by Nahum Megged
She smiled and replied with a weak voice, “You will know soon. But why aren’t you touching me?”
My body cried out for her again, but the voice commanding caution and restraint overcame it. She kissed my chest. A great current of joy overtook me, and I knew we had to return to the camp immediately. I held her briefly, and a short while later we were in the hut again. She fell asleep beside Marina, who stubbornly clung to her dreams, and I stood and looked at the two women, full of wonder and confusion. Had I just woken from a dream?
I went out to the camp again. I looked at the rest of the huts. Curiously, they were all populated, even though only two warriors had been with us the day before. Perhaps the spirits of the night had settled in them. I heard many voices rising from the huts. The two warriors had multiplied during the night, and I hadn’t heard anything. How could that be? During my nights in the forest, even the slightest unusual sound woke me. Serious young men emerged from the huts one after the other and went to the small stream. There were so many of them that I stopped counting. They continued to come and go, like ants emerging from or returning to their nest. A vast army was before me, much more numerous than what the few huts could contain.
They coated their teeth with the resin of trees, and painted each other’s bodies. A few of them went to the hut of the two warriors who had come with us and without words pulled them outside. The two appeared to be prisoners of the large crowd of warriors who had arrived during the night.
Yakura emerged from our hut, pressed herself against me, and whispered, “Listen well, and don’t make any sudden movements. These warriors have no souls. Their hearts and heads are empty.”
Their hearts and heads were empty? The strange words bewildered me. Should I accept her words literally? I looked at the faces of the warriors, whom I had previously thought to be merely forbidding, and was amazed to discover they were completely expressionless, as if their souls had been wiped out. My heart pounded in my chest: Here, in the heart of the forest, far from Christina’s voodoo islands, I was witnessing the living dead, walking corpses…and they weren’t the submissive zombies of Haiti, but violent warriors wielding weapons.
Marina woke up and came out of the hut, which was the signal for the entire camp. We all began to walk in a long line. The two warriors who had come with us bracketed us, one leading, the other walking behind.
“Who are they?” whispered Marina when we started on our way, and from the expression in my eyes she understood I did not know what to answer.
“We need to walk,” I answered in a whisper, held her hand, and smiled at her.
The path continued into the forest, and at its edges, I saw something unnatural that caught my eye: long bamboo pipes that were connected to each other and stretched alongside the path. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes, but despite the curiosity that gripped me, I dared not stop and examine the pipes. I assumed they were carrying water from one of the springs we had passed. I had never seen a water piping system in the forest. It seemed that there were now foreigners among the children of the forest in the new camp, feasibly islanders, for whom running water was very important. Could it be that the camp we were being led to was run by foreigners? And who controlled the strange warriors, whose “hearts and minds are empty,” according to Yakura? I felt I was losing my mind. What other revelations awaited me down the road?
Soon, we reached a large clearing whose land was cultivated. One plot had cassava shrubs, while another plot had bananas. The paths gradually widened. They were covered by small pebbles to prevent the forest from reclaiming them. Now and then, I could see isolated huts. Everything indicated that this was an especially large settlement, a network of small clearings connected to each other, a kind of city hidden in the forest. Women came out to meet us, sprinkling water on the path we were walking on.
It wasn’t difficult to identify the central house where the settlement’s public life happened. The house was round, especially large, and was teeming with activity. Men and woman constantly went in and out, carrying weapons or trays with fruit and fish. A stone house stood near the round hut. A stone house in the forest! It was surrounded by a ditch, and a bridge led to its only door. It had no windows. Marina and I looked to Yakura for an explanation, but Yakura said nothing, her face expressionless. The line of warriors who accompanied us spread out like a fan. The vertex of the fan was behind us, while ahead of us, the road to the round house opened wide.
One of the warriors went inside, and when he exited a sign was given, and all entered. Darkness and a pleasant chill welcomed us. Unlike the round houses I was familiar with, which contained a single large room and an attic for storing fruit and ritual devices, the round house we had entered was divided into rooms. I didn’t know how many, but my instinct told me there was a central room in the middle of the house. I was right. When we reached it, one of the warriors went inside, instructing us to wait there. It was only when he returned that we were allowed to enter.
We left behind the relative dimness of the rest of the hut and entered a room that was bathed in light. A cry came from Marina’s lips. In the center of the room, dressed in a brown safari outfit and sitting in a rattan chair, was Herbert William, Jr. There was another man next to him, tied to a wooden pole. I immediately recognized him: It was the man I had seen during one of my first days in Don Pedro, the one who had spoken my language and vanished when he saw me at the port, and according to Francisco, had joined a gang of slavers.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” said Herbert.
“I’ve been looking forward to this meeting,” I immediately answered, and Yakura, who was standing on my right, smiled. I felt my reaction had pleased her. “We have a lot of questions that we want to ask you, but you owe most of the answers to one person — the woman standing to my left,” I said and pointed at Marina.
“And I have questions as well,” said Herbert casually.
And all that time, Marina’s hand covered her mouth, as if trying to hold back the scream that had already been heard.
