Lost in the Jungle (26 page)

I went on as best I could, walking away from the Tuichi, fleeing to the hills. I went on for miles, hours passed, but nothing changed. I walked immersed in mud, without knowing where I was putting my feet. I got stuck in bushes and pulled myself free. I stepped on sharp rocks and bit back the pain. I was frequently forced to swim. When I had to haul myself back out of wadis, I slipped and slid, crawling on my hands and knees. When I tried to get a grip on a root or a bush, I fell backward, clutching the uprooted plant in my hand. I had no idea where I was or where I was going, I only wanted to find a resting place for my battered body. I wanted to get to someplace where I would be able to lie down and wait for the storm to pass. Finally I climbed a hill and looked for a tree with thick roots. I didn’t want to lie down under a tree that was likely to fall over and crush me. Completely exhausted, I tore off a few palm fronds and lay down on the ground under what appeared to be a reliable tree.

The rain hadn’t stopped but seemed to have abated somewhat. I took off my shoes and shoved my feet into the sack. They were so raw that I was afraid to take my socks off, fearful that I wouldn’t be able to put them back on the next day. Both the mosquito nets and the poncho were dripping wet. I was shivering cold. The wind was still blowing, and I was afraid that I would come down with pneumonia. If I became sick, I would die.

I began praying. I prayed to God with all my heart.
Please forgive me for ever having doubted you and not putting all my faith in you. I know that you are always watching. Please don’t let me get sick. Let me make it back to safety. Please God.

I considered taking a vow, promising something, but I didn’t want God to think that I was haggling. I took out Uncle Nissim’s book for moral support. The plastic bag had not kept it dry. I kissed the book and slipped it into my pocket.

It was the seventeenth morning of my solitude. The storm was over. I was in sad shape. I was far from my destination and doubted that I would be able to go on. My feet were infected. From now on walking would be torture. How could my body take any more? I was weak with hunger. I had eaten nothing for the past two days. Now how would I find eggs or fruit? The storm had washed everything away. Was I going to die of hunger or injury? Morbid thoughts filled my mind; there was no chance of my escaping into fantasy. I was distressed to the point of despondency. All my hopes of reaching San José faded away. I hadn’t yesterday. I apparently wasn’t going to today. Who knew if I ever would?

What an idiot I was. I should never have left Curiplaya. I could have waited there in my hut. I could have survived there for at least a month, and by then surely someone would have come looking for me. Someone would have done something.

Now what would I do? Where should I go? I no longer believed there was much chance of my reaching San José. I doubted that I would be able to cross the river. Though the storm had died away, the whole jungle was submerged. I was bitter and on the edge of absolute despair, almost ready to give up. I started back to Curiplaya.

Overcome by self-pity, I hobbled painfully on until I came to a
trestepita
tree. The tree was bent low, almost touching the ground. It still had fruit on it, and I eagerly sucked the sweetsour pulp from the pits. The small quantity of nourishment tormented my aching belly, but it helped restore my hopes.

Someone is still watching over me. Uncle Nissim’s book will protect me. I won’t die as long as I have it in my pocket. I shouldn’t underestimate its powers. I mustn’t lose hope. I am stronger than I think I am. If I have been able to survive this far, I can go on.

I gave myself a good talking-to and turned toward San José once again. I was going on, no matter what. I trod through flood waters, swam across streams, climbed up wadi walls. I don’t know where I got the energy. While I was wading through the mud, I made believe that I was one of the Zionist pioneers, draining the swamps. A long black snake passing near my foot startled me. I threw my walking stick at it but missed.

‘Wait a minute,’ I called, chasing after it. ‘Wait a minute. I want to eat you.’

My shirt caught on a branch and tore. The sharp branch slashed my upper arm down to the elbow. Blood spurted from the wound. I fought back tears of desperation.

It doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it. I’m going on.

