Ndura. Son Of The Forest

DAY 0

I am in the middle of deepest Africa, sitting, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Fever has taken me over, my body is convulsing and chills are becoming more frequent, a non-localized pain is all that I can feel in my organs. I can’t stop shaking. I'm on top of a hill. Behind me, there is a forest, a lush, wild and ruthless forest. The view in front of me, disappears just like magic, a few scattered stumps and remains of intensive logging, provides a glimpse of what was once there. At the bottom, I can distinguish the first houses of an emerging city. Mud intermingled with leaves and bricks. Civilization.

I am thousands of miles away from home, from my people, my family, my girlfriend, my friends. I even miss my work. The comfortable life, to be able to drink by simply opening a faucet and to eat just by ordering food in any bar. And sleeping in a bed, a warm, dry and safe bed, but mainly safe. Oh how I miss that serenity! When the only uncertainty was knowing how I was going to spend my free time in the evening after work. My previous preoccupations seem so absurd to me now: the mortgage, the salary, arguments between friends, food that I don't like, a soccer game but mainly, the food...

It is clear that the need for survival changes the point of view of people. Anyway, this is what happened to me. What am I doing so far away from home, dying, at the border of the Central African forest? How did I get myself into such a Dantean and apparently irremediable situation? What is the genesis of this story?

I mentally review the dire circumstances that led me to be on the brink of death, at the entrance of the transit freeway to the beyond, to the more than probable extinction of my story from the book of life.

DAY 1

HOW THIS AMAZING STORY BEGAN

I checked my watch. Our plane back to Spain takes off in two hours. Alex, Juan and I were already in the shopping area at Windhoek's airport, using our last coins of the local currency and, incidentally, buying that gift that you always leave till the very end. We had already eaten. Shopping was the only thing left for us to do. I bought a knife for my father with a wooden handle and carved with the name of the country, Namibia. And for the others, all types of animal figures finely carved in wood. For my girlfriend Elena, in particular, I bought a beautiful hand carved giraffe from a typical village in the African savanna. Alex bought a blowpipe and many arrows. According to him, it's to play with on his dartboard and spice things up, to give it a, somewhat, more tribal incentive. We wandered from one place to another for an hour, with our backpacks on our backs, enjoying our last moments in that exotic country. Until the boarding started. Since we had already checked our luggage we went directly to the indicated gate and it didn't take long until we were in our seats in the airplane, an old four engine model with propellers, after taking a few photos of the aircraft first. Our fifteen day safari in an off-road vehicle in the wild African savanna was coming to an end and, although we would miss these lands, we really longed for a shower with hot water and good food, Spanish style. In any case, it was a shame to leave at that specific time because we were told that if we had stayed a few more days we would have witnessed one of the most stunning sun eclipses in decades in the area of Africa where it was best to see it clearly.

I was the boldest and the most adventurous of the three and I ended up convincing them to come with me, to this place. It's one thing to have an adventurous spirit, it's another thing to go without company. At first, they were reluctant to abandon their relaxing holiday plans in the North of Italy, for an apparently uncomfortable photographic safari in a place with temperatures above 40 degrees all day long, without a trace of shade to shelter yourself. Now that the experience was over, they did not seem to regret it at all, on the contrary, they would do it again without thinking twice about it.

The machine was taking us more than 1,000 kilometers to the North to another international airport, where we would connect with the modern and comfortable European airlines, to return home.

After takeoff, we occupied ourselves by looking at the photographs from the trip on Alex's digital camera. There was a super funny picture of Alex and Juan running terrified with an ill-tempered wildebeest chasing them. While they finished looking at the photos, between laughter and memories, I was lost in my thoughts looking out the window, watching the clouds passing by around us. It felt good to be returning home with my two best friends, whom I knew from school, from a wonderful adventure in an incredible country. It was like being in a National Geographic television coverage, like the ones I loved watching on TV while I ate. A safari in a 4x4, following the trail of the great migrations of wildebeests, photographing the herds of elephants or watching the famous lions from a few meters away in the heat of the wild African savanna. We had seen fights between hippopotamus, crocodiles waiting anxiously in search of a prey, hyenas eager for some carrion, vultures flying in circles over some corpse, some strange reptiles, and all types of insects. We had camped in tents in the middle of nowhere, had supper to the light of a campfire with a clear sky full of stars... a wonderful experience. Especially the visit to the Etosha National Park.

