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Under the personnel exchange program, the author taught at the Brazilian Naval Academy. In order to get shipboard experience in the host country, he volunteered for additional duty and took part in a routine 13-day patrol on board the river patrol vessel Amapa. The diary he kept during the cruise describes in detail the naval and humanitarian operations carried out in one of the most challenging regions of the world, Amazonia.
17 January 1977—The Amapa, one of five ships of the Amazon Flotilla, gets under way from Manaus at 1130. On board the ship are five Brazilian officers, 46 men, a doctor, a dentist, and a vaccination team. (Accommodations pose no problem because the ship was designed with staterooms and extra bunks for medical personnel, marines, or other special passengers.) The medical personnel are from the state of Amazonas Department of Health, because the flotilla’s medical officers are unavailable for this patrol. The primary missions of this ship are to carry out patrols in the Amazon River basin, to maintain Brazil’s naval presence in the region, interdict contraband, and provide social and medical assistance to the people of the rivers.1 This patrol will take us 257 miles down the Amazon to the town of Parintins, and after that we will navigate some 300 miles up the Madeira River, a tributary of the Amazon.
On the Amazon, navigation occupies the officer of the deck (OOD) to an extraordinary degree. The river is gigantic and fraught with hazards. Charts are at best a rough guide, because the navigable channel is
‘For footnotes, please turn to page 57.
constantly changing and landmarks are few. In the entire upper basin of the river, man-made navigational aids are limited to one lighthouse, one beacon, and two lighted buoys. The shoreline appears as never-ending jungle. The navigator must rely on radar, using prominent points of land and the distance of the ship to the riverbank to arrive at the fixes which are made every one to three minutes. There is also a Fathometer, manned by a sailor who calls out the depth of water at one- or two-minute intervals. A gradual decline in depth from 26 to 23 feet is normal, but a sharp change from 200 feet to 70 feet must be reacted to by backing down the engines, because the ship is probably leaving the channel. Above all, the OOD must be keenly alert to visual evidence of the river’s movements. Stationary tree trunks with wakes mark the presence of sandbars. Agitated currents or whirlpools, which are powerful enough to swallow a man, indicate rocks and sharp changes in the river’s depth. The force of the current is generally from three to seven knots, and in critical areas the OOD must use various engine combinations and up to 20° of rudder to maintain the ship’s course in the channel. He must also be conversant in river geology so he can select the course which will enable him to avoid treacherous currents- In the case of the tributaries of the Amazon, the only charts available are those which are handmade by a ship’s crew using a system called “croquis, a plot of the river’s forms traced onto a plastic sheet placed over the radar scope. This “croquis” is applied to the most recent chart of the river, which may be two to nine months old, depending on the location- The corrections are then applied along with sounding data. Thus, the ship is provided with a new chart- These charts are often as long as 10 yards, and the entire “croquis” process over the common several' hundred-mile transits on the tributaries is extremely demanding on the navigation team.2
Health care for the people living in the vast river basin is one of the missions of the Amazon Patrol. Here, with \ the patrol ship in the background, a doctor from the
flotilla examines a child in her family’s hut near Manaus, the capital of the state of Amazonas.
Amazonia, the river basin watered by the Amazon and its tributaries, covers 1,880,881 square miles, or about one-third of the total land area of South America. The Amazon, at 4,195 miles, is the world's longest river. This map, showing the villages visited by the author during his cruise on board the Amapa (inset) illustrates the isolation of these widely scattered little towns. The Amapa is part of a five-boat river flotilla supported by a squadron of corvettes.
The river’s tremendous fluctuations in depth and width also cause serious navigational problems. During the peak flow at the end of the flood season (May-June), the depth can be as much as 75 feet more than at its low point during the dry season (November-December). This phenomenon is responsible for the massive inundations which, besides wreaking havoc on the river population, incredibly complicate the navigation problem by obliterating the riverbanks and other prominent radar landmarks- Even with all of this attention to detail, running aground is not uncommon. Fortunately, the Avtapd, with her shallow draft (4 feet), powerful diesel engines, three anchors (two forward and one aft), and deck winches, can normally free herself from any grounding. Current is also a dynamic part of the
ATLANTIC
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COLOMBIA ^---------- 'v/'J
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VENEZUELA
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BRITISH
SURINAM
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OCEAN
< GUIANA V
Equator
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PERU
Manaus
• Parintins
• Borba
» Novo Olinda ‘Japanese Village’
Novo Arlpuana
Manicore
BOLIVIA
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300 I
navigation picture. Speeds upriver, against the current> average 9-11 knots, and those downriver, 18-20. It is during this high-speed downriver leg that the “croquis” made while navigating upriver be- c°mes so valuable.
