“If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him.”
–Voltaire (1694 – 1778)
When I first took to the road, I only desired to experience firsthand what was known exclusively to the earliest of worldly explorers. Discovering not just a new place, but living a new life, a new culture, a new fuck under a new constellation. I have been traveling through deserts, hills, valleys and concrete jungles. This was my first ride into savage swamps of no man’s land. The trip began with my buddy Rick Savage returning with his wife from a vacation in Brazil. The known and well understood pig that he is, even his wife ignores his kinks for exotic women and the consequent violence. It seems, every girl he has ever hit on is either married or owned by a trigger-happy dickhead. This has been the norm since he got hitched to his current and first wife from Barbados. She is not white, she is not black; her skin shines like gold all year round. Rick loves her and when he is sober confides that the tropical floozie has brought a curse upon him ever since he married her. She seems gentle and caring to me; but there is something about her green eyes that seems to cloak an invisible mischief or malice.
Rolling thunder, canopy of trees too thick to see sunlight through, mud deep enough to be buried standing up, beaches with sand smooth as cocaine & fine as silver-dust, the women tall & skinny with throats that could swallow your knee, people so poor they sell their dead as souvenirs. This is how Rick described the land we were to visit. I had an image in my mind of South America, but the nightmare can only be lived not dreamed. Madre de Dios (loosely translated as ‘Holy Mother of God, Where am I?’), is navigated either through foot or by chartered airplane. You could count the number of motor vehicles in the place on your fingers. We took flight in a crop duster from the '50s with a pilot from the '30s at the helm. The bikes were actually tied to the outside of the plane with ropes that could probably hold a wild rodeo bull in immobility; Rick’s wife could find more use for that. When the ‘Dragon Egg’ had landed (the name of the crop duster), we rode our iron horses as deep into the woods as we could. A forest ranger secured our bikes and we paid him for keeping it safe. Where we were going, the only way through was either by a bulldozer or the half-dead mules of the forest settlement.
First night of the adventure, we camped in the ranger’s cabin. All too happy to share our ‘imported’ bourbon, he told us of great ancient treasures, of floating witches, of tigers with tusks, of cannibals who eat their own dicks; this was before we started boozing!
Dawn could not be seen. Only the ranger’s fowl crowed before one of ‘em was choked to roast him with its blood as the fillings. Yes! The local help just plucked out the feathers and put him whole into their clay oven. Firm and juicy, it was breakfast fit for the vicious adventure we were about to take.
“It tastes like chicken,” Rick mumbled as he slurped his wrists licking the thickened blood of his meat.
“Ready when you are soldier!” I got up, washed and waited for Rick to begin our trek.
“Hey Man! You don’t think I can trek after eating this monstrous bird, do ya?” Rick lit his joint.
“Yeah, well you promised me a village of naked supermodels, I would like to get there before they reach Hollywood.” I shared the smoke.
“The ranger has a military jeep, 4-wheel drive, we can carry the bikes.” He hushed up suddenly and whispered, “He is a real freak, wants us to bring him a 7-year-old girl from the village down South.”
I stared at him intently.
“Well a faggot he is. He wants us to buy, steal or borrow her; all the resources he has for us, for the girl,” Rick took a deep puff and exhaled, “not 6-year-old, not 8- year-old – SEVEN years old!”
“Why can’t he go down South and do the Hell-worship himself?”
“Ya’see, he believes all the tales he told us last night.” Rick beamed, “We actually get free food and booze to carry because he feels we will need it to offer ‘em to the Demon-Gods in the swamp.”
“Well let’s roll; as long as I can ride a motorcycle on silver sand, I don’t care what he fears or fucks.” I picked my bedroll and Rick led my way.
