Tragedy Under the Canopy
Part 1: Discovery
The Ye’kuana people (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a9/Construcci%C3%B3n_de_Curiara.jpg/1280px-Construcci%C3%B3n_de_Curiara.jpg) lived nestled in the depths of the Taputuni rainforest. They live a simple yet comfortable existence underneath the lush, green canopy. They lived alongside their former enemies, the Sanumá (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/1a/Yanomami_Woman_%26_Child.jpg/440px-Yanomami_Woman_%26_Child.jpg).
This coexistence came at a high price. Countless lives from both tribes were sacrificed over the years for the peacetime they could enjoy now. The people in the village today could recall losing fathers and husbands to the tribal wars. Their final battle cries still echoed still throughout the forest. A scarlet macaw (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/47/Scarlet_macaw_%28Ara_macao_cyanopterus%29_Copan.jpg) seemed to screech in unison. The Ye’kuana people, like many other indigenous groups throughout the Amazon, believe in animism, the belief that all creatures, objects, and places have interconnected spirits. To them, the macaw was a physical manifestation of the souls of their ancestors calling out. Today, that call was a mourning wail.
The Sanumá were part of a larger group, the Yanomami (https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/93/Indio_Yanomami.jpg/440px-Indio_Yanomami.jpg), whose history was permeated with violence. While this was something the Ye’kuana people were also familiar with through years of tribal wars, the Yanomami were unique in that they had a history of brutal infighting as well. Their stone-faced expressions covered generations of inner turmoil and distrust. They were no strangers to conflict even within their own villages. Can you fault a civilization for being territorial when their territory is all they have to defend?
Today, though, the two tribes could look each other in the eyes without sharpening their spears at each other. There was an agreement that the dividing line between their territories, the thicket of cacao trees (https://img1.wsimg.com/isteam/ip/2b7e3d0b-e14d-44a0-b845-2f5061238abe/61de3270-882f-4373-b4f2-93ab1d4f3305.jpg/:/cr=t:21.43%25,l:0%25,w:100%25,h:57.14%25/rs=w:814,h:407,cg:true), was a peaceful zone. Each tribe was responsible for maintaining order from within and doling out punishments to those who violated the treaty. Violence alongside the cacao trees resulted in forcible banishment. Violence at the cacao trees resulted in a public hanging by the wounded tree. The trees and creatures who had been enlisted throughout the years to serve as tribal protectors were more sacred than the lives of the people themselves.
The tribes lived with a healthy amount of respect and fear between them. What kept their bond strong and unbroken was the vigilance of the Golden Protector wasps (https://imgs.mongabay.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/20/2020/02/21121330/acrotaphus.jpg). These wasps had protected the forest for as long as the tribes had occupied it. Two people, one from each tribe, were tasked with raising and caring for the wasps, which had been trained throughout centuries to guard the people of the Taputuni rainforest. Now, rather than being trained to fight each other, the Golden Protectors had been united in their fight against a common enemy. The Protectors were not just active symbols of peace between the tribes, but also a crucial defense mechanism.
Unlike the tribe’s warriors, these wasps were bred for external conflict. The rivers and streams surrounding most of the perimeter of the two villages generally did a good job of keeping out intruders from the New World. They brought their evils with them whenever they stumbled out of their territory: disease, violence, and disrespect. They slaughtered Ye’kuana and Sanumá people indiscriminately for sport, as if they were worth less than the jaguars (https://files.worldwildlife.org/wwfcmsprod/images/Jaguar_GPN7474/story_full_width/4q517ahb0m_Responsible_Forestry_8.10.2012_Biodiversiry_Loss_HI_7474.jpg) they mounted on their cabin walls back home. Their sins had poisoned the very air they breathed so now, even the mosquitos buzzing through the trees carried their pestilence (https://imgs.mongabay.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/20/2017/10/16052129/anopheles.png).
