By Maureen Rampertab

I died yesterday, when time lost me
I opened my eyes today, but I can’t find myself
The peace of the limitless skies, beckon
My mind, my ownNot yours, not theirs
My home in the sky
I love to fly

The pen fell from her fingers as she looked up in the sky, through the small opening in the trees, her mind dazed.
“Why do I love to fly?”
The crashed plane lying a little way off on the jungle floor, could have answered her question, each poem she wrote always ending with the words ‘I love to fly’, but she couldn’t remember anything. She tore the page and crafting it into a paper plane, she let it fly, the wind taking it up into the trees.
The pages on her small notebook were almost finished as she waited, hoping someone would find her. She was lost in the deep jungle that was like a fortress with its tall trees and thick foliage.
“Where am I?” she wondered. “Will anyone find me?”
Her head was hurting where she had hit it, thrown from the plane when it had crashed, the small craft breaking in to two. She had laid unconscious for close to twelve hours, arose by the sound of loud chattering and a low deep growl. Her eyes were dazed from the pain in her head but her senses picked up the scent of danger. She didn’t move, knowing the slightest of movement would spur the jungle cat watching her with hungry eyes to attack. The monkeys on the tree tops watched the scene below with interest, taunting the tiger with their teasing antics until the animal lost its patience and left.
She had sat up grimacing in pain, saying a silent ‘thank you’ to her godsend saviours, the monkeys and looked at the broken plane, mystified. How did that happen and what was she doing here? She had sat with her head in her hands for a few long moments trying to remember but her mind remained blank.
Three days passed staying in the wreckage with not much to each and drink, afraid to venture in the jungle in search of something, wary of the wild animals. But on the fourth day, she braved her mind to find a way out because she knew if she stayed there any longer, she would die of thirst and hunger, not sure if anyone was searching for her and if they would find her at all. The sun filtered through the sparse openings in the trees as she walked, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where was home.
“Dear god” she prayed “Please help me find my way out, I don’t want to die in this jungle.”
Her feet felt sore as she walked, the half rotten fruits on the jungle floor and small springs of water, staving away the hunger and thirst. At nights, she slept under short trees with low thick leafy limbs that covered her body, awakening in the morning to the sounds of the birds and animals, sounds of life that rejuvenated her spirit.
Many days she walked and not a trace did she see of human life. She did not know she had been walking deeper in the jungle where no one had ever ventured. Her body was exhausted, her mind beginning to feel numb and just when she felt she could go no further, she heard again that low, deep growl.
“Oh no” she moaned as she turned around slowly, knowing this was her end.
“Where are you, dear lord?” she cried in her mind, as the animal advanced on her.
She stepped back slowly, too tired to think of running when the animal suddenly stopped, its hungry eyes looking past her, baring its deadly teeth menacingly. She turned around slowly to see what had attracted its attention and saw a hunter standing there in rigid posture, his arrow and bow aimed at the predator. She froze, standing there between the hunter and the hunted and as the animal sprung to attack, the hunter took his shot, the arrow piercing its chest.
It was the first time she was so close experiencing something of that nature, her heart beating wildly and she looked at the hunter standing there, a taut look on his face, his long hair resting on his shoulders, a tall, muscled body. She tried to say something but words died in her throat, the exhaustion, the hunger, and the fear all taking its toll and darkness overcame her. He caught her as she collapsed, moving with the gait of a jungle cat and laying her on the foliage floor, he looked at her concerned and puzzled.
Such a fair and beautiful woman, he had never seen before.
“Who are you?” he asked quietly and lifting her in his arms, he turned and walked into the deep jungle, to his home.
Two search parties on the ground were still days away from finding the crashed plane in the expansive, treacherous jungle. The aerial search had begun since day one after she had made a distress call then contact was lost. Arvin, her fiance, heading one of the search parties looked at her photograph on his phone, the smile on her lips, the sparkle in her brown eyes, a deep fear in his heart. He could still feel the goodbye kiss on his lips that afternoon, when she left.
She was not supposed to fly that day but no plane was in the airport base when the emergency call came in that day to airlift a young pregnant mother from the interior to the city hospital. For her, it meant saving two lives but a freak storm had hit on the way in. She was an excellent pilot but somehow on that fateful day, she had lost control of her plane, pulled into the bosom of the deep jungle, like a magnet.
“Dear God” he prayed for the hundredth time “Please keep her safe and alive, I’m on my way.”
Almost at once he heard a shout from one of the men in the search party, “Sir, we found something.”
He handed Arvin a paper plane that had fallen from one of the trees and as Arvin read the little poem it brought tears to his eyes and he looked up at the heavens, “Thank you, Dear Lord.”
“She’s alive” was the relieved shout that was radioed to the other search party and transmitted to friends and family at home, anxiously awaiting word.
She opened her eyes slowly and as her vision cleared, she saw two pretty little girls with long, dark hair standing beside her with bunches of the most beautiful flowers and a grey haired, white man with soft blue eyes holding a bible, a kind smile on his face.
“Did I die and is this heaven?” she asked weakly.
“No, you did not die” the old man answered, “But you’re in a place that is like a little heaven.”
She smiled a little, “Who are you and where am I?”
He nodded to the two little girls who placed the flowers in wooden vases, kissed her hand and left the hut.
“Now is not the time for questions” he said kindly “You’re weak, you need food and rest, then we’ll talk.”
He nodded to a native woman by the doorway who brought in a steaming bowl of soup that rekindled warmth and energy in her body. She slept for a long while after and when she opened her eyes, she saw not the old man but the hunter who had saved her life standing in a corner of the hut, looking at her. His expression was relaxed, the stern look on his face gone and this time, she found the words to say ‘Thank you’. He nodded his head slightly and was turning to leave when the two little girls came in the hut with more flowers. He took one that was the most beautiful and gave her, not saying a word, then he left. She watched him go, touched by his gesture and sighed, “I wish I could remember something to tell me who I am.”
She was given new native clothes to wear, her own torn and tattered from her trek through the jungle and in the evening, the old man came back to talk to her.
“You look like a native goddess” he remarked, a soft look of admiration in his blue eyes, “My wife, I had likened to the sun goddess.”

