Diane in the Amazon 03

I sit up, my body still humming with the aftermath of pleasure, and watch Naira who is no longer laying next to me. He works with his basket and some creepers. His strong hands manipulate the natural fibers with the ease of a master craftsman, a sight that’s mesmerizing in its own right. He glances up at me, his expression a mix of excitement and pride, and holds up the basket. It’s been modified with a makeshift harness, the creepers now acting as straps that will fit around my body and secure the basket firmly against my back. I realize that this will make things easier if we go out foraging again.

With a gentle nod of encouragement, he gestures for me to come closer. I oblige and kneel down, feeling the warmth of his touch as he carefully places the harness over my head. The basket settles onto my back, and he adjusts the creeper straps, ensuring they’re snug but not too tight. His hands linger on my skin, the gesture almost tender as he checks the fit and makes sure the weight is distributed evenly.

Naira studies his handywork, with me kneeling and him standing, we are about the same height. He then starts on the new addition: a pair of creeper ropes dangling from the front of the harness. I can’t help but watch, wondering the purpose of these additions.

He clambers onto my shoulders, his legs wrapping around my neck and his feet resting against my chest. The ropes dangle in front of me, he loops them round his feet and ties them off on the harness. I realise what he is doing, he has made stirrups for my harness!

Naira gestures for me to stand, and I do, the weight on my shoulders surprisingly comfortable. With his legs wrapped around my neck and his feet in the makeshift stirrups, he’s essentially riding me like before, but now he does not need to hold my head for balance. He leans his body forward and back testing his balance with no signs of him slipping off. There’s something oddly playful about the situation, a break from the tension of the day’s events.

He thrusts his hips into my neck as a ‘gee-up’ signal for me to move, and now his heels bang into my chest as well thanks to the stirrups. I take a tentative step forward, and to my amazement, it’s easier than I thought. The ropes hold firm, and with Naira’s weight distributed evenly, I feel surprisingly stable. I walk round the clearing, following his gestured directions. With the new harness, Naira is able to ride me and keep both hands free at the same time. I’m walked towards the fire, then he stops me and gets me to kneel down. Naira climbs off my shoulders.

He takes the harness off me with the same care he had put it on. When it’s free, he places it aside and takes my hands in his. He leans in, and I meet him halfway, our lips colliding in a kiss. The kiss is a declaration, a silent promise that we will face whatever tomorrow brings together. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to him, his naked chest pressing into mine. The heat from the fire dances over our bodies, warming us both.

Naira breaks the kiss, and leads me towards the leaf shelter he made earlier. We lay down side by side, our bodies entwined. Naira’s arm is around me, his hand resting on my bare hip. The forest noises lull us into a restless sleep, the fire’s glow casting eerie shadows across our intertwined forms. I’m acutely aware of every inch of his body against mine, I feel safe and loved, and I fall into a comfortable, restful sleep.

I wake next morning to find Naira’s eyes open, watching me. The fire has burned low, now mostly glowing embers. He smiles, a warm, gentle expression that sends a thrill through me. It’s a look of quiet satisfaction, as if he’s found something precious. Naira gives me a fruit, taking one for himself as well. As we eat, the sweetness of the fruit fills our mouths and the sticky juices run down our chins, a shared moment of delight.

Once we’ve had our fill, Naira approaches me with the harness. He looks at me with a mix of excitement and challenge in his eyes. I kneel, allowing him to place it over my shoulders. The basket settles against my back, feeling surprisingly natural. He then takes a gourd bottle and carefully places it inside the basket. He hasn’t packed all his things, so I guess we will be coming back.

With a nod, Naira climbs up onto my shoulders, his bare feet finding purchase in the new stirrups. He gently pulls my ponytail upwards, and I stand, feeling his weight shift with my movements. The straps press against my skin as I adjust to the sensation of carrying him. With a gentle kick, he signals for us to set off into the forest.

I jog through the underbrush, my legs pumping rhythmically, each step taking us further from the camp. Naira’s eyes dart around, searching for something. The forest unfolds before us, a kaleidoscope of greens and shadows. My mind, usually a cacophony of thoughts and worries, grows quiet. The only things that matter are the ground beneath me and the man on my shoulders. It’s a strange, almost meditative state, I don’t need to think about anything, just follow Naira’s instructions.

Suddenly, Naira taps my shoulders with urgency, and I come to a stop, and he gets me to kneel down. He slides off me, the harness swaying as he lands. He approaches a particular tree, there must be something about this tree, something I can’t quite discern in the morning light.

Pulling out his knife, he carefully slices into the bark. A thin, milky white sap begins to ooze out, trickling down the tree. Naira tilts the gourd bottle to catch the precious liquid. The sap flows quite quickly, after about ten minutes the bottle is almost full. The smell of the sap is faintly sweet. Naira nods with satisfaction and rubs a handful of dirt into the wound on the tree, stopping the sap leaking out.

He secures the bottle in the basket before climbing back onto my shoulders.