Page 88 of Beautifully Wild

Kaikare stops when enough light from the night sky breaks through the canopy and shines on the fruit several steps inside the denser growth.More passion fruit. She picks several pieces before being disturbed by a shower of Brazil nuts falling from above, knocked to the ground by monkeys screeching as they swing from branch to branch. She gathers nuts that have landed by our feet, hands them to me, and proceeds to reach up and snap several sprigs of acai berries from a palm. I follow her lead, and we weave through vines to our camp. I’m hungrier than I realized.

No sooner do we finish, she stands again, waves for me to follow her back into the forest away from the safety of our fire. “You know, I’m full and don’t need seconds,” I tell her, especially since it’s somewhat darker. She stares at me, so I push up from my log seat and moan with some reluctance. “I’ll come with you because it’s the safety in numbers we should be considering.”

Even I question my sanity following her deeper into a black jungle, stumbling over swollen roots and slipping on leaf decay even while holding her hand. Arrows of moonlight provide enough light for Kaikare to weave around the giant tree trunks of kapok trees. Monkeys screech louder with our approach. The click and chatter of insects stop and start, depending on our movement. She pulls up, and I stumble with poor coordination, her hand under my chin guiding my focus to the ground.

The leaves glow, their veins lit up like a green x-ray image. Mushrooms dot the floor like a network of Christmas lights. The jungle flaunts bioluminescence across its decayed floor. The forest’s night music now has party lights, and even though I’m smiling in awe, I can’t help feeling we’re uninvited gate crashers.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her, hoping she hears the appreciation in my tone.

We return to our site, and my feet welcome the relief of being elevated in the hammock. Side by side, cocooned in a mosquito net, I fall asleep to the Amazonia lullaby.

Last night, I woke several times in a sweat from bizarre dreams. Unexplainable dreams making no sense, only my heart raced so fast it put the fear of death in me, and I re-evaluated everything. How the hell did I end up here in a hammock hugging a woman I barely know and with no medical facilities for days? Where’s the responsible Eden? If I died, what would happen? Would they send my body down the river or be cremated?

I take it as a sign the sensible voice of my conscience is warning me the adventure is coming to an end. As much as I’ve appreciated stepping outside my comfort zone, opening my mind, and living in a world I never believed existed, I have to go home to family and friends.

As we wash our faces and hands in the shallows of the river, Kaikare stares at me with concern. Whether she senses my indifference or it’s her own, I’m relieved there’s been no sign of the shaman.

Then he appears as if silently summoned.

Jesus, there isn’t any rustling of foliage to warn us. He simply steps from the jungle onto the sand. My heart jumps to my throat. He didn’t approve of our leave.

Kaikare nods to him, her poker face unreadable. I want to stand behind her, then stop myself. We’re in this—trouble—together. He stops a distance away from us, and she plods a few paces closer yet a safe distance as though she learned the distancing rule from Samuel. He speaks to her, and she lowers her head. I follow her lead. Their conversation goes back and forth several rounds, and not once do I detect heat in their words. By the time I glance up, he’s disappearing into the jungle once more. I follow her back to the fire, dying to know what was said. She picks up my bag and holds it with an outstretched arm.

I nod and take it. Her expression changes as though she’s struggling inside, and I take it as a sign I’m receiving marching orders.

“It. Time,” she manages.

My heart leaps hearing her words. I want to hug her until I realize what she’s saying, and my excitement falls flat. Leave on foot? The ball of panic—always present—slowly grows. “I should wait here for Asoo.”

She frowns at my words. A hand reaches for mine. “Come.”

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, she leads me into the jungle, pushing past vines and weaving around some of the thickest tree trunks I’ve seen. I stop to rest momentarily, gripping the narrow trunk of one of the more common trees. Kaikare waves her hand, shaking her head. I let go, and on closer inspection, realize the tree is unlike others. Fire ants swarm the branches. “Shit.” I brush my hands and shake myself. She gives me a long look before leading me into the sunlight of thinning overgrowth to a garden of sorts with an abundance of orchids, hot-lips flowers, and heliconias.

A distant song halts my step, mixed vowels of no meaning yet harmonic and mesmerizing.

The voice of an angel.

45

Eden

Whenevermyheelhitsthe ground, I focus on trying to be lighter on my feet, now aware the plants hold value. With every snap of a twig, I wish I had more grace. Maybe if I did ballet lessons as a child, I’d be less of a lead foot.

Standing by a kapok tree, the shaman sings a harmonic tune. His eyes are closed, and both hands are on the tree, fingers splayed over the bark. The size of the tree is so imposing, it consumes most of the sun’s rays. I didn’t notice Kaikare slip out of my sight until she comes to me holding a prickly heart-shaped pod. This time, I realize she’s leading me to the village.

Keep your distance. Samuel’s words play over in my mind as I follow her to the cooking fire, where she breaks open the pod to reveal dozens of reddish seeds. After scooping them into a pot of water, she then places it over the heat.

A loud crack has me jumping. The heavens open, and heavy rain drenches me in seconds. With my backpack over my head, I sprint to Samuel’s hut.

Everything is like we left it.

I strip out of my wet clothes, not for being cold as the rain is refreshing, more so my clothes need to dry before musk seeps in.

Kicking off my sneakers, I heave at the smell of my socks. I peel them off for the first time in days. Come to think of it, lifting my arm, I get a whiff of me. Ugh. The socks and I both require a good scrub. It’s weird I didn’t notice until I thought of how society has an expectation of body odor. The subtle musky odor of the Ularans isn’t offensive, and I guess it’s grown on me. Even still, I’m washing because my feet reek.

Laying my soaked clothes on the wooden table, I tie the skirt around my waist, slipping the beads over my head and shoulders.

My stomach growls, reminding me I’ve barely eaten. Remembering Samuel left a note to help with some of the foods’ nutritional value and what is safe to eat, I scour through his case. “What’s this?” It’s a handwritten piece of paper. No, a wad of notes on medicinal uses of some of the plants. I flick through the notes reading the descriptions. Many of the plants aid in killing bacteria and parasites, and I understand now how everyone remains relatively well. It’s why Samuel reiterated foreign viruses were a threat. Anti-inflammatory, anti-cancer, digestion, blood purifiers, cough relief, bronchitis, diarrhea—there is a plant for almost every known ailment.

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