One Big Damn Puzzler

by John Harding

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘I IS GUESS you feet is get damn hot in they,’ said Tigua, indicating William’s hiking boots with a nod.

  ‘Yes,’ said William, ‘but at least I won’t be getting bitten by any snakes.’

  Tigua nodded slowly. ‘This is be true.’ She studied the boots a moment or two. ‘They is make they for womans, you is know?’

  ‘Pah!’ Lintoa shook her head in disgust. ‘What for they is make for womans, huh? What womans is go in jungle?’

  ‘We is go in jungle, in case you is not remember what you is do today,’ spat back Tigua. ‘We foots is be naked. They shoes is be damn good for keep off green shoestrings. Girl, you is tread on green shoestring in one of they and you is go kill snake instead of snake is kill you. And they is look plenty damn fine too.’

  ‘Well, it so happens they do make hiking boots for ladies. I believe you can get them in a number of styles and colours.’ Even as he spoke William wondered what on earth had possessed him to go along with Lucy’s offer to ask what she called her ‘girlfriends’ to guide him to the old northern village, taking in Pilua’s last known dwelling place en route in the hope of finding evidence that she had not been killed in the bomb blast that amputated half of Managua’s leg. It should have been obvious that a couple of silly girls would not be the best jungle trekkers and he already doubted Lucy’s assurance of their discretion; Tigua was clearly an incorrigible gossip. But then the thought of Lucy caused a small frisson of excitement along his spine, a shiver in spite of the heat. Was that all there was to it, this expedition, sexual attraction? Had he gone along with the idea simply to get into her pants? Or was it like with his dad and Sandy Beach? Was he simply too kind to deprive someone of the pleasure of helping him, even though he doubted that a hike with the two girls would help him in any way? Whatever, he couldn’t think about it now. His head still hurt from the blow he’d received a couple of days ago. He didn’t want to give it any more to do.

  He hauled his backpack onto his shoulders. Lintoa picked up the cloth bag she’d brought along to the Captain Cook and slung it across her back, over one shoulder and under the other. She started walking towards the jungle.

  ‘They is make they boots with heels?’ said Tigua.

  ‘Well, I don’t rightly know,’ replied William, struggling to keep up with Lintoa, who was setting a punishing pace given the already ferocious heat of the sun. They were setting off very early, right after the shitting, before the sun grew too intense.

  ‘What for womans is want heels on boots?’ Lintoa tossed over her shoulder. ‘How they is go walk through jungle with heels? Is just not make sense.’

  ‘You is have point there,’ conceded Tigua. ‘Is be first damn sense you is talk all morning.’

  ‘I is talk sense, you is just not hear any.’ And Lintoa pushed some adula fronds aside and plunged into the jungle.

  William followed her. It was the first time he had been in a tropical jungle and it wasn’t anything like he’d expected, although those expectations were largely based on the Johnny Weismuller-Maureen O’Sullivan Tarzan movies he’d watched on TV as a kid. For one thing he hadn’t appreciated how dark it would be. There were three layers of tree canopy roofing the forest and what light penetrated was filtered through the leaves, giving everything a greenish tinge. It made Lintoa look like the Incredible Hulk in a dress. And then William hadn’t expected it to be wet. Steam rose up from the floor below and condensed on the leaves above and then dripped back down in heavy globules. It had the atmosphere you find at an overheated indoor swimming pool. But the thing that hit him most was the noise. First there was a low-grade humming or buzzing, which wasn’t surprising because the air – wherever a shaft of sunlight caught it and you could see – was clouded with insects. Neon-winged dragonflies hovered over pools of water on the forest floor. Luminous butterflies big as your hand floated unconcerned before his eyes. Closer inspection of any tree trunk revealed the bark to be covered by a living tapestry of beetles, their shiny backs iridescent as they constantly rearranged themselves. Intersecting the bassline of insect sound every few seconds was the shriek of some bird, at first glimpsed only now and then as a flash of purple or orange or blue that flew across their path, until William’s eyes grew accustomed to the light and he was able to make out parrots and parakeets flaunting their gaudy plumage from the branches of every tree. Maybe pink high heels wouldn’t be so out of place here, after all. Above the cacophony of bird and insect noise there was the never-ending, high-pitched chatter of monkeys. At one point there was a sudden howling and William stopped so abruptly that Tigua ran into his back. It sounded like someone being tortured.

