The Blue Disc

by William B. Waits

  “Later today, we’ll use a lorry to transport the kegs from the storage hut to our processing facility a few blocks away,” said Neville. “The plant will move the bulk medicine to small jars, label them and package them for shipment. Doing it this way—transporting down river in bulk and packaging here—greatly simplifies things for us. It’s not just the jars. We’d have trouble keeping the labels pristine in the interior with the rain we have there.”

  Rick nodded in acknowledgement.

  “You are welcome to store your backpack in the hut if you need to.”

  “I appreciate your offer,” said Rick. “It’ll keep me from lugging it around until I can get some money. That’ll come first because I can’t even get a cab without cash. I’ll walk to the bank. It’s right over there. You can see the top of the building. Then I’ll come back here to get my backpack, if that’s OK.”

  “That’s fine. We’ve room for it.”

  As soon as the workers had stashed the kegs, dollies, and backpack in the hut, a worker strode up to him, smiling broadly. Rick did a double-take.

  “Raul, is that you?”

  “Yes, indeed, my friend,” Raul responded, shaking his hand and grasping his forearm with the other hand. “You’re looking good after your stay in the rain forest.”

  “Thanks, Raul,” said Rick. “It’s good to see you. I was looking for you and your boat.”

  “Well, I’m here and my boat’s moored to the next wharf. Busy time of a year,” he replied.

  A passing boatman exchanged a quick greeting with Raul, calling him by name.

  “You know the boatmen on this wharf?” he asked. “Well, I guess since you dock here regularly, you must…”

  “I know them better than you may think. You see, Neville over there is my cousin through my father and that rascal who just walked by is another cousin through my mother. You can see that he is prettier,” he added with a chuckle.

  “But if you are related, then you are…”

  “Euromamo.”

  “I never imagined!” said Rick.

  “We Euromamo have a knack for concealing ourselves,” he replied.

  “You certainly do,” said Rick. “Your accent sounds a little different now. More English and less Spanish.”

  Raul chuckled again.

  “When I’m away from the village, I throw in a few Spanish words and use simpler English so I blend in better. Sometimes not very convincingly, I fear, but it’s the best I can do.”

  “But you took me up river,” said Rick, “knowing that I was going to study your village and threaten their privacy.”

  “Not exactly. I’d never have agreed to take an outsider to the Euromamo village.”

  “But you took me there,”

  “As you know, our original plan was otherwise, but the Primomamo talked too much. Although they know we treasure our privacy, they blabbed out directions to the Euromamo valley. I should have lied in the translation, but I couldn’t because a few Primomamo speak pidgin English. You quickly became intrigued and dead set on getting there so I’d little choice but to take you up river. On my way back to La Puerta, I stopped in the Primomamo village down river to fuss at them but whether they’ll remember in the future to be quiet about us, who knows.”

  “Were you updated about me during my research?” asked Rick.

  “Yes, I was kept informed. Also I was the one who informed the village about your presence right after I dropped you off.”

  “They knew about me ahead of time?”

  “Yes. As soon as you were out of sight in the rain forest, I turned the boat up river to tell the Leader you were nearby. In fact, the Leader and I were meeting in the entertainment center when you were brought to the bunker. We discussed you for quite a while as she learned what you were about. After hearing what I had to say, she concluded that you were a good, well-meaning person, just awfully curious about us. The obvious risk was that you would publish your research after returning to outside society. I recommended that she let you complete your studies while she tried to convince you to preserve Euromamo privacy. You discussed privacy with Leader John Eel Hunter before you left, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, he came by my room to talk about it.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Raul.

  “I haven’t decided yet, but I gave it some thought during my trip down river,” said Rick.

  “I’m glad you’ve been thinking about it. Your knowledge of our village is a matter of great concern to us.”

  “I understand that,” said Rick. “I assure you, I’ll give all of your comments full consideration when I decide what I’m going to do. The villagers were unfailingly courteous to me during my research. I want to do everything I can to avoid impacting their way of life.”

