She nodded. She felt about to cry, so she hastily put on her sunglasses.
“Now you look like Greta Garbo,” said Stephan. He had a fairly thick German accent. Katrine imitated him unmercifully, and then she repeated the phrase again, very clearly. Stephan and Katrine were engaged. They were well-trained; she noted the muscles on their calves. They were certainly not going to have trouble keeping up in the jungle.
She forced herself to say something.
“What have you eaten?” she asked.
“Guess!”
“I have no idea…”
“Fried rice and chicken.”
“It’s the national dish of Malaysia,” said one of the Norwegians.
Justine had difficulty telling the Norwegians apart.
“Are you Stein or Ole?” she asked.
“Ole, of course. Maybe we should wear name tags.”
“Well, you guys look identical.”
They both burst out laughing; they had the same clucking, well-meaning laugh.
“Are we? That wasn’t very nice!”
“Maybe because you’re both Norwegian.”
“So you think we Norwegians all look alike? I don’t think you Swedes look alike.”
He looked over at Martina.
“She’s dark-haired, for example, and you are blonde.”
Ben arrived with a plate of food and an ice cold Coke. She drank eagerly.
Ben said, “We talked about packing yesterday. Nathan will show you. Take the least amount of things necessary. Remember that you have to carry everything that you pack. And think that wet clothes are heavier than dry clothes. All the stuff that you’re not going to take with you, we can store here at the house until we return.”
“OK.”
“You’re going to get another pill from me. Tomorrow you’ll be stronger than ever.”
She couldn’t sleep. Nathan lay beside her; he snored slightly. In spite of the heat, she wished she had something to wrap herself in. She also had to go to the bathroom, but she didn’t want to put on all her clothes, and she didn’t have the energy.
Martina had said, “Good night, everyone! And remember that tonight is the last time we get to sleep in a bed for a long, long time!”
Justine thought that she was going to be longing for a bed, even this one.
She must have fallen asleep after all, because when she woke up, Nathan was already up and busy packing all his things. The aroma of food drifted into the room. The chorus of frogs was intense.
“Good morning, Sweetheart,” said Nathan. “How do we feel today?”
She stretched.
“Fine.”
He was sitting on his haunches, pressing his stuff into the backpack.
“Nathan…”
“Hmmm?”
“No, nothing.”
“Well, get up then. I just heard someone leave the shower.”
“Can you help me pack?”
“Nah. You can manage yourself. I have to talk to Ben a little bit. Take a change of clothes and something to sleep in when we make camp. Don’t forget the malaria pills! OK, I have to go now. Come down as soon as you can.”
Chapter FOUR
A truck covered with a tarp took them away from the town. Out of consideration, perhaps because she was the oldest woman in the group or because she had been sick, Justine was allowed to sit up front with the driver. The others crowded into the flatbed with the equipment.
Once she turned. Nathan sat with his legs pulled up. Leaning against them was Martina.
She drank some of the lukewarm water from the bottle. The man next to her drove jerkily; he seemed not used to this truck. Every time he changed gears, he tore the gear control so that the small cogs squeaked and howled. This appeared to make him nervous. The windows were rolled down; dust was sucked into the driver’s cab. He took a peek at her from time to time but he couldn’t speak English. He had very dark skin. The jungle was right next to them on each side of the road.
Once, he called out something and pointed at a place on the road. A python, many meters long, was lying there. It was dead; it had been run over. She heard the others asking about it; she didn’t hear the words, just the excitement in their voices. She thought about nighttime. She shuddered.
After a few hours, the truck turned onto a sandy road, heading right into the jungle. The tires slid a bit; they almost got stuck. Then the man turned off the engine, and the jungle noises began to come toward them like a great and growing orchestra.
Justine was sore over her entire body. She jumped down onto the red sand; she massaged her legs.
Nathan stood next to her.
“Here’s your backpack. And I bought this for you.” He gave her a knife in its sheath; it was wide and black and a half meter long.
“A knife?”
“A parang,” he said.
“It’s unlucky to give something sharp.”
“Whatever. But you’re probably going to need it.”
Justine pulled on the backpack. She let her water bottle hang from one of the metal hooks on the side. She had her fanny pack around her stomach, and she attached the knife there. The heat radiated, pressing sweat drops from her hair fastener. She thought… no she didn’t want to think. If she began thinking, she would lose all her energy; she wouldn’t be able to make it through.
They started off slowly. The first leg was a steep, sandy hill; then the primal forest took over. Ben and Nathan went first. After some time, she noticed that some native men had joined them. She hadn’t noticed them at first. Immediately she thought they had evil intentions, but then she understood that they were going to accompany them on the journey. Ben explained to her that they were members of the Orang-asli, the original people.
They climbed up a slick and slippery slope. Her backpack kept pulling her off balance. She held tight to roots and branches, trudging upwards with difficulty. Heinrich was right behind her, a whistling sound when he breathed.
“How’re you doing?” she panted.
“I hate to complain when we’ve just started,” he said. “But this goddamn heat.”