With sunset, the problem of safe navigation changes again. At night, the ship must anchor or tie UP to the riverbank. Although navigation at night is feasible, the ship lacks metal propeller guards. The c°nstant flow of huge tree trunks descending the fiver could easily damage a propeller. Because there are no navigational aids, the OOD relies on distinct trees, radar tangents, and soundings to determine if the anchor is dragging. A full steaming watch is Maintained throughout the night, comprised of an f’OD, helmsman, quartermaster, boatswain’s mate of fhe watch, and lookout. The engineering watch con- Slsts of only a petty officer and a fireman, because the ^iesel engines can be lit off by a button on the ri«ge. Another serious problem for the anchor Watch at night is the swarms of insects drawn by the ships lights, particularly when she uses searchlights t0 illuminate the anchor bearings. This morning, the ship’s decks were covered with thousands of black Deetles. Fortunately, they are harmless and are ficuckly swept overboard, unlike the mosquitoes which leave a fair share of bites on all of us. Other Msects leave irritating rashes.
Amapa (P-32) Ship Information
Launched: 9 March 1973, MacLaren shipyard, Niteroi, Brazil
Incorporation into Amazon Flotilla: December 1976
Displacement (tons): 340 standard, 364 full load Length, feet (meters): 147.6 (45)
Beam, feet (meters): 27.7 (8.45)
Draft, feet (meters): 4.2 (1.37)
Duns: One 40 millimeter; two 81-millimeter mortars; six to eight 50-caliber machine guns (20 millimeter cannon can be mounted in place of some of the machine guns)
"lain Engines: two diesels, two shafts Speed (knots): 14.5 ^ange (miles): 6,000 at 11 knots Lndurance: 30 days, provisions
Complement: Five officers/4l men (85 marines can be carried in deck accommodations)
Class: one of three ships of the Roraima class
I ote: A larger class, Pedro Texeira, has a helicopter platform and hangar. n addition, she carries a medical laboratory. Both classes feature out- handing habitability, including air-conditioning and a ship's entertain- ^*ent system in all living spaces. It is also noteworthy that more than Y® °f these ships and their fittings were manufactured in Brazil. All ships are assigned to the Amazon Flotilla based in Manaus, Amazonas.
18 January—After steaming all day, we arrive at Parintins, where we deliver our cargo of 13 tons of food and 50 cases of snakebite serum. Tonight 1 go ashore in charge of the shore party, which consists of the doctor who worked at the hospital in the town six years ago and the dentist, a native of the town. We stay three hours. The return to the ship in one of her two landing craft must be made with great caution because one of the large tree trunks descending the river could easily hole the landing craft. Between the strong current and the piranhas, not everyone would survive a sinking.
Food on board the Amapa is good, taking full advantage of the abundance of fresh fish and the scores of varieties of tropical fruit purchased from the river people to supplement the menu. The ship carries stores sufficient for 30 days and enough fuel for 6,000 miles at 11 knots.
19-20 January—We navigate up to the mouth of the Madeira River and spend the night at anchor, continuing to maintain our three-section underway watches. During the day, extensive training is conducted, exercising the crew at general quarters, collision, fire drills, and navigation. Under way, the ship’s routine is centered on training and critical planned maintenance; major maintenance and upkeep are reserved for periods in the home port. Division and work center training is carefully planned for a two-hour training period in the morning and another in the afternoon. The stress on training under way is the result of the crew’s involvement in social assistance work ashore.
