Javier Salazar Calle - Ndura. Son Of The Forest

Ndura.

Son of the forest.

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By

Javier Salazar Calle

Cover design © Sara García

Original title: Ndura. Hijo de la selva.

Copyright © Javier Salazar Calle, 2014

Translation: Pamela Daccache

2nd Edition

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Dedicated to all those who, like me, live adventures and travel without moving from their place; because they let the power of imagination prevail in this world.

Special dedication to my best friend, who passed away many years ago and to my son Alex, who inherited his name and for whom I have high hopes.

DAY 0 DAY 0 I am in the middle of deepest Africa, sitting, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Fever has taken me over, my body is convulsing and chills are becoming more frequent, a non-localized pain is all that I can feel in my organs. I can’t stop shaking. I'm on top of a hill. Behind me, there is a forest, a lush, wild and ruthless forest. The view in front of me, disappears just like magic, a few scattered stumps and remains of intensive logging, provides a glimpse of what was once there. At the bottom, I can distinguish the first houses of an emerging city. Mud intermingled with leaves and bricks. Civilization. I am thousands of miles away from home, from my people, my family, my girlfriend, my friends. I even miss my work. The comfortable life, to be able to drink by simply opening a faucet and to eat just by ordering food in any bar. And sleeping in a bed, a warm, dry and safe bed, but mainly safe. Oh how I miss that serenity! When the only uncertainty was knowing how I was going to spend my free time in the evening after work. My previous preoccupations seem so absurd to me now: the mortgage, the salary, arguments between friends, food that I don't like, a soccer game but mainly, the food... It is clear that the need for survival changes the point of view of people. Anyway, this is what happened to me. What am I doing so far away from home, dying, at the border of the Central African forest? How did I get myself into such a Dantean and apparently irremediable situation? What is the genesis of this story? I mentally review the dire circumstances that led me to be on the brink of death, at the entrance of the transit freeway to the beyond, to the more than probable extinction of my story from the book of life.

DAY 1

DAY 2

DAY 3

DAY 4

DAY 5

DAY 6

DAY 7

DAY 8

DAY 9

DAY 10

DAYS 11 and 12

DAY 13

DAY 14

DAY 15

DAY 16

DAY 17

DAY 18

DAY 19

DAY 20

DAY 21

DAY 22

DAY 23

DAY 24

DAY 25 and 26

DAY 27

EPILOGUE

APPENDIX I: plant glossary

APPENDIX II: glossary of words in Pygmy

APPENDIX III: real life survival in the forest

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Let the adventure begin...

I am in the middle of deepest Africa, sitting, leaning against the trunk of a tree. Fever has taken me over, my body is convulsing and chills are becoming more frequent, a non-localized pain is all that I can feel in my organs. I can’t stop shaking. I'm on top of a hill. Behind me, there is a forest, a lush, wild and ruthless forest. The view in front of me, disappears just like magic, a few scattered stumps and remains of intensive logging, provides a glimpse of what was once there. At the bottom, I can distinguish the first houses of an emerging city. Mud intermingled with leaves and bricks. Civilization.

I am thousands of miles away from home, from my people, my family, my girlfriend, my friends. I even miss my work. The comfortable life, to be able to drink by simply opening a faucet and to eat just by ordering food in any bar. And sleeping in a bed, a warm, dry and safe bed, but mainly safe. Oh how I miss that serenity! When the only uncertainty was knowing how I was going to spend my free time in the evening after work. My previous preoccupations seem so absurd to me now: the mortgage, the salary, arguments between friends, food that I don't like, a soccer game but mainly, the food...

It is clear that the need for survival changes the point of view of people. Anyway, this is what happened to me. What am I doing so far away from home, dying, at the border of the Central African forest? How did I get myself into such a Dantean and apparently irremediable situation? What is the genesis of this story?

I mentally review the dire circumstances that led me to be on the brink of death, at the entrance of the transit freeway to the beyond, to the more than probable extinction of my story from the book of life.

HOW THIS AMAZING STORY BEGAN

I checked my watch. Our plane back to Spain takes off in two hours. Alex, Juan and I were already in the shopping area at Windhoek's airport, using our last coins of the local currency and, incidentally, buying that gift that you always leave till the very end. We had already eaten. Shopping was the only thing left for us to do. I bought a knife for my father with a wooden handle and carved with the name of the country, Namibia. And for the others, all types of animal figures finely carved in wood. For my girlfriend Elena, in particular, I bought a beautiful hand carved giraffe from a typical village in the African savanna. Alex bought a blowpipe and many arrows. According to him, it's to play with on his dartboard and spice things up, to give it a, somewhat, more tribal incentive. We wandered from one place to another for an hour, with our backpacks on our backs, enjoying our last moments in that exotic country. Until the boarding started. Since we had already checked our luggage we went directly to the indicated gate and it didn't take long until we were in our seats in the airplane, an old four engine model with propellers, after taking a few photos of the aircraft first. Our fifteen day safari in an off-road vehicle in the wild African savanna was coming to an end and, although we would miss these lands, we really longed for a shower with hot water and good food, Spanish style. In any case, it was a shame to leave at that specific time because we were told that if we had stayed a few more days we would have witnessed one of the most stunning sun eclipses in decades in the area of Africa where it was best to see it clearly.