Rumors of Savages

by Carrie Regan

Philip ignored the sarcasm. “Exactly. It might sound callous, but we have to learn to be a bit heartless if we’re going to save these species from extinction.”

  “You can’t believe the lives of human beings are worth less than the lives of a few animals,” Liz asked incredulously.

  “There are enough organizations out there wasting money trying to save the people. Pardon me for saying so, but I’m one of the few to say ‘Fuck the people. I’m going to fight for the animals.’ The touchy-feely approach has gotten us nowhere in the conservation world. The fewer people there are gobbling up resources, the better off we, and the animals, are.”

  “The better off you foreigners are, you mean. If you want to talk about wasted resources, you should start in your own country,” Moe argued. “The average Westerner uses a thousand times the resources of any one African.”

  “This is my country,” Philip spat. “I’ve been living here longer, I’ll bet, than you’ve been alive.”

  “Right – living on fat grants from foreign universities. You don’t know a thing about the lives and suffering of the people here,” Moe shot back. Liz patted his shoulder, trying to calm him, but he shrugged her off. “I’ve seen too many of your type. You claim to care about saving Africa, but you’re only here to create your own little dynasty, and just exploit—when you’re not completely ignoring—the local people. I’m sorry if our poverty isn’t pleasant to look at from your private paradise.”

  “Why don’t we call it a draw and agree to disagree?” Max suggested in an attempt to put an end to the debate.

  “I’m afraid I’ve touched a nerve,” Philip chuckled. “I can’t help it. I’ve been here too long to bullshit anymore, and pretend that these people can aspire to anything more than this shithole of a country they’ve created. But before I get our friend any more agitated, we should probably call it a night. Why don’t I show you all to the guest house?” He crossed to the door, and the crew rose to follow him out the door. Liz lingered behind with Moe.

  “I hate his type,” Moe said. “They claim to love Africa, but they don’t give a damn about the people here. They totally miss the point. You can’t save the animals or the jungle unless you work with the people and show them how it’ll improve their lives. Paying off government ministers and threatening poachers with death isn’t the solution.”

  “Forget him. He’s spent too much time alone in the wild.”

  “I’ve had uncles die in those wars he speaks of so fondly, aunts raped, cousins butchered.”

  “I’m so sorry, Moe,” Liz offered. She both admired and envied his passion and convictions. His earnest belief that he could change the world contrasted sharply with the cynicism that had taken root in her own heart since college, and she felt an overwhelming desire to nurture that idealism and protect him as she would a younger brother. “When you’re Minister, you can drive Philip and those like him out of the country!” The words had the proper effect, drawing a smile out of him. “Come on,” she said, and they hurried on to join the others.

  Philip was in the midst of giving a mini tour. “We’re a functioning research station, drawing scholars from around the world. We’re not a hotel or resort, but we’ve been known to host the occasional tourist or television crew to support our mission.” They arrived at a long, plain bungalow with large screen windows.

  “This is the guest house. There’s a privy out back, and a pump in the center of the compound for water. There are enough beds and mosquito nets for each of you, but no sheets, since we didn’t know you were coming. It’s not wired for electricity. I assume you have torches and sleeping bags.” They nodded. Liz noticed that the porters had unloaded their gear in the guesthouse.

  “Breakfast will be ready at 6 AM. Nothing fancy, since we didn’t know you were coming, but Timothy, our cook, can manage some bread, omelets, and coffee at least. It’ll cost you $250 a night, which goes to support our research projects.”

  Liz considered their budget. Fifty dollars per crew member for a beer, modest breakfast, and room in these parts seemed a bit pricy, but they weren’t in a position to negotiate.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I assume you can take care of yourselves from here on out.”

  The crew could scarcely muster the energy to unroll their sleeping bags before passing out on the foam mattresses of the guesthouse. Moe joined them, selecting a bunk on the end. Liz thought of checking in on him once more, but exhaustion overtook her and she was asleep within minutes. Scarcely a moment seemed to pass before the sun was up and Timothy was knocking on the door, announcing that breakfast was ready.

