by Di Morrissey
One of the young men laughed. ‘Dey sparkle with fire, girl. No mistake dem.’
‘Could I see one?’
The man responded to Madi’s eager gaze and bubbling enthusiasm. He reached into his shoe and drew out from his sock a blue and white Vicks VapoRub inhalation tube.
‘Christ, I haven’t seen one of them for years. My granny was always making me push one up my nose when I got stuffed up,’ laughed John.
‘We have it in Australia too. But it comes in a jar, greasy stuff you had to rub on your chest,’ said Connor.
The young man unscrewed the plastic top and shook the contents into the palm of his hand.
A coarse sprinkling of rough stones showed many colours, each glinting with a hint of the fire and light within.
They pored over the diamonds in fascination and then one of the other men produced a balled sock from his hip pocket and showed his cache. In minutes they were all talking and the pork-knockers, long deprived of an outside audience, attempted to outdo each other with their stories. Another round of beers and the men began discussing the pros and cons of the democratic government. Connor glanced at Madi as the death of Ernesto St Kitt was mentioned.
‘We hear it on de radio. Man, dat how dis country bein’ run, mebbe de bosses didn’t throw him in de river, but, man, dat be a murder for sure. He was making speeches ’bout helping de man in de street and helpin’ git dis country going straight. I don’ believe dat fella a druggie. My sister know he’s wife. Dey a good family.’
The other pork-knockers nodded in agreement.
‘De city can be a bad scene, man. Up here, you only got de bushmasters and your neighbour to knock yo on de head,’ joked another.
‘A bushmaster? Gwen mentions them. A poisonous snake, right?’ said Madi.
‘Very poisonous,’ said John. ‘But you Aussies would be used to that.’
‘Mind where you sleep at the falls tonight, Madi,’ said Sharee with a wink.
‘I have my hammock rolled in the bottom of my backpack,’ she answered.
‘I think we should be making a move. Let’s get the kerosene. Madi, see what food you can get. Are you sure you two will be okay?’ asked Ann.
‘Of course. It will be an adventure,’ Madi answered quickly.
Connor rolled his eyes. ‘You and your adventures.’
In the makeshift store they found a packet of Kraft cheese, biscuits, cans of Coke, some peanuts and candies. ‘Pretend we’re at the movies,’ said Connor handing over cash for the small feast.
The Amerindian boy struggled across the road with the full can of kerosene. ‘John, he can’t carry that on his own,’ cried Ann.
‘Don’t fret. I’ve got a plan,’ said John, sliding Mr Bell’s stick through the handle. Ann took one end and John took the other. The boy looked around and reached up for their backpacks. ‘Take it for awhile, we’ll trade you part way down.’ Sharee patted Ann’s shoulder, glancing at Viti who nodded her head at them.
The young pork-knocker offered to sell Madi a diamond but she shook her head. ‘I’d like to find my own.’
It was the parting of the ways. Connor and Madi farewelled the rest of the group and headed back the way they’d come towards the falls. ‘You sure you can find the way back down in the morning?’ called Ann.
‘If we’re not back by afternoon .. . give a hoy,’ called Connor.
‘Connor, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,’ said Madi. ‘I’ll be fine. I think.’
‘Rubbish. You’re not doing me out of this . . . adventure.’
By the time they got back to the falls the day was fading. Connor eyed Trudeau’s old guesthouse. ‘Do you reckon we could bust in and make ourselves at home?’
‘Connor, that would defeat the reason we’re here. To experience the falls.’
They set up a small camp, strung their hammocks between trees set back from the mist of the falls, and pooled their resources. Connor had brought a torch, Madi insect repellent. They each had a hammock and thin plastic sheeting. Madi had thrown in Sharee’s cotton sari as a cover and Connor had a knife—‘to slice the cheese’. His final offering was a small bottle of rum and they both had water.
‘Wait, something else,’ Madi pulled out a lime. ‘Thought it might be a thirst quencher. Be better with the rum.’ They made themselves a rum and water and went back to the falls to watch the sunset. Madi sighed. ‘I see what Pieter meant. Look at how the water changes colour with the sky.’