Despite the violent nature of the wasps’ work, they were known for being intelligent and empathetic. They held deep bonds with each other and with their caretakers, the guardians. The Golden Protectors defended the tribes from invaders with their poison-laced stingers. The wasps had a 100% success rate so far — no one got through to the tribes unless they were brought in dead. The wasps always did their job, and they always came back to recharge by the cacao trees. They liked to refuel with the swarms of flies that pollinated the trees’ blossoms (https://www.snexplores.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/860_main_sidebar_chocolatepollination.jpg). One day, a juvenile Golden Protector never made it back to the trees. The remaining wasps resumed their work, albeit with frazzled flight patterns, signaling that it remained alive somewhere in the forest. They were smart, and they always found their way home in the end. They trusted each other and the people they protected.
Kiri was a young Ye’kuana woman and the village mystic. She had never been married and never bore children. Instead, the gods gave her the gift of vision over the land when she came of age that the Chief Elders recognized. They insisted that she watch over all the Ye’kuana rather than limit her talents to a single family. She had an innate, unbreakable connection to the spirits of nature. The rainforest spoke to her and the Golden Protectors listened to her. She was regarded highly for this. She had been able to enrich the lives of her people more with her words and visions than many others had with the laughter of a dozen children. Though highly respected, Kiri was deeply lonely. She had lost her mother and father at a young age, so she had no family to speak of. The other women had no interest in befriending the childless mystic, either. Ultimately, it just gave her more time to learn how to communicate with the creatures around her.
Kiri had heard the tortured cry of the macaw that day. She dropped to her knees in horror as it rang in her ears. This sounded like a tortured farewell. Something had gone terribly wrong. Kiri hurried outside to get a better view as the wind blew eerily through the trees. Anxiety twisted her stomach into knots. The children dancing next to the kapok tree that created the shelter for her home (https://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large/roots-of-a-kapok-tree-diccon-alexander.jpg) saw her face and bolted toward their parents. Something about her looked broken.
She gasped for breath and ran for the cacao tree where the wasps’ guardians lay waiting. She got there just in time to see the wasps come zipping through the sky and meet them in a frantic swarm. They wished they could speak the same language as the tribes, which is where Kiri came in. She was the bridge between the Taputini’s people and its creatures.
This Protector’s death was not a common occurrence. The wasps always did their jobs effectively, letting no harm come to the villages or to themselves. They were so used to dying of old age. In their youth, they were ruthless killing machines that took advantage of the fact that they could sting endlessly without losing their lives. Now, however, a sacred life had been lost. How could this be?
Kiri untied a small sack that had been attached to the rope around her waist. It contained a mix of pollens from holy flowers around the forest. She sprinkled it over the swarm of Protectors huddled together around a branch and they slowly raised up back into their formation in the air. These pollens, much like the fermented nectars humans drink, helped the wasps to forget about their pain just long enough to return to their lives for a spell. Kiri stood up and took a deep breath (https://static.scientificamerican.com/sciam/cache/file/C1EDEE09-8668-4605-91D36258FF92CA15_source.jpg), just long enough to center herself and reach out to the forest spirits. She asked the Protectors to take her to the deceased and nodded at the guardians to follow her. Kiri couldn’t make the wasps forget everything forever. Their suffering and anger was unavoidable, and it could undo years and years of careful training.
Kiri and the two guardians walked somberly into the forest. Each guardian looked back at their respective sides of the cacao trees, their eyes briefly meeting the wide-eyed children hiding between the branches. Children from both tribes laughed and played with each other here. The children didn’t quite care for tribal politics, and lived much simpler, happier lives as a result. It wasn’t until they got older that they learned how to hate each other.
Like the children, the guardians also occupied a physical and mental space far from politics. They were like the light and dark side of the moon, two distinct parts of a whole living in synchrony. The tribes had learned through trial and error that the best guardians were selected for their diplomacy, not their aggression. Guardians had to understand their place as caretakers of the Protectors, not warriors for the people. Appointing a guardian with the wrong traits resulted in maimed wasps, and as a consequence, hoards of distrusting Golden Protectors in a harsh forest for people that can’t afford to lose their first line of defense. Both the people and the Protectors relied on their symbiotic relationship.
