Page 89 of Beautifully Wild

Rain continues to pound the palm roof. At times, I worry it’s not going to hold. I curl into the hammock with a handful of notes and read more about Samuel’s findings, staring at his neat handwriting, imagining the passion driving him to do this.

My gut tightens the more I reflect, missing the man who led me here.

I hold the paper to my chest, close my eyes, and imagine him talking to me. I allow his imaginary voice to envelop me like a warm blanket. Until realization hits—my being here has tortured him. I don’t want to be the reason he fails his obligation, knowing the extent of his study and how close he is to finding what he needs for pharmaceutical research. Is love a strong enough reason to be together at this point in time?

Before I come to a conclusion, the rain stops, and Kaikare is at the door waving for me to follow her. I want to hug her when she leads me to the stream.

A pot of red liquid sits on the embankment. She raises a finger, and without hesitation, I wade in, grabbing a handful of scented leaves to wash as I go. Minutes later, she waves me out of the water. “Already? I could lay here all afternoon.” She smiles at me, and yet I know it’s not a sign she comprehends my words.

Clambering over the edge, she hands me a handful of leaves to dry myself. I’m still not accustomed to being naked in front of people and push down my inhibition and insecurities. She glides the leaves over my back like a squeegee cleaning glass. After drying where I can reach with the leaves, I squeeze the remaining water out of my hair and secure it on my head in a messy bun.

Wrapping the straps of the reed skirt around my waist, I tie a knot while Kaikare bends and scoops red paste from the pot. She adjusts my shoulders, so I’m standing upright and proceeds to paint my back with a sequence of strokes and angles. Freshly washed and painted, I sense it’s in preparation for something. I pray it’s not an initiation like the one I witnessed with fire ants.

Kaikare continues to paint my front. I close my eyes when she touches my chest, although this time, I don’t stop her. I focus on breathing and tell myself it’s not weird. At all. The strokes extend to my limbs. I open my eyes and admire the long lines along the length of my legs. Do they stand for more than simple decorative body art? She takes my chin in her palm, angling my face in assessment. My forehead, chin, and temples are dotted. I smile as I look into her eyes, eyes holding understanding, honey-colored eyes different than everyone else’s here. She holds my gaze. Seconds pass, and it’s like time stands still with no judgment, only understanding of the things we have learned about each other. Her lids close and open in a slow movement, and then she smiles.

Until today, I was ignorant of how rain and tropical rain differed.

Back home, we would say,it’s bucketing down. Although the worst of the rainy season has passed, Mother Nature decides otherwise, and the rains have paved a small stream past Samuel’s hut to the round house. Kaikare keeps me under the cover of the long house where the fires are protected by high makeshift palm roofs and small moats to lead the water away. And this isn’t even the wet season.

A faint sound of cheering comes from the jungle. My eyes are unaccustomed to seeing anything through the blanket of rain falling in sheets rather than drops. Peering into the gray, I make out naked human figures waving spears in the air as they approach.

“Samuel?”

I stand and walk toward the edge, stopping myself from running toward them. Shit, would I have to keep my distance from him? I can’t think straight with the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. I’m smiling ear to ear as the warriors emerge from the green carrying animals attached to long sticks of bamboo on their shoulders. Not caring about the deluge of water, the women run to them cheering and jumping about, leading them toward the fire. How long has it been since they left on their hunt with Samuel and Tïmenneng with them for part of the journey? Sixteen days? It dawns on me the excitement extends from the men returning to their loved ones. The meat is much-needed food, and everyone was waiting for this hunt. Strung up by the feet are a wild pig, two small deer, and the largest snake I’ve seen.

“Is it a boa?”

No one answers since I’m a good distance from the other women. Even if my words were understood, I doubt I could be heard over the applause. Immediately, the animals are prepared before being secured over the fire pits.

Everyone’s bellies will be satisfied tonight.

Twilight is barely noticeable under a canopy of gray.

It reflects my mood, and I’m going stir crazy. We’re stuck in the hut, and I am away from the others, not knowing what to do with myself. My stomach rumbles at the aroma of spit-roasted meat. God, I could eat a full animal on my own. Sitting on the ground, I pick up a rock and make squiggly lines in the dirt. Kaikare leans in, and her brows pull tight. “I’m doodling,” I tell her.

She gazes up at me. “Doo-lin.”

“Yes.” I want to hug her. “Yes.” I smile at her like an idiot and point to the meat, then rub my stomach. “I’m hungry. Hungry.”

Kaikare shakes her head and points to the meat cooking over the fire.

“What? I can’t eat anything?” I ask in desperation.

She brings her hand from her shoulder to her hips in a fast ax action.

“I take that as a no.” Ugh, what’s their word for no? “Awarö?”Bad?

She tilts her head at me. The meat isn’t bad, I already know that. I wish she could explain why I can’t eat it.

She stands and leaves me a moment before returning with yuca bread and potatoes on a palm leaf. She shoves it in front of me, and I take it. Without waiting for permission, I down it quickly and look for more. Kaikare stands and gestures for me to do the same. I guess it looks like seconds are out of the question.

The rain has eased to a drizzle, and we walk through the sludge to the round house. Inside, in the far back corner, the shaman kneels, smoking a pipe. A massive-feathered headdress sits on his head. Small fires dot the dirt, and it’s light enough to make out the blue, yellow, and scarlet feathers on his crown. Across his cheeks are strokes of red like mine. He glances up and nods. Is he expecting me?

A woven mat lays on the floor in front of him. It hits me—I’m being prepared for my own ayahuasca ceremony. “God help me,” I mutter as I remember Samuel’s reaction after ingesting the tea.

A bowl is placed to his left, feathers tied to strings of teeth and bones to his right. He lifts the twine holding feathers, bones, and teeth and shakes it like a musical instrument before breaking into song.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this,” I say to Kaikare as she assists me to kneel before him. “I mean what if I have a reaction? I know I’m going to puke my guts up, and hell, maybe lose control of my bowels, which I prefer not to think about, but it’s the racing heart and shit that scares me most. I could have a heart attack because we all react to drugs differently. Your people probably fall in the body of the bell-shaped graph of a desired drug effect. Some fall on the lip of no effect, yet knowing my luck, I’ll fall in the minority where it’s probably fatal…”

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