78. Ship of Fools

78.

Ship of Fools

The captain allows me to stay on the upper deck (First Class) to keep the Canadians company, so I only see the German when I take him his meals.

Dinnertime! The second-class passengers line up—biggest and meanest first, then women, and then children and I take my place last in line—the polite American! I duck under the pig’s head hanging on a hook over the chow line, hold out plastic bowls for a portion for me and one for the German and go below to eat with him feeling mighty like a refugee.

Back on deck I look at the river and the jungle slowly moving by. On the shore a boy flings a spear at something in the water. Here on the river the circle of life closes even quicker than in Pucalpa. The strong live and the weak die. For human animals, strength means money. Money means health, security, food, women—life itself. The less money you have, the less of everything. No money and you’re dead. That’s the grim reality on this Ship of Fools.

I am being confronted with some pretty stark facts of life. Momma! Where are the police, the laws, the Social Security, the credit cards, the friends, the sanitation, the McDonald’s hamburgers?

The only things I have going for me are my fit body and my USA passport. And about that fit body, well, I hope I look a lot stronger than I feel because that original amoeba has staged a successful revolution in my intestines--but for my safety I can’t let any weakness show. I wonder what my colleagues back at the university are teaching today? My teacher, The Big Flow, is laying out some hard, practical lessons for me.

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