Stained River (12 page)

PART TWO

ODYSSEY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

An unusual movement caught his eye. He stopped abruptly, peered through thick foliage and thought,
They too have turned back and found my path.
But he was mistaken. Ahead, was a man sitting hunched, shaking his head, appearing confused. He had that different look about him. Something he sensed the night before but couldn’t quite decipher; a complexion much lighter than his own, height much greater.
Was it him?
His shaman had spoken of such men, but he never actually saw someone who looked like this man.  Could it be the same one? Too many radical things had entered his life all at once. First, the giant bird, now a human like himself, yet so unlike. Strong omens; caution was necessary.

The man had what looked like a weapon at his side.
Teman-e thought if he approached threateningly, he might panic and turn on him, then he would have to kill him. There was a better way.

Connery sat by the water's edge, silently looking at the growing amount of debris flowing past. His odds of getting out alive were dwindling. The tribesmen were too hostile, the jungle too dense, his rescue attempt a failure. He was far beyond hope that any kind of civilized town was near. Yet he couldn’t be sure. If only he knew which direction to go. He shook his head from side to side, as if convincing himself there were no good answers-nor could there ever be.

He stood
up; ready to continue his trek in spite of his darkened mood. Then without warning, a hand covered his mouth and he found himself struggling against someone with considerable strength. He grasped for the spear, but it was too late. The end had come. To his great surprise, whoever it was released him quickly. He waited for several moments, expecting that whatever was to come, would be ugly. But nothing happened. No one hit him, no one shot an arrow into his back. He turned slowly and came face to face with a naked Indian, a stick running through his nose. One of those who…
Wait!
It’s him!
Connery’s anxiety lessened when the Indian placed a forefinger to his lips, the same as he himself had gestured the night before. For a few more seconds, they stared, sizing one another up. Connery could see the puzzled look, then realized what the other man saw; someone who looked so alien, no color to his skin. What would he do now? Kill him? Help him? Or run?

Each was unsure of what to do
. What worked before, might work again, so Connery offered water. Teman-e hesitated;
what kind of vessel is as clear as the water itself
? He accepted and drank. His eyes showed that he understood, for the Machi-te did not nod for yes or shake their head to the side for no. One of many things Connery would learn over the days and weeks to come. He opened one of his remaining snack packages and offered the food. Again Teman-e accepted, took a bite, began to chew, and immediately spit it out.

Does he think I’ve poisoned him?

He anticipated anger, instead
the native led him to a tree laden with a type of fruit he had seen, but dared not eat. Teman-e bit into one of the yellowish pieces then offered him the other. Connery, mindful that his intestines were roiling, took a bite anyway. The sweet, pulpy fruit was the best he ever tasted, a combination of peach and papaya that refreshed him.

When he finished the fruit,
Connery noticed how badly the man’s face was burned. Maybe he could help him, and at the same time, continue with this promising contact with another human, no matter how primitive he was. Another idea struck him and he opened his pack. Inside was an ointment he had found on the plane. He removed the tube, unscrewed the cap, then squeezed some to his finger. Teman-e watched, perplexed and unsure. Connery applied the ointment to his own face, then pointed to Teman-e’s festering burn. He interpreted the meaning, offered no resistance, but flinched slightly when the medication was applied. The balm took effect almost immediately. He smiled, then made several hand gestures pointing first to himself, then to Connery, then to the direction they would go.

“Ola! Ola!”

The calculated risk had paid off after all. There was reason for hope, someone who knew the way out, or would soon find it. Once more, he was faced with a choice. Go back to the wreckage, risk the savages and await rescue? Or follow this man to possible safety. He hesitated a moment, then decided to follow.

Two men, from worlds as far removed as possible, began a relationship that day that neither could have conceived. One, a primitive,
but intelligent tribesman from a warlike branch of the Yanomami, whose violent ways were well known; the other, educated in the most advanced society on earth, but one where violence had yet to be eliminated as a means to power, fortune, or retribution.  Two things they had in common were a need to survive and an enemy who was relentless, who would kill them in hideous fashion should they be caught. Other than that, each held very different objectives. It remained to be seen if the relationship would be fruitful. Connery wanted to find a way out. To anywhere that would lead him back. Teman-e was intent on leading the Wakawakatieri away from his village. He was willing to risk a circuitous route that would take them through the heart of Lugar de la Muerte. Neither knew its name, but Teman-e knew its reputation. Connery had little choice but to follow. He was a leader in his world, but about to become very dependent on this naked man from another world.
What brought him back?

The relationship would have to cross hurdles
because few people in the world understood the dialects of indigenous tribes. In addition, Teman-e's thought process was different when it came to things like direction and time. He had no concept, for instance, of compass points and only knew two;
ola
and
mana.
Ola
was the direction he was heading,
mana
was where he came from. That was all one needed to know. Similarly, it could be difficult to determine how long or even when, an event took place. Over the coming days and weeks, Connery would learn the language by first pointing to an object then asking Teman-e to say the word and repeat it. He would soon became aware that in the Indian’s language, the words changed for the same object, depending on the circumstances.