The executive officer’s special responsibility is the preparation of the ship’s patrol report, a document basic in operational planning for the Amazon region. War plans for the flotilla call for sustained independent operations. The remoteness of the ship’s base in Manaus means that success in these operations hinges on taking full advantage of the region’s resources and, in a manner of speaking, living off the land. Members of the crew are detailed to verify and record everything of possible value, including the fuel stored in each town, electric power available, food stores, boatbuilding and repair capability, engine overhaul facilities, aircraft landing strips, motor transport, and resident shipping. Navigation information, including diagrams of every mooring the ship makes during a patrol, is prepared by the navigator. Also recorded is any foreign naval activity.
The second objective of the patrol report is to document social progress in each town and village visited. Crew members gather statistics on births, deaths, medical problems, diet, literacy, agriculture, industry, local politics, housing, the performance of
local officials, radio and television coverage, etc. Completed patrol reports are then distributed to each ship in the Amazon Flotilla. The result is that the commanding officer of each of the patrol ships has an excellent chronological record of social progress and problems for each site. Serious deficiencies noted in the reports are brought to the attention of the appropriate government ministry by the flotilla commander. In the event of hostilities, the file of patrol reports gives the CO the intelligence and logistics data he needs for sustained naval operations.
My watch-standing assignments are kept flexible so that I may observe all aspects of the patrol and work with the executive officer in preparing the patrol report. While we are engaged in compiling the report, the captain holds conferences with the elected officials of a town. The Amapa s commanding officer is careful to check the accuracy of an official’s claims with the reality of the life of the people. Like other river patrol skippers, he is keenly aware of his role in protecting the people from injustice at the hands of incompetent or corrupt officials. At the same time, he helps the officials by bringing their needs to the attention of the state and national governments. For commanding officers of the river patrol ships, their social role in the development of the region is gratifying, but that is not the only reason that command of a warship in the Amazon is eagerly sought. The splendid isolation confronting the captain gives him an independence no longer found in the blue water navy. While U. S. commanding officers and their Brazilian counterparts in the fleet are greatly restricted in their latitude of decision by the requirement to keep their seniors in the chain of command informed, almost minute by minute, of their actions, the river patrol captain is on his own. Time, along with logistic and geographic factors, limits the amount of support which can be given a river patrol skipper. He must make his decision and handle the problem with what he has with him. Accountability will come as his superiors review his patrol reports.
The enthusiasm of the Amapa s captain carries over to the ship’s company. Although most of the officers and men are not volunteers for Amazon duty, their morale is exceedingly high because they know the lives of the river people will be improved—and in many cases saved—because of the visit by their ship. Frequently, their wives do not share this enthusiasm because the time away from home is significantly greater than that for those in the blue water portion of the Brazilian Navy. In addition, living in Manaus is not so pleasant as life in a major city such as Rio de Janeiro.
The day’s training is happily interrupted at 1100, when all hands are allowed to sunbathe and take open-air showers using the ship’s fire hoses to supply fresh water from the river. Uniform requirements are relaxed when under way, with the result that crew members are frequently garbed in T-shirts, shorts, and sandals.
21 January—After navigating all day, we arrive at our first stop for medical and social assistance. The place is known as the “Japanese Village” and has a population of 500 adults and 284 children. Upon arrival, we are introduced to the delegado, a combination sheriff and mayor. The dwellings are mostly straw huts, but there are also some houses of wood- The village has a small bar, a church, a one-room school, and a meeting hall. These buildings and three houses are the only ones equipped for electricity. The dominant figure in the village is the brother-in-law of a Japanese immigrant who settled here in 1933. He has an indisputable monopoly on everything; he owns the only store, and everyone in the village is in debt to him. Even the delegado is his employee. The prices he charges for the products at his store are outrageously high, but the people have no choice but to pay and to become further in debt-
The health situation is appalling. There is no doctor, dentist, or pharmacy in the village. What medicine exists is found only in the store owned by the Japanese. Naturally, prices are high. We receive the complaint that he is charging 160 cruzeiros (about $13) for snakebite serum injections. The average income of the families here is 50 to 80 cruzeiros a month. The incidence of snakebite is high. The Amapa s captain calls the Japanese aboard and tells him in no uncertain terms that he had better lower the price of his serum or the Navy will begin to lean on him. The ship’s patrol report will request a visit by another navy ship in the next two months to check on the Japanese. In these isolated jungle towns and villages, the Navy is a close ally of the poor.