She curled up under my arm, seeking refuge in my body. Slowly, her head lifted again, and she stared, stunned, at the man sitting in a chair in front of us, as if she were facing a demon or a monster.
“A week ago, we raided one of their camps, and this man was one of the survivors,” Herbert addressed me and pointed at the man tied to the pole. “I thought you might want to see him.”
The prisoner’s clothes were filthy, and he scratched his stubbled cheeks with frantic movements.
“Who are you?” I addressed the prisoner in my native language, and he seemed to wither, trembling from head to toe. I didn’t know if I should feel sorry for him. From Herbert’s words, I understood Francisco must have been right, and he was a member of a slaver gang. But I knew the anger welling in me came from another place, a deep and hidden place inside my soul.
Suddenly I remembered him. He used to live on my old street and had always aroused an inexplicable revulsion in me. People used to say he suffered from shell shock. Now there he was before me. Why had he fled from me that day in town? And why had Herbert bothered to have us meet?
“Well, neighbor,” I said in Hebrew, “we meet again, and this time you must tell me everything, everything you know. Tell me everything without leaving out a single detail!”
The trembling in his body intensified, and he began to mutter something meaningless.
“Then you’re the one who did it,” I said firmly, as if an outer force was moving my lips.
“I didn’t mean to!” he cried, tears washing his face. “It just happened, and I’ve been running ever since! When I saw you next to that jetty, I knew it was the end of the line for me…” And he began to sob loudly again.
That’s when I knew he held the key to the dark mystery from my past, the past that consumed my life. Could it have been murder after all and not an accident or a suicide?
&nbs
p; “If you’d like me to help you and possibly save your life, you need to tell me everything,” I said in a shaky voice.
He doubled over, as if collapsing into himself. I saw an overgrown boy crying, and I saw myself in all my ugliness, without a shred of compassion or empathy.
“I always looked at her,” said the man in a tremulous voice that gradually steadied. “She was so beautiful…I couldn’t keep my eyes off her when she used to take the dogs out. I couldn’t believe she already had such big children. She looked like a teenager to me, and the color of her skin, so dark and special… I was insanely attracted to her, and used to run inside my house so as not to do something I’d be sorry for.
“That day, I saw you leaving the house. I looked out my window and saw that a window of your house was open. So was the door to the yard. I surprised her. She struggled, tried to push me away. I grabbed her, but she managed to escape. She grabbed her keys and escaped through the window to the car.
“I ran after her, I almost caught her again, but she managed to get into the car, slammed the door, and immediately started it. She took off with mad speed. I grabbed the door handle, but the car sped down the street and I was thrown off. When I heard the crash, around the corner, I said to myself, ‘I’m saved.’” He buried his face in his hands and wailed like an animal. “Am I even allowed to beg for your mercy? Will you please ask them not to kill me like they killed all the others?”
Now it was my turn for tears. The girls came to me and wrapped me in their arms.
I suddenly felt the embracing arms of my son and daughter in front of the fresh grave covered with dirt, and there was the murderer, sitting in front of me and claiming he was not to blame, your beauty was to blame. Your body was thrown lifeless in front of my eyes, and once again, I could do nothing but cry.
Blank-faced warriors entered the light-filled room and asked Herbert if they should remove the man. They addressed him with divinity titles, and despite my preoccupation, I realized they regarded him as a god, quite likely the god who had promised to return to the forest. Yankor had been right: Not only the eyes of my spirit, my teary flesh-and-blood eyes also knew this was a lie. With a flick of his hand, Herbert indicated they should take the bound man, and the warriors removed the prisoner from the hut.
“Where are they taking him?” I asked Herbert.
“He will be sacrificed to the gods,” he answered indifferently. “He will be given to the vulture, the jaguar, and the snake. The rulers of the heavens, the earth, and the abysses. This way he will serve with his body the nature he wanted to destroy.”
I fell down on the ground, stricken with grief and loathing. “No!” I wanted to scream. “Don’t do it! I don’t want such terrible vengeance…” But no voice came from between my lips.
I was woken by brief screams accompanied by the roars of a jaguar. I was lying on the floor of the hut, my head on Yakura’s knees. Marina was sitting next to me, her head buried in her hands. The howls of pain and the roars abruptly stopped and were replaced by a terrible silence. I felt my thoughts swirling, seeking answers to the infinite questions that struck me from every direction. I tried to understand the story the young man had just confessed to me. It did not match my memories. And the more I thought of it, the more improbable it seemed, until it almost crumbled into dust. I remembered she was getting ready to go out to buy onions, and I was in the house when it had happened. Was my memory playing tricks on me?
Yakura gave me a white, bitter, milk-like liquid to drink, which made me feel better. I got to my feet and faced Herbert William again. Marina and Yakura joined me. Someone brought chairs, and the three of us sat down. I decided to avoid the agonizing thoughts for the time being, and instead to face the cruel white man sitting in front of me.
