Inger Frimansson - Good Night, My Darling

They both burst out laughing; they had the same clucking, well-meaning laugh.

“Are we? That wasn’t very nice!”

“Maybe because you’re both Norwegian.”

“So you think we Norwegians all look alike? I don’t think you Swedes look alike.”

He looked over at Martina.

“She’s dark-haired, for example, and you are blonde.”

Ben arrived with a plate of food and an ice cold Coke. She drank eagerly.

Ben said, “We talked about packing yesterday. Nathan will show you. Take the least amount of things necessary. Remember that you have to carry everything that you pack. And think that wet clothes are heavier than dry clothes. All the stuff that you’re not going to take with you, we can store here at the house until we return.”

“OK.”

“You’re going to get another pill from me. Tomorrow you’ll be stronger than ever.”

She couldn’t sleep. Nathan lay beside her; he snored slightly. In spite of the heat, she wished she had something to wrap herself in. She also had to go to the bathroom, but she didn’t want to put on all her clothes, and she didn’t have the energy.

Martina had said, “Good night, everyone! And remember that tonight is the last time we get to sleep in a bed for a long, long time!”

Justine thought that she was going to be longing for a bed, even this one.

She must have fallen asleep after all, because when she woke up, Nathan was already up and busy packing all his things. The aroma of food drifted into the room. The chorus of frogs was intense.

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” said Nathan. “How do we feel today?”

She stretched.

“Fine.”

He was sitting on his haunches, pressing his stuff into the backpack.

“Nathan…”

“Hmmm?”

“No, nothing.”

“Well, get up then. I just heard someone leave the shower.”

“Can you help me pack?”

“Nah. You can manage yourself. I have to talk to Ben a little bit. Take a change of clothes and something to sleep in when we make camp. Don’t forget the malaria pills! OK, I have to go now. Come down as soon as you can.”

Atruck covered with a tarp took them away from the town. Out of consideration, perhaps because she was the oldest woman in the group or because she had been sick, Justine was allowed to sit up front with the driver. The others crowded into the flatbed with the equipment.

Once she turned. Nathan sat with his legs pulled up. Leaning against them was Martina.

She drank some of the lukewarm water from the bottle. The man next to her drove jerkily; he seemed not used to this truck. Every time he changed gears, he tore the gear control so that the small cogs squeaked and howled. This appeared to make him nervous. The windows were rolled down; dust was sucked into the driver’s cab. He took a peek at her from time to time but he couldn’t speak English. He had very dark skin. The jungle was right next to them on each side of the road.

Once, he called out something and pointed at a place on the road. A python, many meters long, was lying there. It was dead; it had been run over. She heard the others asking about it; she didn’t hear the words, just the excitement in their voices. She thought about nighttime. She shuddered.

After a few hours, the truck turned onto a sandy road, heading right into the jungle. The tires slid a bit; they almost got stuck. Then the man turned off the engine, and the jungle noises began to come toward them like a great and growing orchestra.

Justine was sore over her entire body. She jumped down onto the red sand; she massaged her legs.

Nathan stood next to her.

“Here’s your backpack. And I bought this for you.” He gave her a knife in its sheath; it was wide and black and a half meter long.

“A knife?”

“A parang ,” he said.

“It’s unlucky to give something sharp.”

“Whatever. But you’re probably going to need it.”

Justine pulled on the backpack. She let her water bottle hang from one of the metal hooks on the side. She had her fanny pack around her stomach, and she attached the knife there. The heat radiated, pressing sweat drops from her hair fastener. She thought… no she didn’t want to think. If she began thinking, she would lose all her energy; she wouldn’t be able to make it through.

They started off slowly. The first leg was a steep, sandy hill; then the primal forest took over. Ben and Nathan went first. After some time, she noticed that some native men had joined them. She hadn’t noticed them at first. Immediately she thought they had evil intentions, but then she understood that they were going to accompany them on the journey. Ben explained to her that they were members of the Orang-asli, the original people.

They climbed up a slick and slippery slope. Her backpack kept pulling her off balance. She held tight to roots and branches, trudging upwards with difficulty. Heinrich was right behind her, a whistling sound when he breathed.

“How’re you doing?” she panted.

“I hate to complain when we’ve just started,” he said. “But this goddamn heat.”

Yes, the heat was enervating; it made movement slow and breathing heavy. It forced out sweat so that their clothes became wet, made the cloth from their pants cling to their legs making their steps even more difficult.

Once at the top, the plant growth stood like a great green wall. The native men began to clear a path. Justine tried to use her knife, but it was hard to grasp, she needed both hands to hold on to it. One of the men took the knife from her and showed her how to hack. It seemed so easy when he did it.

They cut their way through up there, and then there was a sharp drop, a ravine full of mud and slippery leaves.

“Do we have to go down right here?” said Gudmundur.

“That’s right, they really didn’t give a damn about informing us how the jungle is constructed,” said Heinrich. “They should have told us all the way to the very last vein in the very last leaf.”

Ben came up to them.

“Having a rough time?”

“If only it weren’t so damn hot. We’re not used to it.”

“Drink a lot of water. Don’t forget to drink.”

One of the native men started the descent. He was wearing a shirt with “Pepsi” written on it, and dark blue shorts. His legs were skinny and scratched. She thought she might slip and roll all the way down to the ravine’s stony bottom. Her muscles shook from the strain; she climbed down extraordinarily slowly, holding tightly to vines and branches. Fell on her butt and slid down quite a ways until a tree stump stopped her. She sat for a moment, hugging it like a lifesaver. Once she let go, she managed to set her hand right into a thorny bush. She swore to herself.

Nathan was quite a bit ahead of her. “Aren’t you coming?” he called.

Martina had already reached the bottom.

“We can take a short rest,” Ben said.

The yellow river ran rapidly; from a distance came the thunder of a waterfall.

“Take off your backpack,” said Nathan, but she was too tired; her hands were shaking. He helped her, lifted it off; the straps had cut into her shoulders. Her arms had swollen so that her watch was too tight. She had to loosen it a few holes. She looked at her fingers; they were swollen like small sausages, and she could hardly bend them.

Heinrich was the last one down. His eyes wandered; his clothes were soaked and dirty.

Ben looked at them all.

“You’ll get used to it. It’s hardest at the beginning.”

“I wonder,” said Heinrich. “I’m not sure you can teach an old dog new tricks.”

They had stopped at a beautiful place. Large white flowers were blooming at the river’s edge; higher up they saw grottos, and a group of bats came out into the light, frightened by their closeness. Justine fell to her knees by the river. She let the water run over her hands and face. An enormous butterfly was sitting on a twig which was sticking out over the water. She noticed more of them all at once; they circled around her and she held out her hands. One of them landed on her thumb. She felt its small cool feet and its antennae as it slid across her skin.