  Lintoa halted and turned back when she realized the others had stopped. ‘Is be all right, gwanga, is not be anything for have shit about. Is just be howler monkey,’ and she pointed up into a tree ahead where a monkey the size of a cat sat staring down at them. It had an elfin face fringed with white fur. When it saw Lintoa pointing, it let out another great howl.

  ‘Is be best you is ignore they,’ said Lintoa. ‘They is catch you look they is howl plenty more.’

  William felt a sharp pricking in his neck and slapped a mosquito. It was the third time he’d been bitten already. He followed Lintoa who, in the time he’d been looking at the monkey, had driven deeper into the bush and was now almost out of sight, just the red top of her dress showing against the green. Behind him William could hear Tigua muttering.

  ‘I is just hope they is do they in pink. Miss Lucy is say pink is be my colour.’ She was still talking about the boots, chattering away to herself like one of the monkeys.

  The trees were close together. Some of the trunks must have been three feet across at the base. Vines snaked between them and palms that grew to waist height covered most of the floor. William was glad to be under cover, out of the flesh-burning glare of the sun, but he hated the damp. The ground beneath his feet felt spongy and it pulled him down. He found his lungs sucking in the moist air, which was too wet to contain much oxygen. He slapped another mosquito as it bit him. Lintoa had stopped to wait for them.

  ‘Hey, gwanga,’ she said. ‘Tell me, is be true Americans is all believe they is come from monkeys, like Miss Lucy is say?’

  William considered. ‘Well, I don’t know about all Americans, but, yes, it’s generally accepted that we’re descended from apes.’

  Lintoa and Tigua, who’d caught them up, exchanged puzzled expressions.

  ‘I mean, that our ancestors were apes.’

  The two girls giggled. Lintoa shook her head in a mixture of disbelief and pity. ‘White mans is have some plenty damn crazy thoughts,’ she said, turning and pushing through the next bunch of palm fronds. ‘I is never go in kassa house, but I is not hear tell anyone is see any monkey there.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tigua, ‘but how they is can? Is be only white mans who is have monkey for grandfather.’

  William would have liked to ask them about what he had seen in the kassa hut and whether they knew the visions there to be hallucinations or if they believed them to be actual visitations of the dead. But Tigua and Lintoa had already set off again and he was struggling to keep up. He didn’t have a lot of breath left over for less than pressing questions about spiritual beliefs.

  Every few paces William would slap himself around the face and neck. The mosquito spray he’d covered himself with that morning had proved completely ineffectual. Already he could feel red swellings all over his neck, face and hands. They itched like hell. After an hour he could stand it no more.

  ‘Wait, you – er – you two.’ He had been about to say ‘guys’, the way he would have done to a couple of American girls, but somehow the word seemed a little insensitive given the lack of feminine grace displayed by his guides. ‘I’m being eaten alive here.’

  They stopped and regarded him as though he were an interesting specimen of some other species. Neither of them had a single bite and he hadn’t heard either one of them slap herself.

>   ‘You is be plenty popular with they damn mosquitoes,’ said Tigua.

  Lintoa put her fingers on William’s face, running them across what felt like two huge bumps on his cheek. She whistled. ‘Gwanga, I is be sorry for tell you, but tomorrow you face is go be plenty damn sore.’

  ‘You mean more sore than now? Is that possible?’

  Lintoa widened her eyes and nodded. ‘Is be possible.’

  Tigua said, ‘I is not understand why they is keep bite you. Is enough for make anyone think you is not have on any pintoa juice.’

  ‘Pintoa juice?’ repeated William, stupidly. He found himself getting angry. ‘No, I don’t have any damn pintoa juice on.’