After roaring into the jungle for miles we finally reached the muddy treacherous swamps the ranger had warned us at length about. He had drawn us a map on a glabrous leaf of a plant known as Dracula orchid, with rubber plant’s secretion as ink. This was more durable in this bog than any paper civilisation knows of. I drove on towards a long curved detour while Rick wasted himself spilling expensive booze on his cheap Hawaiian shirt. We stopped at the final road to the secluded tribal village to relieve our bladder and refilled the jeep’s tank. Little did we know that we were desecrating the tombs of ancient Gods while also insulting their memory by cocking-a-loogie on the pristine white land.
It was only then that I realised that the ground was white – it wasn’t sand, not ashes either – just white dust is all I could call it.
At first five skinny kids walked slowly at us with pea-shooting weapons – with what I assumed had poison darts. I whispered to Rick who was busy refueling the jeep and closest to the shotgun. He ignored me and whined about the humidity using cuss words which, if those pea-shooting kids understood, would make them disapprove more of our intrusion. Finally I walked slowly and kicked Rick’s pants to make him notice the face-painted critters.
“Now you did it Jimmy; you probably parked the jeep on top of one of their lizards”, Rick was unfazed, “you know that’s their dinner, or they worship them reptiles.”
“Goddamnit Rick! Is the gun loaded?” I asked as the five tribal kids were just a few feet away.
“Gun? Fuck! These kids won’t hurt us. We are Americans!”
“In case you didn’t notice, we are nowhere near an American consulate nor are these kids here to stamp our passports.”
Rick still was unfazed. He walked on towards the kids with his thumbs on his Levi belt loops. I didn’t know whether to pity his foolishness or pray for him to be bestowed with some intelligence.
“Howdy there troopers!” Rick addressed the infant army. “We were just passing through and it would help if you guys could let us know how far the titty village is?”
I almost wanted to kill Rick myself. If these tribal kids had half a brain they would skin him alive before he mentions ‘grabbing their mothers for an afternoon delight’.
“Hey there fellas!” I approached the angry painted faces as I could see their frowns turning into venom. “This here is a map where we are going to. Could you let us move on. We would give you food.” I showed them the map and signed Rick to get the bananas.
“Gabgula kepe vo kamakula assetteh” said one of ‘em as the others muttered angrily.
So now, by the voice, I comprehended that these were full-grown men. Angry men. I looked behind them and now a real army of pea-shooters was gathering at the pathway’s horizon.
“Listen kid; I know this is your hometown. We don’t intend to stay here. Just moving along if you could allow.” I said it with the sweetest tone and friendliest hand-gestures I could manage while keeping my eye on their weapons.
“Ooooka kebagala; aakameyahbesawah!” The same man-child again, now with his fingers as a fist.
I put the map back in my pocket and my Zippo fell out when I pulled my hand out of my jeans. It shined like a diamond in this open sunny surroundings.
“Hakaahluka! Hakaahluka!” All of ‘em yelled simultaneously.
“It’s just a Zippo” I slowly picked it up keeping eye contact. “See just a harmless lighter.” I clicked the Zippo.
“Hakaahluka Desaada!” And now they bowed before me as their leader raised in his right palm the oldest Zippo I had seen. This here was an antique. I took it from him and read the inscription – “Col. James O’Reily” – his first name matched mine. The five troopers pointed towards where I had just pissed. There I noticed, behind a large star orchid (also known as crucifix orchid), was impaled the skull of what was probably the ‘Col. James’ after a weary travel to find the elusive mystical hussy hamlet. I returned the antiquity.
“Kind of poetic irony you know?” Rick noted and lit a joint.
“Hakaahluka Desaada! We go now.” I announced and walked backwards facing them as they continued to bow. I slowly maneuvered the jeep as new kids started bowing all around our path. Rick was enjoying this, even pretending to bless them with his bong as if he was their newly-anointed Pope.
Evening was approaching, I could tell that only by my wristwatch. Soon the forest was clearing and we could hear the proximate babbling of the creek ahead. The map suggested danger here, although the beautiful scenery seemed like an Eden lost to mankind. The flowers were of every colour, the birds chirped happy songs, even the insects seemed cute. But there was the familiar skull mark on the map, as on another dozen places.
