by Emily Asad
Chapter 8: Jungle Comforts
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Sebastian said when they were out of earshot of the villagers. “I thought I was dead for sure. What did you say to them?”
Arazunú told him, then added, “Your pirate friends taught me to lie. Apparently they call it story-telling. Their captain was considered the best storyteller of the group.”
Sebastian realized what must have been said. He grabbed his new friend by the arm. “You told them I was a god?”
“The son of a god.”
“It doesn’t matter! That’s blasphemy! You could go to hell for that, and so could I!” He made the sign of the cross and fell to his knees.
Arazunú stared at him. “But your people are always saying that they’re sons and daughters of God. Why is what I said any different?”
“Because there is no Pa’i Shumé, and I’m not his son.”
“You’re free. Isn’t that what matters?”
Sebastian did not answer. He clasped his hands and began to pray fervently.
Arazunú shook his head. “I don’t understand your people. You tell me to use facts and truth when telling stories, and now that I did, you’re angry at me.”
Sebastian stopped praying for a minute. “Why did you come back in the first place?”
“You gave me my freedom. I’ve given you yours.”
Sebastian’s anger melted in sudden comprehension. “Was it you who stole my pigs?”
“Yes.”
“And you left the painkilling teas for me? And treated my ribs?”
“Yes. I was studying to be a healer when I was taken from my home.”
“I see.” Sebastian stood up and smiled an apologetic smile at Arazunú. “I’m sorry for overreacting, but there are some things you’ll need to understand. Although, I suppose living with pirates, you didn’t learn much about the Bible or God or how to be a good Christian. I’ll teach you about those things, if you want to learn.”
“I do,” said Arazunú simply.
They walked back to where the dead mare lay. The other animals had wandered away from her and were grazing calmly. Sebastian rounded them up and walked with them for a short distance, away from the area that was full of hidden pits. When he felt that the path was safe again, he mounted his stallion.
Arazunú had said nothing during this time, but only walked with Sebastian.
Finally, Sebastian asked, “Are you going to leave again?”
“Not this time,” said Arazunú. “I found my father and paid for his freedom.” He dumped several bright silver coins into his palm and held them out for Sebastian to take. “This is what is left. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
So that’s where his silver went, too. Sebastian took the coins and put them back in the saddlebag. “I don’t mind.”
There was an awkward silence for a few minutes, and then Sebastian asked, “Do you know how to ride a horse? Where are you going, anyway?”
“I can currycomb them and put their saddles on, but the pirates never allowed me to mount one.”
“There’s plenty of time to learn,” said Sebastian. He held out his arm and withdrew his foot from a stirrup. “Here, grab my arm and climb up. Don’t be afraid. Put your foot in here, like that, and pull…”
Arazunú struggled to pull himself up, but he managed to swing his leg over the stallion’s broad back. Sitting behind Sebastian, he looked down at the ground and felt slightly dizzy. He wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s chest so he would not fall off.
“Oh, easy on those ribs,” groaned Sebastian. “Use your thighs to hold on, not your arms.” He nudged the stallion into an easy walk.
The dog, who had returned to guard his herd, nipped and chased the animals until they were following the horse.
“That dog ran away when I needed him most,” complained Sebastian after a few minutes.
“Was he supposed to stay and be killed?”
“I guess not.”
“You don’t like him much, do you?”
“What, the dog?” Sebastian’s eyebrows raised toward the sky. “I like him fine, except that he has fleas.”
“Everybody has their flaws,” said Arazunú. “You have to accept the bad things in people as well as the good. Perhaps if he thought you cared for him, he would have stayed to defend you.”
Sebastian had no answer, although it made him think. He hadn’t given the dog much thought, except to feed him and rely on him to keep the animals in line. He hadn’t even given the dog a name.
“What do you call dogs in your language?”
“We don’t have dogs. We have wolves and foxes. Maybe you could call him yagua.”
“Yagua. I like the sound of that. I think I’ll name him Yagua.”
They rode in silence for a while, each thinking his own thoughts. Sebastian was grateful to be alive. His near-death had been too close for his comfort and made him realize, once again, how fragile he was in this wild jungle.
“If your ribs still pain you, I can make more medicine tonight when we stop,” Arazunú said, breaking the silence.