Yes, the heat was enervating; it made movement slow and breathing heavy. It forced out sweat so that their clothes became wet, made the cloth from their pants cling to their legs making their steps even more difficult.
Once at the top, the plant growth stood like a great green wall. The native men began to clear a path. Justine tried to use her knife, but it was hard to grasp, she needed both hands to hold on to it. One of the men took the knife from her and showed her how to hack. It seemed so easy when he did it.
They cut their way through up there, and then there was a sharp drop, a ravine full of mud and slippery leaves.
“Do we have to go down right here?” said Gudmundur.
“That’s right, they really didn’t give a damn about informing us how the jungle is constructed,” said Heinrich. “They should have told us all the way to the very last vein in the very last leaf.”
Ben came up to them.
“Having a rough time?”
“If only it weren’t so damn hot. We’re not used to it.”
“Drink a lot of water. Don’t forget to drink.”
One of the native men started the descent. He was wearing a shirt with “Pepsi” written on it, and dark blue shorts. His legs were skinny and scratched. She thought she might slip and roll all the way down to the ravine’s stony bottom. Her muscles shook from the strain; she climbed down extraordinarily slowly, holding tightly to vines and branches. Fell on her butt and slid down quite a ways until a tree stump stopped her. She sat for a moment, hugging it like a lifesaver. Once she let go, she managed to set her hand right into a thorny bush. She swore to herself.
Nathan was quite a bit ahead of her. “Aren’t you coming?” he called.
Martina had already reached the bottom.
“We can take a short rest,” Ben said.
The yellow river ran rapidly; from a distance came the thunder of
a waterfall.
“Take off your backpack,” said Nathan, but she was too tired; her hands were shaking. He helped her, lifted it off; the straps had cut into her shoulders. Her arms had swollen so that her watch was too tight. She had to loosen it a few holes. She looked at her fingers; they were swollen like small sausages, and she could hardly bend them.
Heinrich was the last one down. His eyes wandered; his clothes were soaked and dirty.
Ben looked at them all.
“You’ll get used to it. It’s hardest at the beginning.”
“I wonder,” said Heinrich. “I’m not sure you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
They had stopped at a beautiful place. Large white flowers were blooming at the river’s edge; higher up they saw grottos, and a group of bats came out into the light, frightened by their closeness. Justine fell to her knees by the river. She let the water run over her hands and face. An enormous butterfly was sitting on a twig which was sticking out over the water. She noticed more of them all at once; they circled around her and she held out her hands. One of them landed on her thumb. She felt its small cool feet and its antennae as it slid across her skin.
“Don’t move!” said Martina. “I want to get a close-up.”
But when she approached with her camera lens, the butterfly became scared and flew off. She sighed with disappointment.
“Damn! That would have been the best picture!”
“They’re looking for salt,” said Ben.
“They are? I thought butterflies looked for sweet.”
“Well, that’s why they’re landing on Justine,” said Heinrich. He had taken off his shoes and dropped his feet into the water. He grimaced strongly.
“Usch. Have any of you gotten blisters?”
“I don’t know,” said Justine. Her gym shoes were soaked through and muddy. “I don’t dare take them off. I doubt I’ll ever get them back on.”
One of the native men came up to Ben. He was somewhat younger; he had a scar running across one of his cheeks. He was holding a blow pipe in his hand. A quiver hung on his hip. He appeared excited. He kept repeating the same word again and again.
“What’s he saying?” asked Nathan.
“Tiger tracks.”
“Where?” Martina forced herself forward. “Let me see so I can take some pictures.”
About ten meters away they saw the prints of large paws in the sand. “Ben, you did say that they are more afraid of us than we are of them,” mumbled Katrine. “I really hope that’s true.” “Oh yes, of course it’s true. He certainly heard us and ran away. He’s far away by now.”
They started off again. They were going to follow the edge of the river. The mountain stood straight up on their left side. They had to balance on slippery roots and cliffs right where the mountain met the water. One of the men had tied a rope of rattan between the twigs and branches. They held to the rope and slowly moved forward.
Eventually, the mountain leveled out, and they turned into the forest.
She and Heinrich were always coming last. She was stressed by the pace the others kept. She managed as best she could. She struggled with breathing and she lost her rhythm. In the beginning, Nathan waited for her and helped her over the most difficult passages. In the beginning, he also exhorted her.
“Try and go a bit faster, Justine; you’re holding up the whole group.”
Later, Ben let one of the native men go with Justine and Heinrich. Every time they caught up to the others, they had already rested for a while and were ready to keep going. This kept increasing her stress and her feeling of incompetence. Heinrich noticed this and he tried to comfort her.
“Not everyone has the same ability; that’s just the way it is. And if Nathan wants to arrange jungle adventures in the future, he should inform his customers that you have to be a marathoner and an elite gymnast in order to go.”
She was noticing so clearly how her body had become more limited. She wasn’t young any longer.
They sat on some stones and rested. Justine kneaded one of her ankles and felt something warm in her hand. It was blood. Her socks had large red stains. She touched one of the stains and felt something rubbery. She screamed aloud.
