Forest of the Pygmies(19)
The travelers realized that they were witnessing the most original "bull" fight ever. The missionary was flourishing the canvas as he would a scarlet cape, provoking the beast and goading it with shouts of "Ole!" and "Toro! Toro!" He was bamboozling it, he was dancing before it, he was maddening it. In a short time, he had exhausted the boar; it was drooling, near collapse, its legs trembling. At that point Brother Fernando turned his back and, with the supreme arrogance of a torero, walked a few steps away, dragging his cape, as the boar tottered on its feet. Angie seized the instant to kill it with two shots to the head. A loud chorus of applause and cheers greeted Brother Fernando's daring feat.
"What good fun that was! It's been thirty-five years since I had a chance to do that," he exclaimed.
He smiled for the first time since they had met him, and he told them that his childhood dream had been to follow in the footsteps of his father, a famous torero, but God had had other plans for him. He had fallen victim to a terrible fever that left him nearly blind, so he couldn't pursue that career. He was wondering what he was going to do with his life when he learned through the parish priest in his village that the church was recruiting missionaries to serve in Africa. He had answered the call only out of the despair of not being able to be a toreador, but soon he discovered he had found his vocation. Being a missionary required the same talents as bullfighting: courage, endurance, and the faith to confront difficulties.
"Fighting bulls is easy. Serving Christ is a little more complex," Brother Fernando concluded.
"To judge by the demonstration you gave us, apparently good eyesight isn't a requirement for either," Angie said warmly—he had saved her life.
"We'll have enough meat for several days, but we need to cook it so it will last a little longer," said Brother Fernando.
"Did you get photographs of the corrida?" Kate asked Joel.
The poor fellow had to admit that in the excitement of the moment he had completely forgotten his obligation.
"I have pictures!" shouted Alexander, waving the tiny camera he always had with him.
The only person who knew how to skin and gut the wild boar turned out to be Brother Fernando; he'd seen hogs slaughtered many times in his village. He took off his shirt and got down to work. He didn't have the right knives, so the task was slow and grubby. As he worked, Alexander and Joel, armed with long sticks, beat off the buzzards circling just above their heads. After an hour the edible meat was dressed. They threw the rest into the river, in order not to attract the flies and carnivores that would be drawn by the scent of blood. The missionary dug out the wild pig's tusks and after cleaning them with sand gave them to Alexander and Nadia.
"These are for you to take back to the States as a souvenir," he said.
"That's if we get out of here alive," Angie added.
?
Brief but heavy rain showers fell through most of the night, making it difficult to keep the fire going. They set a canvas over it, but it kept going out, and finally they resigned themselves to letting it die. The only incident occurred during Angie's shift, something she later described as "a miraculous escape." A crocodile frustrated at not catching its prey at the riverbank was brazen enough to approach the faint glow of the coals and the oil lamp. Angie, crouching beneath a piece of plastic to keep dry, didn't hear it. She became aware of its presence only when it was so close that she could see the gaping jaws less than three feet from her legs. In that split second, the prophecy of Má Bangesé, the marketplace diviner, flashed through her mind. She thought her time had come, yet didn't have the presence of mind to use the rifle by her side. Instinct and fright took over; she sprang up and leaped aside, letting out a series of screams that roused her friends. The crocodile hesitated only a few seconds and lunged forward again. Angie started running, tripped, and fell, rolling to one side to avoid the croc.
The first to answer Angie's screams was Alexander, who had just crawled out of his sleeping bag to report for his shift. Without stopping to think what he was doing, he grabbed the first thing that came to hand and slammed it down as hard as he could on the beast's snout. He screamed louder than Angie and blindly kicked and struck at the animal, half the time missing it completely. By then everyone had run out to help, and Angie, recovered from her surprise, began firing her weapon. Even without careful aim, one or two bullets hit the target but failed to penetrate the saurian's thick hide. Finally all the racket, and Alexander's blows, changed the crocodile's mind about dinner, and it headed back toward the river, tail slashing indignantly.
"Th—that was a crocodile!" exclaimed Alexander, stuttering and trembling, unable to believe that he had battled such a monster.
"Come here, kid, let me give you a kiss; you saved my life," Angie called, crushing Alex to her ample bosom.
Alexander felt his ribs creak and was choked by a scent of fear and gardenia perfume as Angie covered him with loud smacks, laughing and crying at once.
Joel came over to examine the weapon Alexander had used.
"That's my camera!" he yipped.
It was. The black leather case was destroyed, but the heavy German mechanism had withstood the brutal encounter with the crocodile without apparent damage.
"I'm really sorry, Joel. The next time I'll use my own," said Alexander, pulling out his small pocket camera.