The Land of Foam

by Ivan Yefremov

  After the rains the twelve-cubit-high elephant grass had formed ears and stood so dense that even the huge elephant was hidden in its stiflingly hot thickets. Kidogo explained to Pandion why they must hurry: soon the period of the rains would be over and the plain would begin to burn up and would turn into a lifeless, ash-covered expanse where they would find no food.

  Pandion agreed in silence. His sorrow was still too fresh. Once amongst those to whom he owed so much, he felt that the bonds of male friendship were again binding him, that the urge to go forward, the thirst of battle, were growing in him and that the desire to reach Oeniadae as soon as possible was becoming more powerful.

  Despite his great longing for Iruma, it was only now that Pandion felt his former self, stepping out firmly on the chosen path without further alarm. The artist’s former hungry attention to the forms and colours of nature had returned, and he was filled with the wish to create.

  The twenty-seven strong men were armed with spears, assegais, knives and a few shields. The former slaves, tried and tested in battle and misfortunes, constituted a considerable force and need have no fear of the numerous wild beasts.

  The road through the high elephant grass was beset with dangers. They were forced to march in single file, keeping to the narrow paths made by animals and seeing before them nothing but the back of the man in front. Danger threatened them every minute in the high walls of rustling grass to the right and left. At any moment the grass might part and make way for a lurking lion, an infuriated rhinoceros or the huge towering body of a malicious lone elephant. The grass separated the men; it was worse for those who brought up the rear since they could be attacked by an animal that had been aroused by those in front. In the mornings the grass was covered with a cold dew and a glittering haze of water dust hung over men whose bodies were wet as though from rain. At the hottest part of the day the dew disappeared completely and dry dust, falling from the tops of the grass-stalks, irritated their throats; it was stifling in the narrow corridors through which they passed.

  On the third day of the march a leopard pounced on the bold Libyan Takel who brought up the rear; it was only by a lucky chance that the young man escaped with a few scratches. Next day a huge clark-maned lion attacked Pandion and his Negro neighbour. The spear given him by Iruma’s father stopped the lion; his companion, picking up the shield Pandion had dropped in his surprise at the sudden attack, fell on the lion from behind. The animal turned to face its new attacker and fell, pierced by three spears. Kidogo came running up, panting with excitement, when all was over and the warriors, breathing heavily, were wiping the already coagulating blood of the lion from their spears. The beast lay almost imperceptible in the matted brown grass. The others all came running up and loud shouts rose over the scene of the conflict. All the former slaves were trying to convince two squat Negroes, Dhlomo and Mpafu, who, together with Kidogo, were leading the party, that before much longer the beasts would kill somebody. They had to find a way round the tall grass of the plain. The guides did not think of contradicting them. The party turned due south and by evening approached a long strip of forest that led in the required direction. Pandion was already acquainted with this type of forest, a green, vaulted corridor over the narrow stream of a plains river. Such forest galleries cut across the plains in various directions, following the course of the rivers.

  The travellers were lucky: there were no thorn-bushes under the trees and no lianas to make impenetrable barriers between the trees; the party was able to make good time winding its way amongst the trees to avoid their giant roots. The rustling of the grass in the stifling atmosphere of glaring sunlight gave way to profound silence and cool semi-darkness. The forest stretched for a long way. Day after day the party marched under trees, going out occasionally into the grass for game or climbing the lower trees on the verge of the forest to check the direction they were taking.

  Although it was easier and less dangerous under cover of the trees, Pandion was oppressed by the darkness and silence of the mysterious forest. Memories of his meeting with Iruma returned to him. He felt that he had suffered an enormous loss, and his sorrow veiled the whole world in a grey haze; the unknown future was as gloomy and silent and dark as the forest they were travelling through.

  Pandion felt that the dark road through the monotonous colonnade of huge trees, the alternate patches of darkness and sunlight, the alternate depressions and hillocks, must be endless. It led into the unknown distance, striking still deeper into the heart of a strange, alien land, where everything was unfamiliar, and only a group of faithful friends saved him from certain death.

