IN a small remote settlement in the hinterland, a group was making ready to depart the village. It was comprised of seven young men in their early teens and three men of the village. They were on a learning expedition. The boys would be trained in the ways of the village.

The group moved away from the village and headed deep into the forest. They would be away for a few days. As they trekked along the men pointed out bushes, herbs and roots that were used for many different purposes. They fished for lunch then continued on. That night the trainees were allowed to make the fire and roast the catch; two labbas. After eating, they slept in hammocks tied to the nearby trees.

Next day, they set out early. The elders showed them many fruits and vines. They were also able to spot a few animals like anteaters, monkeys, sloths and accuri. Soon they were learning the different marks left by animals and how to track them.
The most exciting were the prints of the solitary jaguar. It had passed that way the previous night. They picked up the tracks of a deer and followed it through the dense forest. As they proceeded they came upon a magnificent flatland with rich vegetation. Deer and other animals could be seen grazing in the distance.

The eager group tracked a number of animals including the labba, tapir, agoutie and anteater. They ended the second day much like the first. The third morning they set off again. They focused on birds especially the powis and wild duck. They learned to set traps for most of the animals they would have to hunt. The next morning they began their return trip. On the way, they caught crabs and roasted them. They picked fruits and ate as they travelled.

One of the trainees at the front of the group motioned for them to stop. He pointed to the forest floor and the elder told them that it was the tracks of a large snake. The group buzzed with excitement. They all wanted to hunt the reptile.
Each youth was armed with a knife, a bow and a quiver of arrows. Two of them had machetes. The elders had old shotguns. They set out in pursuit of the snake. They followed the tracks for close to two hours sometimes losing it and having to backtrack to pick up its signs again.

The tracks led them to a bushy plain and they spread out sensing that they were closing in on the snake. The oldest trainer named Basil suggested that they break off the search and head back to the village. They ignored him and pressed on.
Hssssss!
One of the youths had come suddenly upon the creature. He sprang back barely avoiding a bite.
“It’s here!”

The group converged on the location. The snake slipped into the vegetation and disappeared. Now they would find out if their training was any good. They soon located its tracks and followed it. Each time they closed in the crafty snake slipped away. It was as if it was reading their minds.

“The next time we sight it, go softly. I will shoot it.”
The trainer cocked his weapon and advanced, ready for action. The next sighting was different than the others. This time they tried to surround the animal teasing it mercilessly.
“Let’s catch it!”
“No! let’s kill it!”

CLICK!
BANG !
The snake writhed and slithered swiftly away leaving a trail of blood. It had been wounded. They chased after it and eventually lost its track when the animal slithered into the river. Disappointed, they trudged back to the village each with an exciting story to tell. All, except one.

Basil, the quiet, elderly man walked back to his village with head hung low in thought. He seemed to have aged rapidly but he walked faster than them all. The group stopped to eat then continued their journey back to the little village. At the village, there was excitement and joy for the young men who were now considered adults. They would be joining future hunting parties.

The old man headed for his hut at the lower edge of the village. As he entered he gave an anguished cry. Loud sobbing could be heard coming from his hut. News of this got around and villagers arrived to attend to their friend. When they entered the small, dark dwelling, a great shock awaited them.

Lying next to his aged wife, the old man sobbed as he stroked her wet silver hair. There was one bizarre thing about this scene. The man’s wife lay dead in his arms. She had been shot in the head by a shotgun. When the full significance of this hit them, the villagers withdrew quietly. There would be quiet prayers that night in thanksgiving for the death of a Kanaima.