And so, on that first day,
Teman-e pointed in the direction of the rising sun, saying: “
Ola.”
He pointed in the opposite direction and said what sounded like
Wakawakatieri,
making a slicing gesture across his throat. Connery understood. Since they were running from a common enemy and their lives were in jeopardy, he decided it was time for a formal introduction. Pointing to himself he said, “Connery” several times until Teman-e said, “Con-ree.” He pointed to Teman-e's chest. Finally, he uttered “Te-man-ay” and the introduction was formalized.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Brasilia

Castelo Branco awaited news on his latest deep interior mining operation. Several years earlier, his Tapejo project had extracted gold from further into the rainforest than anyone else could claim. Now he would blatantly extend that penetration with Tapejo II, to begin in a few months. He was in gross violation of government policy, but never worried or cared. Too many corrupt officials and lawmakers accepted his money to worry about that. They owed him favors and paid back handsomely with their influence. The first Tapejo project was making him very rich, though not at a rate that suited his taste. He wanted more. No one dared stand in his way, including the
Indian tribes he despised. They tried to oppose him before, had their skulls cracked open, and he'd do it again.
Did they think a paltry few could lay claim to all that land? All that gold?

He was among the first to capitalize on reports of gold strikes. Small, independent
garimpieros,
took substantial amounts of ore from areas previously thought to be inaccessible. They were the ones responsible for beginning the largest gold rush in Brazil’s history, starting on the Venezuelan border and gradually extending farther into the Amazon basin. The state of Amazonas had government protected rainforest, but Castelo Branco could get around that easily enough. He had equipment flown in. What was too heavy to move by air, he moved by water; bulldozers, diesel generators, tractors.

Inaccessibility, climate
, and heavy equipment, made it expensive to extract gold from the Amazon. Among other techniques, the company used powerful hydro canons to blast soil from riverbanks into ore screening devices, then mercury oxide to help separate the gold particles in the sludge- the poison entering the water system in large quantities. He lowered costs by exploiting the Indians and totally disregarded safety and environmental issues. None of that mattered. His largest costs were for political payoffs, not materials or labor.

Tapejo I alone, he calculated, would bring his annual gold ore production to 3 percent of the total taken from the Amazon
, or about 3 tons. If current prices held, he could count on hundreds of millions in revenue, and this was only the first of many similar projects he had in mind. The price of gold was rising, and he was anxious about progress made at the new site. That day, his enthusiasm quickly turned sour, however, after reading a newspaper with the headline story:

Gold Rush Tears Up Parts of Amazon

The article mentioned river mining, mercury poisoning and exploitation of the local tribes. It suggested that many of his operations were unsafe and damaging to the environment. Not to mention the impact his “mining towns” had on the tribes. Indiscriminate strip mining, land erosion, malaria from mosquito-infested pools, mercury that was contaminating the rivers and streams, sick children, exploited workers. That was Companhia do Azevedo.

“What do they know?” He shouted to several of his top people
he had summoned to a meeting.

He was taking heat
, and the second phase of his project hadn’t even begun. Not only that, progress reports from Tapejo I were becoming sketchy and untimely. He quickly shifted the focus of his anger to ‘
that lazy lout’
he had put in charge. The more he talked, the angrier he became. He had always depended on the man to
make arrangements.
The first few years he did well and received handsome rewards. But lately, maybe he had become too comfortable, or worse, too well informed.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN

Tapejo I- River mining project

Paulo De Santana, Castelo Branco's project manager for several years, was paid to get things done with no questions asked. For those years, he had kept his boss insulated from the sordid things he thought necessary to accomplish distasteful tasks.

A burly
man in his mid-forties, with a bad temper, he had the blood of more than one Indian on his hands. He could be ruthless toward them. Castelo Branco had found him fifteen years before, unemployed, and living on the streets of Rio. He was eager to make money, ambitious and cold hearted. Traits the mining magnate considered useful. So he hired him and paid more than his technical skills were worth. In return, he got someone with a ‘hit man’ mentality to do his dirty work. Over the years, De Santana picked up knowledge of heavy equipment operation, land clearing and mining, enough to get him by. Like his boss, he used intimidation effectively. On too many occasions, if intimidation failed, it led to serious injury or death to those who failed to heed his warnings.

Tapejo I was located in territory considered home to branches of the Yanomami
. Virgin rainforest hardly touched by human habitation. Increasingly, the Yanomami were being absorbed into western culture, wearing western style tee shirts imprinted with product advertising they knew nothing about. De Santana enticed them initially with liquor, tobacco, knives, food, machetes, even pornography. Once they became dependent on the company, he owned them.

His crew of handpicked workers from Sao Paulo, along with the gold traders and burnishers, required the services of prostitutes to keep them committed to spending long periods of time in a remote region. He arranged to gratify their lust
y desires by luring young Indian women, by any means possible, into becoming camp prostitutes. Castelo Branco paid him to get things done, including the construction of a ramshackle town complete with saloon and bordello. Not to mention the company store, stocked with items the Indians fancied. All of which was designed to keep them in debt. To Companhia do Azevedo, debt and violence equaled control.