The river was burnished red and gold, seeming to glow with an incandescent light. The surging white crests of the tumbling river flashed like molten gold as they went over the edge.
‘Imagine this after massive rains and floods. This is just a normal season,’ said Connor.
Madi watched the movement of the river as it slid to the falls and exploded downwards. ‘I wish I could compose music. Can you imagine a symphony that captured all of this?’
‘That’s what’s missing, music . . . What music would you play here if you could . . .’ They talked of music, of dreams, of passions, of things they’d like to try. They talked of friends, and places, and families. And slowly the sunset melted into the hills and all was luminous dark.
‘Let’s eat supper and come back and watch the moonrise,’ said Connor.
They ate their picnic by torchlight. ‘What I wouldn’t give for a hot cup of tea.’ Madi untied her cotton anorak from round her waist and slipped it on as the evening coolness settled on them.
‘Glad Ann told us to bring plastic in case of rain during the climb. It will be dewy, I guess,’ said Connor spreading his thin plastic sheet over his cotton hammock.
With a rum to fortify them they went back to their viewing rock and silently watched the glimmer of light behind one of the distant mountains grow brighter until the rim of the moon showed above the peak.
Majestically it rose, turning the churning waters to silverplate and casting a metallic and friendly light around them. They could now distinguish other sounds above the water and Madi cocked her head. ‘I heard something. Let’s walk away from the falls a bit.’
They headed back towards the bromeliads, picking their way by the beam of the torch, Connor going first and reaching back to help Madi and shine the torch at her feet. It took longer than it had earlier, but then they came out on the rocks set back from the falls. The clutch of bromeliads glistened in the moonlight, their greenness frosted with a silvery sheen from the moon.
Both heard it together. A resonant, rich, throaty song. It rose and fell like heartbeats that lingered. Silence, then it began again. This time a chorus, a chuckling joyful song, that echoed and reverberated across the ravine.
‘The golden frogs . . . they’re singing,’ whispered Madi. She held onto Connor’s hand as the trembling notes bored into the fibre of her soul.
Connor kissed her head. ‘Then all is well. Let’s go back and sleep.’
Madi thought of last night, and now she wanted to kiss him again with the joy of all they’d shared on this memorable day. But he kissed her lightly on the top of her head like a doting father, and virtually tucked her into her hammock with another quick goodnight kiss.
Madi woke before the sunrise, an eerie foggy light swirling about the dripping trees. She felt damp, her hair and face were wet. Glancing over at Connor she could see rivulets of dew running off the plastic cover spread over him in his hammock.
She walked quietly back to the edge of the falls and sat hugging her knees and watched the fog and mist swirling up from the ravine and across the surface of the glassy Potaro. Like Salome’s veils slowly lifting, the layers of mist began to melt in the streaky pastel shades of the coming dawn.
She hurried back to fetch Connor. ‘I can’t let you sleep through the sunrise.’ She shook him gently. ‘Come on.’
Together they watched the colours of the river and falls change as the red, fat ball of sun rolled into view, rising higher, the red glow becoming hard-edged, white gold that hurt their eyes.
‘It really makes you understand the words, a new day dawning . . .’ said Madi.
‘Anything seems possible when you see something like this. It’s very renewing.’ He wrapped an arm about her shoulders. ‘I’m glad we shared this, Madi.’
‘It’s something that I’ll never forget. Connor, we should make a vow, whenever things seem hard, or we get depressed and sad, we must remember this.’ She waved her arm out towards the panorama of pristine rainforest on the mountains around them, wreathed in the last shreds of mist, the velvet strip of sparkling river, the spread and drop of the remarkable falls.
They sat a moment or two longer and Connor’s arm tightened around her shoulders. Madi turned to him and lifted her face to his kiss.
If ever there was a moment, a place where passion was matched by its surroundings this was it. Connor and Madison made love in the first rays of the sun, their heated bodies cooled by mist, the roar of the falls matching the pounding of their hearts.