The remaining wasps led them to a small clearing in the forest where an Amazon Royal Flycatcher (https://a-z-animals.com/media/2022/10/Amazonian-Royal-Flycatcher.jpg) sang a melancholy tune over the crushed body of the lost, and now sadly fallen, Golden Protector. It had brought it from the battlegrounds it died on to this peaceful clearing within the tribes’ domain. This saved Kiri and the guardians from a dangerous trek into the outer rings of the Taputini rainforest. The bird fanned its colorful, feathered tuft in all directions and flew away, leaving the three and the band of wasps in a deafening silence.
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Part 2: Accusations
Neither Kiri nor the guardians ever wanted it to go down like this. The women were screaming at each other in both villages, the cacao trees now merely representing a suggested border rather than a firm divide. The Ye’kuana and Sanumá men were punching each other until their fists gave out. The children were busy playing with the birds (https://www.nrdc.org/sites/default/files/styles/large_16x9_100/public/oeyasuni_03_slideshow_07_cfg9n3_rm_ds_1920x1080.jpg.jpg?h=d1cb525d&itok=iDgGW6Gf) and laughing at pictures they were drawing in the dirt. A Sanumá boy used a stick to trace the shape of a large wasp as a Ye’kuana girl adorned it with a crown of golden flowers (https://www.delfinamazoncruises.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/wild-2876244_640.jpg).
The adults in the villages screamed vile accusations at each other. They hurled insults like stones. The peace was broken. Glass pieces forged by the tribes’ artisans were shattered against rock walls. All that the people had heard was that one of their beloved Protectors had been murdered. The way they saw it, there were only two possible sources of the crime, and they were all right here by the cacao trees.
Kiri heard a high chirping sound behind her cutting through the primal yells. She turned around to see a capybara sitting under a banana tree (https://www.activewild.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Capybara.jpg). She smiled at the absurdity of this plump, little creature trying to make its voice heard among the chaos. These creatures were friends of the two tribes, as animals’ souls belonged to no one tribe or person. She bent down and gently laid her hand on its head. It chirped happily and nuzzled her hand with its snout.
Kiri needed this small act of warmth and kindness. It had been such a difficult day. It felt like she experienced loss so often, starting with the death of her parents many years ago. She felt responsible for all of the creatures as the only Ye’kuana woman capable of speaking with them. She knew it wasn’t logical, but she still felt like she had to take responsibility for allowing a Protector to fall under her watch.
The Protectors had tried to rest on the tree branches as Kiri and the guardians explained what they had found. It didn’t take long for accusations and fists to start flying through the air. The wasps had risen up above the trees and stayed there for their own protection. They heard Kiri lightly weep through the battle cries and flew over. The eldest Protector flew right in front of Kiri’s nose. She felt the words dance from the Protector to her mind.
There is something you need to know. You must make this known to your people. There was a terrible accident after our young one took out a group of intruders.
The Protector hovered down onto the petals of a Strelitzia flower (https://media.istockphoto.com/id/1302804609/photo/strelitzia-reginae-crane-flower-bird-of-paradise.jpg?s=612x612&w=0&k=20&c=kWJoC-9SZUiPnGIFusj2gAmO52K5_Xdnf0SwZUk6xrA=) and continued speaking to Kiri.
A young boy went out looking for his father in the outer territory. He was weeping over his father’s body when he accidentally stepped on our fallen brother. It was not an act of war and your people cannot be allowed to treat it as such. I see now why our service is of no use to you all when you live to destroy each other anyway.
Kiri finally allowed herself to cry as the Protectors dropped down to form a circle around her. “You trusted me,” Kiri said between sobs. “You all expected me to keep you safe and I failed. And now, the weight rests on my shoulders to ensure that another life is not taken. We are not murderers of innocent children.”
Daughter of the Taputini, you have done your job and more in taking on the pain of your people. Remember that two arms alone are not enough to embrace a whole village. You know what you must do.
