Jungling II

by Jack Swersie

(Comedy juggler Jack Swersie performed on a cruise ship over the 1987 New Year. Two weeks were spent on the Amazon River . The Rio Negro River joins the Amazon in Manaus , Brazil. Jack embarked on another juggling adventure five hours up the Rio Negro . The date is Jan. 3,1987. Read on, won't you?!)

I once juggled for the Queen of England. Well, that's who he said he was. 

Some guys juggle for royalty, others for presidents. Me? I juggle for natives in the jungles of Brazil . Not a bad fate. Could be worse. I could still be working in women's clothing. I mean in the business of women's clothing. That's what I used to do. When I had a real job.

But the past is unimportant. I'm a funny juggler now. I was told I'd never be a success. But mother was wrong. Now I relax on the upper deck of the Ocean Princess. An hour ago I juggled for folks who'd never seen juggling before, and I feel good. We head for Manaus and another new adventure. We'll meet a guide  looking dogs. Chickens run wild outside' and throughout the house. Goats, too.  The guide explains in Portuguese that tonight we'll go into the swamps looking for crocodiles, but first we will eat. Maria prepares dinner. I don't know what we're eating. I only recognize rice.

Feeling as one does after leaving White Castle, I go down to the dock. Six of us leave in one canoe. It's pitch dark. All you can see are stars. The only sounds are those of the jungle, as well as the quiet splashing of our oars. It's eerie. Real eerie. Antonio flashes a light along the shore and we see the reflection of reptile eyes staring back. By now I'm very scared. What the hell am I doing here? I'm a juggler, not Crocodile Dundee! .

I keep my cool. An hour passes. We slow down. Antonio flashes the light into the still water. A long slimey snake wiggles aimlessly. Nearby, a sleeping fish. Quietly Antonio picks up a spear, aims and tosses. Bull's eye! I couldn't believe it. One after another. Within minutes he gets five. Hey, this looks easy. Let me try. He does. I miss. He laughs.

Sleep will be sound. It's so quiet. I dream of the Amazon Jungling Associa tion. The AJA (It's just a dream, Atlanta!). Bowling ball and chainsaw gimmicks don't exist. Instead, one native juggles three hand-carved oars while balancing a canoe on his forehead. I see a team of brothers (who are not really brothers) passing ten poison darts back and forth flawlessly. And there's a 13-year-old boy balancing a voodoo doll attached to a stick on his chin while cascading seven live piranhas into the air. What a dream!

I wake up feeling alive. The smell of breakfast fills the air. It's not McDonald's, but it's good.

We must get back to Manaus. As we say our good-byes I realize that I haven't juggled for these fine people. Now was my chance. Looking around, I find two sticks and Antonio's machete. They look puzzled as I pick them up. And I juggle. They all smile (in Portuguese). I do a few tricks. They smile some more. I smile back, set the props down, get in the boat and sail into the sunset.

It's a wonderful feeling to know that many miles south of the equator, deep in the heart of the Amazon, a family has seen me juggle. It's hard to know what it really means to them. Maybe they think about it on occasion. Perhaps even talk about it. I hope it brings them happiness. I'll never know for sure. But deep down inside I feel as though I've touched them. And that is what juggling is all about.