I could neither see nor hear the river but followed the streams that cut in front of me. I knew that they would lead me to the Tuichi. It wasn’t raining, but the wind was blowing, and it was very cold. The humidity formed a heavy mist.

Suddenly I heard a sputter, a drone, the sound of an engine... an airplane.

Don’t be a fool, Yossi. It’s only your imagination.

But the sound grew louder. It was an airplane!

They’re looking for me! Hooray! I’m saved!

The sound grew louder, and I ran like a lunatic, ignoring my tattered feet. I had to get to Tuichi. I had to signal the plane.

The sound was right overhead. I stopped, panting, and looked up. Between the treetops I saw a few grey clouds, and amid them, at a moderate altitude, a small white plane glided past.

‘Hello, here I am! Help! I’m down here.’ I waved my arms frantically. ‘Don’t go. Don’t leave me here. Here I am.’

The plane vanished from the sky, its drone fading away.

Now I became aware of my feet. The frantic running had torn the flesh from them, and I felt as if they were on fire. I collapsed to the earth, my face buried in the mud. I lay sprawled there and wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.

I can’t take any more. I can’t budge another inch. That’s it.

From the bottom of my heart I prayed, not for rescue, not even for survival. I prayed for death.
Please, good God, stop this suffering. Let me die.

And then she appeared. I knew it was all in my mind, but there she lay, next to me. I didn’t know who she was. I didn’t know her name. I knew we’d never met, and yet I knew that we were in love. She was weeping despondently. Her fragile body trembled.

‘There, there, stop crying,’ I tried to comfort her.

Take it easy. It’s all right. Get up, Yossi
, I urged myself,
you have to lead the way, keep her spirits up.

I plucked myself up out of the mud and very gently helped her up. Tears still poured down her cheeks.

‘The plane didn’t see us. It just went by,’ she wailed.

‘Don’t worry, my love. It will surely be back this way. It didn’t see us through the jungle trees. We can’t be seen from the air. If we could get a fire going, the smoke might be spotted.’

But everything was soaking wet.

When I heard the drone of the plane’s engine once again, I knew we had no hope of being found that day.

I had made it back to the Tuichi, but there was no bank. I stood on the bluff, about twenty feet above the river, its rapids tumbling beneath me. I took out the poncho and waved it frantically, but I knew there was no chance of being spotted through the trees. The plane was flying too high and too fast. I watched it go past with longing eyes.

She looked up at me forlornly.

Don’t worry. They’ll be back tomorrow,’ I promised. ‘Look, we were almost saved today. I’m sure that that’s Kevin up there. It has to be Kevin. I just know it is. He must have gone to my embassy for help.’

I still did not recognise her: where she was from, why she was here. I just kept comforting her.

‘They knew they’d have a hard time finding us today since the weather is so cloudy, but I’m sure they’ll come back tomorrow and won’t give up until they find us.

‘You know, once in a while some guy gets lost in the Judeaen desert, and they call out the army and volunteers and trackers. Sometimes they have to keep looking for a whole week before they find the guy, dead or alive. They never just stop looking.

‘What we have to do is help them find us. We have to find a shore to stand on, so they’ll be able to see us.’

I remembered the beach where the jaguars had been. I had better head back there.

‘Yes, that’s a great idea. It’s a huge beach.’

I had marked it clearly, and while I assumed that the markings had all been washed away, the beach itself must still be there. It was so wide. I quickly figured the distance. I had first arrived at Jaguar Beach on the afternoon of the fourteenth. I had wasted the rest of that day trying unsuccessfully to ford the river. On the fifteenth, as well, I had stopped walking relatively early. That meant that a day’s walk was between me and the beach. I could still get in a good few hours’ walk today. Tomorrow I would start walking at dawn and perhaps make Jaguar Beach in the morning hours.

I explained my plan to her.

‘Come on, love. Another day’s walk, maybe less, and we’ll be there,’ I said encouragingly. ‘There they will spot us easily. First the plane will go over and see us. The pilot will signal us with a tilt of the wings and go back to base. Within a few hours a helicopter will arrive, land on the beach, and pick us up. We’ll be saved. It’ll all happen tomorrow. We have to stick it out one more day. Come on, let’s get going.’

