The Encounter Page 7
I was trapped.
Darkness. Sound of the thornbush created live using brushes
on the ears of the binaural head.
I thought of the jaguar, and then I realised there wasn’t one.
Red Cheeks had imitated the grunt himself and now I’m
alone. The jungle is all around me. Where are they? Listen.
They’ve gone back to the village. I’ve got to get out of the
thornbush. The thorns are in my arms, my legs, my body. I
could die ten times over before anybody finds me. Come on.
Get out of this, just push out. It doesn’t matter how painful it
is, just push out.
I try to pluck the barbs out of my skin. I can’t get them out. I
wave my arms in the air to coagulate the bleeding… The
sound of insects begins to grow, louder and fuller.
SFX: mosquitos and flies all around the binaural head.
I’m like a magnet.
Formations and formations of gnats streak through the air
towards me. I scratch an arm; they pucker my face. I’ve got
to move, to shake them off. I creep away slowly. A creeper
hits me in the face, then another. I tell myself, okay, an
animal would sense my approach. Less gnats. I breathe. I
stop. They find me again. I dance. This is a torture. I have to
think about something else.
Think of something else. Think of evolution. I can’t see
anything and then I do see something. A spider. Whose four
pairs of eyes are luminous. I bring my eyes so close to him
that his eyes are probably reflected in mine.
I edge closer. Through the eyes, I look into a palpitating
mass of electric fire, the light is coming from within. How
did he evolve this way? How did Barnacle evolve to talk to
me this way? Time. Time is the answer.
A snake slithers along the branch, towards the spider. He
cries some sort of distress on the spider frequency, the snake
gobbles him up and then we are back in darkness.
Total darkness.
12. Lost in the Forest
LOREN. I wake up, scratching. The bugs have found me again,
laid their eggs in the open cuts left by the thorns. Feels like
screwworms.
There’s light. I immediately move, to try to find the village. I
work my way back. Good – a trail! I feel saved. But then I
find another, diverging. The thrill of finding the first trail
withers instantly.
Either one could lead to life or death. Death is already here.
It’s always here in the wilderness.
I’ve got to walk. I can’t afford to stop for fear the tribe might
move out of range. Choose one, choose one!
BARNACLE (LOREN voice-over). We’re going to the
beginning.
What was that he said? They’re going to the beginning.
They’re going to move, you’ve got to move. But try not to
move in a circle. I have to move as fast as possible and hope
for some luck.
A light ahead. Humidity. Higher temperature. The canopy is
punctured and sunlight pours into a clearing. I step in.
The clearing is littered with hacked-off branches.
Technological man was here!
SFX: jumble of voices, the sound of a chainsaw and drilling.
REBECCA SPOONER. And because of the price of oil these
very remote regions are being opened up to that kind of very
expensive work. Which before wouldn’t have been
economically viable. But now, because the oil is worth so
much, companies are going into very remote Amazon areas
and looking for oil…
MILTON FRIEDMAN. Is there some society you know that
doesn’t run on greed?
JESS WORTH. They’re all over the world. They’re in Latin
America, they’re in North America, they’ve recently gone
into tar sands, which is probably the most destructive source
of fossil fuels in the world, they’ve gone heavily into Russia,
where they’re trying to drill in the Russian Arctic, they’re
here in the UK, they’re drilling in the North Sea, they’re in
Australia, they’re trying to drill in ultra-deep water, deeper
than deep-water horizon, which created this catastrophic
spill in the gulf of Mexico…
LOREN. Hello!!
Is anybody there?
I’m close to my fellow modern man. The rapacious
developer, as objectionable as he may be, I welcome his
presence… They can’t be far.
Hello! Is anybody here?
I see a thick rope on the floor, a cable, and then I realise it’s
not a cable, but a traffic of army ants. I follow the procession
away from the anthill and find… a watch. I look at it. And
then I understand and before I can fully articulate the
thought, I start running along the freeway of ants and I
find… four bodies.
BARNACLE (LOREN
voice-over
).
Other white people have
been before, they brought death.
LOREN. They’re piled on top of each other. A baseball cap,
jaws without gums, teeth stained by tobacco. And they seem
in some sort of motion, as the ants crawl over them.
I notice an arrow coming out of the hulk of a chest, and then
I see another one lying on the ground, loosened out of flesh.
Should I wait here? Will there be a rescue? It seems silly to
think so…
Somewhere in this mess there might be wallets with the
names of these people, but I can’t bring myself to grope
around inside of what’s left of them with my hands.
Calm down, calm down.