  “Will you let me know what your decision is? If you decide to write and publish about us, a warning would help us prepare for the changes coming our way.”

  “Yes, that’s only fair. I told the Leader I’d do that. I’ll send you a letter from New Haven within a month. Is that OK?”

  “Yes. Send it to me at 28 Calle Plantez. It’s the address of our processing facility. I’m sure the Leader will be grateful for every consideration you can give us.”

  Rick was reaching for his pen when Raul handed him a business card with the address printed on it.

  Before Rick started walking toward the bank, he took one last glance at his backpack through the open door of the hut. For the first time in a year, he didn’t have control over his field journals. He had a fleeting thought that, if he left them there, the Euromamo might throw them in the harbor to keep him from writing; however, such an act would be unlike the Euromamo. They’d been scrupulously honorable toward him the entire year. Besides, their goal had been to win him over to their way of thinking, not to antagonize him. He put that scenario out of his mind.

  “Your backpack will be safe here,” said Raul, who had noticed Rick’s glancing through the door. “Just come to the wharf when you need it. I’m here a lot, but if I’m gone on a trip, someone else will unlock the hut for you. There are four other people who have keys and I’ll tell them you’re a friend.”

  “Thanks for everything, Raul. You’ve been very good to me.”

  After they shook hands, Raul turned toward the wharf and Rick turned toward the business district. As Rick walked the three blocks to the bank, everything along the way was paved over with hard concrete that blocked the natural growth of vegetation. Only a few hearty sprigs of grass had managed to fight their way through the cracks between the sidewalk and the curb. Rick was overwhelmed by the noise of cars, trucks, and busses everywhere. Motors, horns, and sirens. How could people live in such clatter? He knew his eardrums would probably adjust, and they’d better because New Haven was still to come. As he entered the bank, the security guard gave him the once over but apparently he looked enough like he had legitimate business that the guard let him pass. He went to the nearest platform officer.

  “Buenos dias,” began Rick. “I apologize for my appearance, but I have just returned from the interior. I need to close my account as I will be returning to the United States shortly.”

  The officer was understanding and facilitated the transaction, probably to get him out of the lobby, Rick thought. Whatever the officer’s motivation, he had his funds in ten minutes and was out the door. The security officer hadn’t smiled at him as he walked by, but he hadn’t held his nose either, and that was a good sign. Outside, Rick hailed a cab to take him back to the wharf. He told the driver to wait while he got a worker to unlock the hut. He spotted one about thirty yards away and jogged over to him. Luckily, the worker was one of the four who had a key to the hut and he remembered Rick. After the worker unlocked the door to the hut, they moved his backpack to the cab, and then he was off to the same hotel he’d stayed in on his trip down. Rick patted his journals through the nylon material and smiled at the small hole that had been made by the dart when the Euromamo surrounded him early on. As
soon as he arrived at the hotel, he registered, got his backpack to his room, plopped into a stuffed chair, took a deep breath, and relaxed.

  It’s nice to not have to listen for wild animals or watch out for dangerous plants. I think I’ll nap for a bit and then shower. I’ve thought about having a shower in outside society the entire time I was in the rain forest, although I admit that the Euromamo bath houses, with their diverted filtered river water, are very nice indeed. Hell, probably better maintained than this one.

  ….

  The shower felt great. Now for a long night’s sleep. No alarm for tomorrow.

  ….

  Nine and a half hours. I guess I really needed it. God, I’m hungry. Easter Bunny, I’m hungry…? Bacon and eggs would be good…and some grits. I wonder if they have any.

  ….

  No grits. Damn it. Breakfast seems incomplete without them. Some Southern tastes die hard. I’ll make do with hash browns instead.

  ….

  Full stomach. Now back to my room to book my return flight to New York. I’ve got to get back to New Haven right away or I’ll run out of money. I’ve got precious little of it as it is. It’s scato, but I need it.

  ….

