Outpost on the Rio Prinzapolka; or, What Made Alami Run Away?

Well, I got us to Alamikangban in the previous blog, but, we got there too late to tell you much about the place. We could still make out the houses in the evening light as we reached the last turn in the river before negotiating a shallow rapid at the rocks just below the waterfront of the town.

I recall 25 years ago that an old coworker and friend named Luis On Sang and his wife Muncha lived in an unpainted wooden house overlooking this rapid when Vivian and I lived in nearby Limbaikan over 25 years ago. Of course virtually all of the houses in Alamikangban - a community of about 2000 inhabitants - are built of wood and left unpainted even today.

I've seen the name of this place spelled Alamikamba, Alamikanba, Alamikamban, Alamikangba, Alamikangban, Alamikanbang, and Alamikangbang. I've even seen it spelled several different ways in the same document! I don’t know if there is a correct spelling either! I suppose that the most important thing to keep in mind is that these spellings all refer to the same place. Most people here can't read or write anyway!

The most interesting explanation I've heard for the name is that an old a Mayagna Indian "sukia" or medicine man named Alami once lived here by himself. When the site was first visited by Europeans, Alami ran away ("kangban") and was never to be seen again. I don't know if anyone ever asked Alami what he called his home! Given his supernatural powers, perhaps Alami knew what would eventually become of his tranquil abode. And, perhaps he ran away to avoid the inevitable trouble.

Since that time, it seems that virtually everyone who has come here or heard of it has claimed to own or at least tried to own it! In earliest recorded periods, the coastal villages of Kuamwatla (House of the guan bird) and Walpasiksa (Black Rocks) both claimed to possess this sparsely populated land. Indians who lived along the river banks here were expected to pay tribute to the "síndicos" of those villages with roughly hewn dugout canoes or other acceptable articles of value. Eventually, Alamikangban became a permanent village and trading post.

Eventually, a road and airport were built here and Alamikangban became one of the most important trading and transportation centers in the region. At one point, I am told, Alamikangban boasted an international – or at least Central American regional – air passenger and transport service as it was connected in a route with destinations in Honduras. In the late 1970’s when I lived nearby, I recall climbing over pieces (partial wings and fuselages) of old Ford Trimotor passenger/cargo planes which had been discarded in previous years adjacent to the airstrip.

Inhabitants of Alamikangban have included a vast array of foreigners from practically every continent and every occupation imaginable. Native citizens from nearby and not so nearby communities have also come and left again. Mining operations in the highlands shipped processed gold and other precious metals through here.

Huge balsas of giant Spanish cedar and mahogany logs floated past this village. Most of these logs later were towed out to sea and loaded into huge ships and carried away to other destinations. One larger-than-life standout in the history of precious hardwoods exploitation was Adan Hislop. Mr. Hislop developed an enormous logging operation utilizing local manpower operating heavy machinery as well as traditional extraction methods. I was told by one of the locals that Hislop’s annual production came to about US$1 million! I have yet to see any of the six to eight foot diameter Spanish cedar and mahogany logs like Hislop was purported to have extracted with regularity.

Hislop was larger-than-life in another way, too. In his prime years he was a giant of a man and is said to have weighed more than four hundred pounds. Locals tell me that he would eat two whole chickens and all the trimmings at a single sitting! While staying in his giant wooden hotel in Siuna in the late 70’s, I did have the good fortune of meeting the famous Hislop. Ravaged by the effects of old age, a stroke and diabetes and confined to a wheelchair, Mr. Hislop was still an impressive man.

In the 40's, 50's, and 60's, a vast network of logging roads were developed to haul Caribbean pine logs from the numerous pine savannahs here to sawmills in the area or float them downriver to process elsewhere. The roads still exist today in excellent condition but remain inaccessible because the wooden bridges and culverts burned or rotted away years ago.

One serious problem occurred in the case of pine balsas (or rafts). Caribbean pine are often quite resinous and frequently don't float when rolled into the water. As a result, many of these logs sank to the bottom of the river and eventually lodged themselves permanently into the lower depths of the river. A pine log will generally rot away within a few years when exposed to air and moisture or burn up in the annual grassfires. However kept below water level in non-saltwater environments, logs will remain solid indefinitely. More than one hapless riverboat captain has accidentally discovered one of these long forgotten logs while negotiating the Rio Prinzapolka during low-water periods in the dry season.

