Sisimito I--Ox Witz Ha

by Henry W. Anderson

  She did not speak, but I saw the helplessness in her dark eyes change to a deep burst of anger. Molly Cervantez was not a big person, but I saw a strength I hoped I had underestimated. I remembered Miss Moss warning me that Tiga maaga but e strong. I hurriedly pulled my thoughts away from that bus ride.

  “Taiga maaga but hi kaka tarry,”126 I murmured. She stared at me. “Just the old proverb,” I blurted out. “I didn’t mean to be funny or callous.” I had to get to know her, her weaknesses, her strengths. If I didn’t, we … she … would not escape, would not survive.

  “I don’t want to upset you further, have you relive what you’ve been through,” I explained. “However, if we are to escape, I must have information, as much as possible, so, please, whatever I ask … answer. I don’t know how much time we have and I don’t know what he plans to do with you or me. I won’t just wait around in this fokin cage to find out. By then, it might be too late.” I looked around then back to her. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  “There isn’t much to tell, really. I was sitting beneath a tree on the road to Santa Cruz, waiting for Gus who had forgotten some medicines in San Antonio. I don’t know if I fell asleep, but I may have as I was tired from the trip.” She paused, momentarily, frowned, and I just didn’t want her to bring up my behavior on the bus, at that point. She didn’t, however, and continued. “Suddenly, I felt a strange presence around me. I felt as if someone, something, was pressing itself against me. I still don’t know why, but I couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t see. I felt as if I were swirling, going somewhere, but going nowhere. I felt my clothes being pulled, tugged. I felt as if I was being … being.” She put her hands over her eyes.

  “Go on,” I encouraged her.

  “Examined,” she stated, quietly.

  “Raped?”

  “No. Examined!” She turned around and looked away from me, towards the entrance of the cavern. I followed her gaze and noted that most of the birds were not there and the few that remained were arranging short leafless branches in piles … nine piles to be exact. The mountain lion and the owl were nowhere to be seen.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, but continued. “Examined? Were you raped?” I supposed I insisted because I had to know that I could trust her to tell me everything and anything, that she would not allow her emotions to hold back some information that may be important. She also had to know she could trust me and have me in her confidence. She had to forget that bus ride.

  She turned back and faced me, her face dulled by the questions. “It may sound silly, but I’m not sure. I was not really lucid.” She looked at me and sighed, as if in resignation. In the situation we were in, yielding was the last thing we needed. That would not be good. “Does it really matter …? You know something? I don’t even recall your name. Gus told me, but I have forgotten, not that I wanted to remember.”

  Feisty! “It’s Stephen. I am Stephen Chiac, a sergeant of the British Honduras Volunteer Guard. My real name is Eutimio.” I’m not sure why I added that.

  “I’ll call you Stephen.”

  “You would.” Molly ignored the sarcasm but frowned. “We’ll talk about the bus incident another time,” I added, with finality. She stared at me and I could see that she would have preferred that we discussed the incident, possible that I made an apology. She didn’t ask.

  “Well, Stephen, I was on the road and then I woke up here, sleeping on leaves beside his bed. That was seven days ago. I know because I keep some stones in a kalbash which I have hidden in one of the crevices. One stone for each day I have been here. And you? How did you get here?”

  “I was section leader of a mission, on an expedition to climb Victoria Peak. There were seven of us, including my friend Bas. You saw him with me on the bus. They’re all fokin dead.”

  She closed her eyes. Furrowing her forehead, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

  “Bas was shot. By accident, I think. The others were slaughtered. Chopped! Bitten!” I turned my face away from her. I wanted to cry again. I had to fight it. The time for crying had passed. I looked back at her.

  “My God!” she sighed, quietly, reaching as if to touch something on her chest. She closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross. I saw her lips move in quiet prayer and I felt for the Green Scapular around my neck. I held on to it and it grew warm in my hand.

  She opened her eyes again and saw that I was holding on to the scapular. “I see that you have a Green Scapular. I wouldn’t have thought you would be wearing one of those. You don’t strike me as the type … your behavior in the bus.”

  “As I said, we’ll discuss that another time,” I restated, sharply. She was expressionless.