The common illnesses here and throughout Amazonia are worms (especially in children), diarrhea, and flu. Tuberculosis and malaria are not uncommon. In the space of six hours, 1800-2400. the ship’s doctor treats 128 people. Vaccinations ate given to 208 people, and the dentist pulls 94 teetR The doctor confirms one case of tuberculosis and 1$ cases of serious malnutrition among children under three years of age. All of these cases require hospital treatment within a short period of time or the patients will die. Unfortunately, the chances of most o' them getting to a hospital are slim. The captain tell5 the delegado to make arrangements for the transportation of the serious cases and warns him that a navy ship will be back in one month to check on him anti
Japanese. The captain’s manner of address is devoid of tact and leaves no doubt that there had better e some improvement in the next month.
22 January—We leave the Japanese Village at 0500 and arrive in the town of Borba (population 3>000) in the afternoon. We talk to the mayor and learn that there are 14,000 more people living along che town’s outlying district, which extends more than 40 miles along the river. We plan our medical a*d for these rural people because the town has a functioning hospital. We will stop here on our return, thus giving the mayor time to inform everyone °f the time and location of our stop. We expect upwards of 6,000 people for vaccination alone.3
Tonight the town plays the ship’s team in soccer. Amazingly enough, the game, which was set up with less than an hour’s notice, draws more than 400 People. The captain explains to me that this is because there are no amusements whatsoever in these tQWns. The ship’s team loses, 3-1, but the captain U-’marks that the Amapa is performing a social service V giving the people of the town a chance to be Pappy because of their victory. More importantly, game clearly serves to advertise our presence and Purpose. We return to the ship at 2300 after a short tQur of the town with the mayor.
23 January—The day starts out with bad luck— °ur anchor is caught by a rock. Coupled with this 3train, the violent currents rip the anchor windlass r°m its mounting on the forecastle as we attempt to ^e'gh anchor. Fortunately, no one is hurt, but the subsequent repair and remounting of the windlass ^ke nine hours and require the help of all hands. rhe captain decides to stay in Borba and continue °Ur voyage tomorrow.
24 January—Reveille is at 0500. Our attempts to ^eigh the anchor are unsuccessful because it is still lrmly caught. The captain orders the forecastle beared and attempts to free the anchor by using the
ship’s engines. At 0640, the anchor chain parts at the bending shackle, and we leave our starboard anchor on the bottom in 8 fathoms of water. We steam through the day, arriving at the town of Novo Aripuana, which is located at the junction of the Madeira and Aripuana rivers. The scenery is spectacular as the sun is setting. I would love to take a swim, but the presence of piranha and alligators makes such activities too risky.
Novo Aripuana has 3,000 inhabitants, and its rural zone, which comprises 60 miles of the river’s margin, contains 13,000 more people. As is customary at such stops, the captain calls the mayor aboard to plan our visit so as to reach the maximum number of people, but the mayor’s sketchy information on the rural zone is of little value. At last, the captain selects a small village and orders the mayor to spread the word of our arrival so that on our return down the river we will be able to attend the largest number of people possible. The captain has to threaten the mayor to get off his hunda so he will get the job done as it should be. We spend the night in Novo Aripuana.
25 January—We arrive at the town of Manicore at 1800 after navigating for 13 hours. The population of Manicore is 28,000, with 6,000 in the city itself and the rest in the interior. I am in charge of the initial party which consists of the vaccination team, doctor, and dentist.
Upon arrival at the local hospital, I am struck by a bizarre feeling reminiscent of the old “Twilight Zone” TV series. The 50-bed hospital—constructed seven years ago but opened only two years ago—is of the most modern design. It was built and equipped by the French and British with the latest in healthcare technology. The hospital is clean and, with the exception of some of the more complex equipment, in good condition. In each room, the instruments of the doctor or dentist are laid out, forms stacked ready for use, and supplies are in their proper place. Also present are four “nurses” (who are trained for little more than first aid), a janitor, and a maintenance man. The only things missing are doctors, dentists, and patients. (The only “patient” is an insane man who has no place else to go.) The town has been without a doctor for three months, the last one having lasted four days before packing her bags. It is tragic when such fine facilities are being wasted. The lines which are forming for our vaccinations, and medical and dental help confirm the depth of this tragedy. In the next 24 hours, 8,097 people are vaccinated, 508 people are treated by the doctor, and the dentist extracts 259 teeth while boxes of medicine are prescribed and given away. Among the medical consultations are four cases of advanced cancer, two of tuberculosis, one of malaria, two of leprosy, and several acute cases of a type of intestinal parasite that lives by sucking the blood of its victim. The lack of hygienic education is readily apparent in that most of the sick are filthy. For the doctor, dentist, and vaccination team the workload is an ordeal.
