Page 86 of Beautifully Wild

“Strangely, I need no one to visit for a few days. Their families want to come in and check on their children, only they are taking the virus back out to the community. I can’t keep watch here all the time. They can stand in the doorway and no closer. And you can wash down their bodies with wet cloths to help stop the febrile convulsions.”

The humidity is still rife and thick in the air. Even I want to wash just to cool off. No wonder the children struggle with high temperatures. I find a bowl and wet some cloths and wipe one small boy’s forehead, chest, and shoulders. I glance up to Kaikare watching me.

She speaks to Asoo. The conversation goes back and forth.

“I show Kaikare the women. She needs water and pot for fire.”

“Wait. Does she want me to come with her?”

Asoo shakes his head. “I stay and help if she needs anything.”

“Okay.”

They leave me with the doctor, and I continue assisting him administering medication. My thoughts wander to Asoo and Kaikare with an inkling they are keeping something from me. Maybe they believe it’s something I wouldn’t understand.

By dusk, we sit around a fire in a way no different to Ulara.

Kaikare is on alert, her eyes permanently round like saucers. She holds a dinner plate in her hand and utensils I assume she’s never seen before. She eats with her hands from the plate, watching out for the dogs.

There are many similarities to Ulara, and I’m comfortable knowing I’m not out of my element. Tonight, I eat everything on offer—meat, vegetables, and yuca bread. I didn’t question the type of meat. Could it be my mindset because I didn’t witness what was killed before it was cooked? I’m not sure I’d ever be comfortable consuming monkey, and yet I understand the need for meat when these people have little choice when it’s about survival. “Asoo,” I whisper. “Is the meat dog or monkey?”

“No,” Asoo says sternly. “Fowl. Dogs are treated well. If you harm your dog—”

“Then when your fifth soul goes to the heavens, your dog will be waiting and kill you,” Dr. Robert finishes for him. He gives me a knowing smile.

“Good to know,” I say with relief.

This piece of knowledge surprises me. The surprises keep coming every day. The little things bringing joy on this holiday have led me on an adventure of wonder.

The hammock beside me is empty.

I consider Kaikare has gone to pee, then enough time passes for me to comprehend this is not the case.

I check the time on my phone, a luxury for a few more days, and realize it’s not quite seven. Throwing off the mosquito net, I head out to find Kaikare.

Eventually, I find her with the doctor, spooning mouthfuls of her tea into gaunt-faced little mouths. Oh, my heart. She’s a natural with these children, and I have no words to describe the admiration I hold for her. She is warm and caring, risking her health and respect from the Ularan elders to come and help. Not just to any place, to one outside the safety of her world, where I assume she’s out of her comfort zone. Yet here she is, her head high, doing what she can to help these children survive.

“Morning,” I say and smile.

“Morning, Eden.” Dr. Robert nods toward Kaikare. “Your friend has a great brew. We gave it to one of the children last night, and this morning when I listened to his chest, there was minimal wheezing.”

“Already an improvement?”

He raises a brow at me. “We were as surprised as you. Whatever Kaikare has going on here, we’d appreciate more of it. And another child has less mucus secretion than yesterday. Do you know what plant her medicine is derived from?”

“No, but I can find out. When Samuel returns, he’ll be able to show you.” I watch Kaikare’s face light up when each child finishes their cup and babbles away, thankfully. “I think she’s happy to help.”

“If there’s a way of getting that plant to us with instructions on how to boil it, for how long and with what combination of other plants, we’d appreciate it. My appreciation extends to your generosity in providing the supplies Samuel had in stock. You’re very kind.”

I nod. “It’s the least we can do. What can I do to help now?” I ask him.

“Continue spoon-feeding the children the brew.” A child coughs repeatedly behind him. It sounds moist and hacking. He turns and assesses the little boy. “You could start with Amos.”

“Right.” I scoop out a cup of the tea, and with a spoon ready, I kneel beside Amos. “Hey.” With a hand behind his head and back, I help him to sit. I keep one hand behind to support him, and with the other, I scoop a teaspoon of the river-colored brew and sit it next to his lips. Dark eyes stare up into mine, almost questioning if he can trust me. I give him a gentle smile and nod. “It will help you feel better.” I know he doesn’t understand my words. There is one thing I have learned in the weeks of my stay, and that is the tone and body language communicate understanding more than our foreign words.

By late morning, Dr. Robert has arranged for Kaikare to show the women how she prepares and boils the brew. When she has finished preparing the next pot of medicine, it’s time for us to leave the camp. At midday, we’re on our journey back to Ulara. I know it not from my phone but by the sun directly above us. Kaikare glanced over at me with a smile from ear to ear. Like her, I’m filled with gratification in helping others—the best kind of joy. Only I’m preoccupied with ideas of fundraising when I arrive home in Australia to support communities like this. With Dr. Robert’s business card in my backpack, I promise myself I’ll research organizations and other indigenous villages in the Gran Sabana.

My fondness for Kaikare and the village has grown, only I can’t see myself staying in Ulara forever. Yet, I don’t want to just give up on Samuel and me and some kind of future we could have. Maybe we could combine our homes, live a mixed life. At least when I’m home, there are things I can do to help even from the other side of the world. Money might not hold status in Ulara, but for these communities, it can buy pharmaceuticals and medical supplies. Yet, after what I witnessed with Kaikare’s brew, no doubt a recipe from the shaman, our worlds need to share all our secrets as there is a place for both to heal the sick and vulnerable.

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