  The sea, towards which he was hurrying, had seemed near and easily attainable when he had been a captive, but now seemed immeasurably far away, separated from him by thousands of obstacles, by months of difficult journeying. The sea had taken him from Iruma and was itself unattainable…

  The forest path led the travellers into a swamp, that stretched away to the horizon on all sides, hidden in the distance by the green gloom of excessive humidity and in the mornings encircled by a low blanket of white mist. Flocks of white egrets sailed over the sea of rushes.

  Cavius, Pandion and the Libyans, puzzled by this great barrier, gazed in perplexity at the bright green thicket of swamp plants with patches of water that seemed to be burning in the sun. The guides were exchanging satisfied glances — they were on the right road, their fortnight’s journey had not been made in vain.

  Next day the whole party set about binding the light porous ambag* rushes, whose angular stalks grew ten cubits high, into rafts. (Ambag — Herminera elaphroxylon, a water reed that grows to well over 20 feet in height.)After that they sailed past dense jungles of brush-headed papyrus grass, winding their way between floating islands of grass piled up with reddish-brown masses of dried, broken reeds. There were two or three men on each raft who cautiously punted them along with long poles that plunged rhythmically into the silt of the swamp.

  The stinking, dark water seemed like thick oil. Bubbles of marsh-gas rose to the surface where the poles dug into the bottom and sticky mildew made a rusty-brown, lacy border along the green walls of the reeds. Not a dry place was to be seen all round them, the humid heat was exhausting and a merciless sun beat down on their perspiring bodies. In the evening myriads of midges came to torment them. It was the greatest good fortune to find a hillock that was still above water where they
  The foul water and rotting vegetation abounded in reptiles of all sorts. Gigantic crocodiles gathered in hundreds on sand-banks or peeped out from the green wall, their bodies half hidden in the reeds. At night the monsters gave voice. Their low, rumbling roar filled the people with horror. There was no fury or menace in the roar of the crocodiles — there was something soulless and passionless in those low jerky notes that rolled over the still waters in the darkness of night.

  The travellers came across a shallow cove in which were a number of conical hillocks of silt, half washed away, about a cubit and a half in height. The brown1 water exuded an unbearably foul smell; the hills were covered with a coating of guano. The Negroes told the others that this was one of the nesting places of the flamingo, the big rosy-coloured bird, that at other times was to be found in large numbers in the swamps.

  Several of the travellers, mostly Libyans, took sick from the foul smells and bad water. They were tormented by a cruel fever and lay helpless on the rafts at the feet of their companions.

  On the fifth day of their journey they began to meet more frequent stretches of clear water out of which treetops stuck up. Pandion, in his astonishment, asked Kidogo the meaning of this. His black friend told him with a smile that their troubles would soon be over.

  “In the dry season,” said the Negro, plu
nging his pole into the deep water, “everything here is dried up by the sun; these floods come after the rains.”

  “What river is it?” asked Pandion.

  “There are two rivers* here, not one, and a long string of swamps between them,” answered the Negro. “In the dry season there’s almost no water in the rivers.”

  (Two rivers — the Bahr el Arab and the Bahr el Qhazal, that formerly carried more water than they do today.)

  Kidogo, as was always the case in those last few days, was right. Soon the rafts struck on the silty bottom of the marsh and in front of them the earth sloped upwards, merging into a level plain. This plain was covered by a special kind of grass with silver-white ears and when the sun shone on it it looked like a continuation of the level surface of the water. It was with feelings of great relief that the travellers, waist-deep in mud, scaring the crocodiles with loud shouts, scrambled out of the swamp on to solid, hot land. They were greeted by the wind, fresh and dry, that drove away the heavy smells of the swamplands. The group reached an eminence on which grew bushes with bluish-green leaves and orange-coloured fruits the size of an egg.

