Forest of the Pygmies(15)
"They don't bite; they just drink your sweat. It's better not to try to shoo them off," the missionary told them. "You'll get used to them."
"Look there!" called Joel.
An ancient turtle with a shell more than three feet across was creeping along the shore at the water's edge.
"He's probably more than a hundred years old," Brother Fernando calculated.
"I make a delicious turtle soup!" exclaimed Angie, picking up a machete. "You have to swing the minute they stick their head out—"
"Don't even think of killing it," interrupted Alexander.
"That shell's worth a lot of money," said Angie.
"We can eat tinned sardines for supper," Nadia reminded her. She, too, was opposed to the idea of eating the defenseless turtle.
"It's not a good idea to kill it. It has a strong odor, and that will attract dangerous predators," added Brother Fernando.
The centenarian ambled on along the riverbank at its calm pace, never suspecting how near it had come to ending its days in a pot.
?
The sun went down, the shadows of the nearby trees lengthened, and finally it was cool.
"Don't look over this way, Brother Fernando, because I'm going to take a dip and I don't want to entice you." Angie laughed.
"I would advise you, miss, not to go near the river. You never know what you might find in the water," the missionary replied dryly, not looking at her.
But Angie had already taken off her slacks and blouse and was running toward the riverbank in her underwear. She had sense enough not to go into water any deeper than to her knees, and she was watchful, ready to fly out of the river in case of danger. With the same tin cup she used to drink her coffee, she began emptying water over her head with obvious pleasure. The others followed her example, except for Borobá, who hated getting wet, and the missionary, who stood with his back to the river, concentrating on preparing a meager meal of beans and tinned sardines.
Nadia was the first to see the hippopotamuses. In the shadows of dusk, they blended into the dark water, so the group became aware of their presence only when they were very near. There were two adults—smaller than those on Michael Mushaha's preserve—enjoying the water a few feet away from where they were bathing. The third animal, their offspring, they saw only later, peering from between the monumental rear ends of its parents. Quietly, doing nothing to provoke them, the friends stepped out of the water and returned to camp. The huge animals showed no curiosity at all toward the humans; they continued to bathe calmly for a long while, until it was so dark that they disappeared in the blackness. Their deeply creased skin was thick and gray like that of the elephants. Their ears were small and round, and their mahogany eyes very bright. Two pouches swung from their upper jaws, cushioning the enormous, square canines that were capable of biting through an iron pipe.
"They take a mate, and they are more faithful than most humans," explained Brother Fernando. "They have one calf at a time and look after it for years."
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After the sun went down, night had fallen very quickly and the group was surrounded by the impenetrable darkness of the forest. Only in the small clearing on the shore where they had crash-landed could the moon be seen in the sky. The solitude was absolute. They set up a schedule to sleep in shifts while one of them stood guard and fed the fire. Nadia, who had been excused from responsibility because of her age, insisted on sitting up with Alexander during his turn. Many of the animals that came during the night to drink at the river were confused by the smoke, the fire, and the scent of human beings. The most timid retreated, frightened, but others sniffed the air, hesitated, and finally, prodded by thirst, approached. The instructions of Brother Fernando, who had studied the flora and fauna of Africa for thirty years, were not to disturb them. Usually they did not attack humans, he said, unless they were hungry or provoked.
"That's in theory. In practice they're unpredictable and might attack at any moment," Angie refuted.
"The fire will keep them some distance away. I think we're safe here on the shore. It will be more dangerous in the forest," said Brother Fernando.
Angie cut him off. "Yes, but we don't plan to go into the forest."
"Are you thinking of staying here forever?" the missionary asked.
"We can't get out of here by land. The only possibility is the river."
"Swimming?" Brother Fernando persisted.
"We could build a raft," Alexander suggested.
"You've read too many adventure novels, young man," the missionary replied.
"We'll decide that tomorrow; right now, let's rest," Kate ordered.
Alexander and Nadia's shift began at three in the morning. With Borobá they would watch the sun come up. Sitting back to back, weapons on their knees, they talked in whispers. They always stayed in contact when they were separated, but even so they had a thousand things to tell each other when they met. Their friendship was profound, and they were sure that it would last throughout their lifetimes. True friendship, they believed, survives the passing of time, is selfless and generous, and asks nothing in return except loyalty. They had never actually discussed it, but both protected their affection from the curiosity of others. They loved each other without making a great show of it, discreetly and quietly. They shared dreams, thoughts, emotions, and secrets by e-mail. They knew each other so well that sometimes words weren't necessary to express what they were thinking.