Kiri was used to carrying the burden of a village’s spiritual ailments, but now she would have to take on the role of diplomat on behalf of both her people and of this defenseless child to prevent war between the tribes and the outside world. The invaders had superior technology, but the tribes had the upper hand in the dense, mysterious forest. In the end, it didn’t matter because they would all be dead anyway. Usually, the forest tended to favor the spirits who nurtured it over the years and allowed them to punish those who did not. Rules eventually had to be broken, however.
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Part 3: Revelation
Kiri walked toward the cacao trees, her mind rehearsing a hundred sentences that would never be heard with every step. She climbed up onto the roots of a kapok tree guarding the entrance to the villages (https://nplimages.infradoxxs.com/cache/pcache2/01338792.jpg). All she could do was let out a heartbreaking cry as she leaned against the sturdy trunk. She felt like it was all she had to hold onto now as she looked out at the fists and vitriol flying through the air. How could she ever bring together these two tribes?
The children, guardians, and Golden Protectors were the only ones on the outskirts of the brawl. Despite being from opposing tribes, the two guardians had an unbreakable bond as the only ones who walked the planet with this unique responsibility. They knew each other as well as they knew themselves, and knew that this tragedy was anything but political. Perhaps the tribes had something to learn from these two. The guardians approached Kiri with arms reaching out. Kiri took their hands and stepped down from the great root.
“Friends,” Kiri whispered, “I have so much to tell and so little time. We all know that this death was premature, but the spirits have spoken. The Protectors have said that this was an accident by a strange child. We must act quickly before the tribes destroy each other.”
The guardians each grabbed the horns they had tied to their waists and blew into them to emit a loud, haunting tone. This captured the tribes’ attention instantly. They all turned to face the three who spoke for the Protectors.
“My Ye’kuana and Sanumá brothers and sisters, the culprit is not in front of you nor at your side,” Kiri shouted. “He is far beyond this camp and part of the clan that has tried to break our defenses for so long. Our fellow tribespeople are not to blame. You are not to blame. I can no longer lay the blame at my own feet, and you must vow to do the same.”
Kiri walked through the cacao trees to face the tribespeople scattered throughout. “Our bonds are known to the Protectors and threats to the invaders. Our Protectors trust us to lay down our arms at our twin spirits and band together against the Others. Together is the only way through.”
The Chief Elders from the two tribes, Yama and Sa’ku, approached her after a quick glance at each other. They knew she was right and they trusted her words as the voice of the rainforest more than anyone. Mystics had an innate connection with the forest’s spirits that acted like the glue between them all. She was the central point of peace and understanding, and she carried that responsibility with great pride.
Yama, the Ye’kuana elder, spoke first while wagging his finger at her. “You will take us to the offender. Blood for blood.”
Sa’ku, the Sanumá elder, nodded sharply and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, the law of the forest is clear. Balance must be restored.”
A thunderclap roared throughout the forest, echoing throughout the canopy and launching families of scarlet macaws into the skies (https://birding.amazonconservation.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/01/scarlet-macaw_25968195455_o.jpg). Their cries rang through the trees as the skies darkened. Heavy drops of rain quickly pelted their heads and dripped down the leaves of the cacao trees (https://pzizz.com/blog/articles/new-batch-of-rain-and-thunder-mixes/img/rainforest1.webp). Kiri wiped the rain off her cheeks, unable to tell where the rain stopped and her tears began.
“Come with me,” Kiri told the Chief Elders and the guardians. The Chief Elders followed Kiri’s lead outside the bounds of the villages while the guardians stayed back to keep the peace among the cacao trees.
The remaining Golden Protectors had been sent out to go ahead and scout out the territory beyond the villages’ borders. They were exceptionally well-trained at locating and disposing of offenders and quickly found the little boy laying on a large rock by what was once his people’s camp. Kiri heard their signal and led the Chief Elders to him. Thankfully for them but rather unfortunately for the Child, the creatures of the rainforest had already taken care of disposing of the bodies that the juvenile Protector had piled up. Little remained of them besides some bones and scraps of clothing.