Alamikangban lost much of its prominence in the 60's and 70's when the mining companies to the west built a new river shipping center downstream at Limbaikan thereby bypassing the road through Alamikangban in favor of a Limbaikan to Puerto Isabel river barge trip. Adding insult to injury, the mining companies removed the gasoline powered electric generator and wiring they had installed in Alamikangban and reinstalled them at Limbaikan!

In retrospect, though, perhaps this action inadvertently saved Alamikangban from total destruction during the civil war years. The Sandinistas took over Limbaikan and Puerto Isabel for strategic and commercial purposes. In retaliation, the indigenous forces attacked and eventually destroyed both Limbaikan and Puerto Isabel. Limbaikan is now just the sleepy site for a few primitive houses. And, Puerto Isabel is now home to sea drift and sand crabs and is probably still booby trapped with landmines. Even today, a group of North American businessmen maintain a legal claim and pay taxes each year on about 50,000 hectares of Alamikangban territory including the site of the village itself!

Alamikangban really seems like a frontier outpost much like I imagine the days of the old west in North America. It is the seat for the largest but poorest municipality in Nicaragua. The courthouse here is the only courthouse and has the only judge in the municipality. And, the previous judge there seemed to devote his time exclusively to signing and collecting fees for illegal titles to Indian land when he was not drunk or away for extended periods in Managua.

Unlike cow towns of the old west, “cayuco” (dugout canoe) rustling and not horse rustling seems to be one of the major problems here. Indians from neighboring communities frequently paddle their way into town to buy supplies or look for a little carousing. When the time comes for them to head home, they sometimes find themselves “upstream without a….” Well, you know what I mean!

Alamikangban is the only town in the municipality with an operational road connecting it to the rest of the country. Virtually all of the residents of the municipality who live outside Alamikangban must travel there by dugout canoe. The public road is about 45 km in length and was virtually impassable for the first year of my stay in Alamikangban. During that period, with an experienced driver one could count on getting stuck in three to four foot deep ruts four or five times when traveling by off-road 4x4.

The local public passenger vehicle is a converted Soviet era 6x6 troop carrier. It too frequently got stuck or broke down somewhere along the main road forcing the 40 or so passengers to spend the night there. On one occasion, the 6x6 slipped a gear while climbing a steep incline at a spot in the road called El Susto and made a high speed backwards descent towards the bridge below because the brakes were never functional. Fortunately, the driver managed to veer off the road before the truck plunged into the river bed. As a result, the truck broke through a barbed-wire cattle fence and rolled onto its side only killing five people. The remaining forty or so people's lives were spared and suffered only bumps and bruises plus several months of nightmares I imagine.

Last dry season the road was repaired. Even small passenger vehicles are able to make their way into Alamikangban for the time being. However, the freshly repaired road has drawn numerous "madereros" (timber men) back to the area and their overloaded logging trucks are rapidly breaking down the road once again. Looking back, I do miss the tranquility. There were only two or three vehicles which even tried to negotiate the roads during that year. I could recognize any of them as soon as it reached earshot a couple of kilometers away.

Now, we even have small produce and miscellaneous household plastic ware trucks from Masaya show up every few days with their loudspeakers blaring to hawk their merchandise. I seem to be the only person in town who prefers inaccessibility.

I might also mention that the road repairs did not include bridge reconstruction or repair. Most of the ten or so bridges have not had any of their untreated structural pilings or timbers replaced in their ten or more years of service! On casual inspection, a pen knife can usually easily be driven all the way to its handle into these structural members! I refuse to drive or ride across some of these bridges. I either ford the creek itself or get out and walk while someone else negotiates the obviously weak and wobbly structure.

Alamikangban has several merchants, restaurants, bars, and a hotel. Alamikangban has three long-time NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations), a community-run pine seed bank and an indigenous corporation Limi-Nawâh S.A. operating here.

Alamikangban has its own public electric and water facilities. The public electric plant only operates during important holidays because nobody pays their electric bill. The public water supply was damaged several years ago when the dam washed away. Subsequently, a public official dismantled the pump, dug up much of the tubing, and nobody has any idea where he sold them or what he did with the money. Still, the collapsed dam, a rusting water tower, the now empty pump house, and segments of crushed and broken plastic PVC tubing buried a few inches below ground level throughout most of the town remain. There is no public telephone system and the few handheld satellite phones owned by NGOs are not generally available to locals.

