Prologue #2
then the meat was roasted over the open coals of the fire. When it
was done, the food was pulled off by the women, who served the men
first. Only after every man had started eating did the women take for
themselves, which included me. There was also boiled sweet potatoes,
cassava bread, and sliced papaya.
Father Gaul
regaled me with stories of his time among the Caraicans, comparing
them to some of the other tribes he ministered to. He’d been
coming to this particular village for eleven years now, forsaking the
modern world to live in the jungle with the Indians and teach them
the word of Christ. It was a fortuitous turn of events when, five
months ago, Father Gaul broke his leg and landed in a hospital in Sao
Paolo. While there, another missionary priest came to visit him, who
brought word of a wealthy businessman in the United States looking
for his missionary friends, Jacob and Kristen Easton. They had
mysteriously disappeared in the Amazon eighteen years ago, along with
their son, Zacharias.
By the time the
missionary had described these people, including a little boy of
seven years old, Father Gaul knew without a doubt that the wealthy
American was indeed looking for Zacharias of the Caraican Tribe. He
immediately made contact with Randall Cannon, Zach’s godfather,
and the wheels were set in motion to bring him home. As an
anthropologist who studied native Amazonian Indians who chose to move
into the modern world, Mr. Cannon had hired me to bring Zach—which
was the nickname he went by as a child—home and also to help
him to acclimate to a new life there.
I sat at the edge
of the fire, listening to the priest and watching as some of the
women sang and danced. I was told it was a song of thanks for the
bounty provided, but I was betting the men wouldn’t sing and
dance in tribute to the women who did their cooking for them. Women
were still treated very much as second class in these tribal
societies.
Out of the corner
of my eye, I saw movement as someone walked into the glow of the
light cast by the roaring fire. I immediately noticed his form was
much taller than the Caraicans, who looked to average out at a height
of five-eight or so. But this man was tall and, as his shadowy form
got clearer the closer he came to the fire, I realized I was getting
my first look at Zacharias Easton.
I didn’t
know what I expected, but I wasn’t prepared for my first look
at him. He easily topped out at maybe six-foot-three or so,
completely dwarfing the small Caraicans. He was lean but well muscled
in his chest, shoulders, arms, and legs. Numerous scars crossed over
his body. His brown hair was long, down to his shoulders, and yet he
was clean-shaven. While the native Caraica did not grow body hair
other than what was between their legs, Zach was a white man living
in a brown man’s world. He would definitely have had to shave
to get that smooth face. I wondered how he accomplished that. Maybe a
sharp knife? Or perhaps a razor blade given by a missionary?
And what a face…
it was almost so perfect that I wanted to weep. I should have figured
he’d be a beautiful man, because I’d seen pictures of his
parents, who were very attractive people. His pale blue eyes
shimmered in the light of the fire, throwing shadows over the high
cheekbones, straight nose, and rock-hard jaw that seemed to be
clenched in anger at that very moment.
My eyes
involuntarily strayed to his pelvis, because he was as naked as the
other people of the tribe were. And oh my… there was another
difference as well. The tiny men of the Caraica couldn’t hold a
candle to the magnificence that was hanging between Zach’s
legs. He didn’t wear the protective sheath that the other men
did on their penises, and even though he was completely flaccid, his
circumcised shaft hung down thickly, a good three inches in soft
length. He had to be massive when he was fully erect and, for the
first time since laying eyes on the man I traveled to the jungle to
collect for his godfather, I was mortified to feel a throb between my
own legs in response to his male form. I quickly averted my eyes
upward, since I was sitting next to a Catholic priest, and focused
back on Zach’s face.
I couldn’t
have imagined the animal magnetism he projected. He walked with
confidence and swagger, and it probably had something to do with the
huge haunch of tapir meat that was resting over his shoulder. He
strode up to the fire and threw the entire leg onto the coals, the
other men in the tribe cheering for the addition he just made.
Zach immediately
went to Paraila and squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Paraila
said something to Zach as he pointed to Father Gaul and me, sitting
on the other side of the fire. The priest stood and stepped over to
Zach, where he clapped him on the back and he made the same motion in
return, giving him a warm smile of welcome. He didn’t even
spare me a glance, just said a few more quiet words to Father Gaul
and then knelt on the ground next to Paraila to talk some more.