Down there, in contrast to what we had seen so far, there was an enormous green stain, we were crossing the equator area. The forest covered everything, an endless green luxuriance. The aim of our next trip would be to do something like that, a boat ride along the Amazon River, with stops to enjoy the hugely diverse forms of life in the place. We had already seen the immensity of a deforested savanna and now I wanted to see the magnificence of a sea of vegetation and overflowing life. To be able to advance by machete blows in the almost impassable forest, to learn to find food, to get to know tribes that have nothing to do with our civilization, to see exotic animals and plants... but well, that would be for next year if I managed to convince my friends one more time. And, in any case, the North of Italy is not such a bad plan.

A loud noise, like an explosion, followed by a very abrupt airplane maneuver, yanked me out of my world of fantasies. The aircraft moved from side to side and soon it felt like I was in a roller coaster. I found myself lying on the floor in the middle of the aisle, over a lady. I immediately stood up and returned to my seat, trying not to fall again. Panicked screams resonated from everywhere. Confusion reigned.

“Fire, fire, the wing has been hit!” Somebody shouted from the opposite side of the aisle.

“The right one!” Another passenger indicated.

At first I did not know what he was talking about, but when I looked through his side of the window I could see a concentration of smoke that made ​​it seem like it was night time on his side, a tragic night. The airplane's movements were becoming more abrupt. Some people started shouting. We heard the nervous and hardly audible voice of the pilot, coming from the loudspeakers, informing us that we had been hit by a missile shot from the guerrillas that were in the Congo, which we were flying over, and that we were going to make an emergency landing. A woman had a hysterical attack and two stewardesses with the help of another man had to forcefully keep her in her seat. The three of us quickly sat down, we tightened our seatbelts and we put ourselves in the position that the stewardess had indicated when we first got into the airplane, with our head on our knees, watching the less than reassuring metal floor. We were terrified. While I was in that uncomfortable position, I remembered that one time on the news, they had talked about these rebels who were rich because they controlled some of the country's diamond mines or even the precious coltan, a mineral that contains an essential metal for making cellphone cards, microchips or components of nuclear power plants. It was something like a bloody civil war, in which all surrounding countries had economic and military interests, and that had lasted for more than twenty years now and did not seem to have an end.

The blows were so strong that they jerked me forward, repeatedly, which such vigor that the seatbelt tightened around my stomach leaving me breathless and my head hit the seat in front of me. I felt that the airplane's nose aimed towards the ground, beginning a vertiginous tailspin. The noise was infernal, like thousands of engines unleashing their full potential simultaneously. Just before reaching the ground, the pilot sent a last warning by loudspeaker, informing us that he was going to make an emergency landing in a clearing that he had located. The last thing I thought about was that we were all going to die in the crash. After that, everything was complete chaos, loud sounds, blows, darkness...

When I recovered consciousness, I had an intense headache. I put my hand on my forehead and noticed that it was bleeding a little. On top of that, I had bruises and scratches all over my body. But worst, a big blister on my exposed flesh where the belt had been pressuring me. I ran my fingers over it and I felt a sharp sting that made me clench my teeth tightly. I looked at my friends, Juan seemed to be in a state of shock, he sort of growled in complaint and moved a little, Alex... Alex did not move at all, his once vital and happy face was totally pale, displaying a stiff expression, blood flowing abundantly from the back of his neck. I desperately called him, again and again. I touched his face, it was very stiff. I took him between my hands and shook him gently, calling him, begging him. Alex was dead, dead. That word resonated time and time again in my head, as if it was its own echo. Dead.

Anguished and overwhelmed by the situation, I tried to react. A bum-bum-bum sound resonated in my head, possibly because of the blow.

“Just a minute,” I thought, “it wasn’t in my head.” Somewhere in the distance I could hear the pounding of drums in a repetitive melodic tune. It seemed like someone was communicating from a distance.

“Shit!” I thought.

