Lost in Chambeshi
Once, when I was in lost near the Chambeshi river in Zambia on a covert-ops rescue mission to find the Key of Solomon, I ran out of rations and became delirious. My native guide, Grak-Uuu had died of dysentary the night before after we were raided by Baka pygmies in search of gold dust. Compounded by a week old injury I’d incurred when we’d stumbled on a pack of vipers hidden off the cliffs of Moher in Ireland, I was in no mood to fight and escaped by following the mating cries of the pink-backed pelican.
It was an ugly wound, all fallow and swollen from the heat and jupiter bugs. Not since the rain forests of Belize during Monsoon had I seen such injury. I tried to patch it with a mixture of Vincristine that I extracted from a Periwinkle plant and mixed it with koala droppings. But the salve didn’t take hold.
I was in trouble and I knew it.
For shelter I located a large imported sequoia tree and found solace under its giant green canopy. There I convalsced while local Djenne brought me tea tree oils and dried mackelfish. They danced healing prayers to the Gods while I recovered from my wounds.
Which leads me to this pic.
Where I again seek solace under its giant green canopy and bask in its healing powers.