While the medical operation continues, the captain listens attentively to the city officials as they explain the difficulties of obtaining a doctor in the interior of the Amazon basin. Of course, as with so many of today’s problems, the culprit is the governmental bureaucracy which impedes rapid solutions to clear-cut problems. This, combined with the lucrative private practices offered to doctors in the modern cities in the south of Brazil, makes procuring a doctor difficult. The captain promises to put all of this in his patrol report and to go one step further by personally going to see the government officials responsible. This intervention points out another role of the Brazilian Navy in Amazonia, in which it acts as a watchdog and shores up some of the weaker government agencies charged with the development of the region.
After several hours of consultations, the doctor has identified several serious cases which require urgent hospital care. The mayor sends word to a ferry scheduled to depart in one hour to wait until one of the patients has finished receiving her transfusion- The ferry skipper refuses, saying he will not be late in leaving. The next ferry which can take her to Manaus will not leave for three more days. The captain steps in and orders two sailors from our ship to board the ferry and hold it until all persons requiring medical evacuation are aboard. The journey to Manaus will take two days.
The town of Manicore itself is quite impressive in terms of progress, with substantial agriculture such as rice, mandioca, farinha, and castanha. Wood is also produced, but the principal product is rubber- The city officials are extremely competent and motivated, and the help given us by the people of the city is tremendous.
The only negative aspect of our visit is that we have seriously depleted our supplies of medicine. It is now clear that we will not have enough medicine to treat the several hundred more people in the rural zones. As the captain laments, although any medical treatment is valid, people living in the urban zone have much more chance of seeing a doctor and buying medicine than the people who eke out an existence on the riverbanks of the rural zones. We will attend the sick as long as our supply of medicine lasts, and then will stop medical consultations. For a ship to arrive with a doctor to diagnose the illnesses but without the medicine to cure would cause only frustration and bad feelings.
26 January—After leaving Manicore, we begin our return voyage and arrive again at the town ol Novo Aripuana. We are expecting a poor turnout because of the low quality of city officials we have to deal with. Our pessimistic expectations are soon found to be correct. Rather than waste the day, the captairi proceeds down the river to find a better location. We stop two hours later in front of two houses on the riverbank. Despite a poor initial appearance, the captain is convinced that the area has a sizable population. Fie orders the ship’s launch into the water, and another officer and I proceed from house to house, advising the people along the riverbank- My contact with the local people has gone smoothly- After a year at the Brazilian Naval Academy, my Portuguese is good, and unless I am introduced as a U. S. naval officer, I am received as a Brazilian Marine officer because of my khaki uniform. (The working uniform for Brazilian naval officers is gray ) Once it is known that I am from the United States, 1 usually have to field questions about my native land and try to explain why I am serving with the Brazilian Navy. I can feel that the welcome the people give
27 January—This morning, there are eight per- s°ns waiting for us, so we attend to them before getting under way at 0815 for Borba. Upon arrival, we learn that a vaccination team has already visited the area. Nevertheless, we stay and find 157 persons who have not been vaccinated. In addition, the doctor ^es 124 people, and the dentist extracts 84 teeth.
he sad part is that, had we known that the people °f this area had been vaccinated, we could have
toe is genuine. When I occasionally visit a home, it ls almost cause for celebration. In two hours, we personally inform 300 people. This area has a substan- Clal population density visibly apparent from the numerous huts along the riverbank.