“What is it? Why are we stopping?” Rick was anxious, “Don’t tell me you ran over another lizard.”
“Would you stop smoking that pot?” I retorted out of frustration, “As is your brain doesn’t function and what’s with the pathetic tribal jokes?”
“Chill Man! Sure we can stop here. You need a beer.” Rick reached back and grabbed a six-pack to hand me one can and use the rest to cool his sweaty neck.
“This skull mark – the danger; this is different. Others were just skulls, this skull has fangs.”
“Vampires?” Rick suggested. “You know they could just be cannibals with sharp teeth; we can handle them.” And Rick reached back again now for the shotgun.
“Wanna step out and see how deep the creek is before we roll on?”
“Oh! Errr! I am wearing premium Texas leather boots …… hmmm ……. else I would go ……… you know I would go.” Rick fumbled with the cartridges as he looked away from my stare.
“Just cover me dude!” And I stepped out. As I walked stealthily towards the creek, watching, listening and smelling everything, I recalled the last nine skull marks we sailed through. There were the rocks of ‘dragon hall’ that could cut metal into shreds; we rolled over them by using tree barks of virginal mahogany. There was the ‘realm of solitude’, a place where men went mad due to the fumes emitted by the burning native herbal plants; the locals thought the madness was because of evil spirits invading their souls. We passed that by using coffee filter with alum as gas masks; we brought the alum as durable antibacterial agent for drinking water and making our cheeks kissable for the Amazonian chicks.
Then there was the mysterious case of ‘the disappearing mountain’. The mountain was made of spectacular granite polished through hard rain. At specific times of day, it created illusions of road ahead and then when you came close enough to bump, the caves underneath gave away to an instant gruesome death. To deal with that I had simply followed the pattern of flightless rheas as they ran in front of us like Charlie Chaplin without the wit. Each time we solved, like scientific explorers, the crazy talk of the local folklore. All done away with before our second night’s camp. This time all we knew of was the ‘angry phantom of death’. I pondered more on this title. The local word for death and decay were the same. Maybe it was just a toxic waste from nature they feared. And then it launched itself on terra firma.
The unforeseen threat made me stumble, falling flat on my back. As I crawled backwards, she crawled in great aristocratic strides towards me.
“Holy smokes!” Rick yelled, “Jimmy roll out of the way; I ain’t got a clear shot.”
I managed to stand and then run as the large reptile continued its aggression. From my time in Florida I understood this was a crocodile habitat, and the large Mama ‘Phantom’ was bringing along her kids for supper.
“Jimmy what do we do?” Rick was now yelling into my ears.
“Well, let’s not wait to decide” and I put the jeep in reverse.
The female was at least five times bigger than any I had seen in Florida. The young ones were eager and running at us. Rick amused the Phantom with his French. The more noise he made with his mouth, the more the crocodiles were attracted to him with their wide jaws matching his. With all the crocs attacking his side of the jeep, it gave me time for a clearer chain of thought. There was no way we could outrun these beasts in the narrow trail we made. Suddenly I remembered all the unused food we had for the Demon-Gods. I braked and grabbed a chicken cage, hurling it at the Mama croc. She snapped at the air as the cage flung open and the bird scattered feathers in its fright.
“Not the chicken! You bastard, you expect me to live on fruits?” Rick yelled at my face at the loss of the meat.
“Well I got something else too.” And I snatched his shotgun to shoot a cougar from the adjacent tree making it fall in the middle of the reptile melee.
“Now we know how deep the creek is,” And I stepped on gas to roar into the creek and across as the water splashed on all corners. Rick kept staring back at the crap we left behind.
I explained it to him, “Ya’see, the crocodiles steal all of the cougar’s hunt, but he still has to come here to hunt as the prey come for a drink. As the prey run scared from the sloppy noisy crocs, the cougar is ready to hug them. He wanted us too but I saw the pugmarks at the edge of the creek when I fell; I was ready just in time. The water isn’t deep because a crocs’ nursery is in shallow waters” I lit a cigarette and inhaled deep.