When Father Gaul
sat back down next to me, he leaned over and whispered, “I’ll
talk to him later. He’s not taking this well.”
“ I
gathered,” I said, understanding. I knew it had to be hard for
Zach to leave the only home he probably remembered.
I took another
bite of alligator and chewed it thoughtfully while I watched Zach and
Paraila talk. Whatever the old man was saying to his adopted son was
being met with resistant ears because I watched Zach shake his head
back and forth with dismay on his face, which then took on a hardened
look. He said something more to Paraila, and then turned to point at
me with a scathing look, clearly not happy with my presence. Finally,
he surged to his feet as he said something more to Paraila, who just
shook his head sadly at Zach.
It was with great
interest that I observed Zach forsake the food laid out on clay
platters, as he walked around the fire to one of the singing women.
She was young… I guessed eighteen or nineteen by the looks of
her, and very pretty. She was wearing a headband of black vulture
feathers, which Father Gaul told me represented that she had reached
puberty, had her first menses, but was not yet married. This was a
rarity in the tribe because most women had a husband, and he wasn’t
sure what this woman’s story was. If a woman took a husband,
she no longer wore a headband of feathers. If she was innocent and
hadn’t reached her first menstruation, she wore a headband of
white, downy feathers. As far as I could see, this woman was the only
one that wore a black headband.
Zach walked up to
her as she sat on a petrified log, and she looked up at him with an
open smile. He held his hand out to her and, with no hesitation, she
placed hers in his outstretched palm. Zach helped her to stand, her
breasts swaying gently with the motion. I wondered if they were off
to have a secret moment together, and I remembered thinking that
maybe she was Zach’s Caraican lover.
My hand was
raised to my mouth to take another bite of food, but it froze when
Zach turned his head over his shoulder to look at me. His eyes pinned
me hard with a menacing look, and I saw something else in there as
well.
Maybe challenge?
Then, to my utter
astonishment, he pushed the woman down by her shoulder to the ground,
where she knelt before him. I was completely stunned when I watched
his cock start to swell, while the woman stared with adoring eyes up
at the large man standing over her. Zach raised his arm and, with his
finger pointed, made a circular motion in the air. The woman
immediately turned around on her knees and lowered her cheek to the
ground, both of her palms pressed into the dirt by her breasts.
Zach dropped to
his knees behind her, his erection now at full mast and tilted
proudly upward. He took a hand, stroked himself once, twice, and then
released his hold. I was mesmerized as he reached out with one hand
and laid it gently on the woman’s lower spine. He leaned
forward as his other hand reached out and circled it around the back
of her neck, pinning her to the ground. Pushing his hips inward, he
brought the tip of his shaft to her backside and started to push into
her.
I was utterly
captivated that he was doing this in full view of the entire tribe,
and I was powerless to turn away, be damned that I was sitting next
to a priest. I told myself it would be an interesting study for a
paper I would publish one day, and that gave me the permission I
needed to continue to watch.
“ Zach…
n?o aqui. N?o na frente
dos nossos hóspedes ,” I heard Paraila
bellow, and I saw Zach’s entire body stiffen at what I thought
must be a rebuke. My gaze slid to Paraila, who was looking at Zach
with fond exasperation. A sly smile overtook Zach’s face, and
he nodded at the old man in deference.
“ I
apologize,” Father Gaul said beside me, and I turned to look at
him. “You’re getting a look at one of their social norms
that’s completely antithetical to the modern world’s.
Here… in this culture, the man is the dominant and has a right
to take one of the available women whenever and wherever he wants.
The Caraica view sex as a reward for the way that the man provides
for the village. They are completely open in their sexuality, and
privacy isn’t required. In fact, it’s a source of a man’s
pride to make a woman submit for all to see.”
“ I
understand,” I told him, but I didn’t understand at all.
It was fascinating to consider the differences in our cultures. My
mind spun with how I was going to eventually teach Zach the
difference between the world as he knew it, and the world he was
getting ready to enter. I turned my attention back to my food, while
Father Gaul turned to talk to Ramon on his other side.
But the woman in
me—no, the scientist I mean—was completely helpless in my