Herbert nervously tapped his foot and wrote something in his notes now and then. He did not look at Marina, but she fixed her eyes on him and refused to look away. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, trying to postpone the inevitable confrontation.
When I could bear the silence no longer, I opened my mouth and allowed the turbulent, conflicted stream of words to erupt from it. “Did you know Marina thought you were her brother?” I asked.
He nodded.
“In that case, why didn’t you disabuse her of that idea? Why did you allow her to wallow in desperation? You have betrayed two women, her and Christina. It was you who brought Christina from the islands against her family’s wishes, and you are the father of her daughter, Grisella. And she agreed to live on her own, even though she knew you were living with someone else. And finally, you forsook both mother and daughter.
“Next you abandoned Marina, bound and drugged, next the spring. Did you intend to sacrifice her to the jungle animals, as you have just sacrificed that miserable prisoner? And they are treating you as if you were Omauha who returned to the forest. As if you were a god!”
Herbert placed the sunglasses he was holding on the table, crossed his arms, and stared around the room, avoiding our eyes. After a long silence, he opened his mouth and spoke. “We are in the midst of the last war on the face of this earth. The center of the world is here, in this area. That fact was known to my father. If the center is harmed, the whole world will be annihilated.” His face reddened, and he began to breathe hard. “My father discovered many things. He was very close to finding the one truth, the secret of the universe.”
Hearing his confused clichés, I could contain myself no longer. “And the journal?” I asked. “The journal that found its way to my room in Marina’s house? Who wrote it? Your father? Or was it you, or someone—”
One of the blank-faced warriors suddenly emerged from a dark corner, hit me with a stick, and stopped my tirade. I raised my hand to my head and felt blood oozing from it. Marina yelled and rushed to my side, while I began to speak again.
“If this is how you intend to answer me,” I said, “then I don’t want to hear your words.” And like a child, I covered my ears with my hands.
He suddenly awoke from his trance, and for the first time since we had entered the room, looked at me and the two women kneeling beside me. In a commanding voice, he ordered the blank-faced warriors to leave the room.
“Instead of rambling on in clichés like some cheap imitation of a god,” I said, “you could give us some clear answers to our questions.”
He was silent for a long while. Then I recognized a strange softness in his eyes, even sadness.
“There is a plan, and I am merely a part of this plan,” he said in a timid voice, as if apologizing. “In the presence of my sister, I am willing to swear that the words I say are not lies or exaggerations.”
Marina gave him a terrified look. I was frightened for a bit as well.
“Is your father also Yakura’s father?” I asked a moment later in disbelief.
With a nod, accompanied by an almost imperceptible motion of his lips, he answered my question.
“And who was Yakura’s mother?” I pressed on.
“Yakura.” He forced a whisper between clenched teeth.
Thoughts raged in my head. “In that case,” I quietly said, “Xnen and Yakura, about whom your father wrote in his journal, are the Xnen and Yakura of the previous generation…”
Once again, he affirmed my words with a nod accompanied by a slight motion of his lips.
“And your father, is he dead?”
Once again, a nod and the slightest movement of his mouth.
The kind-hearted Yakura, I thought, who had clung to me like a shadow when we had exited the hut at dawn. It had not been a dream after all; the brave young woman, the goddess of the forest, had tried to tempt me in order to break the ongoing curse. Was it me she had wanted to redeem, or herself?
A new silence lay in the room, a silence that had acceptance in it, perhaps even a strange kind of reconciliation. I knew I had to ask Herbert many more questions — about the
warriors whose will and thought had been taken away from them, about his plans, and his connection with the tribes, but I had no more strength left. I would have more chances to speak with him, I thought, and sank into a blessed silence, postponing for another time the confrontation with the murky stream of thoughts that threatened to overwhelm me.
27
Amir
We left the central building. Yakura and Marina washed the blood from my head, then all three of us were led to a hut. When we were about to enter, a masked warrior approached Yakura, signaled something to her, and she followed him. Marina and I went inside the hut, sat on the floor, silent and exhausted, and fell asleep almost immediately.
Yakura woke us up when she returned. She sat beside us and said that a large group of armed white men had been brought to a nearby place in huge metal birds. The birds had landed next to the large Tepoi rising not far from us, beyond the edge of the forest. After the sentinels had discovered the large birds and the invaders that had emerged from inside their bellies, the Nave decided to convene the elders to discuss the new developments. The meeting had begun sometime after we had exited the round house, and the discussions were still going on.
Yakura went out again and returned about half an hour later with further news. She said that following the landing of the metal birds next to the large Tepoi, more metal birds had landed not far from that place. It seemed there was no relationship between the two groups of invaders — they were strangers not just to us but to each other. Both groups had Nave and converted men in their midst, and it appeared they intended to invade the complex that is sacred to the Yarkiti and to other tribes. The meeting of the tribal elders and the Nave was still underway. From Yakura’s words, I realized Xnen and Yankor weren’t taking part in the meeting but that other shamans had come to consult with the Nave. Vihu was sniffed, spirits were consulted, and the warriors were ready for the gods’ decree, but no decision or decree had been received yet.