  No seats on either of the flights leaving tomorrow, but I got one for the morning of the next day. Fried chicken and rice will be good for dinner. Known, tame, and filling. What an adventure it was to taste the unique flavors of the rain forest!

  ….

  Great night’s sleep. I’ll walk around La Puerta to pass the time.

  ….

  Large church over there. Majestic, if I have to say so. Quite a contrast with the humble structures around it. Parishioners paid dearly for the blessings they were promised by this church. They probably didn’t count the blessings they received…and didn’t receive…like the Church of Science did. Look at that cross at the top of the steeple. The most prominent spot around, to be sure, but that doesn’t make it anything other than a cruel execution device. Yeah, it’s like an electric chair. What a macabre symbol to use for decoration! And it’s connected to a crucifixion story that doesn’t make sense.

  What does the church’s message board say? It’s the title of the next sermon: ‘El don de tener hijos de Dios.’ Why can’t I translate like my cab driver? I hate doing this. OK. I think I’ve got it: “The Gift of Bearing God’s Children.” It’ll be delivered by Reverend Sanchez, although he won’t be speaking from personal experience, that’s for sure. Doesn’t even have a wife to deepen his understanding of child-bearing. In fairness, the denomination is not doomed to error just because priests can’t get pregnant, but surely its perspective would be different if priests had an immediate personal stake in controlling pregnancies rather than an institutional stake in having more Catholics born. Bunch of witch doctors who’ve made it up for their own benefit rather than the benefit of society. Easter Bunny damn it.

  ….

  Loud kids. Nearly ran over me. Six of them. Unrestrained like the Mexamamos’.

  ….

  There’s a large poster for what looks like a soccer match. Can I translate the text at the bottom? OK. “Sponsored by the La Puerta Trading Company. Home of fine products. We welcome your credit cards or cash.” Hard to miss the illustration: cheerleaders, short skirts, and tight bodices. Looks like push-up bras, too. The writing down the side I guess is the time and place of the match and the range of ticket prices. Luxury seats high up are pretty expensive. Figures.

  ….

  I’ll step in this pharmacy to get something for that rash on my left calf. Skin ointments? Down this aisle. How about this! Here are their ointments! Right on the label, it says: “Cork Enterprises, Ltd.” and there’s the line drawing of the Cork. I’ve got stay cool about this because I can’t draw attention to myself. This one soothes skin irritations. I’ll bet it’ll feel good to rub it on my leg. I might have one of these in the assortment of medicines the Euromamo gave me, but it won’t hurt to take another one back. Who knows whether I can find Euromamo medicines in the US. Maybe I should take back a few other jars to give to friends…but that won’t work. I wouldn’t be able to tell them anything about their true origins. Leave the others on the shelf.

  An American has no sense of privacy. He does not know what it means. There is no such thing in the country.

  George Bernard Shaw

  CHAPTER 35

  New Haven Revisited

  Early the next morning, Rick called a cab to take him to the airport.

  Thank Hosfowotine, I got to the airport in time for my flight to New York. My backpack is checked…along with my precious field journals. They’re out of my hands. What a tragedy it would be if they were lost along the way! Well, if they did, it would at least solve my privacy dilemma.

  ….

  On the plane. Deep inhale, full exhale. Time to sit back and reflect. What a rich experience I had with the Euromamo! Of course, there were dangers all along, but I didn’t get injured except for the slash plant cut early on; and I didn’t get sick, not even with malaria. Good for me. Back in New Haven, I’ll decide whether I’ll write a dissertation blabbing about the Euromamo, but I don’t want to think about that now. It’s too cramped and noisy in here anyway. Not enough privacy.

  ….

  It’s a long walk to the baggage carousel. I was glad to find a pay phone along the way so I could call graduate housing and get a room. That takes an enormous load off my shoulders. Otherwise, I’d have to live in a hotel room until I worked something out.

  ….