She smiled at him warmly, knowing without being told that he was a good man with a kind soul.
“I came with an English missionary team over four decades” he told her “No one knew of this native tribe deep in the jungle and as a young man preaching the word of God, I found in this place, something of heaven, a little garden of Eden hidden, waiting to be found. I felt blessed being here and it became home for me.”
“You have been here living with the natives, all this time?” she asked, awed by his story.
“Yes, I married a native girl and I have three children.”
“That’s wonderful” she said “and now I have wandered here.”
“My son saved your life” the old man said “But how did you get this far?”

A distressed look crossed her face, “I don’t know, I just walked, hoping to find a way out. I can’t remember anything, not who I am or where I’m from…” her voice broke.
“It’s okay” he said, comfortingly, I know who you are.
She looked at him surprised, “How can you…?” her voice trailed off.
“It’s simple” he smiled “You were wearing a pilot’s uniform and on the crest is your name ‘Amelia Ciprani’. It’s clear, the plane you were piloting, crashed, the accident causing you to lose your memory.”
“Is that why I keep thinking I love to fly?”
“Yes” he said “Your mind is still holding onto a little fragment and soon, it will all come back to you.”
She sighed deeply, “I thank God, I found you but how will anyone find me here?”

“A small group of expert trackers will leave in the morning”, he assured her “to locate and inform the search party looking for you.”
“You are an answer to my prayers.” she said, a little peaceful feeling now in her mind.
“It’s all in the name of God” he said “Now go to sleep, tomorrow my son will show you our little garden of Eden.”
The search party found the crashed plane and as Arvin stood looking at the wreckage, her plane; ‘Scarlet Roses,’ memories of her flowed in his mind and he called for her, “Amelia” hoping wherever she was, she would hear him.
In her sleep, that night she heard a voice call her name, a voice she left she knew and she awoke, wondering, “Whose voice is calling me?” (To be continued)