  The other two looked at one another eyes wide with incredulity. Tigua turned back to him. ‘You is come in jungle without pintoa juice? You is be crazy, gwanga. What you is think is go happen?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of pintoa juice!’ snapped William, his voice rising in volume. ‘How the hell was I supposed to know about it?’

  Lintoa shrugged. ‘Everybody is know about pintoa juice. Even little child, is can hardly damn walk, is know you is must have pintoa juice on in jungle for keep away mosquitoes. Is know soon as is know how for make talk.’

  William glared at her. ‘Well, where I come from we don’t use it.’

  ‘You is not have mosquitoes in America?’ asked Tigua.

  ‘Yes, of course we have mosquitoes,’ bellowed William. ‘We just don’t have pintoa!’

  William took off his pack and set it on the ground. He removed his hat, took out his handkerchief and mopped the sweat off his face. Tigua and Lintoa went into a little huddle, leaning their heads together and talking in a low murmur not much different from the ambient insect drone. Eventually Tigua broke away and strolled over to him.

  ‘You is want pintoa juice, gwanga?’

  ‘Yes, of course I is want pintoa juice! How the hell can I go on without it? I’m being massacred by those bloody things.’

  Tigua recoiled and bit her lip. She looked so like a frightened little girl that William instantly regretted his rudeness. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ he said, ‘I didn’t mean to get cross with you. It’s just that these bites are goddam painful.’

  ‘Is be all right,’ said Tigua, ‘I is understand. Is not really be me you is get cross with. You is be cross with self for forget pintoa.’

  William sighed. ‘OK, I guess that’s it. So you better let me have some.’

  Lintoa again looked astonished. ‘We is not have. We is just not think anyone is be such big fool for come in jungle without they is put pintoa juice on first.’

  William took the insult like a man. He was just too bitten to argue. ‘OK, so let’s go get some.’

  Tigua cleared her throat nervously. ‘There is be just one problem, pintoa is not grow this way. We is must turn off path and is make little trip west for find tree.’

  William couldn’t help noticing that word ‘path’. He hadn’t been aware of anything resembling one. To him it looked like they’d been wandering at random in the jungle.

  ‘OK, OK, just get me to the stuff and fast.’

  Wearily he pulled on his pack. He felt weak and giddy from the heat. His feet were blistered from where he’d stepped in a stream and got his boots wet. They were covered in mud. Thank God I didn’t wear the pink ones! he told himself. The thought made him chuckle hysterically.

  ‘You is not get too happy just yet,’ said Tigua as they turned back the way they’d come and branched off to the left. ‘We is must go through place where ground is be plenty soft, is be much water.’

  ‘Marsh,’ said William.

  ‘No, no, we is not march, that is be plenty foolish,’ replied Tigua. ‘We is must step very careful or is sink in and is drown. Also is be many mosquitoes there. But then you is get through they and find pintoa.’

  They walked for another hour on a route that William calculated was at ninety degrees to their original course. They must be going miles out of their way, he thought. But he didn’t really care. He had to have that pintoa. On the way to find it William counted that he was bitten forty-seven times. He’d now been targeted so many times that the mosquitoes were finding it hard to find a place where he hadn’t been bitten. Fortunately they seemed to avoid anywhere other mosquitoes had gotten to before them. This meant they spent ages crawling across his flesh first, giving William more chance of swatting them so that his strike rate improved considerably. By the time they reached the pintoa trees, he estimated he was only getting bitten four or five times a minute.

  The pintoa fruit turned out to be the size and shape of a mango, with the same green skin turning to red, though not smooth, but dimpled like that of a lemon. Lintoa hoisted her skirt up to her thighs – her very hefty thighs, William couldn’t help noticing – shinned up a tree and began throwing them down at Tigua. At, not to. She was trying to hit the smaller girl’s head and Tigua was ducking and shouting back at her. ‘Stop, you sow! I is go get you for this, girl!’