Alamikangban has one of the largest and best engineered grass covered airstrips in the country. The airport was engineered to North American standards when it was built by the mining company (or was it banana company - I'm not sure). Then during the contra war, the Sandinista government with the assistance of Cuban and other communist forces enlarged and reconstructed the airstrip for strategic military purposes. The airstrip is no longer maintained or fenced and serves primarily as a pasture for community cattle. No regular air service travels to Alamikangban and charter flights are quite expensive.

A couple of years ago we wanted to prepare the airfield for an upcoming project inauguration to be held in Alamikangban where numerous government dignitaries, potential donors, and a group of Indians from Canada would be arriving by chartered aircrafts. We cleared brush and juvenile pine trees which had sprouted on the runway then contacted the Nicaraguan airport authority to request approval for air traffic. To our surprise, the airport authority sent an engineer to inspect the field by road (12-15 hours to Palmera) and then, because the rest of the road was impassible by pickup truck, I brought him the last 30 km of the way “riding double” on a 4WD Quadra cycle. Upon arrival, the engineer acknowledged that the field had been cleared, took a GPS reading for location and estimated the runway length and heading. I provided him a quick lunch and something to drink at the house. Then, I ferried him right back to his pickup truck to begin the long return trip to Managua. After the event, the airfield reverted once again to its abandoned state.

Merchants in Alamikangban stock only essential items and charge exorbitant prices for them. Those who can afford to spend more than a few cordobas at a time buy in Rosita which lies in another municipality about three hours away by road. Meals in restaurants only cost about US$1.25. But, they usually include only beans, rice, a sugary drink and "bastamento" (boiled banana, plantain, or yuca). Bottled soft drinks or water are US$0.75 extra (and beer costs double that) but worth the extra cost if your GI tract isn't already indoctrinated to the local water supply. The hotel charges US$2.00 per night. But, I think that rate is exorbitant considering the quality and service offered.

The bars are definitely the most lucrative businesses in Alamikangban. They all seem to have their own portable electric power generators and feature unbelievably loud ranchero, Caribbean, and country music radiating from them at all hours of the day and night. It always makes me wonder how people I know who never seem to work are able to spend two or three consecutive days and nights binge drinking in these places! There are also frequent altercations in these bars resulting in shootings, stabbings, machete wounds, bottle cuts, etc. I don’t frequent any of them! And, I don’t walk around town at night!

The NGOs here seem to have little or no funding of their own and simply wait around for the seasonal floods each year in order to distribute the items which other agencies send for relief. None of the NGO professionals actually live in the municipality or remain here for more than a few days at a time.

One European medical program, Accion Medica Cristiana, operates the only doctor-staffed clinic here. Medicine is sold at very low prices but most locals can't afford to pay for it. Another problem is that the only doctor is frequently away for river visits, weekend rest in Rosita, and extended periods during holidays. And, every year they seem to shut down completely until negotiations are completed between the NGO and the government to continue funding the operation.

I've witnessed numerous medical complications and a few deaths due to sickness, difficult pregnancies, snake bites and/or injuries when professional medical assistance is unavailable or facilities are inadequate. Of course, the local sukia (medicine man) is always available with a bush cure when modern medical support is on hiatus.

The community seed bank was apparently quite an operation during the Sandinista years. At that time there was a strong demand for Caribbean pine seed from New Zealand, South America, Cuba, and other places. Because of corruption and/or poor management, though, the facility fell into disuse and has become riddled by termites and rot. The clay brick smoke stack for the cone drying oven teeters ominously and threatens to crash down on the Nicaraguan Army soldiers who have turned the rotting galleries into semi-permanent barracks. A few years ago the World Bank financed a rejuvenation effort for the community seed bank project.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars were directed towards reconstruction and training over several years of project administration. But, only a tiny fraction of that money was ever spent in Alamikangban. Last year the project ended with a last-minute effort to meet project milestones in order to justify those expenditures.

The result was a hastily executed training course, a sloppily developed forest management plan, a reconstruction project punctuated by the disappearance of the contractor along with most of the construction funds and with no new buildings erected and two demolished. The local representative from the community also met her milestone for the reconstruction effort by organizing a seed collection team and makeshift processing two pounds of pine seed to prove that the project was back in business.

Finally, the project was officially turned over to the community to operate. Now that the project money has dried up, nobody in the community even mentions reviving the seed bank as a self-sufficient cooperative venture.

Limi-Nawah is another issue which requires considerable attention and is best left for another day. Hopefully, you now have a better picture in your mind about the joys of living in Alamikangban. Still have a hankering to visit?

Aisabe, Mupitara