One too many passports

January 2008. The immigration officer flipped through my American passport. It was past 9 at night in the sleepy town of Lethem. All I wanted was for the man to stamp me into Guyana so I could crash onto a comfortable bed. That wasn’t to be. “Where did you come from?” he asked. “From Brazil.” …

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The wild green yonder

January 2008. The 9-seater, high-winged BN Islander lifted off from Orinduik Falls, the Ireng River receding below. The sea of grass undulated with each gust of wind that fanned across the vast Rupununi savannah toward Brazil. The sun raced to complete its arc across the sky as we headed back north to Georgetown. It would …

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An evening on the Takutu

January 2008. I threw my pack at the foot of the hotel bed in Lethem, deciding on whether to snuggle under the covers or head for the shower. Both beckoned alluringly. The power could go out in the middle of the night (and it did). My sweat would then mix with the dust on my …

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