  Eventually Lintoa came down and after Tigua had thrown a few pintoas at her and she’d thrown some more back at Tigua they suddenly ran out of ammunition. Then they realized they’d thrown away everything Lintoa had picked and had to crawl around in the undergrowth till they found some of them again. Lintoa produced a knife and sliced one in half. The inside was red as raw meat and appeared juicy and succulent.

  ‘You is not eat,’ Lintoa told William. ‘Is be plenty poisonous.’

  ‘Poisonous?’

  ‘Of course. Even mosquitoes is know that. Is what for they is not bite you.’

  ‘Is be OK,’ said Tigua. ‘Is not be so poisonous as orange fungi. Little bit of juice is not kill you.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ said William, as Lintoa squeezed it onto her hands and began rubbing it into his face.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tigua. ‘Drop or two is not matter. You is only get blind headache and sick guts up. You is not die.’

  ‘Owww!’ cried William as the juice made contact with the open sores on his face. It was as if he was being anointed with acid.

  But eventually the pain subsided and he realized the bites weren’t quite so sore as before. ‘It appears to have a soothing effect, is that right?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Tigua. ‘Bites is hurt same as before. Is just they is hurt like hell when you is put pintoa juice on. Then juice is stop hurt and you is not notice how much bites is already hurt because pain is not be so strong as pain of juice. Then when little while is pass you is forget how much pintoa juice is make bites hurt and bites is hurt just as damn much as before.’

  It didn’t take William very long to find out this was true.

  Before they set off again, Lintoa popped a few pintoa fruit into her bag. ‘Just for be on safer side,’ she told William.

  Instead of heading the way they had come to rejoin their original path, Lintoa suggested they branch off to the north-east, to intersect with it later on. ‘Is for cut short,’ she explained.

  ‘Have you been this way before?’ asked William.

  Lintoa shrugged. ‘Mebbe. But is not matter. I is find way. I is have good sense in jungle. Better, mebbe, than boy even.’

  William let that one go.

  The heat now was oppressive. There was no way of knowing because the jungle canopy was too thick, but he had a sense of the sun being almost overhead. He could feel it pressing down on them. He consulted his watch. In spite of their early start it was now almost noon.

  His feet hurt like hell, he was drenched in sweat and his lungs were about to burst. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, the ground began to rise. Anywhere else it wouldn’t have counted as a big hill; under these conditions it was like going up a mountain.

  He became aware of a faint hissing noise. At first he was worried it might be snakes but then he realized it was the sound of water. At once the jungle opened out and for the first time in hours there was clear blue sky above them. In front of them was a torrent of rushin
g water at least twenty metres wide.

  Lintoa stood stock-still, obviously dismayed. William could tell something unexpected had happened. Lintoa held up her right hand and stared at it and then did the same with her left. ‘Oh, shit!’ she muttered to herself. ‘Is this be my right or my left?’

  Tigua pushed her face up into the bigger girl’s. ‘What we is do now, you stupid sow? Is be river.’

  ‘Thank you very much for you information but I is already know that.’

  Tigua threw herself down on the river bank. ‘Pah! You is know that now. Plenty big deal! We is all know that now. We is all see river. We is not need any jungle expert for tell we that.’ She imitated Lintoa’s deeper voice, ‘I is know jungle better than boy even.’

  Lintoa aimed a kick at her, which Tigua just managed to scuffle out of the way of. ‘Shut up, sow! I is try for think.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’ asked William.

  ‘Problem is one plenty big river in front of we,’ barked Lintoa, waving a hand at it. ‘Is you not can see?’

  ‘Yes, of course. I um meant, what is the problem with the river?’

  Lintoa sighed with exasperation. ‘Problem is we is be this side of river and we is want for be that side.’ She pointed to the opposite bank as though William still might not have got the idea. William saw that there was a sheer cliff-face of some five metres’ height down to the water there, with no obvious way up. Apart from this small open patch of river bank, the jungle grew close all along the side they were on making it impossible to walk alongside the river until the opposite bank became lower and more easily assailable.