I stood up staggering, an idea springing into my head. If the guerrillas have crashed our plane, they will come here and take us prisoner or even kill us. We had to leave immediately. My first reaction was to warn Alex, but when I turned my head and saw him again, I was, once again, reminded of his death. I stood still for a few seconds until I was able to move again. I came closer to Juan, who remained in his seat and had moved a couple of times, like someone who's sleeping and having a nightmare.

“Juan” I stammered “we must leave.”

“And Alex?” He muttered without opening his eyes.

“Alex, Alex is dead Juan” I answered, trying not to collapse. “Come, Alex is dead and we will be too if we don't leave. He is dead.”

I looked for my backpack, stumbling in the middle of the chaos until I found it. I took it and I went to the back of the airplane. In that part, one side was burning and it was really hot. The airplane was full of people scattered in the most unusual positions, some wounded, others trying to move, others dead. I heard shouts, moans and murmurs coming from everywhere. I arrived in the kitchen and put everything I found in the backpack: soft drink cans, sandwiches, boxes of unlisted things, and a fork. When it was full, I returned to where Juan was and I took his backpack, which was on top of a woman. In it, I put some airplane blankets. Then I remembered the medicine kit and I returned to the kitchen, there it was, on the floor, opened and with everything in it scattered around. I gathered the things that were close to me, as much as I could, then I went to get Juan.

“Come on Juan, we're leaving.”

“I can't.” He whispered. “Everything hurts. “Come on Juan, you have to get up or they will kill us all. I am going to leave the backpacks outside then I'll come back to get you.”

“Alright, alright, I will try.” He answered, shaking a little in his seat.

I grabbed the two backpacks and I left staggering a little still affected by all the commotion from the crash. I had to keep myself from not stopping to help the rest of the people, but I did not know how long I had and I only wanted to live. Live one more day to see another sunrise. We were on one side of a glade in the woods. By the look of it, the pilot had tried to land here taking advantage of the absence of trees, but he strayed a little. The plane lost its left wing when it hit the big trees. A long stream of smoke trailed from the plane towards the sky, allowing anyone to see it from miles away. I entered the woods a bit more and I left the backpacks at the foot of a big tree. Then, I turned, with the intention of returning to the airplane, but, at that moment, a group of armed black guys burst into the clearing, on the opposite side of where I was. I quickly crouched, hiding myself behind a trunk. I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach. The guerilla men, some wearing camouflage and others in civilian clothes, surrounded the airplane aiming with their weapons and shouting non-stop. I did not understand a word of what they were saying, but from the area where we were, it had to be Swahili or who knows what other language.

“Nitoka!” They shouted time and time again. “Enyi! Nitoka! Maarusi![1]”

Soon after, some baffled and confused passengers began to leave the airplane. They started unceremoniously pushing them down to the ground and thoroughly searching them. More rebels arrived. One of the passengers, a man who was sitting in front of us, got nervous and stood up trying to run away. The guerrilla men fired multiple shots with their machine guns and he fell down dead almost instantly. During that moment of confusion, Juan left the airplane and ran in the opposite direction from where everyone was paying attention.

“Basi![2] Basi!” Some rebels shouted when they discovered him.

“Nifyetua![3]” The one who seemed to be the boss shouted out, when Juan was on the verge of reaching the edge of the clearing.

Then, two of them fired at him from behind without further delay. One of the bullets whistled in my ear as it passed next to me. I lowered my head and I closed my eyes tightly, with the stupid belief that this could save me from the bullets. He fell to his knees just ten feet away from where I was watching and, before collapsing entirely, he managed to look at me, crouched, and dedicated his last smile to me.

“Nitoka, maarusi!” They kept shouting towards the airplane.

I did not have to make a great effort not to scream, because I was completely muted and paralyzed. I don't know how long I stayed this way, but when I was able to move again, I knew with certainty that I only had one door left: to run for my life. I took the two backpacks and I walked into the lush forest trying as much as I could to be extremely stealthy, which I didn't succeed to do, since I was stumbling and my entire body was sore, I was incapable of having complete control over it. It didn't know where to go, but it was obvious that if I wanted to have the best chance at survival, I had to distance myself as much as I could from those savages.