  “Your friend had one.”

  “Yes, he did.” I looked at the scapular. “Bas gave it to me just before he fokin died.” I fought back the tears. “As far as I’m concerned, this piece of cloth represents Bas. No one else.”

  “I didn’t mean to … I had one, but I don’t know what happened to it,” she whispered, feeling around her neck. “I miss it. I have always worn it.”

  “It was found. Your thumbs were placed next to it.” I saw pain tear at her face and realized that I was being brutally frank. But then, I was not a delicate person. “I’m sorry.”

  “He probably placed the thumbs by my scapular. I remember holding on to it … for strength. It must have been torn from my neck.”

  “You don’t think he took it off?”

  “No. Last night when they brought you in and dumped you in the cage, he told me to help the howlers undress you. The jungle was very dark, black, but a candle had been placed near the cage. There was very little light, but I did everything I could to keep your thumbs hidden. When I took off your shirt, the scapular lay on your chest. He was watching and I saw him glance away, immediately. It was as if he didn’t want to see it. I don’t know if he’s afraid of it.”

  “You undressed me?”

  “Helped! It was dark.”

  “Well, it isn’t dark now.” I sighed, loudly. “I doubt that Sisimito would be afraid of a piece of green cloth. He is cruel. He is sinister. He is evil. It doesn’t matter what this represents,” I snapped, holding the scapular. “But as I don’t know what information will be useful, I’ll take anything.”

  “You said you think he killed your men?”

  “Killed!” I almost cried out. “My men were brutally murdered, not killed.” I bit down hard on my teeth. “No one was supposed to die on the mission. It was a fun expedition. I didn’t see Sisimito do the murders, but here I am, trapped naked in his cave. Seeing what he did to you, I don’t need much to convince me that he did murder my men. I wonder why he hasn’t killed me? You, I think, he’s saving for marriage, if you can call it marriage.”

  “He has left me alone most of the times. The only time he communicates with me is when he wants me to do something. I am not to leave the cave and, as I mentioned, I’m not to go into his special room.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that. Molly!” I looked directly at her. I could see her eyes telling me that I was the only one to help her … to save her. “You have got to snoop, Molly. You have been here seven days and don’t seem to know much. Make a mental list of anything that might help us escape. Search for weapons. You have to see what’s in that special room and if my clothes and equipment are there, you’ll have to get them when I’m ready.”

  She shook her head. “I am constantly watched. If it’s not the owl, it’s the mountain lion, or a monkey, or some other animal. And the snake, it’s always here even when I do not see it. I’ve seen the owl, the mountain lion, and the snake go off with Sisimito. I thought it was safe to go outside. As I approached the entrance, a whole flock of piam-piams attacked me. They pecked my head, my hands and I had to run back inside the cave. I thought they would have taken out my eyes if they could have.”

  “Paap,” I said. “We call them paap. Not only noisy, but cruel birds. They eat anything. They even eat other bi
rd’s nestlings and eggs.”

  “I had better go back,” Molly advised. “I don’t know when he’ll return and I don’t want him to find me here. The further he stays away from you the better and remember the thumbs. Hide the thumbs.” She made her way down a pathway to the creek, crossed it and hurried up to the ledge across from me. She looked back at me and I thought I saw an effort to smile, but she couldn’t. She picked up a broom made from the young dried leaves of the Give-and-Take Palm and began to sweep.

  I took the opportunity to examine my cage more closely. For a cage in the middle of the jungle, it was well put together. The hemp used was very strong and the rope expertly made, the splicing very neat, barely discernible. Each stake was almost exactly alike and I could not find where the door or gate was. I was unable to figure out how far down the stakes were embedded in the rock, but they must have been buried deep for I could not move them. The hemp rope held the poles together in three places, the first about one foot off the ground, the second about five feet, and the third about ten feet. My cage’s dimension was about six feet by six feet. My cube. My private prison. I shook the stakes again. They didn’t move. I would, definitely, need a machete or an axe if I were to cut them.