  Powered by leg muscles still tight from the previous evening’s march, they groggily followed the cook to a nearby bungalow that served as a combination kitchen and dining hall. The familiar morning scent of scrambled eggs and toast wafted through the screen windows of the hut, luring them inside.

  “Timothy, I beg you, coffee,” AJ said, taking a seat at a picnic table already set for six. Moving quickly, Timothy placed a thermos of hot water on the table, followed by a container of Nescafe, powdered milk, and box of cubed sugar. “It ain’t Starbucks,” AJ said, dropping a heaping spoonful of the instant coffee into his cup, “but it’s better than nothing.”

  “I don’t know about you all, but that mattress sure felt good after a night in the jungle,” Max said. “Maybe we should consider spending an extra night here. Could shoot some useful wildlife footage, maybe interview Philip about Thompson.” He looked around, offering the idea up to the rest of the team. Keeper of the budget and schedule, Liz considered it for a moment. The New York office was eager for them to get going, but if Max needed the rest, it might be worth it in the long run. They could all certainly use a good night’s sleep and another day to get organized, even if it cost them an extra $250.

  Timothy returned to the table with a hot skillet of scrambled eggs and made the rounds, scooping a generous pile onto each of their plates. “So you are going to the Nburu,” he commented in a thick accent as Buddy gestured for an extra helping.

  “I warned them that it would be dangerous, but still, they insist,” Moe said.

  Timothy huffed in agreement. “Very dangerous place, the Nburu.”

  “We’ve heard all sorts of spooky shit about cannibals and skin hunters,” Troy probed.

  “They’re not cannibals, they’re poachers,” a voice from the doorway interrupted. It was Philip, coffee in hand. He motioned to Timothy for a refill. “Morning all,” he said by way of greeting, before continuing with his lecture. “It’s just like I said last night. These people don’t give a damn about the jungle, and their superstitions only add to the problem. The animal skins are part of the poacher’s master plan. After they take a big haul, they leave a tanned skin behind and spread rumors that it’s human. These buggers are so superstitious, it keeps the anti-poaching squads away, ironically in the parts of the jungle where they’re needed most.” He snorted in disgust. “I suppose it’s more dramatic in your film to say there are headhunters and cannibals out there though, eh?”

  Max was insulted. “Our programs have enough real drama. We don’t need to manufacture it for the camera.”

  ”Oh, I’m certain. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about such an ethical crew skipping town without paying the bill.”

  “I can settle that now,” Liz said, removing her money belt. She was running low on cash, but she’d confirmed before breakfast that she had at least $250 left.

  “Great. I’ve drawn up an invoice. You’ll note that I didn’t charge you for the porters, who are eating out back, or for your guide.” He acknowledged Moe as he handed Liz the slip of paper. “No hard feelings, right?”

  Moe granted him a hint of a nod. Liz, meanwhile, glanced at the slip of paper and did a double take.

  “I think there’s some kind of mistake,” she said, showing the bill to AJ. His jaw dropped at the total: $1250.

  “No mistake. Five people times $250 is $1250.”

  “$250 a nig
ht each?!” Liz exclaimed. “You didn’t say each!”

  “Damn!” Buddy exclaimed. “In that case, I’ll have more eggs.”

  “Look, obviously there’s been some misunderstanding,” Max said. “Your camp is lovely, and you’ve been very hospitable, but you’ll have to agree that $250 is more than a bit unreasonable for a cold beer, breakfast, and a thin mattress for the night.”

  “You’ve all seen how difficult it is to get supplies up here. Everything has to come from Kimkali. You’re not in New York anymore.” As if to demonstrate that fact, the captains and their apprentices appeared in the doorway, arms loaded with old rice sacks filled with canned goods and vegetables. “Good, the boats are repaired,” Philip noted, then gestured for the men to stack the items in the kitchen.

  “So that’s what those extra bags were!” Liz exclaimed. “We even paid to transport your food. It’s because of all that stuff that the motors broke down yesterday.”

