The 2023 Brazil Journals, Chapter Twelve

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Chapter Twelve

The Suspicious Yellow Box

  

 

The more I traveled, 

the more I realized that fear makes strangers of people

 who should be friends.

—Shirley MacLaine

 

 

I see them ahead of us.   I’m sitting in the back row of the van and can watch them through the windshield as they point to our driver to stop.

 

They are dressed in camo and are armed.   At least one is holding an assault rifle and is standing apart from the others, his eyes  scanning the scene.

A sneaky photo from inside the van.

 

Military?   Police?   Narco-traffickers?  Robbers?   Kidnappers?

 

I wonder about the state of our diplomatic relations with Brazil.   Is there an extradition treaty?  

My very active imagination takes over and goes off on a lark of its own.  I let it run freely.

 

 What if they kidnap us for ransom?   Or march us into the brush and kill us just because three of us are Americans?  Will they let the sole Canadian live?

 

I’ve never before, in all my travels,  felt threatened.   I have no idea about the situation in Brazil but I am aware that in certain parts of the world Americans are at risk

 

Octavio gets out of the van and talks with one who seems to be in charge.   They go around the van, open the rear hatch, and begin removing all our luggage.

 

What are they looking for?

 

We all sit quietly, minding our manners and not calling attention to ourselves.   By this time, I’m pretty sure they’re military.   They have rank insignia on their camo.

 

That’s it, I think to myself.   We aren’t doing anything wrong.  I turn and kneel on the seat to see what's going on.   Surreptitiously, and very, very slowly, I use my cell phone to snap a photo.

Note how the one with the assault rifle stands apart so he can observe the whole scene and be ready to react.

 

“What’s happening?” someone asks.

 

“They’re going through our luggage,”   I reply.

 

Then, to leaven the mood,  “Laura!  They’re going through your underwear”   It’s a big fat lie.   While they ARE searching through her duffle, all her clothing is in packing bags and I can’t tell what’s in them.

 

Suddenly I’m joined by Shelly and Virginia who are overcome by their own curiosity.

 

The soldier with the automatic rifle stands about 15 feet from the main action, surveilling the whole scene and ready to react should something go awry. 

 

Then they start searching my duffle.   When they finish the top compartment, they unzip the lower compartment.   There, right in plain view, is a yellow plastic box.  

 

The soldier seizes and opens it.   He acts like he might have found what he’s looking for.

 

The box is filled with wrapped fig bars that I brought as airplane snacks.   He closes the box and completes his search. 

 

 

 

 

 

Once all the luggage is inspected and replaced in the van, we smile and wave at the soldiers.  A couple of them smile in return.

They never  inspect the camera bags that are with us in the van.

 

Octavio gets back in the van and says, “I’ve NEVER had that happen before!   Never!”   

Then he surmises that we are very close to the border with Peru, whatever that means.   (A few days later, Octavio tells us the military had seized a huge drug shipment and they were looking for more on that route.)

 

So, on we go.