  Rather than becoming totally frustrated, I sat down beside my kalbash of fruits. I began eating another gwaava and as I ate, my hunger suddenly increased. My stomach growled continuously and I became more aware of how hungry I actually was. That was a good sign as it meant I was becoming myself again. The soldier in me would soon be back. I ate a third gwaava, then a maami, after which I drank some water from the gourd. I felt much better when I stood up, still sucking on some tambran. I began examining the cavern in detail as I had to know every inch of it. I needed to be able to walk through it, day or night, whenever an escape presented itself. I started to study my surroundings. I looked at an area then I closed my eyes, trying to remember every detail that was there. If I did not get it correct, I did the procedure again.

  Some two or three hours later, I felt the urge to shit. I began feeling sweaty and cramps made me uncomfortable. Perhaps, I should not have eaten so many fruits, but I was very hungry, at that time, and I had responded to my feelings rather than to my common sense and training. I was about to pay for that indiscretion. I tried to dig a small hole with my fingers, but the ground was hard, just rock. I tried to scrape up some sand, but there was very little. I went to the furthest corner of my cage, nearest to the leaves I had pissed on, and there I stooped down and released myself. My shit was wet … pasty. My farts were loud and explosive and, at times, I felt sprays of wetness on my feet and buttocks. I cleaned myself as best as I could with the skin from the maami then covered my shit with as much sand and pebbles as I could collect. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much. Wherever I went in my cage, I knew my shit was there with me. I smelled my shit. My hands, my feet, my ass smelled of shit. I knew what Sisimito was doing to me. Sisimito wanted me to become less than an animal for an animal does not sleep in its shit … and its piss … unless it was caged, locked away, like me … unable to escape.

  I did not see Sisimito for the rest of the day. Molly kept away and I was glad as I did not want her to smell my shit. I passed the time by continuing to study the cavern, that was until night came. I ate more fruit, but with some hesitation; yet, I knew I had to keep up my energy level, be ready for an escape at any time. I drank the last of my water then rolled myself into a naked ball, as far away from my shit as possible, and fell asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A JUNGLE WEDDING.

  Wednesday, April 5, 1972

  The smell of smoked meat and the crackling sound of fire woke me from a troubled night of bloody dreams. It was dawn and light was beginning to filter through the entrance and exit of the large cavern, the dim blue and pink glow of early morning being at either end. I stretched myself, startled at the cramped feeling in my tired limbs. I got up, carefully hiding my thumbs. I wanted to piss so, I went to the back of my cage and pissed into my hands, rubbing them together, trying to clean them of any shit that might be there. I then aimed the residual stream as far away from my cage as possible, and as far away from the pile of leaves as I could. Although I would have really liked to piss on that snake again, I didn’t want another encounter with the creature. Not at that time. Once again, the urine flowed back towards and into my cage. I kicked at it repeatedly with my bare feet, trying to stop the ammoniacal stream, but it was no use. I didn’t have to smell my armpits, I stunk worse that the rotten-meat jungle flower.

  The dawn was rapidly giving way to the rising sun and the gloom of the cavern was quickly being dispersed by bright sunlight. I could not see Sisimito lying on his bed, but Molly was asleep or just lying down on the ground beside the bed. Then, I saw him … or it.

  Sisimito was walking down to the creek with a bundle in his hand. He carefully avoided the stream and walked out the entrance and to the place where the birds had piled up the sticks and from which smoke was billowing upward. As he entered the bright sunlight, I was able to see that the bundle was a large piece of meat, likely one of the pieces I had seen earlier … probably part of another mountain cow. It was difficult to identify what animal it was as the skin had been removed. He hung the meat from a crossbar, along with several other pieces that were already there. Even in the dangerous plight I was in, the smell of smoking meat was stirring my stomach. I was hungry. I wiped the saliva from my mouth with my pissy and shitty hand.

  I watched Sisimito make the trip two more times and as he returned, once more, I counted the pieces of meat. The only time we would smoke so much meat in our village was for an ula’nem,127 a celebration of some sort. But why would Sisimito be planning a party, and if so, who the fok would the guests be? Of course, he could simply be drying meat for future use, something we also did in our village. I counted nine pieces and watched him return with the tenth. The meat weren’t just junks of meat, they were thighs. There were nine thighs hanging over the smoking and low fire. The tenth was hung away from the fire and I wondered why he wanted that one raw. I stared at the ten hanging thighs.

