by David Faxon
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.
The refreshing oasis seemed a reward for all they had been through. All too soon, it ended; a moment in conscious time and space, too brief. However, its brevity was of no consequence, for it would bury itself into the subconscious, where time and space had vastly different meanings.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
After weeks of wandering in the least known and most dangerous part of the Amazon, they neared the Machi-te village. Teman-e knew that Connery’s presence could make things go very wrong. Then too, his own appearance had changed considerably. His face was drawn and scarred; he had lost a great deal of weight. Physically, he wasn’t the same man. Moreover, a strange looking person accompanied him. No one, with the possible exception of Naru, would believe he was still alive. It was entirely possible they would be mistaken as intruders, part of an attacking tribe. If a village hunting party found them, they could easily be killed. The element of surprise had to be eliminated.
To simply approach unannounced was out of the question. The tribe would be nervous, bows drawn. Guardara could easily give orders to have them killed. He must find a way to let them know he had returned, bringing a friend who saved his life. But what would Guardara’s reaction be when he saw a white man? Now, only a short distance from the village, he led Connery to a little used trail to avoid discovery.
He remembered that old Tochua left the village early each morning to gather betel nuts and roots. He did this every day for as long as Teman-e could remember. Tochua was an elder and respected by
his peers, his words trusted. They would slip off the trail and await his arrival. He would call the old man's name, try not to frighten him, explain, then let him see Connery. He would ask Tochua to accompany them as they entered the village, telling everyone that Teman-e wasn’t dead after all. He explained what he was going to do. Connery listened, not fully understanding.
Once they neared the village, the tribesmen would congregate, be very defensive and look to Guardara for affirmation. There would be a tense period while he told his story. During that time, Connery could do nothing that might be seen as threatening. When the moment came, he would signal for him to offer gifts, his camera, then the lighter, if necessary. The chief wouldn't know what magic lay inside the camera. He would have to be convinced it would add to his power and status. Connery hoped the batteries hadn't died. His earlier belief that it would someday prove valuable was about to become truth. He thought of the pictures taken at the burial ground. Their loss would be insignificant compared to what he might gain.
They both rested before dawn dimly lit the forest. Teman-e was the first to rise and he shook Connery. There, on the trail, was Tochua, carrying a walking stick, coming toward them through an early morning mist. Without hesitation, Teman-e spoke in a loud whisper from the covering leaves.
“Tochua!”
The old man stopped, frozen with fear.
“What is it? Who calls my name?”
“It is Teman-e, I have brought a friend.”
“Teman-e? He’s dead!”
Tochua raised his stick as he would have as a warrior forty years before.
“Put the stick down, Tochua, look at me!”
Tochua's eyes were dimming with old age.
“Come here where I can see you.”
Teman-e walked closer as the old man squinted, thinking this could be his last few moments on earth if it was an enemy tribesman. Despite Teman-e’s changed appearance, he recognized him.
“What has happened to you? All our people think you are dead!”
“I would be if it were not for a man who saved me from the Wakawakatieri. To escape, we went to a part of the forest where none of our people have ever been. I owe him my life”
“Where is this friend who saved you?”
“I will show him to you, but you will be surprised.”
Teman-e motioned toward the bushes and Connery stepped out. Tochua was startled. Standing before him was a man like none he had ever seen. He was taller, features far different, and his skin, though bronzed by exposure, much lighter.
“Where did you find him?”
“It is a long story, Tochua. One I will tell to you and the others, but for now, I fear our brothers may not recognize us. For that reason, we cannot just walk into our village. I need you, a trusted member of our tribe, to announce that I have returned. Tell them there is no threat from the one who is with me.”
Tochua eyed Connery suspiciously. It was inherent to Machi-te beliefs to distrust strangers until they showed their worth. But Teman-e was a proven warrior who risked his life many times, and he was to be trusted.
“I believe you. I will help.”
Then Tochua hesitated.
“But you are too late.”
Teman-e grabbed the old man’s arm.
“Tochua! What do you mean?”
“Much has happened since you left. Chora, in his eagerness to take Naru for his own, dishonored and harmed her. He set the chief against her. He cut her face. In spite of urging from Guardara and others, she refused to take him as her husband. Guardara used tribal law to have her banished. She was taken to a place where she will surely die. Your children have been given to your other wives.”
Teman-e was shattered. For weeks he endured every kind of punishment and deprivation, but the thought of Naru kept him going. Connery looked on silently, unable to interpret, but could see that Teman-e burned with rage. Something had changed.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Tochua did as he was asked, knowing the outcome could easily turn violent. Approaching the village, he waved as he announced in his loudest voice that Teman-e was alive. He had returned with a stranger, but they should remain calm. There was no threat.
