Authors: David Faxon
The bloodied men who
participated in the sport, staggered into the shabono, tired but ready to enjoy the feast. Guardara heaped praise on those who exhibited the most endurance. There was laughter and joking about their manhood, and to Connery, some gestures appeared obscene. Eventually, they gathered around the large pot of monkey meat. It was time to eat, but Teman-e cautioned him. Certain portions were reserved for those of higher status.
“You will see others eat, but do not join
in until you are offered the food.”
Guardara dipped his fingers into the pot, retrieved a black hand and passed it to Connery
who was repulsed. But what was offered may be considered a delicacy, an honor, and he couldn't be seen to refuse. On the other hand, it could be a test. He picked up the hand and began to chew the sinewy meat. At another time, he would have met this with revulsion, but after what he had been through with Teman-e over the past several weeks, it was easier than he thought. He was relieved when the vegetables and manioc came.
Boisterous revelry lasted late into the evening until the drinking, smoking and eating eventually took their toll. Men, women, and children drifted back to the communal hut where Connery
would stay. Teman-e showed him to a hammock. His stomach full, he relaxed and thought once again he didn't know what to make of these people; violent on one hand, but generous and sharing on the other. Nakedness seemed to hold no particular attraction to anyone, as it would in his society. Sex was the same way, a matter of course. It was just accepted, not a thing of shame. When you felt like it, you did it, usually in a hammock with your neighbor only a few feet away. But Teman-e was clear on rules regarding this.
“Never with the wife of another man unless she was offered to you. Never with a girl
who has not completed tribal rites. Never with another of the same sex. Never with one selected by Guardara, for any reason. You do any of these and I cannot protect you.”
Connery drifted off among slow moving couples in various stages of love making
. Before dawn, he awoke to children screaming and dogs barking. Surprisingly, he found the hammock comfortable. His bladder was bursting. He had to relieve himself, but wasn't sure where. There must be rules of hygiene. Teman-e greeted his friend, saw his problem and gestured him to follow.
They walked across
the open space where the ceremonial gatherings took place, down a winding path, thirty, or forty feet off the trail, into the trees. There, he saw the communal latrine, an open pit used by both men and women. It might be uncomfortable, but at least they had rules in place to avoid disease, and this was good. Teman-e took him to the river where cool water flowed, creating shallow pools. Men, women, and children gathered to wash. Connery hadn’t bathed for days and decided to join them. He removed the only piece of clothing he wore and waded into the pool. Several women giggled, as if making fun of the white stripe in the middle of his otherwise tanned body. Before he knew it, naked women, frolicking playfully in the water, surrounded him. Among them was one who caught his attention immediately. She stood apart from the others, seemingly reluctant to join the gaiety.
He never expected to find anyone quite so
exotic, so lovely, in the middle of the Amazon. More exquisite and perfectly shaped than any woman he had ever seen. When he finished bathing, he returned to the village, unable to erase her from his mind. He wandered toward the communal hut where he met Teman-e who told him there was another ceremony planned for that night. He said no more, only that the chief and tribal elders considered it important. Connery asked about the woman who intrigued him, pointing as she walked by.
“She is Wamura, her father
was Guardara's brother. You will not look upon her as you would the others. Listen to what I say. It could mean your life.”
The rest of the day passed slowly, mostly because of the eagerness and anticipation of what the evening might bring. Would something be demanded of him that he would find intolerable, repugnant? What would the reaction be if he failed to comply? Around noon, Wamura came to his part of the
shabono. She found some special aloes in the forest and gave them to an elderly woman suffering from malaria. Connery couldn’t help his attraction to her willowy body and earthy good looks and wondered why she had no husband. He noticed that she glanced in his direction frequently. When she left, the day seemed to drag.
T
he women did most of the work in the morning. Afternoon was for more leisurely chores; weaving baskets, making hair adornments and tending to the children. The men lolled in hammocks as the afternoon sun heated the village. Life proceeded in a casual, uninhibited manner. Others played games he didn't understand. He bantered with them for a while and picked up more of their language.
With
ample time to ponder his situation, he lay in a hammock, peaceful, relaxed, not worried about business, not worried about facing prison. He was content for the time being. So far, he was pleased with the way he had adapted. Few things could truly frighten him now. He thought about Teman-e’s loss of Naru and wondered what the consequences would eventually bring.
T
he onset of evening brought bright shafts of light streaming through the trees. For a short while they glowed, before lengthening shadows turned the forest into a dark void. There came a loud cry, and people rushed toward the communal area. Teman-e was nowhere in sight, so Connery followed along. A fire burned brightly, yellow flames created dancing images on trees and huts. Several warriors appeared carrying spears, faces painted a bright white. One wore brilliant feathers attached to a necklace. For the next hour, he and the other warriors danced to a rhythm played on hollow bamboo tubes, making warlike gestures toward one another, as if they were acting out a play. Connery watched, fascinated, not knowing he was about to witness a ritual as ancient as any.
As quick as it began, the primitive music stopped. A hush went over the tribe. Someone in brilliant feathers appeared holding an object aloft. It was then that he recognized
Teman-e, grasping the head of Chora by the hair. Another ugly sight. He had seen too many. From the ghastly scene aboard the fallen aircraft, to the perverted tortures instigated by Uxhomeb, to the sudden, violent death of Chora. Far more than one person should witness in a lifetime.
Shrill chanting followed
. Teman-e set the head down and commenced to dig a shallow hole near the fire. He buried it just below the surface, then raked burning embers over the spot. Others added more wood until the fire roared. For the next two hours, tribe members continued adding sticks to the flames until the sand beneath turned extremely hot.
