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“What’s happening?” I ask Samuel and tighten my hand in his.
“I don’t know.” He lets go of me and steps into the circle with the men. Kaikare turns and comes to me. She wraps her arms around my neck and lays her cheek on my shoulder. I pat her back affectionately. It’s the best way for us to communicate the family love between us.
“Wakü,” I tell her.Good.
She lifts her head and stares into my eyes as though she needs to assess my well-being herself. Her hands press to my bulging stomach as though she’s holding a glass ball and can foresee the future. She glances up at me and smiles.
I’m relieved to see her smile. Kaikare and her father both have a divine presence about them, and I trust her unique wisdom.
Samuel asks me to mentally take notes when the baby moves. It’s something I have to monitor every day, and Samuel has to take my blood pressure.
We talk about keeping the fluid down in my ankles by resting in the hammock frequently. And, of course, he has banned me from wandering into the forest alone. Even to pee—last night he stood a good distance away to give me some privacy but also to keep guard. I’m not going to object because I’ve vowed never to wander off on my own again.
The memory hits me at the same time I lock eyes with Kapeá Tapire.Red Moon.Her stomach is more pronounced since I was last in the village. I can still picture her strung to the bamboo like a wild animal ready to be carted away. It’s like an understanding passes between us, one where I saved her life.
She smiles at me, and I give her a subtle nod in return.
Kaikare turns to where my focus is and smiles. She takes my hand and leads me to Kapeá Tapire. Kaikare speaks to her, and then the young girl, like Kaikare, wraps her arms around my neck and lays her cheek on my shoulder. This is now our universal way of showing gratitude.
When she releases me, I reach out and touch her stomach with one hand. She mirrors my action on my stomach. “Wakü?”
She nods once and smiles at Kaikare, then at me.
“During our absence, the shaman granted Mari' Iwoi permission to move his hammock to her family hut,” Samuel announces.
“So Dancing Snake is free to… well, literally do that,” I say and giggle.
Samuel shakes his head at me. “Do you reference everything to sex?”
“Says Väi Uarati Kún-imá,” I say and laugh again. “Seriously, how can I not with some of these names. At least you kept our daughter’s name clean.”
“Eden,” he says in a reprimanding tone. “The discussions with the men are serious. Someone passed along the river while we were gone. They hope the intruders didn’t see the smoke rising above the trees from the cooking fires. There’s tension in the village, and you’re giggling with Kaikare and Kapeá Tapire.”
“To be fair, nobody informed me about the discussions. And both ladies are happy to see me so, of course, we’re going to be smiling.”
“I understand.” He takes my hand and leads me to the fire where the women are frying bread. Kaikare steps ahead and picks up some flat bread and hands it to me.
“Oo?”
“Waküpe-küruman,” I tell her.Thank you.
Samuel takes me aside and sits me away from everyone else. “My fear is the people cruising the river in boats are those working for the mines and that they’re finding secret places along the river too. It also means they’ll carry guns and disease, and even if they set up camp further along the river, the mine will poison the water in these parts. I need to get word to Asoo. Some of the nearby communities have inside information. We need to know if Ulara is on their map to mine.
22
EDEN
The following morning, I search my bag for my antimalarial tablets as I only take them once a week. That way, it’s less harmful to the fetus—that’s how my doctor described the medication. Cupping my hand under my belly, I consider my baby as already real and not a medical term. I’m yet to decide on a name that suits her, although I want it to reflect my grandmother, so maybe her middle name should be Ivy as in hindsight, that also signifies the jungle. My name is also connected to the jungle in the sense of a biblical garden or paradise. I smile with memories of my gran, and with that, I pull out the diary and open it to the page where I last read.
24thOctober 1961
Albert and I have fought every day for the last two weeks.
Tonight, in anger, I told him about my letter and how I wish I hadn’t met him and wish I was going to volunteer and help people who needed me, people who were genuinely poor and sick and in desperate need of medical help.
He got upset and told me that he and Winston needed my help in other ways and why I couldn’t see it. Why must I keep fighting him on this? Why do I find it hard to just be his wife and a mother?
It opened up a can of worms, and now I’m doubting my ability to be both. I’m a terrible mother and wife.