  “Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.”

  I felt turmoil ripping at my abdomen. I sweated excessively. I yelled. I hollered. I screamed obscenities. The entrance and exit of the cavern seemed to be rapidly exchanging places. The ceiling sometimes was the floor. At other times, the floor was the ceiling. Molly’s face was there, then she wasn’t there. But Sisimito was always there. Everywhere I ran within my cage, Sisimito was there. So was his mountain lion. So was his owl. So was his Bocotora clapansaya. I felt myself trashing against the walls of my cage. I knew that welts were forming on my skin and I knew that blood was beginning to ooze from my bruised body. I hit the walls of my cage until I fell exhausted on the ground. I wailed. I screamed until my cry was strangled in my throat and no sound came out. Yet, I howled. Then there was nothing. I either fell asleep or slipped into unconsciousness, a cold dark damp and evil emptiness.

  I didn’t know how long it was before I heard a soft voice calling persistently to me, “Stephen! Stephen! I brought you some fruit and water.” I looked at her, my vision blurred, but did not move. “Can you hear me, Stephen?” I nodded and sat up. The pain I felt completely overshadowed the muscle cramps I had felt earlier. I cried out. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, reaching through the bars of my cage and putting her thumbless hands to my face. “Look what you have done to yourself. Oh, Stephen! I’ll try to get some type of balm. You must not do that to yourself … hurt yourself. Oh my God! You’re so bruised and bloody … swollen. If you’re to escape, you can’t do that to yourself. I’ll look for balm.”

  “Don’t bother,” I blurted out, roughly. “When I get out of here, I will take care of it and I will get out of here. We will!”

  I saw disbelief and pain on her face. “Something is happening, Stephen. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a lot of activity.”

  I looked around, trying to get everything into focus. T
here were animals and birds everywhere and they were very intent on what they were doing. There was very little noise except for an occasional squawk from one of the larger birds, protesting as if something was not going correctly. I frowned, finding it hard to believe what I was seeing. Yet, I was watching and seeing events unfold that I had no control over.

  Clay pots of various sizes were placed all over the inside of the cavern. Large Black Howler Monkeys were running up and down from the creek, using gourds to fill the pots with water. Great Black-Hawks128 were flying in and out of the main entrance depositing jungle flowers, bromeliads, ferns and other ornamental plants near the pots. Several ocs129 were arranging the blossoms in the pots. The mountain lion with the owl on its back seemed to be everywhere, making sure that everything was the way it should be. The Bocotora clapansaya was in a large coil at the entrance, its eyes slithering in its head as it watched over its cohort.

  I shook my head and looked at Molly, wistfully. I saw deep fear in her eyes, fear of not only walking in the unknown we found ourselves but living it. I jumped, startled, as a kos130 landed on one of the stakes above me. It looked directly at me and began its loud rapid Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha call, that sound of crazy human laughter I then hated. I tried to jump at it. I screamed at it, tried to scare it away. Its only response was Wah-co!-Wah-co!-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.

  “Are we crazy?” asked Molly. Before I could answer she fidgeted. “I have to go. He is calling me.” I had not heard his call.

  I watched her as she went down the short path, crossed the creek and arrive at the other ledge. I did not see Sisimito, but I assumed she was following instructions for I saw her get a stool and walk back to the creek. She placed the stool in the middle of the creek, after which she removed the bandages from her hands. She held up her hands and glanced at them. As far as I could see, they looked perfectly healed. She bent over, took off her sandals and placed them on the small sani-bay. Soon, a howler came and took them away. Molly did everything with her fingers, with difficulty, not having her thumbs. She took off her torn light pink blouse, folded it and placed it on stones at the creek side. She added her brassiere. I saw her wait, as if hesitating, then she removed her short blue jeans pants. She placed it on top her other garments then took off her panties and added them to the pile. She stood immobile, her knees bent together, her arms folded about her breast, completely naked. Then, as if ordered, she sat on the stool. I was completely disheartened by what was happening to Molly, so distressed that her nudity did not provoke Tóolok to move. I was going to save her. That would be my mission.