by Mike Gomes
“Father, all of that takes money.”
“Please do not take me for a fool. It is very insulting. I can understand if you cannot say anything but do not treat me like a foolish child.”
“I am sorry.” said Falau looking the man in the eyes. “I can’t tell you everything and I cannot change anything that I have said. What I can say is that people want to help you and your people. They want them to live a better life. I am part of that. Maybe it is government and maybe it is not. The one thing I can tell you is that life will be much better soon.”
“Ah! Promises. I like promises. I do not believe in them, but I do like them. I will show you all you ask to see, and I will help you all I can Mr. Red Sox, but I have little faith that anything will change. I have lived here and seen people try to make a difference year after year and nothing can be done.”
“Well, I have never been here before, so you will just need to give me a chance to show you what I can do and how I can help. Right now all I need is information and your help. Down the line you will see a change and know that I was the one to make it happen. Just trust me this time and I will make sure that you and your people will have a better life.”
Chapter 12
AS NIGHT SET IN FATHER Locke led the way through the jungle for Falau. The creatures started to move causing Falau to catch his breath time after time. The darkness was something he had only experienced once before when he was in the military in Iraq. The night with no moon in the desert made it so you could not see your hand directly in front of your face. The jungle gave the same effect. If not for keeping the beam of the small pen light on Father Locke, Falau was sure he would have been lost in a short time.
Locke periodically stopped and paused listening to the jungle. His life experience had given him a skill to pick up on the slightest noise and to know which noises were trouble and which ones were nothing.
“Do you hear that?” asked Father Locke.
Falau held still and could hear the faint sound of a branch creaking and a rhythmic pattern.
“Yes. The branch?”
“Yes. It is a jaguar. He is above us but over about twenty meters to the left. It sounds like he is adjusting himself not stocking us.”
“That’s good.” said Falau with a bit of sarcasm wrapped around his words. “We don’t need to be his dinner.”
“If we were a meal we would have already died. Well, you would have died. You’re in the back.” said Locke with a smile that Falau could not see.
Falau flashed the pen light behind him catching a snake slipping across the path silently. “How much further is it?”
“Not much, but let me explain something to you.” said Locke stopping in his tracks. “They are not going to trust you. I can’t just walk up to the door with you next to me. You’re going to have to stay back in the jungle for a little bit and then when they say it is OK you can come forward but not before. They have to believe you’re here to help them. If they don’t, they may kill you. These people have had outsiders come in and say they would help only to find out they were competing mines looking to take over the land. You can understand how that is a problem.”
“I understand, and I plan on showing them all the respect I can. If I were in their place I would not trust me either. Is there anything that I should know or do to show them respect?”
“No. Be yourself and tell them the truth you can, and you will be fine. Tell them the truth you first told me not the second one. These people know nothing of the technology of satellites. Tell them about the road and more people coming. That will let them have hope they could go to another miner for work.”
“You think that is the truth I should tell them?”
“You need to make them believe it or they will tell you nothing.” said Locke shining the pen light under his face like he were a child telling a scary story. “You stay here and when you hear me give a long low whistle you can move forward. Keep your bearings or you will get lost in the jungle.”
“Will do.” said Falau “Father Locke.”
“Yes.” he said turning around.
“Thank you for all your help.”
“No problem. Now stay here and don’t wander off.”
Locke slipped off into the night leaving Falau standing with just his little penlight and various jungle creatures saying hello by brushing over his feet. The darkness had a feeling of closing in around him now that he was alone. It was like a thick fog in a port. It just enveloped everything. Occasionally he thought he could see movement but then was sure his eyes were just playing tricks.
A tingle in his arms and legs started to develop. A low level of panic and anxiety he had grown used to from flying. The feeling of being trapped with impending doom was similar to what he felt on a plane but in the jungle at night the odds were far greater that he could die.
“You killed me.” said Jennifer’s voice off in the distance causing the big man to snap around. His heart rate spiked, and he could feel the sweat on his neck start to flow.
“Not now, Jennifer. Not now.” said Falau to the spirits that were back for him.
“It was your fault. You killed me. You killed me.”
Snapping his head to the side Falau thought he saw the image of a woman in the distance walking away from him and into the bush.
“Jennifer?” called Falau in a hushed tone. “Jennifer, is that you?”
A low whistle that droned through the air brought Falau’s attention back to Father Locke being in the workers’ quarters and signaling to him. Looking back and forth between the direction the priest went and the direction where he could swear that Jennifer had slipped into the jungle. The desire to run after her was overwhelming even knowing that it was ridiculous to think it was really her.
The whistle came again and Falau returned the signal taking his first steps to Father Locke and the workers of the Whitmore mine. Falau kept moving, occasionally looking behind him hoping to catch a glimpse of Jennifer so he could run after her if for no other reason than just to see her face again. For the first time in years when he saw her he was not filled with fear.
