Ann-Marie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as the plane started its descent.

She was home again!

Elation, like the cool, rushing streams in the forest, flowed through her being. She had missed her people, the rainforest with its astounding flora and fauna, its amazing waterfalls and its adventurous life.

She was a girl of the Arawak tribe and proud of her Indigenous heritage, for history had documented the different tribes that came and settled in the hinterland as the first people. Stories of their lives from the beginning were written on the foliage of the rainforests and borne by the wind across the rolling savannahs of her home in Guyana, South America.

She was returning home from expeditions to ancient cities and sites in Central America with her English husband, David. He and his team of archaeologists had unearthed and documented many places and relics of the early inhabitants. It greatly interested Ann-Marie; on the team, she discovered pieces of her ancestral history scattered like leaves across the Americas: old, valuable artefacts of the Mayan and Aztec dynasties in sealed chambers, with inscriptions on the walls. On the stone steps of temples, she had walked barefoot, visualising the gods and goddesses of that era and the rituals and sacrifices.

The spiritual power of the gods of the past was a bond she shared with her tribal people. An inheritance passed down and deeply imprinted on her mind was that unforgettable journey from Asia across the Bering Strait over seven thousand years ago to this land in South America.

David took her hand and looked at her with a warm smile. “Happy now?”

She nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder as the small plane touched down on the interior airstrip. A small welcoming party gathered for the special couple, and the Toshao’s son presented her with a bunch of rare orchids. She inhaled the heavenly scent deeply and gave him a warm hug.

Tears of happiness gathered in her eyes at the joyous welcome she and David received in her village.

That evening, there was a celebration with a feast, songs and dances, not only for her retur n but for her little princess on the way. Ann-Marie went to bed in her benab, the toned-down sounds of music and laughter lulling her to sleep in this, her paradise.

In her dreams, scenes from her adventurous life replayed in nature’s secret little hideouts: treacherous trails and dark, forbidden places deep in the forest, bathing under waterfalls and swimming with her river friends, the otters.

Such an exciting and fun life it had been, sometimes facing dangers, but free to run, play, and explore. But a chance for a new life came when David, the English boy she had rescued when his family’s plane had crashed, fulfilled his promise to her and returned years later.

He wanted her to share his life so that he could take her on travels across the world on archaeological expeditions. They had married, and she left the village with him, but Ann-Marie had missed home too much. Three years later, early one morning in Guatemala, she had told David, “Something has happened. I have to go back home.”

“What happened?” he had asked, concerned that she had not been very happy.

She had smiled, a glow on her face, and, taking his hand, placed it on her abdomen.

“I would love for our baby to be born in my little paradise at home.”

It was wonderful news for David, and, touching her face gently, he had said, “If that’s what will make you happy, we will return.”

So, four months later, David took temporary leave from work so they could return to her home and await the birth of their baby. A happy smile played across her face, and she turned into her husband’s arms, laying her head on his chest in the bliss of sleep and the peace and quiet of the night.

Ann-Marie awoke early the next morning, before the mist had cleared from the mountaintops. She stepped outside, her bare feet kissed by the morning dew on the grass, and inhaled the cool, fresh air deeply.

“Such a blessing!” she exclaimed quietly, her hand touching her abdomen lovingly.

“She will be the princess of El Dorado,” she had told David as they prepared to return.

He had looked at her, somewhat surprised. “The mythical El Dorado?”

“Well, it’s a popular story that started a long time ago so that we can own it,” she had said, smiling with pride.

Explorers searched for El Dorado, the city of gold, but never found it; it became a myth to the outside world and a legacy for the Indigenous people.

As a young girl, she had been fascinated by the story, but as she grew older, her interest faded, for it seemed unlikely that El Dorado had ever existed. Then, one day, she stumbled upon something deep in the rainforest where no one had ever walked before. It was as though a door had opened to let her in, and she stood there in awe, looking around at the flowing streams, rare flowers and exotic birds. What took her breath away was the gold sparkling all around.

“Could it be…?” she wondered, unable to believe that it actually was.

She walked to the stream and scooped up water with both hands, watching in disbelief as it trickled through her fingers, leaving small gold particles on her hands.

A deep thrill passed through her body, and she stood there, rooted, for a long moment.

“No one has ever found this place. Why me?”

“Because you are a chosen daughter of our people,” a low voice said from somewhere. “This is now your secret, which you will pass on to your daughter.”

“That I will do,” Ann-Marie said to herself as David stepped out of the benab, looking for her. “El Dorado will forever be our legacy.”