CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next few days overflowed with activity and I was determined to be a part of it. I could not just sit around and do nothing anymore.
The rain fell steadily for the next twenty-four hours but that did not stop the industry of the Hundi.
I found myself immersed in their work and craftsmanship.
I learned the palm tree was a resource full of uses I never imagined, and found the study of extracting every possible application of the amazing tree wholly fulfilling.
I spent a rainy morning helping a group of Hundi strip palm branches of the thick membrane that ran the length of the leaf.
These organic pieces were dried and used for rope or string to secure anything from the leaf bags that held the precious sago to securing the individual pieces of thatch that made up the roofs of the huts and tree houses.
The women wove baskets and sleeping mats with the sturdy leaves stripped from the branches.
I helped Sali, M’Lea, and Talula harvest coconuts.
We peeled back the fibrous husk, cut through the smooth green shell, saved the water for drinking, and shaved the coconut fruit to be used for milk, dried for eating, ground into flour, or pressed for oil.
I marveled at all the uses. Everything they needed was at their fingertips — on the other side of the immense work of processing, sure—but the way they used the jungle as a resource began to change the very way I viewed the untamed environment surrounding me.
The second day since the harrowing adventure in the rainforest, the rain stopped.
Talula, Sali’s great-granddaughter, sliced her hand while cutting coconut, and without thinking, I leapt into action.
I had Talula sit on the floor and keep the hand above her heart.
Based on the bleeding, I didn’t think she’d hit an artery, but the cut was deep.
I’d been supplied with the same honey and herbs Sali used on my head and made up a bandage that finally stopped the flow of blood.
What I didn’t foresee was my fast action winning over many of the Hundi, and I found myself hosting a spontaneous, albeit rudimentary, clinic the next day.
I had yet to see or speak to Jahnu, and after four days I began to feel anxious. How long was I to stay with the Hundi? I’d lost count of how long I’d already been here.
Sali told me he was away, meeting with the outlying Hundi family groups that lived in other regions.
I remembered that, like Makia, there were many other tribes who did not live within the boundary of the main village.
These family groups were large and growing, but the chiefdom remained in the line of Jahnu’s family, a topic of some tension from some of the other family leaders, Sali had told me.
I imagined the weight of Chief was a hard-carried burden in itself, let alone while your fellow-tribesmen doubted your ability.
Now I understood why my previous insults to his role as chief hit a nerve with him.
Good. Maybe he should feel the weight of his choices.
Up to this point, I wasn’t a fan of any of them.
Thoughts of Jahnu continued to roil within me despite my attempts to control them.
I felt tortured by them, but comforted also.
I was glad I didn’t have to speak with him the past few days, but found myself watching for his return.
I wished him dead, and wished for a reason to approach him if for nothing else than to ask about my return.
When I heard he had returned late last night, I found myself both infuriated and delighted, and then infuriated because I was delighted.
But I kept to my treehouse all morning so I wouldn’t run into him at breakfast.
I later slipped away to the river. It was well past time for another bath. My Khaki pants were mud-caked and reeking. Sali had given me a new tunic, which at least was clean and covered more than the last shell-covered halter.
I dipped my toes in the cold stream, looking left and right before stripping down and immersing myself, fully naked. The cool water took my breath away. The stream flowed freely through my hair as I lay on my back, finally relaxing with a long sigh.
Thoughts of the chief were not the only thing warring for my attention. The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind of events and emotions. I was sure I would spend months in therapy later to untangle them.
What had it been like for Greg when he’d discovered me missing?
He must think me dead by now. I press my fingertips to my eyes.
Damn Jahnu. Damn this whole insane circumstance!
I had to find a way to get through to him.
For now, I found that place in my mind I’d often gone during nursing school.
A place of emotional subterfuge that allowed me to survive what I had to endure.
A kind of pretending that everything I was experiencing was happening to someone else so as not to get caught in the sheer absurdity of it all, because I knew if I let myself, I would absolutely lose control, and I could not do that.
I would make it back, somehow, and Greg and I would go back to our lives as before.
Get married. Start a family. This was nothing but a bump in the road.