I walked for almost two hours, spurred by the fear, fear of death, until my legs couldn't take it anymore and I fainted and fell to the ground. It seemed like the backpacks were loaded with stones. I felt a deep pain in my left knee; ever since I injured myself playing soccer, my knee hadn't absolutely healed and I still had problems with it from time to time when forcing it. I opened my backpack and I took a soda out. It was still a bit fresh and I drank it with avidity. I was sweating abundantly, drops of sweat fell torrentially from my chin, as if it had been raining or I had just come out of a swimming pool. I needed air, so I opened my mouth trying to take in deep breaths. I choked while drinking too fast which got me into a severe sneezing fit. I felt myself drowning. When I was able to cool down a little, though I was still panting, I realized that there was less light, it was getting dark. Alex dead in the accident, Juan riddled with bullets; my two best friends lost in just a small moment by the stupidity of a civil war that I did not understand and that I could not care less about. Why don't they kill each other? Why us? Why did it have to be my friends, Alex and Juan? Bastards! If it was up to me I'd let them expire altogether. Because of them, I was now alone, in this shitty, humid, overwhelming and asphyxiating place, without my friends. Why me? Why them? Juan's death, machine-gunned by those savages, replayed in my head time and time again as if it was a movie. The extinguishing light of his eyes in that last look he gave me. I tried not to think about it, to hide it in some deep fold of my brain, but I failed. Just a few hours ago we were together, laughing while remembering the anecdotes of the trip and now...

I cried for a while, I don't know how long, but it was very helpful. When I managed to stop, I felt much better. Well, I was calmer at least. It was obviously getting dark, the dim forest was submerging in the world of darkness. I had to look for a place to sleep. I was afraid to sleep on the ground, mainly in case the rebels found me, but sleeping in a tree didn't reassure me either, with snakes, those howler monkeys or whatever fierce and hungry beast there could be. I had to make up my mind. Snakes, or armed and furious men? Snakes seemed to be the lesser of two evils, at least they still hadn't done anything to me. I looked for a tree that seemed accessible for me to climb, difficult for the snakes and with some space where I could settle down to sleep.

It was at that moment that I noticed there was an incredible number of types of trees and plants. From the smallest plants, almost tiny, to trees that measured more than 160 feet whose trunk surpassed the others and where you couldn't even see the end. A huge amalgam of different classes of flora sprinkled everywhere; including super high palm trees with painted frayed leaves several feet tall with compact and dense groups of flowers[4]. There was a superior layer of trees about 100 feet tall and ones that went even higher up, then, a second layer about 30 or 65 feet tall with an elongated shape like the cypresses of our cemeteries and a third layer 16 to 26 feet tall where only a small amount of light penetrated. There also were some shrubs, young samples of different types of trees, although only a few, and a layer of moss that almost covered all the shrub in some parts, as well as a multitude of lianas climbing on all the trunks, hanging from all the branches. Flowers and fruit everywhere, mainly on the highest layers, but unattainable to me. You could also see all kinds of animals, it was not easy to see them, but I could hear an innumerable variety of bird calls, monkey chatters, branches being shaken above my head with the passage of one of them, insects humming around flowers everywhere, even some terrestrial animal whose footsteps I could hear as a distant noise. Butterflies and the rest of the insects churned all around. If I wasn't in the situation I was in, I would have enjoyed such a beautiful place, but at that moment, everything was a potential obstacle to my survival. And everything scared me.

After a brief search I found a tree that seemed to be suitable and I climbed it with the two backpacks on my back. It was incredible how heavy they seemed to weigh and my knee begged me for a time-out. When I was sufficiently high to feel safe, but not too high that I could kill or seriously hurt myself if I fell at night, I squeezed myself as well as I could between two heavy branches that went together, almost parallel and I covered myself a little with one of the small blankets that I had brought from the airplane and I used another one as a pillow. I was able to catch a glimpse of an incredible amount of big dark-brown bats, flapping around in the sky, in that special way they usually do, churning erratically and using their impulses[5]. I didn't know how to count them, but there must have been thousands, making stops mainly in the palm trees, eating their fruit, I imagined, or hunting the insects that ate the fruit.