The native men laughed.
Four leeches had attached themselves through her socks. Their bodies were swelling and thickening. She had drawn up her socks over her pant leg, but they had sucked their way through.
“There’s leeches for you,” said Nathan.
“Take them off!” she screamed.
Martina came near with the camera.
“Hold still. This will take only a few seconds.”
Justine screamed in Swedish, “Go to hell!”
She threw herself on the ground, shook her leg against the ground, kicked, howled.
Nathan gripped her shoulders.
“Don’t get hysterical, Justine. Dammit, don’t make an idiot of yourself.”
She froze, sniffled.
“Take them off, then! Take them off!”
“You take them off! We’ve all gotten leeches on us.”
She forced herself, fingers on slimy, soft bodies, fingers that trolled, her eyes closed; in with her fingernail next to the sticky, rubbery mouths: there! They twisted in her grip, black and aggressive rings. With a grimace of disgust, she struck them against a stone.
Her wounds wouldn’t stop bleeding, but there wasn’t any pain.
“They spray in something that kills the pain and prevents the blood from coagulating,” Ben said. “They figure they can suck out quite a lot before they’re noticed. They’re not dangerous, even if they’re not all that pleasant.”
“If they’re in the river, we don’t have to walk right there,” suggested Katrine.
“They’re everywhere. They wait for their victim. They have an incredible sense of smell. When an animal or a person comes by, they get ready to jump, and they almost never miss.”
Gudmundur said, “All living beings have their place in the circle of life, but leeches? What is their function? I think they don’t have the right to live.”
And he pulled a mightily swollen leech from his ankle and mushed it to pieces under his heel.
Later in the afternoon, they reached the river again. They were going to camp on the other side. One of the native men, who barely seemed older than a boy, took Justine’s hand and led her carefully into the water. The bottom was slippery and full of stones. She held onto the boy tightly. When she was almost on the other side, she lost her balance and fell head first into the water. The boy lost hold of her; she came up sputtering.
Two hands gripped her from behind. Nathan.
“You clumsy little thing!” he said. “Now you’ve gotten your whole backpack soaked.”
Martina behind her, Martina’s ringing laughter.
“Sorry, Justine. It’s just looked so hysterically funny!”
She lay on a large, fallen tree trunk. A group of small flies swarmed around her. Everywhere there was rustling, buzzing, chirping.
She heard how the others were setting up camp. She lay unmoving on the trunk. The flies crept into the corners of her eyes; she was too tired to sweep them away. Martina’s clucking small sounds, content and mocking, soft as the sound of the gibbons high in the treetops.
She could discern hands and arms through her eyelashes; she heard voices and their calls.
In the distance, thunderclouds rumbled. When she opened her eyes, the first raindrops began to fall. She had never experienced rain from this perspective, from beneath. The white drops like pearls, she lay there and let them come, let them soak and be sucked up by her skin and clothes, let them clean her and bring her body back to life.
Ben was squatting under a shelter. He had changed into a sarong. He was stirring a tin pan.
“Justine?” he called.
“Yes.”
“Everything OK?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
“Go and change into something dry.”
She looked
at her fingertips. They were wrinkled, as if she’d spent a long time in a bathtub. Her hands were full of pricks.
She said to Ben, “My fingertips are blue.”
She wanted to say bruises, but didn’t know the word in English.
He nodded without listening.
A plastic covering had been set up between some sticks. She bent over, ran there. Heinrich and the German couple were already sitting there. She put down her backpack. Lightning flashed among the trees. Thunder followed immediately.
“Where’s everyone else?” she asked.
“They went to look at the waterfall.”
She sat down and tried to untie the damp gym shoes. There was a hole in her pants; she was bleeding from a scrape on her knee. Everything in the backpack had been wrapped in plastic bags. That had worked to keep out the water. Everything in the belly pack was ruined: headache medicine, three tampons, a notebook and paper tissues had all turned into one big glob.
She got out a towel and began to rub herself dry. Out in the river, the man wearing the Pepsi shirt was walking around with a large fishnet. He pulled it up occasionally and picked out the fish, stuffing them into his pockets. After a while, he waded back and gave his catch to Ben.
Justine put on her shorts and a dry shirt. It wasn’t cold. The thunderstorm increased its intensity; it thundered both at a distance and directly over them. The rain came down in sheets now, making the ground even muddier.
“They didn’t have to go to the waterfall,” said Stephan. “There’s just as much water here.”
“Why didn’t they say anything?” asked Justine.
“They did, but we’d had enough of climbing for one day; we had no desire to go with them.”
“I was lying right there on the tree trunk.”
“They probably thought you were sleeping.”
She saw Nathan’s backpack and moved it next to her own. The forest seethed and hissed; the lightning flashed. Katrine crept closer between them.
“It looks so dramatic,” said Heinrich. “You can feel how small we human beings really are.”
“Just so long as the lightning doesn’t strike the ground.”
“But it does, all the time. Look around and you’ll see trees split in two.”
Good Night, My Darling Page 21
