Forest of the Pygmies by Isabel Allende Read Free Book Online Page A

strip. Angie shouted a triumphal Comanche yell as the wheels lifted from the ground and her beloved Hawk rose toward the skies.
    â€œMay God protect us,” the missionary murmured, crossing himself, and Joel followed suit.
    The view from the air offered a small sample of the variety and beauty of the African landscape. They left behind the nature preserve where they had spent the past week: vast hot, red dirt plains dotted with trees and wild animals. They passed over parched deserts, forests, mountains, lakes, rivers, and villages separated by great distances. The farther they flew toward the horizon, the farther they stepped back in time.
    The noise of the motors was a serious obstacle to conversation, but Alexander and Nadia insisted on talking, shouting above the racket. Brother Fernando replied to their endless questions at the same volume. They were heading toward the forests of an area near the equator, he said. Audacious nineteenth-century explorers, and French and Belgian colonizers in the twentieth century, had penetrated that green hell for a brief time, but the mortality rate was so high—eight of every ten men perished of tropical diseases, crimes, or accidents—that they were forced to retreat. After the country’s independence, when the foreign colonials withdrew, successive governments had reached out their tentacles toward the most remote villages. They built roads and sent soldiers, teachers, doctors, and bureaucrats, but the jungle and terrible illnesses thwarted civilization. Missionaries determined to spread Christianity at any price were the only ones who persevered in their aim to put down roots in that infernal region.
    â€œYou can count fewer than one inhabitant per square mile, and the population is concentrated around the rivers; all the rest is uninhabited,” Brother Fernando explained. “No one goes into the swamps. The natives are convinced that spirits live there, and that there are still dinosaurs.”
    â€œFascinating!” said Alexander.
    The missionary’s description sounded like the mythological Africa he had visualized when his grandmother announced the trip. He had been disillusioned when they reached Nairobi and he found himself in a modern city with tall buildings and bustling traffic. The nearest thing to a warrior he had seen had been in the tribe of nomads who brought the sick child to Mushaha’s camp. Even the safari elephants had seemed too tame to him. When he mentioned that to Nadia, she shrugged her shoulders, unable to understand why he felt cheated with his first impression of Africa. She hadn’t expected anything in particular. Alexander concluded that if Africa had been populated by extraterrestrials, Nadia would have accepted them as an everyday occurrence, because she never pictured anything in advance. Maybe now, at the place marked on Brother Fernando’s map, he would find the magic land he had imagined.
    Other than the passenger’s thirst, exhaustion, and airsickness, the flight was uneventful. After several hours Angie began to descend through thin clouds. She pointed to the endless green land below, where they could identify the sinuous line of a single river. They saw absolutely no sign of human life, but they were too high to see villages, even if there were any.
    â€œThis is it, I’m sure of it!” Brother Fernando yelled.
    â€œJust as I warned you, there’s no place to land!” Angie yelled back.
    â€œTake the plane down, miss, and God will provide,” the missionary assured her.
    â€œWell, he better, because we need to refuel!”
    The Super Hawk began to descend in sweeping circles. As they got closer to earth, the passengers could see that the river was much wider than they’d thought. Angie explained that they would find villages farther south, but Brother Fernando insisted that they had to head northwest, toward the region where hiscompanions had built the mission. Angie