The story will include a glossary for the understanding of non-english words used.
The jungle
The bright yellow sun bears down on the tops of the lush treeline, an imperfect roof of palm and willow leaves, where small rays of sunlight sneak down through the crevices and caress the lush undergrowth of the forest. The soft chorus of frogs floats in the air, clashing with the orchestra of grasshoppers, the unruly screams of monkeys, and the loud chatter of the parrots. Amid the chaos of the jungle, a young girl is making her way through the lush vegetation. She walks barefoot, wearing a white dress that stops above her knees, long tangled black hair dotted with sweat, and deep hazel eyes sparkling with curiosity. Machete in hand, she takes gentle steps as she chooses where to cut down the brush and where to let it flourish. She trudges along her makeshift path, pausing every once in a while to examine her surroundings; the colour of the fruit on a cacao tree, the claw marks left by a jaguar imprinted on the bark of a willow, footprints between the loose leaves on the parched ground, and listen to the melody of the jungle. She stands still, closes her eyes and breathes in. She stands there taking the sounds in, and then opens her eyes again and decidedly hacks away at the undergrowth in a new direction. She stops and listens to the jungle sounds repeatedly, until eventually she arrives at a small clearing. A shallow pool of water lies in the middle, its crystal surface shimmering in the soft rays of day. The girl slowly makes way for the edge of the pool and sits on a large flat stone. Next to her, she lays down the machete, closes her eyes and waits.
She sits there, basking in the sun, absorbing the jungle around her, waiting. She hears the soft sound of trickling water, the subtle chime of the wind, the whole chorus of the jungle. She focuses her ears to the croaking of the frogs, and carefully listens to each note they sing. The short silent pause between each croak. Silence. Croak. Silence. Croak. Silence. She opens her eyes and looks around until she sees the small outline of a frog. For a few minutes she just stays there, looking at it as it sings in harmony with its brethren, its round black eyes looking intently back at hers. She observes the soft movement of its throat as it sings, the soft brown colour of its spotted back, and the small webbed feet.
“Ribbit, ribbit,” the frog croaks as the girl slowly stands up and makes her way to caress him.
“Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, ” the sapito croaks faster the closer the girl gets. She reaches out with one small hand and chooses one finger and slowly leans in to touch it.
“Ribbit, Ribbit, ribbit, ribbit, RIBBIT!” it croaks one last time as it feels the touch of the girl. She caresses the frog gently, who after its initial shock, goes back to singing in harmony.
The girl and the sapito stay there, comfortable in each other’s presence until small droplets of rain start pelting down. The girl looks up , angry rain clouds dot the sky, and eventually the droplets turn into a drizzle. The jungle quiets down as the rain intensifies, the sound of dripping rain drowning the melody hidden within the undergrowth. Only the frogs continue to sing, louder and faster and to this tune the girl grabs her machete, looks around and sprints toward a nearby banana tree. She wields the tool with her two hands and chops off a palm leaf, grabs it, and balances it over her head. The girl then slowly heads back to her stone, closes her eyes and listens to the murmurs of the water and the crescendo of frogs until the rain ends.
The village
“Carmen, fetch me more paja toquilla, now!” Antonia screams from inside her hut. Carmen looks up at the thatched house, sitting on its wobbly four legs suspended above ground.
“Coming, mamá!” Carmen shouts back, as she makes her way toward the dusty road. The road was muddy after the rain, and Carmen splashes around in it as she trudges along, rejoicing the slippery feel of the mud between her toes, a welcome cold sensation atypical to the usual hard and rough feel of the ground.
Lush, bright green grass grows rampant along the sides of the road, between the few wooden houses built sporadically in its vicinity. All the houses have two things in common: they were all built on top of stilts and they all look battered and run down. Each house is a mesh of wood and thatch haphazardly put together; cracked roofs, lopsided floors, rugged walls, all patched together for the sole purpose of providing protection and a place to sleep for its inhabitants.
Along the road Carmen runs into other villagers from Rio Verde. She waves by as she passes Jose and Esteban, tough muscular men, wearing scraps for clothes, machetes in hand, heading for the fields to farm banano and yuca. She then runs into her neighbours Maria and Angela. The two big women pass by unaware of her presence, distracted by the latest gossip in the village. On top of their heads they balance large straw baskets which carry the week’s load of laundry. Jesús and Miguel trail behind their mothers, giggling as they smother their small naked bodies in mud.
Eventually Carmen makes it to her desired destination: Anita’s house. A small thatch house looms above the greenery. A rickety ladder stands in the front leading to the small open doorway.
“Doña Anita?” Carmen asks loudly.
“In here, Carmencita,” replies a voice from within. Carmen scurries up the ladder and peers into Anita’s hut. Inside, a large assortment of leaves lay above the creaky floorboards. Brown and rotting, yellow and cracking and green fresh palm leaves are sorted into different piles. In the middle, Anita lies on the floor, weaving yellow palm leaves into a basket. Her fingers delicately fold the leaves and intertwine them together, creating a symmetrical pattern as the basket begins to take shape.
Anita looks up from her work and nudges her head to the corner of the hut, where piles of freshly cut palm leaves lay strewn all over the floor.
“Those are my leftovers, tell your mother she needs to harvest extra leaves for me next time.”
“Gracias, just half will be enough for mamá.” Carmen replies as she makes her way to the paja toquilla and starts gathering them up.
“A traveller arrived today at the village.”
Carmen drops the leaves and looks at Anita.
“Where is he?”
“Down the road, on the clearing in front of Tomas’s shop.” Anita replies with a grin on her face. Carmen hastily grabs the leaves again and ties them together with a string she pulls from her pocket. She then throws the newly tied bundle out the doorway and heads for the ladder.
“Gracias Anita, see you soon!” Carmen screams as she jumps down from the hut and picks the paja toquilla from the ground.
“Don’t drop the leaves on your way back!” Anita screams from within. But by now Carmen is already running down the road, eager to meet the traveller.
To be continued…
Glossary
Sapito: frog
Paja toquilla: a straw coming from the leaves of a special kind of palm tree, used to make hats, baskets among other items. Panama hats are made from this straw.
Mamá: mother
Banano: green plantain
Yuca: a root vegetable
Doña: miss
Gracias: thanks
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