The boy’s body was sprawled limply on top of a large rock. He could not have been much older than six years old, though his exposed ribs made him look even smaller than he really was. He had clearly not had a bite to eat since the juvenile Protector had perished at his hand. The tribespeople had never seen a juvenile invader. Yama and Sa’ku approached the nearly lifeless boy with clenched fists. Kiri jumped in front of them and instinctively threw her arms out to shield the boy.
“Please,” she begged. “It is clear that he is all alone. Allow me.”
Yama gritted his teeth as Sa’ku scoffed. “This was not the plan,” they hissed.
“Please. I am responsible for the Protectors, too, but these took a father away from his boy. This is wrong. We have Protectors to defend our land, but we are not murderers. We have the opportunity to rewrite the law of the forest for the better.”
Sa’ku raised her eyebrow at Kiri. “Then tell us how you plan to restore balance,” she demanded.
Kiri reached down to stroke the boy’s forehead, which now had beads of sweat dripping down. He didn’t even flinch. He was burning up with the pestilence that flew in the air. His own people had brought it to the Taputini, but they clearly had not been prepared to fight it themselves. The people of the rainforest had, out of necessity, devised a number of potions and mixtures (https://media.istockphoto.com/id/1341442891/photo/female-witch-making-potion-on-dark-background-magic-bottles-with-potions-and-candles-on-table.jpg) that killed the disease faster than the disease could kill them. She knew that she could save him if she was allowed the chance.
She carefully picked up the frail boy and cradled him in her arms. “You will not suffer for the sins of your father like we all have,” she whispered in his ear.
His eyes stayed closed, but he seemed to curl himself more snugly into her arms. Children seek and are driven toward warmth. In the humid heat of the Taputuni rainforest, the warmth this little boy needed came directly from Kiri’s heart. He had experienced such terror since his arrival in this strange forest. It’s doubtful that he would have survived without this kindness. The Chief Elders understood this and understood this was an important turning point for their tribes — for better or for worse.
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Part 4: Revolution
Kiri carried the boy close to her chest on their way back to the villages. His rapid heartbeat soon slowed to mirror the steady drumbeat of her own. Yama and Sa’ku walked just behind her in silence and with hands held together tightly. It was a deeply meaningful sign of allyship for their people. They arrived to find both tribes sitting all around the cacao trees. They were humming in harmony with the Golden Protectors flying in a circle over their heads. Out of respect to the lost Protector, they had joined voices in prayer as they waited for their leaders to return. No one dared step out of line with tensions so high already.
The Chief Elders stopped and looked out at their people. They each let go of the other’s hand and parted ways to lead their respective tribes toward the village centers. The wind blew hauntingly through the lone cacao trees as the footsteps trailed off into the towering branches of the Dinizia excelsa (https://tf-cmsv2-smithsonianmag-media.s3.amazonaws.com/filer/23/69/236929e8-29e6-4a30-a1f5-ab95f626fccb/file-20190911-190044-a5xm2j.jpg).
Sa’ku ordered the Sanumá to stay home for the rest of the evening and to take a break from their labor the next day. She wrung her hands as she headed into her own hut, nervous about what was to come. Tomorrow, she would reconvene with Yama to discuss the Child’s fate. In a perfect world, everyone would have gone home, stayed home, and enjoyed the extra time to spend with their growing families. Instead, two Sanumá men snuck away from the village while the rest of their tribe was preoccupied.
Duva was young, but old enough to have been considered a man in the New World. When he came of age among the Sanumá, he was assigned the role of warrior. All he remembered at this point was his training. In the absence of wartime with the Ye’kuana, his unrealized rage had bubbled to the surface. He was known for being explosive, being unstable, and having a deep hatred of the Ye’kuana for their crime of mutual peace. He desperately craved the feeling of his spear piercing an enemy’s chest. Today’s brief brawl had made him feel alive.
His brother, Tani, was not much younger than him but looked up to him like a father in the absence of their own. Their father had been taken in the last forest battles, so they had grown up into young men with responsibilities far beyond what anyone their age should have to bear.
“Our father would never stand for this. He would have ripped the boy apart himself,” Tani murmured, looking to his older brother for approval.
