Contents ( 49)
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
He snatched the papers up. Sighing heavily, black bangs badly in need of a trim sweeping across one eye, he pulled his battered reading glasses from his bag and slipped them on. “Okay, Señorita Lily Bushwold. Here it is: ‘Why I Want to Be a Jungle Guide,’ by Omar Mathias Alvarez.” He spoke in a low voice, his eyes glued to mine when he wasn’t reading from the page.
I nodded, elated to play teacher with him.
“ ‘I love the jungle. It is my home. I leave the jungle to make money repairing many motorcycles. I think, this is why I am on earth. Motors and wheels. But when I leave Ayachero and try the city I am unhappy. I am surprised.’ ” He rolled his eyes. “Well, the Cochabamba story is another story,” he added in Spanish.
“Go on. English.”
“ ‘I am angry about roads coming in the jungle, about poachers who kill rare game, mahogany prospectors, narcos, ranchers who burn the forests. I know, I am part of this problem, maybe, because I kill animals in the jungle, but only for saving people or to have food for the villagers. These men destroy my paradise, the paradise that belongs to the world. I call these men los hombres de oportunidad. In English, “men of opportunity.” Maybe they drive a barge that leaves poison chemicals, mercury, in ten kilometers of river to pull only ten grams of gold from the mud. Everything dies. Maybe they kill the giant pregnant mother tortoise for her shell, the baby caiman to make stupid dolls. Maybe they look for big mahogany. They don’t care what they destroy, they want the money, the money, the money.
“ ‘One of these men is Fat Carlos. His friend is Dutchie. These are men of opportunity. Five men are with them when I live there, always they kill the rare game. When I am fifteen or sixteen my belief is to fight them, fight all of them. With my hands, with guns or knives. I have violence inside. But now I am older, and I know I am one man only. What can I do?’ ”
Enamored with his story and him, I reached out for his hand; he gave me a nervous smile and continued.
“ ‘It is maybe a contra-dic-shun, but now I believe the only way to save the jungle is bringing people from all over the world to see it. Next they love it. Next they want to save it. How else to teach about jaguar, anaconda, giant river otter who is two meters long, the hilarious bird that looks insane with spikes on his head and smells bad and can barely fly, this bird is called hoatzin. How else to teach about spider monkey, titi monkey, or howler monkey you can hear from ten kilometers, about white-lipped peccary who can attack you but taste delicious, about plants that give you fresh water from their bodies, plants that heal your skin, that heal your belly, heal your mind? This is why I want to be a jungle guide.’ ” He tossed the paper on the table. “The end.”