Diane in the Amazon 01

My name is Doctor Diane Parker, I’m 25 years old and am an anthropologist. I joined a small expedition into the Amazon rainforest, my aim being to make contact with natives who have not been exposed to western culture. After five days by small boat from the nearest town, we were unceremoniously dropped off on the riverbank, surrounded by huge trees and chirping insects. The others are busy setting up camp, the air filled with their laughter and the clanging of pots. The camp was particularly noisy, and no natives would want to go anywhere near us.

My adventure really began one morning when I set off early for a day of exploring on my own in the forest. My plan was to get away from our western camp with its noise and disturbance out into the untouched forest where I might be able to find signs of the native peoples. I climbed to the top of the nearest ridge, through the thick vegetation. The view was breathtaking, ridges cascaded into valleys, lush green and alive, stretching infinitely in every direction. A tapestry of emerald and jade, punctuated by earthy brown and dappled sunlight. I felt very small in the vast rainforest.

I was following a rough trail, the work of some unknown creature, perhaps a tapir or a peccary. Each ridge I climbed rewarded me with panoramic views, but I was searching for something more elusive, traces of native people, remnants of those who had lived harmoniously within this wild expanse.

As midday approached, it got hotter and more humid. Shafts of sunlight poked through the canopy to create spots of light on the forest floor. I took a moment to rest, taking water and a sandwich from my backpack and leaning against a gnarled tree. I pulled out my GPS device to check how long it will take to get back to camp. I pressed the buttons, but instead of the reassuring blue dot marking my location, the screen was blank. Panic surged through me, its icy grip squeezing my chest. I pressed the power button again and again, but the device stubbornly refused to cooperate. Glancing around, I realized I was utterly alone among the towering giants of the rainforest.

I took a deep breath, forcing calmness into my chaotic thoughts. I needed to start back towards camp straight away. I had to get back before nightfall. I retraced my steps, or at least I thought I did, hoping to see something familiar, hoping I was on the right track. After what felt like hours, I heard the distant gurgle of water. With renewed hope, I pushed forward and soon came across the river. I should be upstream of our camp, so I just needed to follow the river and I would be safe.

Unfortunately, there was no easy trail beside the river and I was forced to cut my way through. My breath came in ragged gasps, it was hard work cutting my way through the forest. I paused, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization, but all I saw was the river and an unbroken sea of green that surrounded me. The heat and humidity of the Amazon rainforest that afternoon was really something. Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down the back of my neck as I hacked away at the relentless underbrush with my machete.

The sun was getting lower in the sky, it would be setting fairly soon. I checked my GPS again and it was still not working, and I knew that my chances of finding my way back to camp before nightfall were getting slimmer. The setting sun painted the canopy above in shades of fiery orange and deepening purple, it would be beautiful if I wasn’t in such a predicament. The rainforest sounds grew louder, more insistent, as darkness approached. I knew I had to find shelter before the nocturnal predators began their hunt.

As the sun set, my pace was really slowing, my legs felt like lead as I stumbled through the gloom. The vegetation grew thicker beside the river, making me work even harder to cut my way through and slowing me down even more. The afternoon heat changing to the cool of night. And then, like a beacon of hope, I saw it: away from the river some way up the slope, a flickering light in the distance, possibly a campfire. My heart leapt at the sight. It can’t be our camp but it must be someones.

With caution, I approached the fire, my senses heightened by the promise of human company. The crackling of the flames grew louder, The fire was in the middle of a small clearing in the trees. I didn’t want to appear as an agressor so I put my machete back into my pack and cautiously stepped into the clearing. The firelight illuminated a figure sitting cross-legged before the blaze. It was a native man from the rainforest, his lean muscles rippling in the flickering light. He stood up, his striking green eyes locking onto mine, and I could see the curiosity in his gaze. The man was much shorter than me. I am 180cm tall and he was about 50cm shorter. He wore a loincloth and nothing else, and he had a long wooden rod pierced through his nose. He had black fairly straight hair cut short and his deep brown skin was etched with raised dots and lines in an intricate pattern that covered his face, chest and stomach. I would guess he was older than me, between 30 and 40 but its hard for me to tell.

He was looking at me closely, seeing a white woman much taller than him, with long blonde hair down to my waist pulled into a ponytail. I’m wearing a shirt, shorts and strong walking boots and with a small backpack slung over my shoulders. I spent a lot of time getting fit in the gym before coming on this expedition and have probably never looked better. He held his hand up, palm out, in a gesture of peace I hoped. He had a growing erection causing his loincloth to raise, but I kept my eyes firmly on his face. He pointed at himself and spoke a single, guttural word: “Naira.”

I mimicked his gesture, pointing at my chest and saying my name, “Diane,” with a clear voice. The sound of my own name seemed strange in the alien environment, but Naira’s eyes lit up with understanding. He stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the soft earth, and offered me a piece of roasted meat.