I notice a swelling on my left arm. With my knife I cut it open
and pull out a white maggot. I remember its scientific name,
Callitroga Hominivorax. Hominivorax means devourer of man
– an infestation can kill in a week. I keep walking.
Where is the river?
Where is the river? I have to keep moving. I walk for an hour.
One-fifth of the world’s fresh water is here in the Amazon
basin but I can’t find any water. The heat is overbearing, every
twenty minutes or so I break a segment from a vine, like an
extra-long cucumber, squeeze the juice and drink.
During the following, the
ACTOR
drinks and discards
several small bottles of water.
It has a bitter taste. I don’t think it’s toxic but it’s got more
liquid than other vines. I suck on thirty of these because I need
to and then I find I reach an interesting state of inebriation.
The forest becomes my brain and my brain the forest. I have
the sensation of seeing my thoughts.
SFX: jumble of words.
DAVID FARMER
. A recognition that we are actually part of
nature, and that the whole system is interacting and that our
future, our life, is…
LOREN. I keep moving and the slight hallucination changes. But
I feel that my hand groping around the universe has torn a
corner open. Soon there will be an encounter. I panic, why did
I tear that corner open? I’m not prepared for this encounter;
it’s true. I’m not prepared. Not like the spider swallowed by
the snake. And then a thought suddenly how
ls, savagely.
I was never part of nature.
No, I’m not!!
DAVID FARMER.… a recognition that we are actually part of
nature…
LOREN. No I’m not. None of us were. We’re human beings.
We’re not part of nature.
DAVID FARMER.… we are actually part of nature, and we
cannot escape from it, just as we cannot escape from the
planet.
The
ACTOR
pulls themself up to the table.
LOREN. I jackknife and fall on my stomach on rotting leaves.
I order myself to crawl but my body refuses to obey and I
remain lying, thinking of what will happen to me if I lose
consciousness. Which animal’s going to eat me first? It’ll be
the forest pigs, they eat everything.
I manage to raise my face through sheer force of will, and I
see a lion marmoset, the smallest of all primates, observing me
from a palm frond with a little humid look in his eye, as if
ready to burst into tears. But I know he won’t weep. Only man
weeps. My last conscious impression is the marmoset’s eyes.
Death is a bank of lights being switched off, a vast theatre in
my head, it grows like a cacophony, dims, and then black.
SFX cut: blackout, silence.
Then…
NOMA.
Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are
Like a diamond in the sky
Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are.
13. Burning the Past
The
ACTOR
hums, loops the sound, and creates layers of
chanting.
ACTOR. The Mayoruna found him, yards from the river, and
bought him back to the village.
For five days, he sweated with high fever in a hammock,
under the hands of two shamen who pulled gently at his
limbs. They turned him over and sucked the maggots and
thorns from his back. And the demons from his forehead.
They stood either side of his hammock, chanting, chanting.
He slept, woke, slept again, woke again.
At one point he thought he saw a face in the doorway of
the hut.
LOREN. Barnacle. (Looped.)
ACTOR. Drifting between dream and reality. When he finally
awoke and the fever was gone, it was morning and he was
alone.
He swung out of his hammock and staggered tentatively out
of the hut and into the plaza. The community seemed to be
waiting. Their cheeks seemed pulled downwards by an
invisible weight. Mouths stubbornly shut. Thinner. Weary.
What were they waiting for?
He stumbled past an open doorway, glanced in and stopped
as if electrocuted.
LOREN. Red Cheeks.
ACTOR. What Loren saw was a body sewn inside a funeral
basket.
Red Cheeks’ face could be glimpsed inside, convulsed. His
head seemed to be smouldering, but when Loren looked
closer, the smoke was just the movement of bugs, swarming
round his head.
He turned and across the plaza, he saw Barnacle. Watching
him as if making sure he witnessed all of this.
LOREN. He saved my life. Why?
ACTOR. Barnacle’s gaze didn’t waver.
LOREN. I wanted to resist him, but something came into my
mind…
BARNACLE (LOREN
voice-over
).
They were holding us still,
still in time.
LOREN. They were holding us still, still in time? What does he
mean? Oh I see, it’s a political thing. He’s put down an
insurrection.
BARNACLE (LOREN
voice-over
).
When they burn up, we
move away.
LOREN. When they burn up we move away? What does he
mean?
Soon after that they set the huts on fire. Everything burned.
They moved off into the forest again.
Exhausted breathing, looped.
Red Cheeks’ body is going up in flames now. We walk.
What’s happening? Where are we going? I strain my ears,
hoping against hope for the sound of a plane. I hear nothing.
We walk all that day. We stop at sundown. No evening meal.
We sleep on the forest floor. Nothing to eat the next morning.
