"One of my guides spoke the language and tried to explain our purpose to the tribe. At first, they believed we were hunters because of our nets and cages. But then he gestured to me and explained that I was a sage, someone who sought knowledge about insects and small animals.
The chief turned his gaze to me.
I didn't speak their language, but through the interpreter, I tried to make my intentions clear. I wanted to show that I was there for understanding, not harm.
The chief seemed to consider this for a moment, then asked a single question through the interpreter:
'For what?'
I had a thousand answers prepared—scientific progress, the pursuit of knowledge, curiosity—but in that moment, the simplicity of his question shook me. For what? Why was I doing this? What was the purpose of collecting endless information about animals, about insects?
The chief exchanged a glance with their priest, and I wasn't sure what it meant.
We stayed with the tribe for one month, then another, and another. We struggled to adapt to their way of life, learning their habits and slowly acclimating to their food. Over time, I realized they were studying us as much as we sought to study them.
Yet I continued with my original purpose. I drew, observed, and cataloged the insects I found. It was my way of communicating with them, of showing them what I was there to do.