“That would be wonderful. They’re much better, but after the fall they really hurt again. And those Indians weren’t very gentle, either.” He half-turned to Arazunú. “How did you know what I needed?”
Arazunú hesitated. “I’ve been following your path since you left the pirate cove. My father was taken by Portuguese slave-traders many years ago and I’ve been listening for news of him ever since. The pirates sold a string of Indians from another village just before you arrived. One of them told me that my father was close by, captured by another tribe who wanted his heart. My father is a fierce warrior, you know, feared by his enemies. So I’ve been negotiating with the tribe. They wanted pigs and silver.”
“Why silver? What could they possibly do with money?”
“Buy back their own people, who have been captured by slave traders. Your Spanish coins are not easily obtained. They were eager to trade.”
Sebastian frowned. “Is slave-trading that common out here?”
“Your people sell their own brothers. Answer the question for yourself.”
Silence again. Then, “Your accent is nearly perfect. How long have you been with the pirates?”
It was Arazunú’s turn to frown. “I don’t know how to explain it in your time. My people tell time by seasons and events. I was taken from my people the winter season after my father was taken, which was two hot seasons after the white people asked us to join them in their search for silver.”
“I don’t understand. How old were you when you left?”
“I had not yet reached manhood.”
Sebastian smiled. “And I supposed you’ve reached manhood now.”
Arazunú was very serious. “Of course.” He pointed to the various scars etched into his body and explained their significance. “This scar protects me from evil spirits who might want to invade my body. These scars,” and he pointed to the ones on his back, “prove that I have a strong enough character to withstand pain. That means that, when I am chief after my father, I will be a strong leader.” He paused. “Where are your scars?”
Sebastian held out his wrist. “I got this when I fell on my brother’s dagger. I almost lost my hand.”
“No, I’m not talking about accidental scars. I want to see your manhood scars. Perhaps I’m being rude?”
“Not rude,” Sebastian said. “Feel free to ask me about anything. I’ll ask the same.”
“Good,” said Arazunú. “The pirates sometimes talked to me about their ways, but sometimes they would get angry and say I was being rude. But how does a boy of your people earn his manhood?”
It was a question Sebastian had to think about before answering. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure. You just grow up and one day when you think you’re a man, you’re a man.”
“Your people don’t join in a celebration for you?”
“Not really.”
“Then how do they know wh
en you can marry and hunt?”
He thought about birthday parties back home. “When our girls turn fifteen, they have a quinceañera to let society know they’re old enough to marry. As for the hunting... When you’re big enough, I guess.” He saw that the answer did not satisfy his Indian friend. They were approaching a stream, so he guided his stallion to the water for a drink. The other animals drank also. Yagua, as usual, was alert for any dangers to his charges.
“To become a man,” Sebastian said when they were on their way again, “I think you have to master your character and be known as a responsible person.”
It was difficult for Arazunú to understand. Children of his tribe were encouraged to master control of their emotions, and a child who did not do his duties did not share in the food of the tribe. He pressed for more information. “The pirates called themselves men, yet they acted as fools. Anyone can be a fool. Are there no tests of character to prove yourself? No particular name-days or celebration days when you can look back and say, ‘That’s the day I became a man’?”
“I’d call this journey a test of character,” laughed Sebastian, “and if I survive, I’ll be glad to call myself a man. Look, why all these questions? What are your traditions?”
“When a boy of my tribe reaches manhood, he fasts for several days. Then the shaman comes and etches these scars onto his body. It takes all day long.”
“Etches? With what? And doesn’t it hurt?”
“We do not talk about the pain. The shaman uses a special stone with a sharpened edge. We lose a lot of blood, but when the wounds heal we are men.”
Sebastian was both curious and appalled. He was not sure he would ever allow someone to deliberately use a stone to cut into his body, not even if it were for surgery. “But how old were you when you became a man?”
“I’m not sure. It was several seasons ago.”
“Do you mean you don’t count years?”
Arazunú shrugged. “I know what years are, because the pirates tried to teach me, but they are very hard to use.”
Sebastian laughed yet again, delighted to have a conversation partner. He had not realized how desperately lonely he had become. “They seem easier to use than remembering certain events. Besides, a year is the same for everybody. Seasons and counting by events is only for one person.”
“I think my way is easier.”
Sebastian was too happy to argue, especially with the person who had just saved his life. There would be time for debates later.