A story with a different setting this time. ‘Setting’ means the time, place, and circumstances in which a narrative takes place. It’s my personal experience that in some stories the setting is so very significant, prominent, commanding and controlling that it becomes a character itself. Sohaib Zahir (of class O’ Level-III) aspires to take you to Brazil and watch and smell and taste the kind of milieu it offers once there. Whereas the setting is a critical component for supporting a story, coming up with a successful description of the setting is pretty difficult a job. How much Sohaib has succeeded in his attempt is yet to be decided. However, let me drop here a five word comment: ‘The story does have appeal.’ Do give it a read.

Despite my devoted care I couldn’t save that boy from dying.

 “One grand is the final I can give you” I bargained.

“Agreed” said Belmiro.

“Ok, we depart tomorrow around six in the morning” I added.

I was in Sau Paulo, Brazil, working on my final assignment of PhD in Ecological studies. Two days earlier I had flown from Kansas to this city to rub my shoulders with some of the ecologists in order for giving finishing touches to my assignment before its final submission.

It was five in the morning when the alarm I had set shrieked in my ear at my hotel room. I jumped out of my bed and made for the bathroom for a quick shower.

Having had my breakfast, I quickly buzzed at Belmiro’s cell phone to inquire whether he was ready or not. Then around 6:30, we departed from our hotel to the port. The air was full of pollution unlike in Kansas, boats rocked tied with huge rocks. While I was looking around and comparing this atmosphere with that of my home town, Belmiro called me out enthusiastically asking me to come and have a look at the vessel by which we were to go for a small expedition.

It was seven O’ clock when we left the city in our vessel loaded with gas tanks and food stock enough for us for two to three days. Belmiro apprised me on the unpredictable weather of Brazil. We chatted for a while about his whole life spent on these rivers. Then I moved to the hammock to busy myself with a book. As I was about to finish only the second page, I glanced at the dancing clouds up in the sky. In 10 minutes or so, rain drops started pelting the deck hard.

Belmiro quickly switched the engine off and rushed into the hammock. I was horror-struck by thoughts of getting trapped here at river accompanied by jungles full of dangerous animals. But on the other hand, Belmiro looked as tranquil as a saint in paradise.

Rain stopped after half an hour allowing us to proceed with our venture. Belmiro was tackling with the river turns and currents as if he was the one who had designed the river. After two hours of continuous voyage, the vessel came to a halt. I looked up quizzically at Belmiro’s face that had a broad smile on it. He winked at me enjoyably and uttered:

“A short break for lunch!”

We resumed our voyage shortly after we were finished with our lunch. This time, it turned out to be a long drive of about four hours. Then at around six in the evening, we dismounted from our boat and stepped onto the land.

“Where do we stand now and how far is the Helumba Forest?”

I inquired.

“At four hour distance, but we can’t proceed any further now. We’ll start again tomorrow early morning” replied Belmiro in a faint tone. I thought of insisting on our carrying on during the night but an afterthought encouraged me to trust my young but experienced guide.

We stopped our boat by a small rock where Belmiro tied it with a tree. Belmiro then took out two camps from the vessel and started fixing them while I busied myself in preparing the dinner. In about an hour time, Belmiro had set two camps and a small fire as well --- quite close to the river so that we could keep an eye on our boat.

Since it was rainy season, big and small battalions of musical mosquitoes were abundantly visible all around. Belmiro warned me against dengue that was common in that season. Feeling scared, I quickly took out my mosquito repellant and started applying it all over my body. Belmiro followed me with an equal seriousness.

After having dinner, we yakked for a while then we both said goodbye to each other and went into our camps. Merely half an hour had passed when I heard something. The sound seemed to have arisen from Belmiro’s camp. I was busy guessing when Belmiro yelped again and rather piercingly. Frantic, I bolted towards his camp.

With his eyes tightly shut, he was holding his left thigh with both hands. I noticed a small bleeding around that spot. I quickly bent over him to see what had happened.

“It’s a snake bite” he could hardly utter the words. I was obvious the pain was excruciating.

I tore off a hem from my shirt, tied his thigh with it from both sides, and pressed his thigh to squeeze venom out of it while he nickered out of ache. I tried whatever I knew and I could to stop the venom from going up in the body or going down towards legs. All my efforts, however, ended in a smoke. Nothing went in my favor. Despite my devoted care, I couldn’t save that young Belmiro from dying.

And here was an American named Stephan from Kansas, lost in the perilous jungles of Brazil, and left at the mercy of treacherous reptiles, snakes, bears, and big cats. Stephan was now left to the nature’s decision. Nature's cruel court would decide now whether to spare him or engulf him down into her corpulent belly --- full of corpses.

Sohaib Zahir

O’Level Final Year

PakTurk Schools

Islamabad Branch

Sohaib Zahir