  “That’s between you and the captains. I’ve paid them the fair market price for the goods. I do apologize if our rates are higher than what you expected, but it’s pretty standard for a place like this. You’re not just paying for food and lodging, you’re helping support our work. I told you that last night. And let’s face it, you television crews can certainly afford it. Just think of it as your little contribution to the world of conservation.”

  “Now I know why Thompson didn’t spend the night,” Max whispered to AJ. Liz counted her remaining money: just a little over $300.

  “I’m out of cash. Can you pick it up with the money you brought?”

  Troy nodded and left to retrieve his bag in the guesthouse. He returned with an envelope and removed a book of Traveler’s Cheques.

  “What have you got there?” Philip asked, amused. “Those won’t get you far here, I’m afraid. We only take cash. Too many counterfeits floating around; banks won’t accept them.”

  Liz grimaced. “What are you doing with Traveler’s Cheques?” she whispered angrily. “Nobody in a country like this takes them! How much cash do you have?”

  “I don’t know…a couple hundred, I guess,” Troy shrugged. “I didn’t know.”

  “My, my, I didn’t know we had such rank amateurs among us. If I must, I’ll take your Travelers Cheques. Who knows? They might come in handy next time we’re low on paper in the loo.”

  Troy signed them over to Philip as the rest of the crew silently finished their meal. Furious, Liz couldn’t bring herself to eat any more of her overpriced breakfast. She pushed the plate over to Buddy, knowing it wouldn’t go to waste.

  “So I guess there’s no chance we’re staying an extra night,” Max whispered to Liz dryly.

  “No,” she snapped, “we’re not.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Silently, Liz trudged through the jungle, humiliated and embarrassed by the events at the research station. She concentrated on each step, trying not to dwell on the exchange with Philip. She considered herself a savvy traveler who prided herself on keeping costs low, and hated the feeling that she’d been taken. Yet just a few days into their trip, she’d allowed herself to be duped three times: first, by Abdoulaye, then the boat captains, then Philip. On top of that, thanks to Troy, they were stumbling around in the middle of nowhere with next to no money. They probably could have cashed the Travelers Cheques at some bank or hotel in the capital, but it was too late for that now.

  They made their way deeper into the forest, forging along overgrown animal trails as they headed in the general direction of the next GPS point. Branches tore at their arms, and blisters surfaced on their tender feet. Their thoughts drifted to the Bambada, imagining sets of eyes peering at them from dark recesses, following their every step. Occasionally, they paused so that AJ could set up shots of Max hacking through the bush. They were determined to parallel Thompson’s steps day for day, but his pace was already challenging for the large team and all its gear. Brief bouts of filming only slowed them down further.

  By early afternoon, the crew grew weary and their pace slowed to a crawl. Despite their heavier packs, the porters advanced them by half an hour. When the crew finally caught up to them, they were lounging under a leafy canopy, sharing cigarettes on the bank of a broad river. Its rumbling current was too wide and deep to wade across, and there was no means of crossing it in sight.

  “How far are we from the next checkpoint?” Moe asked, peering over AJ’s shoulder at the GPS screen.

  “Pretty close. Looks like it’s just on the other side.” AJ studied the body of water, wondering if they could risk floating their gear across, but quickly thought better of it. “Do you think Thompson swam it?”

  “I doubt it. The current is strong and he wasn’t a young man. Perhaps it gets narrower downstream?”

  They decided that AJ and Moe would set out with one of the porters to try and find a place to cross. The rest of the team would remain behind with the gear, but the two groups would be able to communicate by walkie-talkie.

  After fifteen long minutes, just as Troy and Buddy had begun to suspect the worst, AJ’s voice crackled over the radio, instructing them to follow the river west. The team begrudgingly got up, shouldered their loads, and motioned for the porters to follow.

  The “bridge” they’d discovered was a fallen tree, about three feet thick, stretched precariously across the river about fifteen feet above the surface of the water. Vines hanging down from the canopy provided some means of support, but not enough to make the crossing easy by any stretch. It didn’t faze the porters, who crossed quickly and easily, even with heavy loads on their backs and heads.

