The Way Around by David Good

Author:David Good
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

September 9, 2011

11:12 A.M.

UPPER ORINOCO, YANOMAMI TERRITORY

The Yanomami women, they gossip as they walk. These treks, they’re not just about collecting food and other resources needed to survive. They’re also social. The women take the time away from the pulse of the village and its daily routines to chatter and laugh. A lot.

The whole way back to the abandoned shabono, my mother was lost in singsong conversation with the other women. Even while we were huddled under those boulders, waiting out the storm, they were talking, talking, talking. I could only imagine what they were saying, so I tried to do just that. I listened to the lilt of my mother’s voice and in my head she was talking about how pleased she was that I had returned to her, how much she admired the way I was trying so hard to fit myself in. I was still a work in progress, as far as my Yanomami transformation was concerned, still fumbling through the many customs and rituals I was trying to learn. It was far more likely that she was giggling with the young woman who was meant to be my wife, and telling her some embarrassing story from when I was little; or even more likely, something that had nothing to do with me. But there’s a certain freedom in not knowing the language. You can tell yourself what you want to hear.

It had been difficult for me, as I had been preparing for this homecoming journey, not knowing how I might fit myself in to village life. Assuming I could even find my mother, I wondered, would she be excited to see me? Would she even remember me? Yes, I had a letter from her, encouraging me to visit. Yes, I could read her wistful affection between the lines of translation. But in moments of doubt I allowed myself to think that she’d been coached on what to say, that she had to be reminded who I was, reaching back to her from so long ago.

Happily, my worries were unfounded, and when I finally reunited with my mother it was as joyful as I could have imagined—with happy tears all around. Really, it could not have meant more or gone any better. But here as we returned to the rest of our group, following a flash storm that might have left a Westerner worrying about our safety, no one looked up from what they were doing. No one raced to greet us, or even to help us unload the plantains and fish we carried. And for our part, we didn’t shout with happiness at the sight of the others, right where we’d left them, safe and whole, for surely they had been in just as much danger, waiting out the very same tropical storm.

Everyone just went about their business, did their thing, so I tried to follow along. It was late morning by this point, and there was some activity by the hearth. I laid down the plantains I’d been carrying and wandered over to the fire to see if I could be of some help.

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