the blue launcher and - a golden squeegee and a 10 meter long wooden boat ramp made on site this morning, I had a shameless smile with white teeth.

We showed some of my ready-made baits and talked a little bit more. From that day, the Embera Indians from the Jurubida region in Choco nicknamed me "the man who makes fish sticks". A little catchy, no? I still can not say it correctly in the language of the emperor, but let me tell you it's a mouthful.

Professor Larry M. Lynch is a UK-based author and professor of teaching and learning in Cali, Colombia. Now you too can live your dreams in paradise, find romance, live adventures and get paid for free on the road.