Authors: David Faxon
That night, there was a meeting of the elders to determine
her fate. Chora presented his case to a sympathetic council. The conclusion was fore ordained. She acted unwisely and extreme punishment was necessary. Indeed, Teman-e himself may have been at the root of Guardara’s decision. His influence within the tribe was a source of competing power. Moreover, he openly defied the chief by acting against his wishes and going off on his own to find a mythical bird. At Guardara's urging, they agreed that Chora’s honor, and indeed the tribe's honor, could only be upheld by what amounted to a death sentence- the permanent banishment of Naru. As the evening fires died, they sent for her to pronounce sentence.
A short while later, she stood before them, head held high
and thinking some form of punishment was about to be administered- certainly not banishment. Whatever it was, she would bear it and it would be worth the price. Guardara rose to speak. She noticed his expression, one seen rarely and felt palpable fear.
“You have brought shame to your people and this man who is one of our defenders. You have disobeyed our ancient laws and
will be rebuked. With daylight, you will know my decision.”
Naru reacted defiantly.
“I have done nothing! It’s you who dishonor my husband! Have you forgotten so soon?”
A furious
Guardara ordered her mouth bound. They carried her to a hut used to shelter dogs. That night, she was forced to lie in filth while fending off two aggressive mongrels.
In the
morning, a crowd gathered to witness an unusual ritual. None, except for a few elders, could recall having seen one like it in their lifetime. All were silent, but many resented the influence Chora held over Guardara. Naru knelt to embrace Nauoma. He hugged his mother tightly until the other wives pried loose his grip. Jamu and Kep'e, her two youngest, cried loudly.
In
the village common, she stood despondently, waiting. Guardara appeared, festooned with ceremonial beads, looking every bit the wrathful chief about to deliver a harsh sentence. He spoke in a loud voice, condemning her stubbornness and lack of respect in unusually strong language. When he finished, there was silence before he spoke his final words. She stared directly at him until he looked away. Then she heard them.
“Once, you were the first wife of one of our most respected warriors. But your refusal to obey our laws does not provide excuse. You will leave this village forever. Your children will be spared and remain with the Machi-te people
. You will receive the mark of one who is an outcast, so that wherever you go, you will be known.”
Naru heard his words and stood unmoving for a moment. An unexpected breeze brushed her black hair back, exposing her face. Then her knees buckled. She collapsed, and fell to the ground. Guardara
nodded, and two men seized her. Chora stepped in front with hate-filled eyes. In his hand was a large knife made from stone, honed to a sharp edge. Naru's head snapped back as someone pulled her hair from behind. The whites of her eyes grew wide, like a frightened animal. He laid the flat of the knife against her face, smiled in mock pity, turned it on edge and lay open her cheek. She screamed as blood coursed down her face. Then he did the same to the other cheek before cutting her forehead. Thus marked, she would begin a journey of several days and taken to a place deep in the forest.
The sound of rushing water grew faint. It was several hours before she heard it again. Other than the usual jungle noises, there was only the soft sound of footsteps leading to a place she knew would be extremely obscure. A hood made of woven fabric covered her head, secured by hemp, tied loosely around her neck. A single hole in the fabric allowed her to breathe. Hands bound tightly to her body, she couldn’t resist storing in memory the familiar sounds, or smells that might one day lead her back. She thought,
That day would come, and Teman-e will settle with those who mistreated me He will do more. He will find me. No one knows the rainforest better than he.
Hours became days
. She was in perpetual darkness. She fell into a reverie, step after step, until tripping over an exposed root or some other object. She was helped to her feet in a way that was almost respectful, as if her captors sympathized with her plight. The sounds she had recognized the first day were no longer familiar.
Where are they taking me? This is much further than our hunters would go.
She was being led on a circuitous journey, to a place that only one of the tribesmen knew of. He was there twice before, neither by choice, telling the Machi-te people how it was fit for no man. A journey that took eight days. By then she was very tired, barely able to walk. She refused all food since the first day and drank only small amounts of water. The longer they traveled, the more despairing the thought became that Teman-e would never be able to find her.
On the eighth day, she
slept soundly and awoke to stillness. The sound of footsteps and voices had ceased. The rope used to lead her, slackened. She waited for a command. It didn't come. She remained still for a long while. It was quiet; no one prompted her to get up.
Is this where I am to be left?
Her stomach ached from lack of food, but she had no desire to eat and wanted only water. Her hands were now free, and she untied the hemp that secured the hood. The first light to enter her eyes in a week blinded her. Gradually, she became accustomed to the brightness. This was a place more forbidden than she expected; dense growth, no sound of water, no sign of edible fruits or plants. It was meant to kill her.
What have I done to make them turn against me this way? S
he staggered through the jungle. A little beyond, she came to a hollowed tree. Weary, bereft of hope, she entered and lay down.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SEVEN
Weeks passed. Both men were dangerously frail- Connery at times, delirious. His clothing in rags, beard grown long, body covered with scratches and insect bites. He trudged on, mechanically following Teman-e. He had dealt with it all; monsoon, tropical heat, hunger, ghastly sights. Experiences he would never forget. Now he just wanted sleep, a place to rest, ease his body down. He had tried. But what came of his effort? Even if they found their way to the village, he would still be a long way from his own home. And if he did get home, what then? He could face years in prison for losing his client’s investments. The money was gone. A fraud indictment was inevitable. But he couldn't give up. Something would change for the better. It had to.