  Of the film crew, AJ crossed first, almost as gracefully as the porters. When he arrived on the opposite bank, he turned and filmed Max’s careful crossing. Buddy and Troy followed, hesitating with every step, swaying back and forth unsteadily as they gripped vines, white-knuckled, for support.

  “I want to see everyone safely across,” Moe said, offering Liz a hand up onto the log next.

  She paused, looking at the river with trepidation. “That’s okay. You can go.”

  “It’s all right. You’ll be okay. If Buddy can make it across, anyone can. You have no reason to be afraid.”

  “Who said I was afraid? I just have bad balance.”

  Moe smiled. She was an interesting one, this American woman, trying to prove that she was just as tough as the men on her team. “I didn’t mean to say that you were afraid.”

  The walkie-talkie in Liz’s pocket crackled with AJ’s voice urging them on, and Moe again gestured for her to go. She took a deep breath and climbed up onto the log, then grasped two vines overhead. Slowly, carefully, she placed one foot in front of the other, trembling hands desperately grabbling onto new vines as the current rumbled ominously below. Chancing a glimpse at the far bank, she noticed that while the rest of the team had forged ahead, AJ had remained behind, waiting for her.

  Just when she thought her wobbly legs were about to give out, Liz reached the end of the log. AJ offered her an outstretched hand and she clutched it, then leapt off, into his open arms.

  After the adrenaline rush of the river crossing, the soothing embrace comforted her. She felt his arms squeeze her gently. Lifting her eyes, she met his intense gaze.

  “Thanks,” she said, feeling her face flush, then regained her composure and pushed away. She backed up the path to join the others, watching AJ cheer Moe on, a slight smile playing on his lips.

  ***

  Over the course of the next couple of days, their bodies slowly grew accustomed to the steady, rigorous rhythm of the trek. They’d get up at dawn, identify their next GPS point over bowls of starchy manioc paste and beans, pack up their tents, and set off into the jungle.

  Liz couldn’t imagine Thompson – or anyone, for that matter – braving this jungle on his own. The first day, she remained in a heightened state of awareness, constantly surveying the surrounding vegetation, expecting something to slither or leap out at any moment. For an extra measure o
f security, she stayed within an arm’s reach of Moe at all times. She tried to distract herself by quizzing Moe about the scientific and local names of various plants, their medicinal uses, the calls of particular birds, the animal tracks they encountered — but her fear remained.

  They’d slow only to film interesting points along the trail – painted monkeys calling from the trees, jungle elephants trumpeting in the distance, a deadly cobra lying in wait, or a particularly stunning early morning vista. AJ was diligent about getting shots of Max hacking through the jungle and setting up camp at the end of each day, another day wearier, another day more grizzled.

  The deeper they journeyed into the jungle, the tougher the traveling. Thick vines snaked between trees and blocked their paths. Dense vegetation swallowed them up, leaving their trail indiscernible from the surrounding bush and forcing them to keep pace with their fleet-footed porters. Any evidence that Thompson or any human had passed before them would have quickly disappeared under the tangle of green. The points stored in the GPS were the only trace of his passage here; the jungle had simply digested any and all other clues.

  Nights were the worst for everyone. As Liz tried to fall asleep, she’d listen to the calls from the jungle and try to identify the creatures making them based on Moe’s daytime lessons. But the jungle changed at night. Strange new nocturnal creatures emerged from their day nests, and wildlife that would otherwise avoid humans during the day would approach the quiet camp without fear in the dark. She tried to rationalize away her fears. After all, she hadn’t felt like this on other shoots, even in the Serengeti where lions routinely strolled through camp. But this place was different. Instead of growing accustomed to it, Liz could feel her uneasiness mounting. The jungle was changing, and Liz wasn’t the only one who could sense it.

  Troy had gradually moved his tent to within half a foot of AJ’s, and converted one of his canteens into a “pee bottle” to avoid having to leave his tent in the middle of the night. Buddy had burned through an entire box of batteries keeping his flashlight on until dawn. Even AJ and Max tossed and turned; when they managed to drift off to sleep, they frequently jolted awake, hearts racing from horrific dreams they couldn’t remember.