The light of the workers’ quarters came into view and Falau signaled again letting them know he was close and the whistle was returned. He got to the steps and climbed them reaching the door and the full view of all the people in it. The door was opened and Falau walked through taking in the faces like a tapestry of life. The people were old beyond their age. They were worn down and looked to be bordering malnourishment.
“So this is the man who has come to help us?” said Thomas standing up and approaching Falau. Thomas sized the big man up and walked around behind him. Thomas had taken his shirt off in the heat and his hardened black body rippled with muscle. He held no fat on his body and he carried the scars of years of hard labor in the minefields.
“My name is Falau. Michael Falau. I am with the United States Army.”
“Why should I care about that?” asked Thomas.
“Probably another mine boss looking to take the claim and need our help.” said a woman off to the side.
“Give him a chance. Just listen to him and what he has to say. If you don’t like it he can leave.” said Father Locke with anger filling his voice.
“Mind yourself Kerick! Just because you wear that collar does not mean you have the right to tell us what we should do. We all knew you back when. You left us.” snapped Thomas.
“I am not looking for any trouble here.” said Falau speaking in a calm and relaxed tone. “I just wanted to come and let you know what was going to happen with this mine. Your government has worked with the United States to build a lot of new roads through the jungle. This area will be one of the roads. Your boss, Mr. Whitmore, will not be happy with that. He will ask you to take up guns against us when we come to build the road. If that happens then my government and yours will send troops into the area and remove everyone. I can’t tell you how bad that will turn out if there is resistance and bloodshed. I am here more as a warni
ng than anything else. Don’t listen to Whitmore and fight us.”
“Did you come here to threaten us?” asked Thomas coming in front of Falau and looking him in the eye.
“No. I came here to save you. It would be a fight you could not win, and Whitmore would not lose one wink of sleep if you all died. Don’t fight for a man like that.”
“We know Whitmore and what he is all about. But why come all this way to warn us? What is in it for you?”
“For me that none of the men in my command or myself will get shot and sent home in a body bag. I am not here to ask you to fight against Whitmore just don’t fight against us. Don’t even pick up a gun. When we build the road you will have a lot more opportuneities than Whitmore and this mine. You will be able to travel the road to countless mines and see who will pay you the best. That is good for your country. Everyone wins.”
“Except Whitmore. He does not want to pay anyone for work. Just food and a place to live. He likes us trapped here and clutching for life under his thumb. Will your government help us with that?”
“If Whitmore puts up a resistance then we will do what is needed to remove him from prevent the road. If his mine is then left open and the workers took it over. We have no say in that. We are just visitors.”
Thomas nodded his head in approval.
Chapter 13
SPEAKING INTO THE WEE hours of the morning with Thomas the others in the quarters fell asleep. Thomas’s eyes widened as he saw the light developing on the horizon showing that the day was about to break.
“You need to leave. The guards will be here soon and if you are found you will be killed. Go!” exclaimed Thomas pointing to the door.
Father Locke and Falau wasted no time saying their goodbyes and set off to the deep jungle.
“I want to stay around so I can watch what happens when they work.” said Falau to Locke as he walked behind him.
Locke stopped abruptly and turned aggressively to Falau. “This is no game, Mr. Falau. These men will kill you. There are no courts here. There is no police. They will shoot you and leave your body to the animals and nobody will know what happened. We must keep moving.”
“No Father. I need to see more. If you want me to help these people I need to be able to go back home and tell about how bad things are. I have to convince my people that it is worth the time and effort to come here and fight for your friends. I don’t have that yet.”
“You take my life in your hands as well as your own.”
“Then show me where to go and then be on your way. I never said I need you to stay. I would never ask you to make that kind of commitment when you have others that rely on you as well.
“I will show you where to go, but I think you’re a fool. A fool who will end up dead and nobody will be helped.”
Father Locke led the way taking Falau to the far side of the mine. To an area that was overgrown with brush and grass and the jungle stopped at its edge. “I can come back for you at night. Stay here and I will find you.”
“No need for that. I should be out of here before then. If I don’t see you again, thank you for all of your help. It was much appreciated.”
Father Locke extended his hand and shook Falau’s. “You have promised a lot to my people. I hope you can deliver. My heart says you can, but my brain tells me I have heard it all before. Don’t let us down, Mr. Falau.”
“I won’t.”
Father Locke turned and cut a path through the jungle not looking back once to check on Falau.
Falau looked up the tree that was in front of him and wished he had his backpack with the rope. A few vines hung down the tree and Falau grabbed them and pulled. One ripped cleanly from the tree and fell to the ground while the other two took several tugs and then Falau put his body weight on them. The big man wrapped the vines around each other creating a stronger rope and grabbed on tight with his hands. He lifted one foot to the side of the tree and then the second. Moving hand over hand he walked the side of the tree in quick fashion. The technique was not typical but Falau used it to displace his body weight from his hands and share the load with his feet. Besides, he only needed to make it up to the first branch where he could then use the broken vine to climb up branch to branch using the foot in loop techniques he used when he arrived.