At one house we find a man who implores us to take him upstream to help his mother who, he says, is very sick. We agree, planning on towing them back to the ship in their canoe. Upon arrival at his mother’s house, we encounter a family of 15 living in a single shack. The sick woman does not want to go t0 the ship, so the Brazilian officer and I disembark and enter the hut to explain to her the importance of seeing a doctor. She is suffering from a sizable loss of lood from a type of vaginal problem. She is quite ss'eak and says that she cannot leave her hammock to tfavel in a canoe or in our launch. We finally leave her, and she begins to cry as we do. We will notify rhe mayor of Borba, the parent town of these people, So that he can send a launch to pick her up and send her to the hospital there.
Upon our return, we see the results of our work. The people are already arriving in their canoes. A herry launch arrives with 80 persons, and the owner ls rewarded with a bonus of ten gallons of fuel for his boat. Altogether, 136 persons are vaccinated, the doctor sees 98 patients, and the dentist extracts 14 teeth.
st°pped at another area. It appears that we will be returning to Manaus without administering several thousand badly needed vaccinations. The ship is lim- *ted by fuel rationing, so we cannot go to another site.
e anchor in the middle of the river because of the r°cks along the bank and the strong current which teaches a velocity of more than six knots. Coupled '',,th the wind, the current causes the ship to drag er anchor. The anchor is reset, and we spend the night without any problems.
28 January—We start on our way home. After ^earning for four hours, we stop in the city of Nova j~l‘nda to see if any of the local population needs to e vaccinated. We vaccinate 34, the town having een fairly well covered by another vaccination team, ne town has a hospital, doctor, and dentist, so our elP is not needed. I go into town to help obtain
social and economic data. I have the opportunity to meet a priest from the United States who has been in Brazil for seven years. It is amazing that virtually every major town has either a priest or Protestant missionary from the United States.
This evening, the sailors of the Amapa catch quite a lot of fish. Because our ship is moored at the fish market, I have an excellent opportunity to see the many varieties of freshwater fish. Unfortunately, I am not able to see the famed pirarucu, but 1 do see many piranha which the fishermen have caught in their nets.4 After a walk around the town, I return to the ship.
29 January—Under way at 0500 for Manaus. Our arrival is scheduled for 1700.
S Lieutenant Burnett was graduated from the U. S. Naval Academy in 1972 with a major in foreign affairs. Following graduation, he was assigned to the USS Camdm (AOE-2), deployed to the Western Pacific. He served successively as electronic warfare officer/electronic material officer, communication officer, and assistant first lieutenant. He qualified as a surface warfare officer in 1974 and was selected that same year for Destroyer School. Following his tour in the Camden, Lieutenant Burnett reported to the Defense Language Institute for six months study of Portuguese. From February 1976 until May 1978, he was English language/culture instructor at the Brazilian Naval Academy at Rio de Janeiro. Upon returning from Brazil, he transferred to the Naval Reserve and is now studying international and admiralty law at the University of Denver. Upon completion of his J.D. degree, he plans to resume active duty.
‘The Amazon River and two of its tributaries, the Madeira and Tapajos, were designated as international waters by imperial decree of Emperor Dom Pedro II on 7 September 1866. Navigation by foreign warships requires the permission of the Brazilian government, with the exception of warships from Peru, Bolivia, and Colombia, which share reciprocal rights of innocent passage with warships of Brazil. In addition to preventing foreign imports from leaving the duty-free port of Manaus for the interior of Amazonas, the Brazilian Navy guards against traffic in contraband, which includes protected animals, birds, tropical aquarium fish, tortoises, alligators, and tin.
2The navigation team consists of a quartermaster, assigned to the Fathometer to give 30-second readings, a radar operator who makes a trace of the river’s outline, islands, sandbars, etc., and a recorder who draws the chart. The team is coordinated by the navigator, who exchanges and verifies his data with the OOD. The latter is responsible for visual inputs and conning notes.
‘‘Notification is carried out by word of mouth and, interestingly enough, by commercial radio. Even the poorest river family possesses a cheap transistor radio with which they can be informed of such events as the ship's visit. Because of their radios, the rural river people often know more about international news than they do about local news from towns along the river.
4Pirarucu, a legendary fish of the Amazon basin, reaches about 10 feet in length and can weigh on the average more than 220 pounds. Local fishermen claim it attacks man, and refer to it as a shark. The fish is prized for its meat and its thorny tongue, which is used to grate a jungle berry known as guarana, popular as a beverage in Brazil.