Madi lay back on the mossy rock as Connor gently kissed the length of her body. The beauty of Madi, the feelings she aroused in him, the magic of this place, swept over him and he struggled to find words to express it. ‘Do you feel what I do, Madi? I just can’t describe it . . . I’m gone . . . over the falls, all is lost.’ He buried his face between her breasts, the sweet smell and sensation of her skin crushed against him. She smiled and rubbed his head. A contentment and a glow spread from her toes through her body. ‘It’s wonderful, Connor . . . I can’t find words either. Let’s just share it.’ They lay there in silence, bodies pressed together but Madi was trying to make sense of her feelings. Connor had given her a wonderful gift—he had given her back to herself. She felt a woman again, whole and magnificent and adored. She had an energy, a sense of power, not over Connor but because of him. She knew whatever the future held, she would be all right. She was strong again. The failed marriage, the insecurities, the indecision about her future, all slipped away over the falls. It wasn’t because a man had made love to her and become smitten. She had given herself and she suddenly saw how, by giving oneself, so much came back in return. It had been a shared experience, but for her it was also a milestone in her journey to discover who she really was. This was for Madi her moment of revelation and she would always thank Connor.
She smiled into his blue eyes. ‘You don’t know how wonderful you’ve made me feel . . . for lots of reasons.’
‘Good. Hang onto that, Madi. I feel it too.’
They arrived back at the resthouse to find Mrs Bell hanging washing out.
‘Did you find it gooood?’ she asked in her singing accent.
‘Unbelievably beautiful, Mrs Bell.’
‘There be cake and coffee with Mr Bell,’ she said, pointing to where he was sitting with the rest outside the house.
Ann was first to spot them walking over. She called out and Connor and Madi raised their walking sticks in acknowledgement.
Over Mrs Bell’s cake they described the sunset and sunrise with bubbling enthusiasm, finishing each other’s sentences, trying to describe the impact it had on them. Watching Connor and Madi, it was obvious to each of their friends, though no one said anything, that they had undergone some subtle change in the way they related to each other.
After a swim, they all went fishing and Madi caught more catfish. The rest of the day was spent relaxing. That night over fresh fish curry with chilli and lime relish, they agreed it seemed they’d been away from the city for weeks.
Next morning they set out with Captain Blaise. They all felt fit and relaxed and pleased that each had met some personal challenge in making the trek and climb. It had been hard saying goodbye to the Bells. The old couple stood holding hands, their white heads shining in the early morning light, gap-toothed smiles creasing their finely wrinkled skin. They were grateful for the kerosene and Ann had carefully packed a plastic bag containing letters the Bells wanted posted to friends and family in Georgetown.
Madi had been first up and had said her own private farewell to the elderly couple whose simple life, love and caring for each other, and whose faith and trust in the world around them, had touched her. She wished she had a gift for them and wondered how she might send them something. Then she thought of her little carved frog. She loved it dearly. She stroked the little wooden creature and decided she would get Lester to find another. Then she offered the frog to the Bells as a gesture of thanks for their kindness.
Mr Bell turned the little carving over in his bumpy boned hands. ‘This be a very good fellow,’ he said softly, then handed it back to Madi, pressing it between her fingers. ‘But dis fellow got your name on him. He be made for yo. Thank you, but we can no take him from yo.’
Heading up the river the girls discussed what they might get for the Bells that would be practical and how they might get it to them. They settled on a box of tinned and packaged luxury foods.
‘Captain Blaise will see they get it,’ said Ann. ‘There’ll be someone going upriver, one of the pork-knockers perhaps.’
There were no breakdowns on the way back and late that night Connor kissed a sleepy Madi as Singh held open the gate. ‘I’ll call you. Take care, my sweet.’
She nodded, handed Singh her backpack and, holding tightly to Mr Bell’s stick, walked to the darkened house. ‘You had a good trip, Miss Madi? Where you go?’ asked Singh as he pushed open the front door and turned on the hall light.
‘I had a very good time, Singh. I climbed Kaieteur.’
Singh gently closed the door behind her. ‘Well now, dat be some ting. Some ting indeed,’ he muttered in awe.
