Page 76 of Beautifully Wild

Eden

Thesteadybeatofa drum and the soft notes of a flute filter through the air. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever been while eating dinner. The people sit quietly, smiling at one another. No excitement, and yet there’s a sense of gratitude even though the makeshift wooden spit is absent of an animal. The fish and vegetables are still satisfying, and I find my fill easily. What’s surprising after nothing except fruit all day, my stomach is adjusting to this lifestyle. I’m not even craving chocolate.

The fire is stoked, and the flames climb toward the dark sky. The shaman utters a few words. Young and old gather closer to form a half-circle around the shaman. The blue, yellow, and orange flames glow behind him creating his own theatrical stage.

There are more sticks, reminding me of cat whiskers, protruding from his cheeks tonight. He’s wearing a smaller headdress with more teeth and bones than feathers. Raising his hands, he looks to the heavens and tells a tale aboutThe Tree of Life.

Samuel whispers the translation. The touch of his lips near my ear is more gratifying than any story. When it concludes, I recognize the shaman’s last words.

“A-pantoní-pe nichii.”

“What does it mean?” I ask.

“May you take advantage of this story.”

“Right. Like a lesson learned.” I glance back and catch the shaman staring at me—again. “The shaman keeps looking at us.”

“If he makes eye contact, don’t look him in the eye. He’ll take it as a threat.”

“I looked him directly in the eye last night when I shouted at him. It’s a good thing he doesn’t understand English,” I say under my breath.

“You hope he doesn’t.”

“Does he?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t speak it to me, although he may understand certain words. He hinted at being offended by your actions.”

Shit, I called him a bastard.

“I was scared for you and wanted to help. And before you say I shouldn’t have been there, I was, and you were in a bad way, so what was I to do? Leave you lying in your own vomit?”

“Yes,” he says firmly. “I know what happens, Eden. You have to purge to get to the next stage, which is the most important part of the ceremony. Knowing you caught me in an exposed position, well I…”

“What?”

“Did you ever consider I was embarrassed by you seeing me vulnerable?” He looks down at me, his gaze mellow. The reflection of the fire flickers in his pupils.

“I’m here for you,” I whisper. “I was scared I was going to lose you. Then you didn’t come home.”Home.It’s weird I’m thinking of his hut as our home. “I only wanted to hold you and make sure you were okay.”

He slides his hand under my elbow and along my arm until our fingers link. I want to lay back and melt into him until I glance around and note no one is showing any public affection. No arms on shoulders. No handholding. No teenage girls on boy’s laps. No children nestled into their mother’s chest for a cuddle. All private people.

The dom-dom of drums breaks my train of thought. Five young men march into the center of the large circle, their lean bodies freshly painted in long black lines and red Vs. Tonight’s audience appears to be a full house. There are one hundred Ularans, Samuel, and me.

The shaman stands in the center of the young men, now on bent knees. Kaikare walks to the shaman and holds up a thick piece of bamboo. She pops the wooden plug. One ant crawls out, and she replaces the plug. The shaman takes it by the thorax and places the ant on a young guy’s shoulder. He cringes a little, and I understand why.

“Jesus,” I murmur, seeing the ant’s body raised in the air, its pinchers latched onto his skin.

“Say nothing,” Samuel whispers.

Kaikare pops the lid, and ant after ant is attached to his skin on both shoulders and down his back. The boy’s expression remains stoic. The process is repeated on the next boy. When the last ant is attached, the shaman returns to the first guy. Kaikare gives him something small and holds a leaf.

“It’s a piranha tooth,” Samuel says.

The boy bows his head when the tooth is placed behind his ear. The shaman carves the skin, his mouth gapes a little, and his gaze is focused. He sings a melodic three notes. Dabbing a stick on the leaf Kaikare holds, he then blots it where he cuts.

“A tattoo?” I whisper.

Samuel nods. “He’s ready for his first hunt. A step in becoming a warrior.”

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