tea and a sip or two of vodka won’t hurt at all,” Kate proposed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Incommunicado in the Jungle
A S NIGHT FELL, THE journeyers decided to make camp near the trees, where they would be better protected.
“Are there pythons in this part of the world?” asked Joel, thinking of the near fatal embrace of an anaconda in the Amazon.
“Pythons aren’t a problem because you can see them coming and shoot them. Much worse are the Gabon viper and forest cobra. Their poison kills in a matter of minutes,” said Angie.
“Did we bring an antidote?”
“There is no antidote for those bites. I’m more worried about crocodiles; those monsters eat everything,” commented Angie.
“But they stay in the river, don’t they?” asked Alexander.
“They’re also ferocious on land. When animals come down to drink at night, crocs snatch them and drag them to the bottom of the river. Not a pleasant death,” Angie detailed.
She always carried a revolver and a rifle in her plane, though she had never had to fire them. In view of the fact that they would have to take turns standing guard through the night, she demonstrated to the others how to use them. They took a few shots and found that the weapons were in good condition, but none of them was able to hit a target only a few yards away. Brother Fernando refused to even try, because, according to him, firearms are tools of the devil. His experience in the war in Rwanda had left him badly scarred.
“This is my protection, this scapulary,” he said, showing them a piece of cloth he wore on a cord around his neck.
“This what?” asked Kate, who never had heard the word before.
“It’s a holy object, blessed by the pope,” said Joel, showing them a similar one he wore.
For Kate, who had been brought up in the sobriety of a Protestant church, the Catholic faith was as picturesque as African religious ceremonies.
“I have an amulet, too, but I don’t think it will save me from ending up in the jaws of a crocodile someday,” Angie said, showing them a small leather pouch.
“Don’t compare that witchcraft fetish to a scapulary!” protested Brother Fernando, offended.
“What’s the difference?” asked Alexander, who was very interested.
“One represents the power of Christ, and the other is pagan superstition.”
“Our beliefs are religion; everybody else’s are superstition,” commented Kate.
She had often repeated that sentence to her grandson, hoping to pound respect for different cultures into his head. Other favorite sayings of hers were, “We speak a language , anything else is a dialect ,” and“White people create art ; other races make crafts. ” Alexander had tried to explain his grandmother’s statements in his social science class, but no one had understood the irony.
A passionate discussion about Christian faith and African animism ensued, in which everyone in the group participated except Alexander, who was wearing an amulet of his own around his neck and thought it best to keep silent, and Nadia, who was walking up and down the open shoreline from one end to the other, deeply engrossed and accompanied by Borobá. Alexander went to join them.
“What are you looking for, Eagle?” he asked.
Nadia bent down and picked up some bits of rope from the sand.
“I found several of these,” she said.
“It must be some kind of vine.”
“No. I think they’re something someone has made.”
“What can they be?”
“I don’t know, but it means that someone was here not too long ago, and maybe he will be back. We’re not as isolated as Angie believes,” Nadia deduced.
“I hope they aren’t cannibals.”
“Yes, that would really be bad luck,” she said, thinking of what she’d heard the missionary say about the madman who ruled the region.
“I don’t see human footprints anywhere,” Alexander commented.
“Or animals’, either. The earth is soft, and the rain has washed everything away.”
Several times a day, there
CHAPTER FOUR
Incommunicado in the Jungle
A S NIGHT FELL, THE journeyers decided to make camp near the trees, where they would be better protected.
“Are there pythons in this part of the world?” asked Joel, thinking of the near fatal embrace of an anaconda in the Amazon.
“Pythons aren’t a problem because you can see them coming and shoot them. Much worse are the Gabon viper and forest cobra. Their poison kills in a matter of minutes,” said Angie.
“Did we bring an antidote?”
“There is no antidote for those bites. I’m more worried about crocodiles; those monsters eat everything,” commented Angie.
“But they stay in the river, don’t they?” asked Alexander.
“They’re also ferocious on land. When animals come down to drink at night, crocs snatch them and drag them to the bottom of the river. Not a pleasant death,” Angie detailed.
She always carried a revolver and a rifle in her plane, though she had never had to fire them. In view of the fact that they would have to take turns standing guard through the night, she demonstrated to the others how to use them. They took a few shots and found that the weapons were in good condition, but none of them was able to hit a target only a few yards away. Brother Fernando refused to even try, because, according to him, firearms are tools of the devil. His experience in the war in Rwanda had left him badly scarred.
“This is my protection, this scapulary,” he said, showing them a piece of cloth he wore on a cord around his neck.
“This what?” asked Kate, who never had heard the word before.
“It’s a holy object, blessed by the pope,” said Joel, showing them a similar one he wore.
For Kate, who had been brought up in the sobriety of a Protestant church, the Catholic faith was as picturesque as African religious ceremonies.
“I have an amulet, too, but I don’t think it will save me from ending up in the jaws of a crocodile someday,” Angie said, showing them a small leather pouch.
“Don’t compare that witchcraft fetish to a scapulary!” protested Brother Fernando, offended.
“What’s the difference?” asked Alexander, who was very interested.
“One represents the power of Christ, and the other is pagan superstition.”
“Our beliefs are religion; everybody else’s are superstition,” commented Kate.
She had often repeated that sentence to her grandson, hoping to pound respect for different cultures into his head. Other favorite sayings of hers were, “We speak a language , anything else is a dialect ,” and“White people create art ; other races make crafts. ” Alexander had tried to explain his grandmother’s statements in his social science class, but no one had understood the irony.
A passionate discussion about Christian faith and African animism ensued, in which everyone in the group participated except Alexander, who was wearing an amulet of his own around his neck and thought it best to keep silent, and Nadia, who was walking up and down the open shoreline from one end to the other, deeply engrossed and accompanied by Borobá. Alexander went to join them.
“What are you looking for, Eagle?” he asked.
Nadia bent down and picked up some bits of rope from the sand.
“I found several of these,” she said.
“It must be some kind of vine.”
“No. I think they’re something someone has made.”
“What can they be?”
“I don’t know, but it means that someone was here not too long ago, and maybe he will be back. We’re not as isolated as Angie believes,” Nadia deduced.
“I hope they aren’t cannibals.”
“Yes, that would really be bad luck,” she said, thinking of what she’d heard the missionary say about the madman who ruled the region.
“I don’t see human footprints anywhere,” Alexander commented.
“Or animals’, either. The earth is soft, and the rain has washed everything away.”
Several times a day, there
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