Ashes of a Madman

Chapter 5 - A Scar, An Arrow and A Death

The arrival of Dr. Vargas was to wait for another two weeks. Passing time in a productive way became nearly impossible. Most of the men and the natives stayed drunk on marimba, which the Joshua and Geoff individually doctored with another ingredient: a dark powder that I had first seen M. Gravot add to his wine.

The natives were exceptionally good hunters and also found very delectable fruits and vegetables provided by the forest. Saberi showed me how to find other fruits and nuts that improved on the liko recipe I had been shown before. I still crave the sweet itaba root. They had set up a small gardening area, which was growing quite rapidly and producing.

One of our favorite meats was of the sindula, a water antelope. When Njobo and Saberi were hunting close by, they let me follow them. They moved about the forest in loincloth that was made of tree bark. The bark had been pounded and softened until it was long and slender. It was tucked between their legs and over a belt both in the front and in the back. Saberi said that women's loincloth had a long, sensuous tail which sways back and forth and that it is very erotic to watch when the woman is dancing. He even offered to make me a very beautiful loincloth, though I preferred my own clothing no matter what country or climate I was in. Njobo laughed at Saberi for making women's clothing, but admitted that he was very good at making the softest, most beautiful loincloths. So whether I would wear it or not, it was generously presented to me, and I thanked him for his pains. He even decorated the bark with the red powder of the nkula tree. I tried it on in the privacy of my cabin and practiced swinging the tail as erotically as I could. Would this entice Geoff? Was I dancing around in this ridiculous garment to please a man who may just as likely beat me?

They showed me what kind of berries and mushrooms to pick and what vines to follow that led to certain foods. Saberi taught me how to make hunting nets from the nkusa vine. Though I was slower at it, together we had made a hand-woven net and for a while the men stood around commenting extensively on its tightness and durability. Njobo and I searched for a good spot to place the net. The trees were relatively dense, leaving the sindula no escape routes and leading him directly into the unseen net. Njobo hooked the net to firm branches on our left and our right and I hooked the net to the ground with sturdy roots. Njobo knelt and assisted me, loosening the roots to allow for more give in the net.

"Won't it collapse when it is this loose?" I asked as Njobo stood.

"Who is the hunter and who is the painter?" he replied.

We spread out, forming a horseshoe that would force the prey into the net, which I hoped would hold. And then we waited. It was a while before the small antelope was in the center of our horseshoe trap. It looked like a small, fat deer with huge, dark eyes. Before I had second thoughts about it, Njobo cued his fellow hunters and whispered to me:

"Run toward him, chase him into the net." We began running toward the sindula who discovered that he was surrounded and dashed heedlessly toward the net. Njobo was the fastest by far and put up a good chase. I watched the sindula run into the net and nearly get caught, but he backed away and with a glance behind him at the approach of Njobo, and it ran into the net again, this time breaking the net from the roots in the ground and escaping beneath it. Njobo tore the net down and continued the chase. It was only seconds before we heard the warrior's victory cry and watched Njobo appear, dragging his prey behind him. He had caught it and slit its throat. The faces of Karago and Kimguva immediately came into my head and I couldn't sleep that night.

Njobo seemed very proud of his skill that day and bragged for a long time to his friend, Masisi. Masisi knew that his friend was a great hunter and merely said that if Njobo could, just once, come home from a hunt without his own blood on their kill, he would be the greatest hunter of all. Njobo had not even realized that the sindula had cut his chest and arms in his efforts to escape. So he was brought to Joshua to treat his minor cuts, which Njobo thought was entirely unnecessary. Geoff had insisted that the health of these men was absolutely vital, so the matter was settled. I noticed that all the men were half-drunk on the strong marimba. Dr. Holkin took liberal swallows as he stitched up Njobo, who was barely able to hold himself upright as his wounds were addressed.