It’s the same the next day and the next day and the next
day… I’m walking close behind Barnacle.
I’m going to beam something. Where are we going? I ask him.
BARNACLE (LOREN
voice-over
).
To the beginning.
LOREN. The beginning?
BARNACLE (LOREN
voice-over
).
The beginning.
LOREN. And what are we going to find in your goddamn
beginning?
I stop. And then suddenly I realised that his answer might be
‘death’. Death is awaiting us in the beginning.
I look at the people… I’m searching for signs of resistance in
their eyes, but they drift past me, as if I am invisible. Day
four. Day five. The older people are limping. Women break
off branches, grabbing fruit to feed the children, who loll
vacant-eyed over their parents’ shoulders. This is madness.
We drink water incessantly. I’m going to take leave of
Barnacle and his people. I’ll follow them to the first
navigable body of water, use a log as a raft… I’ll take my
chances. I’ll take my chances.
14. Cambio
LOREN. Days pass. And then, I recognise a human scent,
smoke or cooked meat or decomposition. What is it?
Oh my god, a village! A settlement! Maybe they have a
plane, or a boat, or a radio?
And suddenly a crowd of tribespeople storms forward
through the trees.
Mayoruna – but less gaunt, less emaciated. They rush to
surround the newcomers, the children, touching, jumping,
the adults smiling and exchanging loud greetings.
Barnacle disappears in a circle of women and youngsters –
his family. I see Tuti, throwing himself on the old man,
hugging him. Barnacle swings the boy up onto his shoulders.
Why had I never guessed he was Barnacle’s son?
And suddenly we’re eating.
SFX: the
ACTOR
eating, looped.
Gobbling, gorging. I feel drunk with food, drunk with
momentary survival.
And then –(The
ACTOR
looks towards the binaural head.)
amongst these new people, I see a man, a shaman with a
conical hat, looking at me. He’s wearing shorts. A pair of
tattered shorts. He’s wearing shorts. I hold my breath. I step
closer to him and I say:
The
ACTOR
turns the binaural head to face them.
Olá. Meu nome é Loren.
Fala Português?
The following dialogue is spoken live by the
ACTOR,
switching between a pitched-up microphone for CAMBIO,
and pitched-down microphone for LOREN
.
Music.
I turn away in bitter disappointment. I’m walking away,
when over my shoulder, I hear…
CAMBI
O. Lowen, sim. Bem-vindo, Lowen, cambio.
LOREN. He’s speaking to me in Portuguese. He says,
‘Welcome, Loren.’ And then again, immediately ‘Cambio.’
Cambio means ‘over’, in radio parlance. He just greeted me
with ‘Welcome, Loren, over.’ I’m about to hug him. I have
so many things to say. Listen, I don’t know how long I’ve
been with these people… I’ve lost count of days… I had a
watch but… I’m waiting for a plane… There’s too much.
Just ask something simple.
Is this your village? Est á é sua aldeia?
CAMBIO. Sim, minha aldeia, cambio.
LOREN. ‘Yes, my village, over.’
So these people are relatives of yours? Então essas pessoas
são sua família?
CAMBIO. Meu povo, cambio.
LOREN. ‘My people, over.’
How come you speak Portuguese?
Como que você fala Português?
From here on, the voice of Cambio is pre-recorded with
voice modification. The Portuguese and the English
translation are therefore fluid and overlapping.
CAMBIO. Seis anos atrás, homens armados, trabalhando para
construtores, atacaram a gente. Mas eu consegui fugi.
Encontrei um lugar seguro, uma missão. Eu consegui um
trabalho com empregado para um operador de rádio e lá
aprendi, cambio.
LOREN. ‘Six years ago, gunmen came, working for developers.
They attacked us but I got away. I found a place of safety in
a mission. I got work for the radio operator and I learned, over.’
What’s your name?
Qual é o seu nome?
CAMBIO.
Eles me chamaram Cambio. Cambio.
LOREN. ‘They call me Over. Over.’
SFX: fire.
Smoke hits my eyes. A vast fire has been lit and both
communities are gathered round the flames. They carry their
belongings and pile them next to the fire. Axes, manioc
graters, calabashes, fishhooks, personal belongings. Another
great mound of objects is forming. Painstakingly crafted
objects, critical for the tribe’s survival, things they would
never mindlessly abandon.
Barnacle watches, Tuti upon his shoulders.
What’s this, Cambio? O que é isso, Cambio?
CAMBIO.
A cerimônia, cambio.
LOREN. ‘The ceremony, over.’
For what?
CAMBIO.
Estamos retornando.
LOREN. ‘We’re returning,’ he says.