flow of the Amazon Jungle of the Poisons This is a story of the Peruvian writer Ventura García Calderón, in which he describes as the jungle can sometimes be a hell full of mysterious animals and how exactly these seemingly harmless animals are sometimes fatal.
... Neither I nor the captain could accept with enthusiasm that interrupted the poker game when we won five pounds and was so tasty stout in the monotony of the sea, two days in every port. The game and the stout can comfort to many lonely, but the officer did not withdraw his hand from his cap, apologetically:
- I am sorry, sir.
Down near the creek, on the premises smelling of tar and cod, a sailor dying moan spoke English and asked to seek an interpreter on board. So the young officer had dared to rise up to the captain's cabin where we played. I followed him cranky by spiral staircases, smelly, sticky, whistling through brokers in English under the bucket in the shower-shoe lubricate a red black.
- This is - muttered the officer when we reached the bedroom door in which two cabin boys were playing dice.
was a dark cabin, with that peculiar smell of the cameras low, which gives the vertigo: the smell of oil, tar, salt and English snuff. In the cabin, barely lit by the gate, lay a sick bed on the hanging canvas. When I greeted her in English stood on edge yellowish profile, two hands hesitated to take my hand. They were sweaty and shaking.
- Lord ... - stammered the voice of tears sick.
But when he knew I was also Peruvian, their joy seemed delusional. And had not spoken in two weeks, as was necessary to count before he died at a living the anguish of his life narrated, he held me by the hand and would not escape, and I know just translate the fever of his monologue:
- Yes, sir ... I am of Callao ... May the Lord do not go and forgive me. I will die and not bother you more, but first promise me that you take this ring to my mother, and this portrait of the boy, and the package closed. I'm going to get tired, sir, dispense ... Thank you ... Why I went to Iquitos? to make a fortune, like so many. Do not go, sir, never, never. "Monsieur does not know the virgin forest? Ah, yes, I have spoken of this hell! The first time, when people go there at night, go crazy and start to foam at the mouth, screaming that carried downstream. If you could not even sleep in the camp! But all screams, all singing, all complain, sir. The beasts are not the most damaging and whistles of the rattlesnake, which repels even the Indians when it comes to standing as a whipping person giving the trunk of the rubber. Worse are the monkeys and parrots, which are set to see the people go to scratch and fun. It seems that laughter pierces the ears of parrots and a rifle shot is useless. I grabbed and got up at night to spend a few rounds, but bad watch moonlit forest. Nobody knows all things that fly, all the steps that are lost with the crunch of death on the roads. That yes, the smell delicious, sir, a smell that is not forgotten! By breathing again, again ... In the morning I already wanted to go to work in rubber when who says that Don Cristobal Brazilian calls us to tell us: "Here come the ants." ants as big as your thumb, million ants, a sea tan advancing a jungle clearing. The laborers took to toast and eat some ... Do not believe, sir, is it gay ... but before fleeing, terrified by a snake bite on the hand to the employer, the Brazilian. What atrocity! We to empty the bullets of shotgun to sprinkle the bite of gunpowder. Set it on fire and broke the piece of meat. We had saved ...! That trip taking him on a litter of branches covered with our ponchos ... I do not say anything! Passing under the top of the cedars, the monkeys threw rotten branches and parrots seemed to be announcing to the whole forest we passed. When they flew together could not look like the sun, because we are blinded by the color. Nothing could be seen in the dark forest, but fell as rain arrows. Seem to come from heaven and a Christian is traversed from top to bottom. Paf! Without confession, just as if nailed to the floor for a scarecrow. The rubber tapper was shouting in Portuguese shoot, but where do you, sir, if it was full of noise? ... silence And worse than the noise, Mommy! because shaking is expected that will happen: a roar, an arrow, what do I know? A pawn ill with beri-beri (like tertian, sir, a fever trembling jaws and men are dying like flies), a pawn, as I was saying, he began to cry and got big a jump in puddle. No more came.
We had to threaten with a gun to the others who also wanted to put the pond full of alligators. We had quinine finish, but I am tired, sir, and if I keep on hand is a tribe camp because I told him I was hooked with a good face india bore me a little Indian.
Look, sir, in the photograph, how like the poor chum ... We were not together that day, but every morning she helped me to settle with the machete, the rubber trees. Later in the afternoon, we went to pick up the glasses in which the resin has dripped all day ... "Mr. not ever heard the buzzer machacui? A butterfly is a snake. Yes, what do you think? A beautiful thing, a flower flying when the time comes when flying, he stumbles upon one and stung, which is poison. Do not leave in the afternoon because I'll tell you who is half Blinkin. When it starts to cool, out of his den as bats. Where is light, off he goes. And it was almost dark, my little Indian girl was with child collecting rubber cups and lit his lantern. It came, as I said, the buzzer machacui , and the boy got to give great outcry, but I did not understand anything. Only she, knowing these bugs, the little arm was wet with blood.
The mother grabbed her and looked around as if seeking protection of the Blessed Virgin. Ah, sir, only India can do such thing! In two of three knelt on the ground, sharpened the machete and, after!, Cut off his arm to the elbow. As if I would have cut me, sir! Was heard as far cry and the cries that the forest seemed to be silent, and I was stark raving mad.
Is
figure? The mother tied the stump with a piece of his shirt and ran, without groaning, to the camp, where the boss, it was something medical, perhaps he could cure the child, ran through the forest full of fireflies at night and roar and terrible sound of the rattlesnake. For an hour he was running. I was behind with his gun ready for the Tigers. Finally dropped dead of a broken heart, and the child she died there, moaning in the forest ... It was devilish Lelit under a rubber tree, white as paper.
Then, a jump down from the shadow the tiger who had been following us and took, sir, the dead child to eat ... I do not know how I could escape to Manaus, and there I was hooked sailor to return to the homeland ... " was a beautiful butterfly, sir, a butterfly that had poison . Tell me if it's just, for holy charity, so I carried my little angel. It was a butterfly of all colors, a beautiful butterfly ... " squeezed mine sweaty hands, and that simple man died repeating the name of the buzzer machacui. When I was able to separate her fingers I found inside the bag waterproof, drainage and Brown, the arm of her dead son.
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Is there Machacui Chicharra? Can cause death?
exists in the Amazonian jungle ... is very hard to find one, but there ...
"Chicharra Machacui"
A Insect articulated, breathing through the trachea, Trunk long, seemingly blind and docile in the day.
There is a belief that its bite to travez a sting at the end of their abdomen is poisonous and even fatal.
Shiringero.