This side of the creek, the stench of rotting carcasses made me glad I was breathing tobacco.
“How many skulls to cull?” Rick asked.
“We camp now beside ‘the naked prairie’; then”, I looked at Rick’s dreary face, “we deal with the rest tomorrow.”
‘The naked prairie’ was barren, a baked land in the middle of greenery. The lava underneath its ground killed all life above and no creature dwelt in its vicinity. The lava bubbling at times, making gas rush around hollow earth to make eerie sounds. We slept sitting inside the jeep at a safe distance from those fumes. We were masked by tall shrubs and the moonlight was known only through howls of wild animals. Even my dreams played only the logic behind the words of the strange local curses. The 11th and 12th skulls were on the same point, facing each other – damned kissing skulls; a doubled curse.
I woke up in a warm bathtub with the smell of ready breakfast making me reach out for a towel. I was in a steaming cauldron and Rick was giggling like a school girl. He was tied to a wooden post and I concluded that the cannibals had given him their medicine for his colourful vocabulary. I was the breakfast.
I was wide awake now; Rick was drugged and too delirious to help me. The natives were quite happy to see me fuming; they smiled and congratulated the cook as he piled more wood to add heat. I surveyed the village, strong men on all corners. They had spears as well as bows. I wondered about what they had done to my motorcycle, then I realised I should set my priority to being alive to use one.
I calmly fished inside the cauldron for anything I could use as a weapon. It seemed there were three dead dogs to add flavour. Their skin was peeled so I dug in with my bare hands to find a strong leg bone. The water temperature rose steadily. I snapped the bone creating a sharp broken edge. The dancing and revelry of the cannibals helped dull the noise I made. Now I could flee, but then without a vehicle I would never make a getaway. And as annoying as Rick is I couldn’t leave a brother behind.
I dived and rocked the cauldron. It rocked slowly and then I kicked it more. The cook worried but before he could call for help I rocked the cauldron off its base. Five men charged at me and I held one’s spear, to thrust in the sharp dog bone. With all my agility (the warm splashing, oily, dog soup helped) I tackled the remaining four.
“You guys will love American football” I said and hurled the spear into the cook behind me.
The revelry continued on one side while on the other, near their village entrance, the alerted guards ran towards me. A hideous-looking kid blew the horn to alert the village. I had now gathered two knives and a spear. I ran naked towards the post where Rick continued to laugh at this horrible drama.
“Negaada ooka! Negaada ooka!” The villagers were now chanting this strange phrase while kneeling wherever they had stood.
I didn’t wait long to ponder this new mystery and cut down Rick and loaded him on my left shoulder.
The fattest, ugliest, disfigured woman walked lustily towards me. My skin smelt freshly baked and tender. The others remained on their knees. The woman now kneeled in front of me and held my dick. It was then that I noticed that I had a huge boner from the warm bath and its consequent excitement.
So that’s why these retards suddenly held me in awe and reverence.
I had to get out before my shaft gained its normal composure. The witch caressed my python and as much as I detested it, in her hands he throbbed. I held her chin to make her look up. I controlled puking at the sight of her disgusting smile.
I pointed to the jungle outside the village, “Let’s get some privacy, we aren’t savages are we?”
The universal language of temptation made her lead me out of this Hell, holding my right hand, while I shouldered Rick.
Outside, I saw ‘the naked prairie’ and I had parked on the other side of this cannibal kingdom. I let her lead me as far away as she wished. I glanced back and the others still knelt where they had. This Queen wanted her King. I let her lick it all she wanted, the shaft didn’t yield. Her groans turned into frenetic yelps. I couldn’t possibly run over lava to reach the jeep, which I hoped was still there unaffected. This was the most bizarre ménage à trios I had experienced, even if Rick was now unconscious on my shoulder. Finally I held her chin again.
