Into Darkness: Chapter 1, Section(s) 5 & 6

[5]

   The number of people living in the rainforest had been dwindling for generations and the end our way of life was only a stone’s throw away. Time was forcing the people around us to assimilate into an advancing society or risk being left behind, like we had already been. I was always intrigued whenever I heard about some wild invention. The way the villagers would gather around the person who had the vastly intriguing information, almost as if they were trying to secure the words from leaving their circle, for fear of the elders overhearing their fable. Clearly, they did a bad job of keeping these stories to themselves. They would always talk with wide eyes and voices that bordered on revery. It was as if they too wanted to be a part of the world that was becoming so integrated with itself and they were stuck here, trapped in the rainforest, still using sticks to get their food and having to bathe and drink from the same river. It wasn't an easy life but I believe most stayed because of the solitude it guaranteed a human. It's impossible for me to explain the feeling living there. I'll try my best to explain the feelings, though. What I will say about Qurituba now, is, that on any given day, you could literally feel yourself being lifted an inch off of the ground because of the magnificent scenery we were so blessed to be borne into. The way the sun would set and the river would lull itself to sleep at the end of each day, the way the ground began to tremble with our ancestors trying to find a way back onto this land because living in Qurituba was better than living in Heaven. At least, for those willing enough to let themselves be washed over with the images that most would kill to see. Now, I can understand their wish for just one more sunset, one more lazy afternoon by the river, one more day with my family, even my father, I miss him, too.

   In the moment though, I never saw the same things others would speak of. When they saw beauty, I saw waste. When they saw spirtual realites, I saw foolishness. I would always think to myself that they were foolish, that my father wasn't totally wrong in his ideas because I was shaped by his ideas and the way the villagers wanted to leave, yet were too afraid to do so. I didn't want to be like them. I was going to leave.  

   It was practical to believe that my grandchildren would no longer be living in the same plot of land that I had shared with my ancestors. We were ancient and they were something of the future. It was just one more reason to find another untouched part of the world and settle, though. We could have been the last tribe to avert modernity for spirituality and other more personal things than what the world is run by now. For some reason though, the elders were hell bent on successfully staying in Qurituba or having their ashes strewn across the streets of future societies, that way, they would never leave. Or so, I think. The only thing is, we didn’t do that. We fought and we lost. So I suspect. 

    You see, this is the most difficult thing I have had to deal with since I left that jungle. I left. I left and I didn’t care about the rest of them. I had seen enough and didn’t want to end up one of those mysterious people who ate dinner with his family and kissed his wife goodnight only end up swallowed by the forest the next morning. I knew my time was coming and I had to act fast even if it meant leaving some very important people that I have no idea survived the ordeal or not. All I know is that I can’t find any information on that part of the world referencing a railroad company or even a village inhabited with human beings so I can only convince myself to believe they we won. And that helps me cope sometimes.  

   We had known it was coming, the tracks had been laid for years, but we never really believed they would arrive. Like a fading dream we forgot what exactly those 23 had come for. Expansion? Land? Power? Greed? Or was this just destiny and we were always bound to meet on the same path. Maybe you can answer that question when you’re through reading my story.  

[6]

            The amazed and fearful wonderment was etched into my father’s face and my memory forever. They came in so quickly. One day they were introducing themselves, explaining their mission and weeks later the first railroad spike was being hammered into the ground. That was the easiest part; the next 12 years would be much more difficult. 

            They called themselves The Best Friends of Charleston. We called them something else: Invaders. We had heard of these people. They come to these villages, my villages. They would ask to speak to the leader of the community and attempt to persuade him with visions of riches unimaginable or some other dream that had never been dreamt before. We had heard about the villages that accepted these beliefs as their own and disappeared into the surrounding society of Ecuador. They were weak and we were strong. This was not going to happen in Qurituba. We had backbones and we had the strongest hunters in the whole country. No. The Best Friends of Charleston were going to have to turn back come daybreak. Where others see themselves as visionaries to the future the elders of our community were steadfast in keeping with tradition. Any invasion of futuristic ideas was viewed as taboo and the person who presented them would be chastised until cast from society. It’s what happened to my father.   

[7]