  The taxi to Penn Station wasn’t bad. Puerto Rican cabbie spoke both Spanish and English. I didn’t have to wait long in Penn Station for this train to New Haven. The wheels on the tracks are very noisy, and there’s a loud conversation two rows back. Even my two days in La Puerta didn’t accustom me to the noise of the northeast corridor. How could my ears ever have endured this before my fieldwork?

  I wonder how the campus will look to me. Your own society is supposed to look different when you return from your research.

  ….

  The Graduate Housing Office was great. They gave me the key to my room and activated my telephone service. This is not a bad walk, even with my backpack. My room is, by coincidence, in the same converted mansion that I’d lived in before I left for the rain forest, except now I’m on the third floor rather than the second. There’s the house. At least I’ve a place to lay my head and that’s crucial.

  ….

  This room is smaller than my second-story room, but it will work just fine. I’ll unpack my field journals first. They make a nice stack on the desk. Oh, there’s my family status disc. I wish I could put it on the wall outside my room as if I were in the Euromamo village, but it would probably get stolen. I’ll put it on the wall inside the door where it will remind me every time I leave the room to behave in ways that will enhance my status in the eyes of the community. A useful prod to good behavior. I’ll hang my blue privacy disc next to it to remind myself of the Euromamos’ high regard for privacy.

  Over the coming days, I’ve got some careful thinking to do. This pillow feels comfortable.

  ….

  What was that? Oh, a siren. Blaring down the street. No way to sleep through that.

  ….

  An uneasy night’s sleep. There were noises all around that almost woke me up but didn’t quite. It was more unsettling than listening for animal noises during rain forest nights. M. Blank Bunny, some coffee would taste good. I lived for a year close to Colombia and Brazil without a nice cup of coffee. Other groups in the rain forest have it, but not the tea-drinking Euromamo. I’ll stop by the coffee shop for a cup. I’ve got to go out anyway to pick up the stuff I left in storage.

  ….

  It feels nice to warm my hands around the cup, and I’ve missed the rich aroma. My absence has made my heart grow fonder because, before my fieldwork, I didn’t think the coffee in this shop was very good. Noisy place, too. That television’s turned up too loud, I think, or
maybe I’ve just gotten used to quiet. This is the first one I’ve seen in some time. Didn’t even turn on the one in the La Puerta hotel because the programs were in Spanish.

  There’s the first advertisement, but certainly not the last. How wonderful it was to spend a year without being bombarded by them! No ads…unless you count the Adamamos’. It was one of the best parts of doing fieldwork. What a surprise when the Leader kneed the Adamamo exchanger in the groin! She caught him squarely. I still remember the sound. It must have come as a painful shock to him. Of course, he’d violated the rules, so she had a point. Now we’ve got one TV ad after another, all saying “buy my shit.” How do we tolerate this? I can’t even knee them in the groin. Yes, the advertisers pay the freight for the shows but I’m not in the mood to be understanding about this. The Euromamo would’ve funded the shows through social wealth and that would be it. I’ll finish my coffee and head to the storage facility.

  ….

  The trip to the storage facility went well. It takes more stuff to live here than it did in the rain forest. I set up my typewriter, desk lamp, and office supplies first, then I pulled some towels from the storage bags and got sheets on my bed. My clothes, I stuffed in my dresser and the closet, and threw my shoes on the floor of the closet. The other few boxes—mostly books—I’ll unpack later. Pretty quick for returning after a year. I’ve got a lot of work to do in the coming days, so I’m relieved to have everything in order.

  I’ve got to call Jasovic soon. Is the telephone working? Good, there’s a dial tone. Where’s my Albatross? Held up remarkably well in the rain forest. No damage and it got a lot of use. Of course, I was careful with it. Damn right. There’s a pad. I need to organize my thoughts before making the call. What possible argument can I make that’ll preserve the privacy of the Euromamo? Doctoral dissertations are so damned detailed about the subject society, including their geographic location. That’s their purpose, after all. I need to think of a way to get through the program and yet protect the Euromamo.