A minor detour in a trip that hadn’t gone as planned from the beginning.
Par for the course…quite a lot of things in my life hadn’t gone as planned.
I know I would look back on this soon and laugh at the insanity…would I laugh? This was not a big deal. A simple misunderstanding that would soon be righted.
I wrung out my hair, relishing in the coolness of morning, and stepped out of the river when the crackle of branches made me gasp.
I froze, standing naked on the bank, my tunic and other clothes a few yards away.
I sprinted to them as the rustling of the jungle produced a lean, half-naked Hundi.
Not just any Hundi. It was the Chief, himself.
I grabbed my tunic and used it to frantically cover myself just as I saw the surprise of realization hit his dark face.
“I’m sorry, I—I didn’t know anyone was coming,” I sputtered.
Jahnu took in the sight of my hastily covered body before turning around slowly to give me privacy.
“This is my personal area to bathe,” he said, matter-of-factly.
“I—I didn’t know…I’ll just be leaving.”
“Wait,” it was a command, but I could tell he’d said it more firmly than intended, because he followed with, “have you finished?”
“Yes…I was just dressing,” I quickly pulled on the tunic and tied it at the waist with one of the palm-leaf cords. Now I looked positively Hundi, if not a little more homely, than my last ensemble.
“It’s safe now.”
Jahnu turned and I saw him quickly take me in, his eyes landing on mine.
“I liked your last clothes better,” he smirked as he passed me, walking into the river. He wore a pair of shorts and nothing else.
A joke. Was that a joke? From the serious Hundi Chief? I smirked, despite my embarrassment, and picked up the rest of my things to go.
“Wait,” this time he said it more kindly. “I do not bathe naked…you are welcome to stay.”
I blushed, visibly I was sure, and just nodded without speaking, taking my pants to the edge of the stream and washing them as best I could.
“Your medicine-work has improved our tribe…I thank you.” He dipped his head into the water, the rivulets rolling off his short hair without even getting it wet. He scrubbed his wiry beard, the sides of which I noticed held a tint of gray.
“It’s nothing, I can assure you. If I had proper supplies and medicine, it would be a much greater help. As it is—”
“As it is…we have what de jungle give us.” He met my eyes. “That is the Hundi way and that is enough for us.”
We were silent for a beat.
“Have you decided when you’re gonna let me go?” I asked, matching his sharpness.
“No.” He finished bathing and approached me as I lay my pants out to dry. I quickly hid my filthy bra underneath them, angry at his short reply.
“You will come with me today. There is something I want to show you.”
I felt like refusing. I was weary of being bossed around by him, of not having control of my own time, my own choices, but the way he’d said it made me think he’d mixed the words ‘you’ and ‘will’ and had really meant it as a question.
Plus, I found the desire to go with him stronger than my desire to inject my stubborn will and realized I nodded before I had totally made up my mind.
We walked in silence for ten minutes through winding jungle trails, not often traveled, the sounds of bird calls a crescendo to the symphony of the waking forest.
“You know, in America there are rumors that some of the tribes in Papua New Guinea eat strangers. The Hundi tribe is not a bunch of cannibals, are they?”
Jahnu didn’t speak for a while, but then said, “There were cannibals on the island…but not anymore. I ate the last one.”
I burst out laughing. I was so surprised at the dry humor that it caught me off guard.
Jahnu looked back, his lips stretching into a wide smile.
“Hundi are not cannibals. You do not havta worry. It is true that many, many year ago some tribes eat de Khakhua. But it is not the Hundi way and never has been.”
“What does that mean? Khakhua?”
“If someone dies falling out of a tree or killed in battle, reasons for the death are known. But when they die from disease, many do not know any better long ago, and so they believe the dead were filled by a khakhua—a witchman coming from the spirit world and taken them from the inside. To send the khakhua back to the spirit world, they eat the witchman in return, and since he is living inside the dead body, they eat the body to get rid of it. So if you asked them why they eat human flesh, they respond, saying, ‘We don’t eat human flesh, we eat the khakhua.’ But that was many, many years ago.
The island has become more civilized since then, even if you do not think of us that way compared to where you come from. ”