Another day of painful but slow progress
had yielded nothing- the day after, the same. The only bright note was that it hadn't rained. Rivers began to subside. Wet season ebbed.
Then
Teman-e stopped suddenly. The landscape; something about it was vaguely familiar, as if he stepped through a portal from one world into another. That kapok; only once had he seen one that tall, nearly two hundred feet. The ravine to his left, the huge termite hill.
I've been here!
He called to Connery who perked up slightly but
only managed a mumbled response. He heard too many times they were going in the right direction. Nothing ever came of it. He was almost too weak to care.
Teman-e
had indeed been there. Once, when he was a young hunter. It was only the second time he had been that far from the village. That season, he and four others were away for more than three weeks. They had become lost. But away from which home? Was it before the last migration? He couldn’t remember, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, he knew his directional instincts, which he had begun to doubt, remained strong. He uttered a string of words, some in his new language.
“We are not far away. See over there, and over there!”
He pointed to the sights that were familiar, smiling in a way that he hadn’t for weeks. His mind put them all together, then reversed the image planted there. Years before, he had approached that same place from another direction; the ravine had been on his right. But it was the tree; so tall, with a trunk almost ten feet in diameter. He remembered that twilight had brought thousands of bats to its branches, attracted by the fragrance of its flowers. It was a scene stored in memory, long forgotten, but there nonetheless.
Connery wanted to share
in the elation, but his weakened condition wouldn’t allow it. Teman-e, though extremely relieved, thought that neither would last much longer in their current condition. Best to stay put before attempting to move on. They would eat any living thing, starting with the termites from the giant hill just beyond the huge kapok. He would use Connery's fire starter to smoke them out. There was hope, he was invigorated, his weariness dissolved. He showed once again his great perseverance and strong will.
“
Now I can return to my wife and children, take my rightful place in the tribe.”
He looked forward to the aroma of wood smoke from cooking pots, bathing in the rushing waters of the river, night ceremonies. He pictured it so clearly.
He took
the lighter from Connery. Promising to return soon, he walked the short distance to the termite hill. Noises coming from the other side told him he wasn’t the only one looking for food. Hidden from his view, a giant anteater extended a long tongue into the tunnel holes, catching hundreds of termites with its sticky saliva. Too busy to notice Teman-e’s approach, it continued feeding. Six feet long with a bushy tail, it had long, sharp claws, and if threatened would stand on its hind legs using its tail for balance. It was quite capable of killing a human. Teman-e kept his distance, content to wait until the animal had its fill.
A half hour later
it wandered off, satiated. He had the hill to himself. He packed straw into several tunnel holes, used the lighter to set it afire, then waited. It wasn't long before the hill was flooded with evacuating termites. He scooped them with his hands and crushed them on a flat stone. He gathered the paste with his fingers and consumed it. He didn’t think about the acrid taste but of filling his body with what he knew it required. What was left, Connery ate without asking questions. Using the large safety pins and thread from the backpack, he made a fishing line. He caught several small fish and both ate again
In a few days,
an invigorated Connery was helping Teman-e find food. The two savored each meal, talking late into the evening. Connery listened attentively, trying to understand the life of a primitive but could find no intelligible way to describe his own society and its advanced ways. How could he explain those things to someone who still lived life as it was three thousand years ago? He tried to describe the commercial airliner.
“
Teman-e. Listen. It wasn’t a bird. It was something else. I will try to explain.”
Understandably, the Indian couldn't conceive the notion of flight unless it was a bird, so Connery kept the conversation simple. He talked about where he lived, games he played as a child, the names of his children. Teman-e took it all in, then decided it was time to speak of the dangers that lay ahead when they finally reached his village.
“My people may not welcome you as I have.”
Connery, suspecting as much, answered simply.
“Go on.”
He explained that Guardara could be a powerful enemy and didn't like strangers of any sort. No one in the tribe liked strangers, but their generosity could be effusive if one was accepted. Teman-e spoke of these things as if he were a wise observer from a different planet. He understood his people and had an acute awareness of their psychology. He said there would come a time when Connery would be very vulnerable, when a single word from the chief could get him killed. It was first necessary to convince Guardara he posed no threat. Once the chief accepted him, the whole tribe would follow. Connery listened carefully but wasn’t encouraged by what he heard.
Before
they set out on the last leg of their odyssey, Teman-e had one more surprise. He had carved a talisman image of a jaguar from a piece of hard wood. A long string of hemp provided a necklace that he slipped through a hole in the carving.
“I have this for you.”
He gave it to Connery. It would help when he encountered Guardara. In a short while, they would make their first contact with other humans in more than two months.
They reached a part of the country that rose to granite walled gorges, festooned with a variety of colorful flowers. The air changed just enough to bring noticeable relief from the humidity
. They paused at a precipice. Below, fresh water from some unknown spring cascaded to a clear pool. It had been days since either had bathed, or even thought of it. What lay there was an invitation. The two paused, looked at one another and found a way to reach the enticing oasis below. They had descended nearly a hundred feet where the roar from the falls became more noticeable. Connery cupped his hands and brought water to his mouth. It was cold, refreshing. He plunged in, diving deep below the surface. Even at that depth, light penetrated. He came up for air, closed his eyes and floated on the silky water. Teman-e, however, didn’t join in. He recognized the depth of the pool was over his head, and the memory of his near drowning was still fresh in his mind. Connery teased him for his timidity. They both laughed heartily.