I changed direction for the third time that day. This time without hesitation. I knew that I was doing the right thing.

My feet barely obeyed my will, almost refusing to carry my weight. They couldn’t stand much pressure. Every time I stepped on a rock or root, terrible pains pierced through me. When I had to climb a hill and descend the other side, it seemed an impossible effort. I had to get down and crawl, drag myself along with my elbows. But I kept my suffering to myself. She was with me. She was also injured, weak, and hungry. It was harder for her than for me. If I wasn’t strong, she would break.

I have to push myself harder, hide my own feelings, and keep her morale up.

When we were climbing upward, I would bite my lip and plead with her, ‘Just a little farther, my love. Yes, I know how much it hurts. Here, I’ll give you a hand. One more little push. That’s all. You see? We made it. We’re at the top. Now we have to get down. Sit like this and slide. Slowly, take it easy. Watch out. Be careful you don’t slip.’

Rocks and thorns sliced into my buttocks. I noticed with concern that the rash had spread to other parts of my body. Red dots had broken out under my armpits and around my elbows. The cut on my arm hadn’t formed a scab. The edges were white. My fingers and the palms of my hands were also lily-white. I had been constantly wet for several days.

My body is rotting.

We walked until late evening. I didn’t stop talking for a minute, chattering all day long, trying to keep her spirits up, trying to keep her from losing hope. When she stumbled or slowed down, I offered her my hand, caressing her sad face. I was so anxious to cover as much ground as possible that I didn’t even notice that the sun had almost set. I had to hurry and find a place to rest our heads before darkness fell.

I tore off some palm fronds and spread them over some muddy tree roots. I didn’t bother trying to get comfortable; my body was inured to discomfort. I covered myself with the wet nets and the poncho. Taking my shoes off had been agony. I didn’t remove my socks. They would just have to remain wet and dirty with mud, blood, and pus. I pulled the sack over my feet very carefully, knowing how tormenting the slightest contact would be. I didn’t change position all night long in order to give my feet a rest.

I believed with all my heart that tomorrow would be my last day of hardship. Tomorrow a plane would find me.

‘Thank you, my love. Thank you for being here. Tomorrow you’ll get the kid-glove treatment. Don’t cry. Try to shut your eyes, to get some sleep. Tomorrow we still have a few more hours to walk. We have to get there early, before the plane comes.

‘Good night, my love.’

At the break of dawn a heavy rain began pouring down. My prayers and pleas were to no avail. She was awakened by the first drops.

‘Today is the big day, the last day,’ I told her. ‘We aren’t going to let a little rain stop us. Don’t let it get you down. It’s not so bad. When we get to Jaguar Beach, I’ll build you a strong shelter. You’ll be able to rest, to sleep, until the helicopter comes.

‘You’re hungry? Yes, I know you’re hungry, but we don’t have anything left for breakfast. Don’t worry, I’ll find something to eat in the jungle. You can count on me.’

I couldn’t stand. My feet were soft and mushy, as if a skinless mass of raw, bloody flesh had been poured into my shoes. I couldn’t take a single step, but I knew that my only chance for survival was to walk. I had to get to the shore. If I stayed in the jungle, no one would ever find me. I stumbled forward like a zombie. I discovered traces of the path, but it vanished after a while.

Walking through the dense growth was like marching through hell. I tried to stay as much as possible on soft, muddy ground, to ease the pain of every step I took. I tried to keep my weight on my trusty walking stick and often pulled myself forward by clutching at bushes and branches. When I came to an incline, even a gentle slope, I got down on all fours and crawled, my face caked with mud, my clothes torn and weighing me down. I was weak and afraid of losing consciousness. All I had was water. Water had become the enemy. Other than water nothing had passed my lips. The girl was my only consolation.