Madi splashed her face, brushed her teeth and fell into bed as Matthew padded down the hall and tapped at her door. He peered at his sister beneath the shroud of mosquito net.
‘Was it worth it, Madi?’
‘Oh yes. Oh very much.’
‘Good. Sleep tight. Talk in the morning.’
‘You have to do it, Matt,’ she called sleepily.
She was asleep before Matthew reached his bed and she dreamed of Kaieteur, of Connor’s kiss and touch, of the cascades of water, of rainbows and little black birds, and heard again in her dream, the singing of the little gold frogs.
TWELVE
Water Street, the commercial end of town, was jammed, choked and chaotic. A normal state of affairs. The mixture of races—black skin and Chinese eyes, fine-boned Hindu faces topped by crinkly hair, African, Portuguese and Amerindian blends—normally delighted Madi. But now they crowded in on her. After the beauty of the trip to Kaieteur, the noise, the putrid smells, the sense of danger from what Lester called the street choke and robs, made her clasp her small bag to her chest and hurry after Ann.
‘You all right? You seem distracted. Singh is waiting for us outside Stabroek markets,’ Ann said.
Madi was relieved to see Singh, who took the shopping basket from Ann and opened the door of the Toyota Landcruiser.
Madi leaned back in relief in the air-conditioning. ‘I think I’m going through some sort of adjustment. Like a mild form of culture shock. I’m mentally and emotionally still back at Kaieteur and the river. I can’t cope with this city madness.’
‘How are you going to be in London or Sydney?’ said Ann.
Singh nosed the car through the stalls and shoppers outside the main markets, narrowly missing a man carrying a carcass of beef across the sunbaked square.
‘I’m not ready to move on yet. In fact I want to go back up the river. Further into the interior. Now that I’ve had a taste, I want to see more. I’m absolutely fascinated by the place.’
Ann glanced at her. ‘You sound as though you’ve eaten labba and drunk creek water. That means you’ll always have a yearning to return to Guyana. That’s the local belief, anyway. But I understand how you feel. It happened to me too.’
‘It did?’
‘Oh yes. I came out here for a car rally, met John, fell in love, went back to England and couldn’t wait to get back here. John was part of it, o
f course, and it took me a while to differentiate between my feelings for him and the extraordinary pull the country had on me.’
‘How did you adjust?’
‘I travelled around as much as possible. John made that easy, knowing people everywhere. I still don’t quite know what the magic is . . . it was so different from England. So exotic . . . the jungle, the way you can have a magnificent garden, a fabulous and quite privileged lifestyle. The people are marvellous—incredibly warm, as I’m sure you’ve discovered. There are so many frustrating things, of course, but in a strange way, that’s part of its charm too. You can always manage to laugh at adversity here. In the UK, you tend to get tight-lipped.’ She gave a hearty laugh.
‘You don’t miss England?’
‘How can I? I’m lucky enough to go back a couple of times a year.’
Madi stared out at the street of such unfamiliar faces to those she saw at home, the colonial buildings, the tropical trees, the undisciplined jumble of cars, bicycles, trucks and carts. ‘Strange, I’ve never thought of living anywhere but Australia. I never imagined I would be drawn to any other part of the world.’
Ann gave her a steady look. ‘Get it out of your system, then see where you are and you’ll probably have a clearer idea of where you’re going.’
She didn’t elaborate on what ‘it’ was, because they were now outside Guyana Stores.
‘Right, let’s raid the supermarket.’
It intrigued Madi that the main store of Georgetown could so regularly run out of things. Drippy freezer cabinets with open lids held nothing save for a squashed plastic bag of squid pieces. Shelves that should have had tinned provisions were empty and where a pile of just-arrived items was being unpacked, shoppers grabbed three and four at a time, scarcely noticing what they were buying.
‘The old days of shortages when you had to queue for the basics are still remembered. People’s shopping philosophy is, if it’s there grab a couple and figure out what to cook with it later,’ said Ann dropping tins of mushrooms, canned soup and packets of dried haricot beans in her shopping basket.
