In Trouble Again by Redmond O'HanlonREVIEW BY JEZZAThe title of the book gives a pretty good idea of O’Hanlon’s technique for travel; he immerses himself in a place till he’s up to his neck in it. After a two-month expedition in the rainforests of Borneo which led to his first travel book, “Into the Heart of Borneo”, he felt that a four-month journey in the country between the Orinoco and the Amazon would pose no particular problem. Travelling into some of the most inhospitable jungle in South America, the plan was to climb a mountain surrounded by an enormous swamp, navigate down a river that nobody had been down since the 17th century, and meet up with a tribe said to be one of the most ferocious anywhere, who hit each other over the head with 10-foot poles in stylized duelling contests, only pausing to refresh themselves by blasting hallucinogenic drugs up each other’s noses with a blowpipe.
In the long list of unlikely travelling companions that O’Hanlon seems to accumulate, on this expedition he surpasses himself. He approaches a friend who manages a casino in London, who you can’t help but feel only agrees to go along because he hasn’t got the faintest idea what will be involved. Simon is the kind of person that you should never, ever go anywhere with under any circumstances. He is urbane, jaded, decadent, witty and cynical, a specialist at moving through the high-stakes world of the gambling industry, and he would be an ideal guide to the bars and clubs of the West End. In the jungle he’s a nightmare, perpetually and hilariously out of his depth. Whereas O’ Hanlon bubbles with enthusiasm for the flora and fauna around him – you could imagine him launching into a discourse on the dining habits of the giant spider as one crawled across the bed towards him – Simon has no such defence, and every insect bite is a personal affront, every rustle in the bushes a ravenous creature waiting to devour him. In the company of a group of local guides led by the irrepressible Chimo, they make their way through the claustrophobic intensity of the rainforest. O’ Hanlon describes the hardships of jungle life in a matter of fact way, of constantly being covered in bites and stings, of bad food, monotonous scenery and the discomfort of always being soaking wet. It is left to Simon to really let rip – his caustic comments are desperately funny, but he is slowly falling apart. Eventually, halfway through the book, he can’t take any more and hitches a ride back down the river to civilization.
With his departure the mood lifts, and O’ Hanlon can get on with what he likes best, aimlessly bumbling about and cataloguing the wildlife he sees with all the tenacity of a Victorian naturalist. He’s an academic by training, but there is nothing academic about the way he pitches himself headlong into every mishap. When the group finally enter the territory of the Yanomami Indians, the tension builds as might be expected when encountering a people who, according to one anthropologist, consider “a high capacity for rage, a quick flash point and a willingness to use violence to be desirable traits.” The group are welcomed into the village, and that evening the yoppo ceremony begins. Yoppo is the hallucinogen that the Yanomami use to enter the world of spirits, and naturally O’ Hanlon must do so as well. A long blowpipe is brought out, one end placed in his nostril, and a Yanomami warrior takes a huge breath before firing a wodge of yoppo up his nose that drops him to his knees, leaving him dribbling in the dust. At this point the narrative becomes rather confused, and we are eventually brought back down to earth with a bump by Chimo, who grabs O’ Hanlon and drags him away; during his trance he has been staring lustfully at the youngest wife of the fiercest warrior in the village for several hours.
The book is written in a self-deprecating style that makes it all the more accessible. When O’ Hanlon describes the fear of listening to the drums of the Yanomami and not knowing if they are part of a celebration or a prelude to an imminent attack, we know that he is genuinely afraid. When his companions once again pull him out of a swamp he accepts that in this environment he is lost without them, that the thin veneer of education and learning he has accumulated is of no use whatsoever, but he is accepted as part of the group nonetheless. If at times there is too much detail, such as yet another description of yet another bird, it is his perpetual earnestness for his subject which inevitably redeems it and makes “In Trouble Again” so enjoyable to read.