  Here they found fresh water and decided to make camp. Around their encampment they built a fence of thorn bushes six cubits high. The Negroes gathered a big pile of the orange fruits, that proved to be tasty and tender, and also some leaves whose sap they used to treat the people suffering from fever. Those who were healthy slept as much as they needed to recuperate their strength and the sores that had formed from the bites of swamp insects soon healed up. For several days in succession there had been no rain. In the mornings it was very chilly and the Negroes of the party suffered considerably from the cold.

  Soon the travellers were able to continue their journey. For twenty-five days they marched across the plain. Now there were only nineteen of them left, eight others had left after crossing the swamp and gone away northwards to their homes which lay no more than ten days march away. No matter how much they tried to persuade the others to go with them, the stubborn nineteen continued their way to the sea.

  A grey haze ‘Covered the heavens that were still glaringly bright. At night the sky was frequently overcast with heavy clouds, the terrible, unceasing roar of thunder swept over the plains; but not a single flash of lightning cut through the velvety blackness of the night, not a drop of rain fell on the dried-up grass and heat-cracked earth. The plain was dotted with small hillocks, some cone-shaped, others like towers with rounded tops, ten cubits high. These hills of clay, hard as bricks, were inhabited by hordes of big insects, resembling ants, whose powerful jaws made them dangerous.

  Pandion had already grown accustomed to the great variety of animal life; he was no longer astonished at the giraffes or at troops of elephants a thousand strong. Then he saw a herd of strange striped animals, coloured black and white. They resembled the horses of Oeniadae, except that they were smaller, had thin legs and wide croups that curved sharply towards the animal’s back, a gracefully curved upper lip, short tails and manes. Pandion watched with interest the big herds of them that gathered at the drinking places. He dreamed of catching some of the striped horses and breaking them in for riding. When he shared his ideas with Kidogo and the other Negroes, they laughed loudly and for a long time. The Negroes explained to him that the striped animals were strong, bad-tempered and untamable, and that although they might succeed in catching a few of the more tractable ones, they would never be able to get the two dozen that they needed for their journey even if they spent ten years on the task.

  Pandion’s second disappointment came when they met with the buffaloes. He saw the massive dark bodies of the bulls with their wide horns turned up at the ends, and crawled up to the nearest so as to bring it down with his spear; Kidogo hastened to throw himself on Pandion and held him pressed to the ground with all the weight of his body. The Negro assured his friend that the buffaloes were virtually the most terrible of all animals in the southern countries, and they could only be hunted with bows and arrows or assegais; hunting them with a spear was certain death. Pandion obeyed the Negro and hid in the bushes with the others, although Kidogo’s fear of the buffaloes remained incomprehensible to him: he considered the rhinoceros or the elephant far more dangerous.

  Their path was often intersected by rocky ridges, ranges of hills or groups of eroded rocks. In such places they came across baboons, repulsive, dog-headed creatures. When the men approached them these monkeys would gather on the rocks or under the trees and gaze fearlessly at the strangers, making insolent grimaces at them. Pandion looked with disgust at those naked, dog-like faces with their blue distended cheeks, framed in stiff thick hair, and at their waggling hind-quarters with the red, calloused bare patches. The monkeys were dangerous. Once Cavius was incensed by the behaviour of three of them who barred his way, and struck one with his spear. A serious battle took place at the foot of the crags. The travellers were lucky to get away without suffering any losses although they had to retreat with the greatest possible alacrity.

  On the twenty-fifth day of their journey across the imperceptibly rising country a dark line appeared on the horizon. Kidogo gave a shout of joy as he pointed to it; that line was the beginning of the great forest, the last obstacle they had to overcome. Beyond the densely wooded mountains lay the long-awaited sea, the reliable road home.