For the first time since arriving the calf that had been penetrated by the stick was starting to feel sore from the weight pressed against it on the tree.
In a few moments Falau found himself sitting on the first branch with a clear view of the mining field as the leaves blew opening holes for him to look through.
The workers were making their way to the field. Water gates were opened softening the clay and men, women, and children went into the water looking for gold.
Most of the workers wore no shirt and were covered with only a small garment covering their genitals. Whitmore must be worried about stealing thought Falau. The ribs of the workers showed though their skin as did their spines. Malnourishment was obvious now to the big man. The worker slunk along void of energy with eyes that sunk deep in their skulls reminding Falau of pictures he had seen of the work camps for different tyrannical leaders and what was done to their enemies.
Pulling out his camera he raised it to his eyes and started to scan the property. The sections of mining sites were well established and had a functionality that was consistent between them.
A rank smell drifted through the air forcing Falau to take the camera down from his eyes. The smell was horrific and one that he knew all too well. It was the smell of burning flesh.
Taking up the camera again he looked to the far side of the mines and saw billowing smoke coming out of a pit. A few men stood next to it with torches. Falau hit the zoom and got a better look. On the opposite side of the pit two teenage boys were lifting the bodies of men, women, and children and throwing them into the pit. A mass grave and crematorium all in one for Whitmore. Nauseousness started to overcome Falau along with anger. He turned the camera away attempting to rationalize that Whitmore needed to dispose of the bodies somehow and maybe this was the most practical way to do it. Then his mind drifted to the families that continued to work in the fields as their loved ones were thrown into the pit.
An air horn sounded and all of the workers started to run to a main area that was covered by a canopy with an elderly fat white man dressed all in white sitting under it. A woman knelt to his left and a fire was to the right several feet away from him. The workers arrived in fast fashion and all got down on their knees in front of the man who raised up his hands and started to speak. Zooming in the camera Falau attempted to read his lips but the man stood and started to pace back and forth only letting him get pieces of what he was saying. It was Whitmore. No other person could get the same reaction from the workers.
Falau attempted to focus in and caught the words “A man came in the night to talk to you.”
Whitmore knew he had been there. Falau looked to the side of the chair that Whitmore had been sitting in and noticed the woman on her knees that was in the quarters the night before. She must have went out to Whitmore with the information trying to get his praise.
The camera moved back to Whitmore who stopped and pointed into the group of workers. A man stood up and walked forward. It was Thomas.
Two of the teenage boys came out and grabbed Thomas by the arms while another pointed a rifle at him. Falau wanted to scream out. He wished he could make the shot from this distance to kill Whitmore, but he couldn’t. The boys pushed Thomas to his knees and pushed him face down onto the ground. They knelt on his arms not letting him move.
Whitmore walked above him speaking to the workers and Thomas. The bits of words that Falau could make out were about them not showing him respect and how they had to learn their place in this world. Falau watched the man ranting and raving with anger in his eyes. He stopped in front of the workers and raised his arms and called them property not unlike cattle. Falau took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This was slavery.
Whitmore walked to the fire that sat just a few yards away and pulled what looked like a stick from it. He held it down and away from him as he walked back to the center of his area. He spoke again but Falau paid no attention. He zoomed in on the stick and saw it was not a stick at all. It was metal and at the end was the burning red letters L.W. It was a branding iron.
Whitmore walked swiftly over to Thomas and the workers started to scream so loudly Falau could hear them from his spot in the tree. “No!” said Falau instinctively to nobody.
Whitmore plunged the brand down onto Thomas’s back. His body snapped and writhed in pain. The brand was removed, and Thomas lifted to his feet and dragged to a pit holding waist deep water and he was thrown in.
The guards grabbed another man from the workers and Whitmore branded him as well, then a woman and a child. One by one the man who saw the workers as property branded them with his initials taking claim over them.
Falau dropped down from the tree and vomited against it. The faces twisted in agony still filling his mind only to be broken by the feeling of cold steel pressed against his head. A gun!
“Don’t move or I will kill you.” said the young voice. “Who are you?”
“Bird watcher.” said Falau raising his hands and looking out the corner of his eyes. It was a boy at least three years away from being a man. His frame was scrawny and weak. “You one of Whitmore’s guards?”
“You shut up and listen to me. Do as I say and maybe you will stay alive.”
“Kid I am going to give you one chance to get out of here. If you don’t I will kill you.” Falau turned his head with the last statement with unwavering conviction in his eyes and stared at the boy.
“You need to die now!” shouted the boy baring his teeth to Falau in defiance.
