Story and photos by Gaulbert Sutherland
At the place where the Mazaruni and Kukui rivers unite in the heart of the jungle sits Jawalla, an Amerindian village of gold mines, casak and religious accord.
It is no Eden; the polluted Mazaruni has taken care of that. The nighttime comes with no serenity because generators devour the silence and villagers grapple with a change of lifestyle that comes with good and bad. For all that, the village is progressing, largely by their own efforts.
Sitting on the banks of the upper Mazaruni, Jawalla – a bastardisation of the original Akawaio word meaning ‘Big Jaguar’
