Page 81 of Beautifully Wild

A small group gathers to send them on their way. Eden rises early to be with him. He kisses Eden on the lips for the second time in a matter of hours, knowing the shaman has witnessed their affection. “You’ll be fine,” he says, meaning every word. “I’ll come home to you as quick as I can.”

“I know you will,” she croaks and swipes her eyes. They stand a moment assessing the other, both stiff-lipped. She watches him join the warrior circle, chanting and waving their spears, mentally preparing themselves for the hunt. Samuel and Tïmenneng will separate from the others after a day’s journey to begin their exploration. Other men aren’t so eager to enter the home of the spirits.

The green membranes pulsate with life. He turns before the green cavern swallows him up and nods to the only woman brave enough to experience this world with him.

He gives her a subtle nod, an unspoken promise of love.

39

Eden

Mychestistightwith a ball of panic growing inside it, threatening to unleash all my insecurities. The composed expressions of the women make it worse. They may live in a peaceful place without the stress of first-world issues, only this isn’t my world, and being hereisstressful. I’m not skilled in their ways, and I’m struggling to find water in the plants like they do. I snap plants the wrong way, and the couple of mouthfuls stored in the stem gushes out before I get my mouth to it.

Heaving my ax above my head, I slam it into the ground near the yuca. In a few sharp blows, I’ve excavated the earth and dug out the roots. I glance up to a young girl picking bananas and watch as she leaves her duties to wander into the forest with some other girls.

Getting Kaikare’s attention, I point to my mouth, indicating I’m hungry and head to the palms hoping to find one yellowing banana. Since most are picked green, bunches strung to beams in the long hut to ripen, I don’t hold out much hope. Reaching up, I move a clump to the side to inspect the skin and jump back when a large brown spider unfolds and emerges. I clutch my chest gasping. Willing my heart to slow, I remind myself not to panic.It’s only a spider.Although this one doesn’t look like the tarantulas the children brought back to eat. It’s almost as large, hairy, and brown with a smaller thorax and abdomen. With spindly long legs, it moves fast over the bananas, and its red fangs flare. An outstretched arm lands on my stomach and pushes me back a few steps. Kaikare is by my side shaking her head.

We take another step back. With her axe, she flicks it to the ground, and it scurries away. She looks at me and shakes her head. Points to her throat and gags.

“It could’ve killed me?” I rasp. She tilts her head. I place my hand to my throat and gasp for air. She nods twice. “For fuck’s sake.” I want to cry. “Why didn’t you kill it?”

Kaikare places a hand on my shoulder and strokes it gently.

“Thank you,” I croak out. “Thank you for saving my life. I know you can’t understand me, but—” I turn and look around. I want to curl up in a ball and feel sorry for myself, only where? A few tears spill out—from fear, disappointment, and second-guessing my decision in coming here. Most of all, the disappointment is in me.

I point to my throat and mime a drinking action. Kaikare nods and takes my hand, showing unusual affection as though she understands. Something I’ve never witnessed among the others. She leads me to the stream and where the water runs clear. There are clay bowls nearby filled with water, leaves floating on the surface. Hoping the leaves serve as purification, I scoop out some water with a clay cup and drink three full scoops.Why didn’t Samuel mention these large bowls?Maybe he did. Admittedly, I haven’t taken on everything he’d told me as it was a lot of information to comprehend at once.

Further downstream, the children frolic in the area where we bathe. Finally, it makes sense. Upstream we drink. Downstream we bathe. The same rule applies with the river—closer to the mountain they fish while downstream is used for personal hygiene. She drinks a cup herself and rises to her feet. We backtrack through the jungle to the fields. Passing over the tangled decay of the jungle floor, I glance up at hearing a low moan. A flash of skin between the trees catches my attention. Kaikare touches my hand and shakes her head. I can’t help but look back and realize it could be the same young couple. Kaikare leads me to rows of capsicum and spinach-like plants called aurosa. We pick and slice leaves, and when I place the vegetables in a woven basket on the ground, I catch sight of the young girl emerging from the jungle. I take in her features, the beads around her neck. I’m not the only one who notices. Kaikare lifts her gaze at the same time before returning her focus to her hands at work.

I can’t help the curiosity and know better than to show it in front of Kaikare. I’ll ask Samuel about the girl when he returns.

Come twilight for the past five days, I’m overwhelmed with nausea, knowing I’ll be spending the night alone. Today is no different, and inevitably dusk descends.

The days pass quickly by working in the fields and cooking around the fire. I have company, but with limited communication, there’s loneliness even when surrounded by people. At dinner, I eat the vegetables and bread on offer. Hours earlier, I had walked past the fire and saw a pile of headless monkeys—dark blood pooling on the ground—and covered my mouth to smother a heave. The pong of charred hair sent me rushing to Samuel’s hut to hide out for a moment and reel in anxiety. It’s all too much for my first week alone.

The moment I’ve dreaded is upon me. I wave my hand, refusing the meat, knowing it’s a sign of rudeness. The deep lines around the chief’s eyes almost join with those in his forehead. I glance down at the monkey paw on a palm leaf, rub my stomach, and shake my head again.

I accept the flat bread Kaikare hands to me, and I’m left to be insignificant once more when the shaman rises from the ground and stands in front of the fire. Bright-eyed, the children shuffle forward, and despite not understanding their language, I detect the excitement in their voices as they scramble toward the inner circle.

The shaman raises his hands and stares toward the heavens before beginning his story. His words capture everyone’s attention. I gaze around, watching their reaction. What makes them believe these stories?

Fear?

Respect?

The sound of night creatures echoes from the tangled knot of green and black surrounding us. The squawking, clicking, and chattering never eases. Tonight, the sound magnifies, taunting me, a warning not to relax. My heart beats at a quicker rate, on alert after my close encounter with a deadly banana spider. I stare toward the pulsating gloom. Why did I ignore the advice of the people I love to risk my life in the jungle?

Answers I don’t find before I hear the words, “A-pantoní-pe nichii.”

The shaman’s tale is incomprehensible for me totake advantage of the story. More importantly, I need to understand my journey.

And why I left my closest friends to come here.

Every night since Samuel has left, I’ve peed right here outside my hut, too afraid to venture into the green.

Wrapping the mosquito net around my hammock, it’s difficult to ignore the deafening raucous beyond the walls, my so-called jungle lullaby. Only it doesn’t lull me into sleep. Now that I am alone, I’m listening more so to specific sounds, an awareness to which are warnings. Without Samuel to guide me, I have to rely on my own instinct since there is no one else I can ask for help. It exaggerates the notion of being alone, and it scares the crap out of me.

40

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