Jane (39 page)

Or was this thinking an attempt to rationalize my selfish worries that he could never adjust to my life in England, my career as a scientist? I wondered if our unbridled abandon on the beach at Zu-dak-lul had made a sensualist of me. A muddled fool living a fantasy?

I knew I was driving myself insane with such thoughts. It was probably no more than the impossible frustration of knowing how near I was to
P.a.e.
with no way to observe them, and the time for my stay in Africa running out.

As Tarzan hunted one morning, I sat in the nest rereading my notes for the hundredth time, the Greys perched above me chattering to each other in a language that was a charming mixture of forest sounds, whistles, clicks, Mangani, and English, peppered with human laughter, both Tarzan’s and mine. I was aware of just how much I conversed with the pair, and how we had become a strange family foursome. In fact, I was reading the passage aloud to them, glad for an audience (I dreaded the thought of becoming the proverbial addled professor), and was so engaged that I failed to hear the sound of something climbing up from below. When the long furred fingers gripped the edge of the nest and I saw the top of the Mangani skull, I screamed and leaped upward, clutching the branch overhead to make my escape. But the rest of the simian head, when it followed, was not Kerchak’s. From where I hung, rather humorously by one arm and one leg, I saw that the Mangani was a female.

It was Jai, and on first sight of me, she also screamed in fright.

I quickly gathered my wits, realizing I held the advantage, having known of her existence while Jai had no knowledge of mine. Who, the Mangani must be wondering, or
what
was this creature in her brother’s nest?

“Jai.” I spoke the name gently, but the female’s teeth were still bared and her eyes were bulging. “Jai
zabalu
Tarzan.” Jai, sister of Tarzan, I’d said. “Tarzan
unk pacco,
” I added. Tarzan go zebra. There was no word in the Mangani language for “hunt,” but the words, no matter how imperfect, had the desired effect. The expression of fear on Jai’s face transmuted into bewilderment.

I tried again. “Tarzan
popo pacco.”
Tarzan eat zebra.

With this, Jai climbed into the nest and squatted there. I untangled myself from the upper limb and came carefully down, sitting on the edge farthest from the Mangani. I patted my own chest.

“Jane,” I said.

“Jay-en.” Jai’s voice was rough and throaty, but she had gotten the word right. This thrilled me to my core. It was the first time I had conversed with
P.a.e.,
and the creature had spoken my name!

A savage cry echoed in the canopy, and Tarzan came crashing through the foliage onto the scene, his blade unsheathed, his features set in a fierce grimace. It took but a moment to realize that all the female shrieking had been harmless vocalization. Here sat his sister and his mate in amiable conversation.

It was a strange tableau, I thought, stifling the impulse to say, “Tarzan, won’t you sit and join us for tea?”

He didn’t sit. Indeed, with a happy cry, he threw himself bodily upon Jai and they began to wrestle. Once again I sought safety on an upper branch, giving them all the room needed for the playful melee. Mr. Grey, also attracted to the ruckus, beak-over-toed his way down and perched on a limb above my shoulder and began shouting out, “Jai! Jai! Piggy piggy Tarzan!”

The parrot and I watched the roughhousing until the siblings sat back on their haunches panting and exhausted and altogether pleased with themselves.

*   *   *

Thus ensued the most exquisite experiences of my research. For daring to challenge and humiliate Kerchak, Jai had lost her position in the Mangani bower. She would certainly be killed if she returned, and so she built a small nest of her own near Tarzan’s. Here, with him translating the Mangani to English, Jai became my willing subject. Many times, I was aware that Tarzan’s
zabalu
scrutinized me with equal fascination. It had proved difficult to explain where I—a
tar-zan
female—had come from (and fully grown!), but Jai could see the open affection between the white-skins, and she made her approval of me apparent almost immediately.

I hardly knew where to begin with my close study of “The Mangani Female, Jai.” The pens and pencils were brought out, and the pages of the journal began to fill again. The new anatomical drawings became the most thrilling aspect of my study, for not only was I able to execute an artist’s rendition of a body part, but the gentle Jai allowed me to examine, palpate, and move the part as well. Like a child in a sweetshop, my head spun with choices of what to study next.

