Javier Salazar Calle - Ndura. Son Of The Forest

I was the boldest and the most adventurous of the three and I ended up convincing them to come with me, to this place. It's one thing to have an adventurous spirit, it's another thing to go without company. At first, they were reluctant to abandon their relaxing holiday plans in the North of Italy, for an apparently uncomfortable photographic safari in a place with temperatures above 40 degrees all day long, without a trace of shade to shelter yourself. Now that the experience was over, they did not seem to regret it at all, on the contrary, they would do it again without thinking twice about it.

The machine was taking us more than 1,000 kilometers to the North to another international airport, where we would connect with the modern and comfortable European airlines, to return home.

After takeoff, we occupied ourselves by looking at the photographs from the trip on Alex's digital camera. There was a super funny picture of Alex and Juan running terrified with an ill-tempered wildebeest chasing them. While they finished looking at the photos, between laughter and memories, I was lost in my thoughts looking out the window, watching the clouds passing by around us. It felt good to be returning home with my two best friends, whom I knew from school, from a wonderful adventure in an incredible country. It was like being in a National Geographic television coverage, like the ones I loved watching on TV while I ate. A safari in a 4x4, following the trail of the great migrations of wildebeests, photographing the herds of elephants or watching the famous lions from a few meters away in the heat of the wild African savanna. We had seen fights between hippopotamus, crocodiles waiting anxiously in search of a prey, hyenas eager for some carrion, vultures flying in circles over some corpse, some strange reptiles, and all types of insects. We had camped in tents in the middle of nowhere, had supper to the light of a campfire with a clear sky full of stars... a wonderful experience. Especially the visit to the Etosha National Park.

Down there, in contrast to what we had seen so far, there was an enormous green stain, we were crossing the equator area. The forest covered everything, an endless green luxuriance. The aim of our next trip would be to do something like that, a boat ride along the Amazon River, with stops to enjoy the hugely diverse forms of life in the place. We had already seen the immensity of a deforested savanna and now I wanted to see the magnificence of a sea of vegetation and overflowing life. To be able to advance by machete blows in the almost impassable forest, to learn to find food, to get to know tribes that have nothing to do with our civilization, to see exotic animals and plants... but well, that would be for next year if I managed to convince my friends one more time. And, in any case, the North of Italy is not such a bad plan.

A loud noise, like an explosion, followed by a very abrupt airplane maneuver, yanked me out of my world of fantasies. The aircraft moved from side to side and soon it felt like I was in a roller coaster. I found myself lying on the floor in the middle of the aisle, over a lady. I immediately stood up and returned to my seat, trying not to fall again. Panicked screams resonated from everywhere. Confusion reigned.

“Fire, fire, the wing has been hit!” Somebody shouted from the opposite side of the aisle.

“The right one!” Another passenger indicated.

At first I did not know what he was talking about, but when I looked through his side of the window I could see a concentration of smoke that made ​​it seem like it was night time on his side, a tragic night. The airplane's movements were becoming more abrupt. Some people started shouting. We heard the nervous and hardly audible voice of the pilot, coming from the loudspeakers, informing us that we had been hit by a missile shot from the guerrillas that were in the Congo, which we were flying over, and that we were going to make an emergency landing. A woman had a hysterical attack and two stewardesses with the help of another man had to forcefully keep her in her seat. The three of us quickly sat down, we tightened our seatbelts and we put ourselves in the position that the stewardess had indicated when we first got into the airplane, with our head on our knees, watching the less than reassuring metal floor. We were terrified. While I was in that uncomfortable position, I remembered that one time on the news, they had talked about these rebels who were rich because they controlled some of the country's diamond mines or even the precious coltan, a mineral that contains an essential metal for making cellphone cards, microchips or components of nuclear power plants. It was something like a bloody civil war, in which all surrounding countries had economic and military interests, and that had lasted for more than twenty years now and did not seem to have an end.

The blows were so strong that they jerked me forward, repeatedly, which such vigor that the seatbelt tightened around my stomach leaving me breathless and my head hit the seat in front of me. I felt that the airplane's nose aimed towards the ground, beginning a vertiginous tailspin. The noise was infernal, like thousands of engines unleashing their full potential simultaneously. Just before reaching the ground, the pilot sent a last warning by loudspeaker, informing us that he was going to make an emergency landing in a clearing that he had located. The last thing I thought about was that we were all going to die in the crash. After that, everything was complete chaos, loud sounds, blows, darkness...

When I recovered consciousness, I had an intense headache. I put my hand on my forehead and noticed that it was bleeding a little. On top of that, I had bruises and scratches all over my body. But worst, a big blister on my exposed flesh where the belt had been pressuring me. I ran my fingers over it and I felt a sharp sting that made me clench my teeth tightly. I looked at my friends, Juan seemed to be in a state of shock, he sort of growled in complaint and moved a little, Alex... Alex did not move at all, his once vital and happy face was totally pale, displaying a stiff expression, blood flowing abundantly from the back of his neck. I desperately called him, again and again. I touched his face, it was very stiff. I took him between my hands and shook him gently, calling him, begging him. Alex was dead, dead. That word resonated time and time again in my head, as if it was its own echo. Dead.

Anguished and overwhelmed by the situation, I tried to react. A bum-bum-bum sound resonated in my head, possibly because of the blow.

“Just a minute,” I thought, “it wasn’t in my head.” Somewhere in the distance I could hear the pounding of drums in a repetitive melodic tune. It seemed like someone was communicating from a distance.

“Shit!” I thought.

I stood up staggering, an idea springing into my head. If the guerrillas have crashed our plane, they will come here and take us prisoner or even kill us. We had to leave immediately. My first reaction was to warn Alex, but when I turned my head and saw him again, I was, once again, reminded of his death. I stood still for a few seconds until I was able to move again. I came closer to Juan, who remained in his seat and had moved a couple of times, like someone who's sleeping and having a nightmare.

“Juan” I stammered “we must leave.”

“And Alex?” He muttered without opening his eyes.

“Alex, Alex is dead Juan” I answered, trying not to collapse. “Come, Alex is dead and we will be too if we don't leave. He is dead.”

I looked for my backpack, stumbling in the middle of the chaos until I found it. I took it and I went to the back of the airplane. In that part, one side was burning and it was really hot. The airplane was full of people scattered in the most unusual positions, some wounded, others trying to move, others dead. I heard shouts, moans and murmurs coming from everywhere. I arrived in the kitchen and put everything I found in the backpack: soft drink cans, sandwiches, boxes of unlisted things, and a fork. When it was full, I returned to where Juan was and I took his backpack, which was on top of a woman. In it, I put some airplane blankets. Then I remembered the medicine kit and I returned to the kitchen, there it was, on the floor, opened and with everything in it scattered around. I gathered the things that were close to me, as much as I could, then I went to get Juan.