Mason asked, “Outsiders?”
To which the chief responded, “Yes, we have mostly kept to ourselves for centuries. Even after Europe colonized all of Brazil, our little corner of the Amazon was kept secure and isolated.”
The chief then laughed, “Almost as if it was under quarantine…” More somber and morose he then continued, “Yes, I suppose that you could say that this was how the Brazilian government always viewed us, as vermin, or a kind of disease that needed to be kept on the fringes of society lest it break loose.”
Mason couldn’t help but marvel at the man’s command of English. He had naturally assumed that a tribal elder living this remote village would probably not be aware of worldly languages. He figured that Portuguese would be difficult let alone English.
It was Mathew Benton that attempted to broker the subject, “So chief—uh—sir...”
The tribal elder realizing that he hadn’t yet introduced himself, smacked himself lightly across the face as he murmured, “Oh goodness gracious me—where are my manners? I didn’t even properly introduce myself. My name is Johnny Yanomami—and you are?”
Benton then introduced himself, “I’m Mathew Benton—” before motioning toward Mason and Raina, “and these are my colleagues Mason Walker and Raina Martin”.
Benton still struggling to know just how to address the man then awkwardly continued, “Okay—Mr. Yanomami… Just how is it that you managed to learn English so well?”
The chief then laughed, “Oh I wasn’t always relegated just to these tipis.”
Mason then offered, “Well—uh, I know Yanomami is the name of an indigenous tribe, and is used kind of like a surname, but Johnny isn’t exactly an ancestral name is it?”
Johnny smiled, “No, it’s not. I picked that one up while I was in the states. My real name is Mukashe.”
Mason attempted to repeat, “Mu—ka—she.” Before asking, “So—why don’t you go by that?”
Chief Johnny laughed, “Well, besides it being harder to pronounce for most outsiders—even when they do pronounce it right, it’s always a bit awkward to hear them say it.”
Mason wishing to get back to the point, inquired, “So—you mentioned you didn’t always live around here… You used to live on the outside?”
Johnny solemnly nodded, “Yes—about a lifetime or two ago.”
The chief then pulled out a framed document from a wicker basket and showing what looked like a diploma and flatly stated, “I went to Stanford.”
Mason squinting his eyes couldn’t help but ineloquently curse his acknowledgement, “Shit that is from Stanford!”
The chief smiled, “That’s where I got my PHD…” The man with a gleam in his eyes then asked Mason directly, “Can you guess what it is that I studied?”
Mason automatically assumed he probably had gone to Stanford for some kind of anthropology or philosophy program. But the old man had another surprise in store for him when he answered, “To be an engineer!”
Mason echoed his statement, “An engineer?”
The chief nodded in solemn agreement, “Yes, I wanted to build big buildings. Make a real name for myself.”
Benton then ventured, “So what happened then?”
The chief thought about it for a moment before quietly responding, “I realized what really mattered. I realized that building things out of steel and concrete—” He paused a moment looked at his surroundings and chuckled, “or even logs, dirt, and thatch for that matter—pale in comparison to building up the heart of a people.” The chief then grinned, “So I came back and became the big chief.”
Mason asked, “So what was it like being a chief in the 21st Century?”
The Chief nodded, “Well—besides occasional encroachments by Brazilian farmers on ancestral tribal lands, it wasn’t bad.”
It was then Raina’s turn to speak up, “So what happened?”
The chief supplied, “Amigos dos Amigos came”.
The chief paused before continuing, “I have had experience dealing with drug lords in the past mind you, but Amigos dos Amigos are different. They have launched a massive PR campaign around here and have even deceived tribal people into joining them! This was previously unheard of.”
The chief then smiled broadly, “But that’s enough of that. We’ve had enough darkness for one day. Tonight, we celebrate!”
The chief then stood up and let them out of the meeting house and on into the main town square. Seeing people standing around the bonfire decked out in decorative beads and with a full drummer group drumming away, Benton remarked, “What the hell is this Mardi Gras?”
Mason shot back, “Yeah looks like it.”
Raina then motioned to a large overturned hollowed out log that seemed to serve as a sort of buffet table. On top of the dried wood on plates of bark were plantains, maize, roasted fish, and bowls of what looked like smoking hot stew or mush. Johnny seated at the head of the table surrounded by other tribe members, motioned for them to sit down in an open space left right in front of him.
He grinned, “Please! I must ask you to join me!”
Johnny then handed a bowl of the mushy stew to Mason. Mason was hesitant, he didn’t want to offend his host but he had heard stories of the Yanomami using poison darts to kill fish and other animals. A fact that made the fish contents of the stew who had just been enjoined to eat a rather troublesome prospect.
They themselves had developed an immunity to the poison since they ate the poisoned meat on a routine basis, Mason as an outsider wouldn’t have any such luck however and could get quite sick.
Mulling it over, Mason figured he would just ask, “Hey uh—Johnny this fish wasn’t killed with darts was it?”
Johnny shook his head, “Oh no—don’t worry. No poison darts were used. Those were caught in the stream.”
Mason sniffed the steaming stew, and thought ‘Hmm… actually smells pretty good.”
Not having much else of a reason to refuse, Mason shrugged, raised the bowl to his lips and drank it.
Johnnie then smiled as he praised Mason’s