Hands and feet with their specialized fingers and toes were of keen interest, as was the skull, though measuring cranial capacity was approximation and guesswork. The mouth, teeth, tongue, and throat took days of observation. It was not an easy thing explaining to the Mangani why another would wish to put fingers in her mouth, move her tongue around, and request that she open and close her jaw.

I could only guess what lay within the larynx—how it differed from an ape’s and a human’s. It amused Jai no end that I insisted that she make the same noise over and over again while I held my fingers over her neck.

The examination of the femur, hip joint, and pelvis to study the upright stance became a great source of merriment, for the palpations tickled Jai, and she—playful by nature—could not resist tickling me back. We rolled around the nest snorting and shouting with laughter, Mr. and Mrs. Grey happily chiming in with their own. But it was this wild grappling that put into Tarzan’s head the idea that Jai should teach me to wrestle Mangani-style, much as she had taught him as a young boy.

I demurred at first, as this physical exercise was more foreign and exotic than anything that had come before.

“It will be useful to you,” Tarzan suggested, though for the life of me, I could not see how.

In the end I acquiesced, and the three of us repaired to a clearing on the forest floor. With Tarzan standing guard against any ground predators, we two females fell together, arms and legs atangle, with Jai almost gingerly (for she knew her strength) and in silence (for she had no words for description) giving instruction in the fine art of Mangani wrestling—
another course in Lord Greystoke’s Forest Curriculum,
I wryly thought.

When Jai thrust her head into my chest and pushed me to the ground, my lower limbs with next to no prompting wrapped around Jai’s legs, and the grappling that commenced was far more instinctual than I could ever have imagined. Fingers clutched forearms. A leg was trapped between two knees. I saw how a head could be locked in the crook of an elbow. There was constant movement—rolling, flipping, tumbling, and escaping each other’s grasp. Of course, Jai’s advantages, besides the obvious, were fingers longer than mine, and the flexible perpendicular toe that was, by far, the strongest of all her digits.

Tarzan could not resist joining in, and while he never did wrestle me, brother and sister would sometimes demonstrate a particular maneuver, something that was quite new to them both. It was in this way that I first observed that a wrist grabbed by an opponent might be released by the rotation of the wrist in the direction of the tip of the thumb. I thought it a rather elegant escape and insisted upon practicing it with Jai until I had perfected it.

As exciting as the anatomy and language and the physical exercises were to me, most riveting of all were those times when, with Tarzan translating, Jai would allow me to peer into the interactions of Mangani society, a history of the tribe, and analysis of particular individuals.

Of the greatest interest to both Tarzan and Jai was their mother, Kala. She had clearly been a remarkable creature. Though Kerchak’s dominance had been established before Tarzan’s adoption and Jai’s birth, there were
pan-tho
(a word I translated as “memories” or “tales” or “legends”) that were told and retold down through generations. Tarzan had heard many of them, and now he was called upon to take the
pan-tho
in the uncomplicated Mangani language and interpret them into English, every word of which I recorded in the Claytons’ journal, with some interpretation of my own.

“Kala and Her Family”

It became apparent to all, shortly after reaching her sexual maturity, that Kala was the most attractive of the Mangani females. Every male, young or old, desired to mate with her. Her coat was soft, more hairlike than furlike. She was larger and stronger than other females, and her scent was irresistible. Challenges were fought over Kala, but even when a challenge was won, she remained aloof and did not choose the winner for
kin-ga
. The first mating season after her maturity came and went without pregnancy, and it was during this time that Kerchak rose to dominance.

Of all the males, he had grown the largest by far, and all were aware—but did not speak—of his strange behavior. Where the Mangani were quiet and lived peaceably, Kerchak was loud and flew into violent rages, fighting when there was nothing to fight about.

When the females next came into season, Kerchak began challenging every male for every female, something unheard of in the tribe. There had always been sharing, and females might choose with which male they wished to mate. Some of the males were injured by Kerchak, and one died of his injuries, further shocking the tribe. But Kerchak had grown uncontrollable. There was no one strong enough or brave enough to stop him.