“Say baby, how about I come back with a condom”, I pointed now at where I had parked my jeep, “You know rubber saves lives”, and right now I prayed it would save mine.
“HUHUHUHAAHAA!” her laugh was worse than her smile, “Geravaata leekaye muwahhata”, saying so she pointed at a cactus field.
I saw then a clear pathway that curved around ‘the naked prairie’. As she stared at me while still kneeling, I walked away. I worried about saving Rick’s stinking ass; running with or without him would be futile either ways.
“Wake up soldier”, I whispered to Rick walking as fast as I could, “wake up so I can kick your ass.”
Rick remained asleep while I lived the nightmare.
I kept talking to him though and halfway through the pathway he opened his eyes and observed, “Hey Jimmy the ground is moving below me.”
I threw him on his arse, “Do you know what I went through to save your life?”
“The cannibals!” he stood up in an instant, “James I yelled my lungs out to wake you, they were cooking you man!”
“Yeah, let’s not give them a second serving” And I led the way to the jeep, running as fast as we could with me being naked and barefoot.
“They shred our tyres man! We can’t run any farther.” Rick sat down at the sight of our jeep.
“Motorcycle is an all-terrain vehicle soldier and they left it alone.” I started cutting away the ropes holding the bikes with the cannibal knife.
Rick made himself useful for a change and packed in his saddlebag all we would need to carry.
“I was saving this for your birthday next week Jimmy”, Rick held up shiny brown hunting boots, “I am giving it to ya now!”
“You know I would never leave a degenerate like you with them cannibals”, I said as I grabbed the boots; “even they deserve some morality.”
The dumb drunkard hugged me and I patted his back. Then we realised I was still naked and he passed me a pair of Levis.
Thundering through the mud and filth, we rode non-stop for three hours. The twin-skulls – lava and cannibals – now far behind. The wind was getting cooler and we realised we were getting close to the sea. Across hills made by dung-beetles and army ants – large as trailer trucks, we rode on with courage and ambition.
Finally I braked when I saw the most beautiful sirens shining in front of me.
“We made it Jimmy, she is from titty-land” Rick drooled on his Hawaiian shirt.
“Howdy Miss! We have traveled far and wish only some native hospitality” I grinned.
The girl was as tall as me, she smiled the prettiest smile as she swayed in our direction.
“Hey Jimmy! Do you think she is dangerous?” Rick whispered.
“I died when I saw her perky pink nipples, I now want to be buried deep inside her.” I was mesmerised.
She spoke with her bright eyes. We walked behind her like zombies in a lucid dream.
This village besides the silver beach had girls ever-youthful. Everyone and I swear everyone looked like a 20- year-old virgin. Finally all the beauties lined up to our left and right.
“What brings you here men?” The most stunning brunette spoke in front of us.
“We are adventurers. Looking for wonderful civilisations such as yours. We would like to study your village women closely.” I said in all honesty.
“Yes, we would love to have you as guests of honour”, she clapped her hands, “Wash these men and ready their beds.”
Five gorgeous women led away Rick into a hut. Another five held to my bare torso and led me to my room.
None of these girls spoke but they understood all I wanted to say. Only the stunning brunette ever talked.
“Pretty naked dames who don’t talk. I could get used to this” Rick mumbled.
We were having our lunch. Soon they massaged us with sweet intoxicating oils.
“It is time for us to ask you a favour in return”, the brunette leader was stern. “You will help impregnate five women every night you spend here. Is that clear?”
Rick almost had a heart-attack at the auspicious orders.
I stood up, held her and agreed, “I would like to start with you!”
She was a famished woman. She made me feel I was doing the most honourable thing in the world. She wasn’t satisfied easily; her capacity to be fucked in every orifice was something refreshingly invigorating. After we had gone through two dozen moves in 90 minutes, she left me and whispered – “You can rest for 30 minutes now” – and she disappeared into the night.