  By midday the party reached a grove of palm-trees whose strange shape astonished Pandion. These were the first palm-trees they had seen in the plains that resembled the date-palms of Aigyptos. Each of the tall, straight trunks rose ‘directly out of the middle of a star of shadow cast by its own crown. The dry soil between the black stars of the shadows looked like white-hot metal. The disposition of the shadows told Pandion that at midday the sun was exactly over his head. He spoke to Cavius about this. The Etruscan shrugged his shoulders in perplexity but Kidogo said that it was really so. The farther they went to the south the higher the sun rose although nobody knew the reason for it. The old people said that there is a legend to the effect that a lot farther to the south the sun gets lower again.

  Pandion did not have much time to ponder over this problem — his thirsty companions were hurrying to get to water. During their midday bivouac Kidogo told them that by evening they would reach the trees and that their further road lay through forests — and mountains that stretched to the end of the earth.

  “Over there,” the Negro pointed to the right, “and over there,” the Negro’s hand swung round to the left, “there are rivers, but we cannot travel along them. The right-hand river turns north to the great fresh sea on the edge of the northern desert; the left-hand river turns south and would take us far from the place we want to reach. {Apart from that there are strong tribes living along the rivers, who eat human flesh and would kill us all. We must go straight as an arrow to the south-west between the two rivers. The dark forests are deserted and safe; |in the mountains there are no people since all fear the thunder and the dark thickets. There are few animals here, but we, too, are few and can feed ourselves by hunting and collecting fruits.”

  (The right-hand river — the modern Shari. The left-hand river — the Ubangi, the main tributary of the Congo).

  Pandion, Cavius and the Libyans were troubled by indefinite fears as they looked doubtfully at the dark forest that stretched before them.

  VII. THE MIGHT OF THE FOREST

  The most extraordinary trees towered above the thick undergrowth. Their thin trunks, with convex transverse ribs, were crowned with flat, fan-like platforms of short branches bearing big leaves above which projected long, straight shoots, like green swords up to ten cubits in length. *(Lobelias)

  Four of these trees, two on either side, stood at the forest edge like sentinels, their swords raised threateningly. The travellers passed between them, picking their way through thorn-scrub. A huge wart-hog, with long, curved fangs and an ugly lumpy head, appeared from under the brush, grunted angrily at the intruders and disappeared…

  On the very fi
rst day in the forest Cavius lost the stick on which he had cut forty-nine notches to mark the number of days’ journey; after that they lost count of time. The huge forest, monotonous and unvarying, fixed itself forever in Pandion’s memory.

  The party marched in silence, and whenever they tried to speak, their voices reverberated noisily under the impenetrable green vault overhead. The wide expanses of the golden plain had never given them such a feeling of the insignificance of man; here they seemed completely lost in the depths of an alien country. The huge stems of creeping plants, often as thick as a man’s body, spiralled round the smooth trunks of the trees, hung down from above in huge nets and separate loops, sometimes forming a solid curtain. The trees branched out at a tremendous height above the travellers’ heads from trunks that faded away in the grey twilight. Stretches of foul water, covered with green slime, frequently barred their way; at times they came across streams of dark, noiselessly flowing water. In the rare glades the sun blinded eyes long accustomed to the gloom of the forest, and the density of the undergrowth forced the travellers to avoid such places. Tree-ferns, four times the height of a man, such as they had never seen before, spread their pale-green, feathery leaves like huge wings.

  (* The Cyathea and Todea (grape fern) reach a height of more than 30 ft.)

  The clean-cut greyish leaves of mimosa formed a delicate pattern in the sunbeams. Myriads of flowers — blood-red, orange, violet, white — stood out brilliantly against the background of light green leaves of every possible kind: big and broad, long and narrow, regular-shaped, indented and serrate. The wild tangle of vegetation was made even more chaotic by the spirals of creeping lianas, while everywhere long thorns stuck out to tear ruthlessly the flesh of the traveller. These glades were filled with the constant jabber and chatter of birds so noisy that it seemed as though all the life of the forest was concentrated at these points.