Then, in a moment that all living Mangani would never forget, Kala refused
kin-ga
with Kerchak, even after he had won a challenge for her. She disappeared from the Great Bower, never returning until her season had finished. Even Kerchak, with his furious moods, would not mate if a female was not in season.

In the seasons that followed, Kala grew wise and powerful among the females. Even Kerchak let her be. Her only sadness was her childlessness. She was good to all the tribe’s
balu
and longed for one of her own. (Note: There seemed to be no understanding that mating was required for a female to give birth and, as partners were interchanged so frequently, no concept of “paternity.”)

Kerchak began disappearing from the bower for long periods of time. The Mangani were so happy to have him gone they did not question where he had gone. They grew unhappy whenever he returned, for it was then he displayed the foulest of tempers and flew into the worst of rages.

After one of his absences, a strange thing occurred. When it was least expected, Kerchak ambushed Kala and forced
kin-ga
upon her. (Note: The estrus cycle had not begun in the females.) Even her size and strength were no match for him, and she succumbed.

After this, Kala’s anger grew very large. She said to all that Kerchak was
gumado b’nala
(sick in the head). He was shunned by the tribe, which caused more violence. He did, however, retreat from the lower bower where the sleeping beds were and made his nest far above everyone else’s.

Kala’s belly began to swell at a time when no other females’ bellies grew, and to her great joy, she gave birth to a healthy
balu.
She was the best of mothers, and the infant thrived on her copious milk.

Kerchak returned from his absence this time with madness in his eyes. He shouted and roared and flung himself around like a great wind in the trees. He broke the arm of another male and forcibly mated, out of season, with nearly every female. When he approached Kala, she withdrew, holding her
balu
to her tightly and baring her teeth at Kerchak, enraging him further. It was then he broke off the limb of a tree and began swinging it around him. No Mangani had ever seen anything like this. They had neither weapons nor tools.

Kala ran from him, but not fast enough. The branch upon which she had fled was shattered by Kerchak’s club. She fell, and her infant tumbled from her arms to its death.

The uproar was great, but no one was strong enough to challenge Kerchak. The one Mangani who had always had the courage to do so was Kala, and her spirit had been broken by the death of her
balu
. She grieved so deeply that for a time she lost her senses. She would not let the body of her infant go. She clung to it and wept over it, or just sat staring sightlessly into the canopy. The sadder she became, the angrier Kerchak grew.

One day he came with the club that he now used as his weapon and forced all the Mangani to follow him out of the Great Bower. Even Kala was pushed along, carrying the decomposing body of her child with her. The tribe moved far beyond their foraging grounds, traveling for many days, lost in the forest that turned to jungle and finally to mangrove swamp. It was confusing and terrifying, and Kala, the true leader of the Mangani, was unable to lead, still so deep had she sunk into her grief.

The mangrove swamp scared the tribe with its razor-jawed crocodiles and stinking black water. What came next was
sha-ka
(beyond their comprehension). Kerchak led them to the edge of the swamp and out onto white, gritty ground, beyond which was Zu-dak-lul (the greatest water the tribe had ever seen). It was endless and moving in terrible swells that made a horrifying roar. Above them was not the protective green canopy of their home but a sharp blue dome with a burning yellow orb that blinded them to look at.

But there was no turning back. Without Kerchak, they were lost. They would never be able to find their way back to the bower, so they followed him up the white, gritty strip of earth, staying far from the
dak-lul
, and came upon a tree of the strangest form—a great trunk that, up at the level of a Mangani nest, grew very large. And on this nest were two creatures who appeared sick, for they had no fur except on the tops of their heads. Their skin was white! From inside the closed nest came the sound that they knew to be the voice of a
balu
. It was wailing in a thin, pitiful tone. None were moved by the sound … none but Kala, whose ears pricked up. For the first time in so long there was life in her eyes. The stinking corpse she had held close to her breast since its death now dragged along behind her by one arm.