Duva nodded as he walked toward the Ye’kuana with his spear. “He is an intruder. The New World has no place here, just as it has no place for us. Rules and boundaries exist for a reason.”
Tani looked ahead at his brother stalking through the forest. “Duva, what happens if we get caught?”
Duva felt his anger boil up to the surface again and turned around to lightly slap his brother’s cheek. “Only cowards ask that question, and father hated cowards.”
The brothers continued walking in silence. Duva turned around and grasped his younger brother’s shoulders. “Blood for blood,” he reminded him.
Across the dividing line between the villages, Yama stood surrounded by the Ye’kuana. The torchlight danced over the dark circles under his eyes. He looked around at the children peering up at him with curious eyes and at their elders huddled around expectantly. After a long pause, he bowed his head and wished everyone a good night. There was plenty of time for discussion tomorrow. For now, it was in everyone’s best interest to rest and reset for the night.
Duva and Tani knelt in the brush just outside the Ye’kuana village center (https://dims.apnews.com/dims4/default/40952f3/2147483647/strip/true/crop/3000x2000+0+0/resize/599x399!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fstorage.googleapis.com%2Fafs-prod%2Fmedia%2Ffcde9ab1bcbd439b8f13277ed8183526%2F3000.jpeg). The crowd disbanded to reveal the little boy resting on a stone slab and wrapped in banana leaves. Kiri was feeding the barely-conscious Child a tea made with the bark of the cinchona tree (https://www.stlherbsandaromatics.com/uploads/3/1/0/6/31068271/s995531351389264043_p537_i1_w453.jpeg) to break his fever. She stroked his forehead and sang him a long-forgotten lullaby that her mother once sang to her. The Protectors joined her and together, they filled the air with a pleasant hum.
The little boy finally opened a tired, blue eye. He had woken up from a fantastical dream about river spirits, vicious wasps, and villages burning themselves to the ground. He called out for his papa in a hoarse, weak cry. Kiri did not understand his people’s language, but she understood that familiar wail. Grief knew no geographic or cultural boundaries. She picked him up and rocked him back and forth in her arms.
The swarm of Protectors continued their humming in a circle around Kiri and the boy. Kiri had told them how the Child would help bring peace to the Taputini, allowing the Protectors to live more peaceful lives as he became their new messenger. Rather than a message of ruthless violence, they would now have a representative who could actually speak with the invaders. Perhaps, in time, this would bring peace throughout the forest and they could all lay down their weapons to exist in harmony. Kiri spent the night curled up around the Child and they slept by the light of the torches.
Duva and Tani had been mesmerized by Kiri’s song with the hum of the Protectors. They fell asleep where they lay waiting and woke up at dawn in the shade of the Wasai tree roots (https://res.cloudinary.com/rainforest-cruises/images/c_fill,g_auto/f_auto,q_auto/v1626693670/Amazon-Medicinal-Plants-wasai/Amazon-Medicinal-Plants-wasai.jpg). Duva saw the stars still twinkling above the rising sun and shook his brother awake.
“This is our chance to do what’s right,” he insisted.
Tani rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stood up next to his brother. They stepped forward carefully on the tips of their toes to stay unseen. When they got to the edge of the village square, Duva lifted his dagger high above his head and started charging. The Ye’kuana were such fools to leave the boy unguarded with the village witch, he thought to himself. He didn’t even get within a few feet of the boy before the sleeping Protectors rose up from their sleep.
The process was quick and instinctual for the wasps. The two eldest Protectors each flew forward toward the brothers, one injecting its venom into Duva’s neck and another stabbing through Tani’s carotid artery. The brothers fell to the ground with arms outstretched toward each other. It was an almost elegant scene.
The Protectors had sent a strong message to both tribes with this action. The Child was just a young boy who got caught in the crossfire of a longstanding war he had no role in. They forgave him for his accidental, literal misstep. This little boy would not be a martyr for his people. He would be the bridge between peoples instead.
Kiri had been startled awake by the thudding sound of the bodies hitting the ground. Then, the dagger fell to the ground with a clatter and woke the Child. He didn’t call out for his father. He just squeezed his eyes shut and curled up into Kiri’s arms. He and Kiri didn’t need to speak the same language. She understood that she had to keep him safe and he understood that he could trust her to do so.