In the next five and half hours I pleasured four more women. Each of them eager to please me, tempt me and caress every part of my skin. Rick and I spent seven nights like this. We could live here forever.
One night while taking a shit behind the bushes, I heard a kid singing. I washed up and looked around and there were women of all ages now in a hamlet adjacent to this village but hidden by a curtain of dark green flora. I snooped again the next night and they were there. They only lived in the night. By the day only the 20-somethings played.
She appeared behind me; “You seem worried James” she spoke softly, almost kindly.
“Why do the other women hide behind the village?” I asked bluntly.
“They need protection. We on the other hand can deal with everything.” She was frank about it. “We don’t ask your history and you don’t need ours.”
That was the last I discussed the subject.
On the 10th morning, after using cold well-water to relax my sore balls, I rode again with Rick to the silver sands. Every morning after our breakfast we would ride there to take in the sea and sink in the warm sand. Rick definitely had more vigour than me. He had the strength to go for a swim.
I lay there on the silver sand. And the summer clouds formed the shape of an angel of a past life.
“Why didn’t you call me on my birthday?”
“I made this for you!” I held up a collage of our photos, framed in crystal.
She just smiled, then said, “Let’s go for a drive.”
“No”, I felt her delicate face, “I don’t want to.”
“Why not? What is it you are so busy with James that you can’t love your life?”
“You don’t have seatbelts in your car” I stated.
“You ride a fuckin’ motorcycle and you don’t want to be in my car because of – no seatbelts?” Her eyes watered now but no tears rolled.
“You know I don’t know how to drive your car & you don’t know how to ride my motorcycle”, I held her close, “Just as you are scared sitting on my motorcycle, I am scared in your car – I can’t control that car and you can’t control my bike!”
“Don’t say that James; don’t…”
“It’s the story of our life!” I concluded. We just had different lives to lead and neither of us wanted to lose control.
I got up from this reminiscing and checked the bike for worn out parts.
“Don’t say that James; don’t say that you are tired of fucking around”, Rick yelled running in his briefs towards me. He knew I was getting ready to roll on back home.
“This whorehouse is the 13th skull on the map Rick”, I informed, “I figured it out. We will die here because we are in love with lust. These women will dispose of us if we miss their daily target.”
“You are crazy man! They love us.” Rick pleaded.
“No one has survived till the 13th night Rick. And then they will not need us alive anymore.”
I narrated to Rick my investigations into the ‘other women’ of the village. These beautiful hussies were going to rid of us because when men tire of sex, they indulge in other guilty pleasures, into criminal behaviour. While we were good to go, we better go!
“Yeah! At least I don’t need to kidnap a kid for that faggot forest ranger”, Rick sighed; “We have no jeep of his and what say we ride from here to Panama?”
“Yup, if God wanted us to fuck here forever, he would have accessorised us with liquor and MTV.”
We checked our rides and only were to carry what was with us at this beach. The sun was warm but the sea breathed a cool breeze. We were leaving paradise and on our own terms.
“Check it out, I grabbed some exotic critters for my insect aquarium” Rick grinned and held up a jar of disgusting monster cockroaches.
“Rick I have killed rabbits, deers, and men; I swear I have even killed a horse. But Goddamnit I can't stand cockroaches. They are too despicable to crush under my new boots.”
“Okay! One last smoke and we roll!” He put away his insects and now produced cigars for both of us.
The waves retreated and the clouds cleared to the glory of a bright blue sky. We had come a long way, done detestable things, interacted with tribes not known to the modern world, even beaten death to its demise. There was no more to keep us engaged here. Time to go home and keep fantastic elements in its oneiric world; this reverie ends here.
Our road to Panama was paved with grit of hardcore bikers and satisfaction of successful conquerors. Whenever we ride with passion for the road, the trip results in an adventure like none have ever lived. I think I will do it again sometime.
Copyright Ujjwal Dey 2008
