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One afternoon we were taken by boat to a tiny village that got a large portion of its income from selling crafts to visitors like us. They also produced mandioca (cassava or manioc) flour from a small plantation and raised chickens commercially, thanks to some enterprise funding by the government. There were only a few houses and a school here, so it must have served as a center for a dispersed group.
As we big palefaces wandered around this intimate setting, I couldn't help feeling like a spectator of the private lives of these people, though they were happy and hospitable enough. The children were the main attraction for me, and they lapsed occasionally into natural behavior, oblivious to our intrusion.