The commotion slowly woke the Ye’kuana while the Sanumá slept in their homes. The Ye’kuana stepped out with sleepy eyes under the rising sun (https://good-nature-blog-uploads.s3.amazonaws.com/uploads/2022/08/org-5.jpg). Many of them screamed when their eyes adjusted and revealed the two bodies in their village center. They all kept their distance. The lines painted on their faces said that they weren’t one of theirs. Finally, a few of the men began hauling the bodies away to give to the Sanumá for proper burial. Yama almost couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked out.
“What have we done?” He gasped and ran over. “Now the Child has brought death to our two greatest allies.”
Yama paced back and forth until Kiri yelled out at him to stop. “Speak to Sa’ku and show her the puncture wounds. These young men were not taken with our spears or arrows. The only people who die from the Protectors are those who threaten them.”
Yama paused in his tracks. He knew she was right. The Protectors would never attack without reason. These Sanumá men were a threat that had been neutralized, plain and simple. This decision had not been made or carried out by any of the Ye’kuana. Both tribes disagreed on a number of issues, but they had agreed long ago that their Protectors would occupy the sacred, nameless place between the Ye’kuana and the Sanumá. Their punishments reflected the will of the rainforest alone.
Yama marched off behind the men carrying the bodies to the Sanumá. After what felt like hours, they finally walked out toward the grove of cacao trees (https://www.cocoterra.com/wp-content/uploads/steps-grow-a-cocoa-tree.jpg) together. They stood side by side as they addressed both tribes. The boy would belong to no tribe, not even the one he had been born into. He would be raised to lead both tribes into a brighter future underneath the forest canopy. One day, he would go out and join the Protectors to communicate with those from the Old World in their own words. Perhaps in the future, their defense system wouldn’t have to result in so much death.
Kiri felt anxiety rise within her. She rocked the Child back and forth in her arms as the color slowly returned to his pink cheeks. She knew she was soothing herself more than him. This was massively uncharted territory for everyone. Neither of the tribes knew how to deal with those from the New World, much less care for one of them. The boy felt like he had been dropped on another planet when he opened his eyes to see hoards of people who looked like nothing he had ever seen before. Kiri had only ever cared for herself throughout the years, but somehow this felt natural. It was like the Taputini had gifted her the exact child she was meant to care for at the exact time she needed to.
She looked down at the little boy, who had his blue eyes fixed hungrily on the bunch of bananas hanging above their heads (https://gardenerspath.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Overwinter-Banana-Plants-FB.jpg). His stomach had been growling at him for days. Kiri smiled at him and reached up to pick one off the tree. She watched him struggle to pry the banana open and chuckled. He really was in a brand new world now. She showed him how to turn the banana upside down and split it from the bottom. He was delighted to learn this new trick. He would have to learn the Old World ways of the Taputini. Under Kiri’s care, he would learn so much more.
The Child would learn how to communicate with not just the rainforest tribes but with all the different creatures that kept it alive. He would speak for the forest, and the forest would listen. It didn’t erase the sins of his forefathers or bring peace to the Old and New Worlds, but it was a start. This was the first step in healing the Taputini.
In time, the Child grew old enough to accompany the guardians in their work caring for the Protectors. He was still affectionately called the Child even when the wrinkles formed on his freckled skin. He helped strengthen the guardians’ connection by providing another voice to the rainforest. When they grew old and ill, he became the first Chief Guardian for the wasps in many generations. The role used to be battled for among the tribes, and now it belonged to neither of them. They were happier that way, focusing their energy toward creating a new world order that transcended any earthly, tribal associations and valued every spirit that occupied the Taputini. Who knew? Perhaps this peaceful energy could one day reach the New World, too.
(1) https://www.adventuresingoodcompany.com/images/thumbs/0000684_ecuadors-amazon-jungle_1980.jpeg
(2) https://files.globalgiving.org/pfil/12229/ph_12229_99633.jpg