fuzzis
01-14-2008, 11:43 AM
And Then There Was One (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/01/08/AR2008010803472.html?hpid=features1&hpv=national&sid=ST2008011101748)
Discovery of a lone survivor of an unknown Indian tribe in Brazil set off accusations of murder and a struggle over ownership of one of the world's last great wilderness areas
...They stood still and listened. Amid the ever-present chorus of bird song, they heard a rustling. The Indian was near the trap that they'd just discovered. They walked toward him, but he disappeared -- it was as if he'd found a crack in the deep green curtain of foliage behind him and quietly slipped offstage. They spread out at random angles, until Altair saw something about 200 yards off the trail: a small thatch hut, the same kind that they had found hastily abandoned elsewhere in the forest.
This time, the Indian was inside. They approached very slowly.
"Hi, my friend," Altair said. There was no response, but, through a slight gap in the thatch, Altair could see the man's eyes.
"He's there," Altair said to the others, "standing inside the hut."
Vincent aimed his video camera as Altair inched closer. Something was protruding through the thatch wall, twisting in place.
"Look," Altair said. "An arrow inside."
It was a fluted bamboo arrow, sharpened to a deadly point. Pur¿ nervously decided to speak up: "Mampi no," he said in the Kanoe tongue. Don't shoot. The man didn't react and continued to twist the arrow.
Purá began an awkward dance, clapping his hands arrhythmically -- a tribal ritual meant to summon protection from the gods. The Indian hadn't responded to Purá's words, and he wasn't responding now. It made Purá suspect he was from a tribe Purá had never encountered.
Altair again stepped slowly toward the hut, and he saw the Indian draw his bow. Altair slowly backed up, showing the man his palms, meaning no harm. The Indian lowered his bow. Altair, hands still up in the air, slowly took another step forward; the man drew his bow again. Altair got the message: The Indian was drawing an imaginary line in the dirt about 10 feet around his hut, saying, Keep your distance.
For nearly six hours, they maintained the standoff. They built a small fire, offered the Indian food and tools, gifts they thought might convince him that they were friendly.
"Here, this ax is yours," Altair said, tossing it toward the hut. "This water yam, too."
The Indian eventually took the food that Altair dangled in front of the hut's opening on the end of a long stick. Then he tore it to shreds and tossed it back outside, uneaten....
Fascinating story. As much as I like being alone, I'm not sure I could survive in a totally solitary existence.
Discovery of a lone survivor of an unknown Indian tribe in Brazil set off accusations of murder and a struggle over ownership of one of the world's last great wilderness areas
...They stood still and listened. Amid the ever-present chorus of bird song, they heard a rustling. The Indian was near the trap that they'd just discovered. They walked toward him, but he disappeared -- it was as if he'd found a crack in the deep green curtain of foliage behind him and quietly slipped offstage. They spread out at random angles, until Altair saw something about 200 yards off the trail: a small thatch hut, the same kind that they had found hastily abandoned elsewhere in the forest.
This time, the Indian was inside. They approached very slowly.
"Hi, my friend," Altair said. There was no response, but, through a slight gap in the thatch, Altair could see the man's eyes.
"He's there," Altair said to the others, "standing inside the hut."
Vincent aimed his video camera as Altair inched closer. Something was protruding through the thatch wall, twisting in place.
"Look," Altair said. "An arrow inside."
It was a fluted bamboo arrow, sharpened to a deadly point. Pur¿ nervously decided to speak up: "Mampi no," he said in the Kanoe tongue. Don't shoot. The man didn't react and continued to twist the arrow.
Purá began an awkward dance, clapping his hands arrhythmically -- a tribal ritual meant to summon protection from the gods. The Indian hadn't responded to Purá's words, and he wasn't responding now. It made Purá suspect he was from a tribe Purá had never encountered.
Altair again stepped slowly toward the hut, and he saw the Indian draw his bow. Altair slowly backed up, showing the man his palms, meaning no harm. The Indian lowered his bow. Altair, hands still up in the air, slowly took another step forward; the man drew his bow again. Altair got the message: The Indian was drawing an imaginary line in the dirt about 10 feet around his hut, saying, Keep your distance.
For nearly six hours, they maintained the standoff. They built a small fire, offered the Indian food and tools, gifts they thought might convince him that they were friendly.
"Here, this ax is yours," Altair said, tossing it toward the hut. "This water yam, too."
The Indian eventually took the food that Altair dangled in front of the hut's opening on the end of a long stick. Then he tore it to shreds and tossed it back outside, uneaten....
Fascinating story. As much as I like being alone, I'm not sure I could survive in a totally solitary existence.