Within minutes, the entire tribe amassed on the trail leading to the edge of the forest. It was not like Tochua to announce that he was returning. This was unusual. Never had he resorted to such behavior. A cacophony of shrill voices confronted the old man. He struggled for words that might help tone down the excitement. Connery could feel the hostility. Even more disturbing were the drawn bows aimed directly at him. Teman-e had warned him of this moment. Tochua’s words were barely heard above the din. No one, including the chief, recognized Teman-e, let alone Connery, and the excitement grew. At first, they were thought to be from another tribe, one they despised. But who was this other one? Definitely not of their kind; too tall with features never seen before.
Several tribesmen made menacing gestures, prepared to shoot if Guardara gave the slightest hint of any threat. The situation was about to get out of control when the chief held up his arm to quiet their frenzy.
Chora heard the name Teman-e and was stunned. Could he be alive? He readied his bow. The man next to him said:
“Who are they? What do they want?”
“I don’t know. Others may be surrounding us. We should not waste time. We should kill them now!”
Guardara vaguely recognized something. Could it really be him? He wanted to hear more and wondered how Tochua became involved. He continued to hold his arm in the air, ready to let it fall should he sense danger.
Teman-e, always quick in moments when his survival depended on it, saw an opportunity. He spoke the chief’s name.
“Guardara! I am Teman-e, a member of your tribe. Cannot you see who I am? Am I so changed? You must remember the day I left to find a giant bird that fell from the sky. There is much to tell. Much that is of interest to you and everyone.”
“You do not look like the one I remember.”
Chora positioned himself slightly behind Guardara. He had a clear view of Teman-e, pulled his bowstring taut. If it were Teman-e, he would dispatch him and not worry about retribution over the role he played in Naru’s banishment. If not, the most he might incur was the chief's anger for acting ahead of his signal. Guardara moved forward, blocking his aim. Teman-e advanced a few steps closer.
“See the tattoo you yourself placed on my shoulder when I was young. Who else could I be?”
He turned his shoulder toward Guardara. The chief came closer, observed carefully the drawn, thin figure before him. As he traced his finger over the tattoo, a cautious frown changed to a look of surprise.
“It is you! But who is this one, and why is he here? He is not like us. He will bring evil. You should not have brought him!”
“This man saved my life. He has come with a gift so powerful it will make you like no other. Let him show you, then make your decision. See what he wears on his neck. You know what it means. He brings no evil.”
Teman-e motioned Connery forward, hoping he remembered his instructions. Up to that moment, he could not piece together what they said, but sensed extreme danger. He slowly removed the camera from his backpack, turned it on and breathed a sigh of relief when the lens extended. He walked slowly toward Guardara who eyed him suspiciously, then held out the camera. Guardara dared not touch its shiny metal, but was curious to see what it could do. Timing became everything. Connery walked toward one of the women, knowing he would die if his brashness was misinterpreted. He remembered how Teman-e, startled by the flash, set off a chain reaction of anger. He hoped the mechanism was off. He held the camera at face level, looked at the bewildered woman through the viewfinder and took her picture. A glance at the small screen showed the image to be perfect, and he offered it to the chief, who refused to touch it but looked at the image, then the woman.
“How is this possible?”
This was sheer sorcery, power beyond his comprehension. Had Teman-e been right
after all? Is this what he found? Yet this too could be a danger, also a question of supremacy and dominion. Wisely, he thought he could have both the object and the source of its power by keeping the strange looking one alive. But if this one is so potent, why is he groveling this way, offering gifts?
Teman-e saw an opportunity.
“You would be wise to accept. This man will teach you. If you allow him to live, no one will equal your powers. He will defeat your enemies. If he dies, the spirit of this object will go with him and be lost to you forever.”
Guardara, unsure of what to do, hesitated again but finally took the camera. He turned the object in his hands, admired its shiny silver plating and laughed out loud, suddenly changing the course of events. He made a friendly gesture toward Connery and ordered his men to lower their weapons. Teman-e had indeed returned and brought with him a friend. They should prepare food to welcome them. Behind his apparent change of heart, however, was knowledge of the inevitable death fight to come between Teman-e and Chora and his own complicity in Naru's banishment. He was sure Tochua had told Teman-e already.
Teman-e was on his way toward regaining status within the tribe. Despite his vastly changed appearance, they began to recognize him. It was a moment of triumph. Over shadowing everything, however, was the intensity of how he felt over Naru’s fate and a need to avenge it. Until now, he subdued his anger, but his wife was treated unjustly, an insult beyond comprehension, one he couldn't let pass. No man insulted in this manner could keep respect if he failed to act. Teman-e knew it, Chora knew it. Certainly Guardara did. It wasn’t a matter of where or how, it was a matter of when they would meet in a match to the death. In Chora’s mind, that time was in the near future, and he could easily best the weakened man who stood before him. In Teman-e’s mind, the time had arrived. He believed what Tochua told him. The old man never lied. His story was reinforced by the absence of Naru. Teman-e grabbed a spear from an unsuspecting tribesman, raised it behind his ear and yelled a piercing cry.