Connery wasn’t sure of what he saw until later the next day when he asked
Teman-e about the ceremony.
“Chora’s strength belongs to me now. He is no longer my enemy. I will keep his head.”
He witnessed the first of many steps to shrink a human head. Teman-e explained that other procedures would follow, in a process that took weeks until the skull bone crumbled. Then the skull would be removed from the leathered skin. What remained was the size of a large fist, the features intact. But no one would recognize what was once Chora.
“The last part is for women.”
“What will they do?”
Teman-e
took him to a woman’s basket that lay outside a hut. Inside was a long, sharp wooden needle.
“Women will sew the eyes and mouth shut to seal in Chora’s spirit for all time.”
Few in the civilized world had seen what Connery had witnessed. Fewer yet, lived to tell of it.
That night,
Teman-e went to Guardara, determined to get answers about Naru. Questioning the chief disrespectfully would mean risking his life and Connery's too. But he had no respect for Guardara. Revenge was on his mind. He considered killing him. But that, he knew, would throw his people into mayhem and jeopardize the lives of many. Guardara remained dominant and held complete sway over the elders and warriors. As an enemy, he would be a considerable foe. Undoubtedly, if anything went wrong, his children would be the first to go, then Connery. While he would like to dispatch the chief as he had Chora, he thought better of it, a decision that would weigh heavily.
The older man eyed him warily, suspecting what he wanted, at the same time fearful of what he was capable of. He knew that
Teman-e held respect within the tribe and may even someday hold his position, but for now, he was the chief, and would exercise whatever authority pleased him. As Teman-e approached, he could see anger in his eyes.
“I have come with questions. They strike at my soul.”
“Speak!”
“Naru
, my wife. You punished her severely. Why did you go beyond the usual measures? Why was she banished when you could have done less?”
Guardara
, annoyed by his insolence, sensed a situation that could go badly. Guile wouldn't work on a man like Teman-e. He decided to speak firmly.
“You dare question my decision?
I gave her many opportunities, but she chose defiance. To both our laws and me. I acted within my authority. I don't have to explain to you. You may come back, take your position as before, but already I have spared your life after you killed one of our most promising young warriors. I have allowed your friend also to go untouched. Believe me, his life hangs in the balance if you choose to defy me. As do the lives of your children should you try to upset what I have put in place.”
Teman-e
felt his blood boil but continued to probe.
“Nevertheless, I have a duty to find her. Where was
she taken?”
“To a place where she will never be found. And what if you did find her? You would not be allowed to return. You would cease being a member of this tribe. Your children would be without a father. I have made the decision. It is the consequence of when you first defied me. You went in search of a giant bird you couldn’t explain. It was foolishness
. I warned you. You see what that has brought, yet you think I am to blame. Now leave!”
Teman-e
hung on the words. So that was it. A question of what the chief considered an affront to his power, and Naru paid with her life. He himself was powerless, and though he hated Guardara for what he did, maybe he should have heeded his advice and never have gone in search of what he saw that day. Had he done so, she would still be alive. His instinct and quiet wrath told him to kill the chief, but more than likely, he too would be killed, as would the others. For the time being, he must comply. But the day would come.
CHAPTER
THIRTY ONE
Tapejo II project- 300 miles downriver
Six months passed since De Santana packed as much as could safely be carried on three flat barges and left for the deep interior. The Tapejo II project was his and there was nothing he could do about it. He left with a bad feeling that didn’t erase easily from his mind. The fear that he would never return.
He assembled a crew of sixteen Portuguese laborers, insufficient for what
he had to do. The only native Indians willing to relocate were those easily coerced. Four decided to go since they owed the company too much to refuse his offer. He would halve their debt and include whiskey in return for a year's work. In reality, he would make sure they stayed for the duration. Outright kidnapping crossed his mind but he rejected that thought. They would revolt, and where he was going, that was the last thing he needed. The four would be enough to handle. Interior Indians presented a more severe challenge. They were savage, some extremely primitive, highly resentful of infringement on their land. They were the real danger. The ones he worried about.
It took more than five weeks to bring the supplies and equipment down river
, far beyond a lightly inhabited village that would be a last glimpse of human habitat. In the months that followed, he would ramp up a mining operation, miles from nowhere. But he was shorthanded and needed twice the number of men that he had. This meant driving the existing crew fourteen to sixteen hours a day with only one day off every two weeks. His method of operation was simple, common in the Amazon for more than two decades. A
'slash and burn'
tree clearing that would denude thousands of acres of virgin forest at a rate of twenty-five acres a day. It would leave an ugly, open scar, pockmarked by thousands of tree stumps. Two large bulldozers would topple majestic trees like matchsticks, the remaining stumps set afire, would send billows of smoke into the air. The effect on the surrounding environment didn’t bother him. Tribes in the region would surely investigate the intrusion, however and he didn’t know what that might bring.
Once the land was cleared, a larger travesty would occur. River mining required the use of mercury and cyanide on a grand scale. Waterways poisoned with half empty drums of chemicals
, became toxic cesspools. At the last site, he dumped fourteen tons of mercury into the river. Dead fish and animals created an appalling stench. In addition to the manmade chemicals, natural mercury, accumulated over thousands of years, entered the waterways via high pressure water cannons used to dislodge the ore. The mercury combined with bacteria to form the highly toxic substance, methyl mercury, carried hundreds of kilometers from the mining site, absorbed by fish, aquatic vegetation, and eventually, people. The Tapejo projects were but two of hundreds of illegal gold mining operations polluting the Amazon's tributaries. None of this mattered to Castelo Branco, or De Santana. Where there was gold, they would extract it, regardless of who or what might be endangered.