Chapter 3: Luca and Diego

Saturday, 9th of February 2019

With great pleasure, I watched the goings-on in the village. As well as helping their Aunt Florence, the two boys made themselves particularly useful by looking after the animals. Miguel was delighted to see little Diego looking after the old ox, cutting special grass for him and cleaning his harness. After a short time, the eleven-year-old took over all the transport work with the ox cart, hauling tree trunks from the piled-up waste left by the last flood into the village to be used as firewood.

Luca looked after the goats and sheep. He also got on well with the alpacas. He systematically caught the pesky mountain viscachas, a type of chinchilla. His father had taught him how to catch them. He proudly told me how many times he had supplied the miners with smaller animals during their long trek. Luca showed the villagers how to butcher and prepare the animals, which weigh between five and six kilos. Together with Miguel, he tanned the hides of the captured animals. After two weeks, the women of the village sewed him a fur jacket, which the Indio-boy wore with pride. The special thing about the skins was that they were easy to work with. I often watched with a smile as some of the young women cuddled up to Luca’s jacket, stroking and caressing the almost odourless fur.

However, not all of them were killed, even though they had multiplied and damaged some beds and fields with their extensive underground burrows. Daja and Kira helped to catch some of the cute ones and put them near the waterfall. On this place they were unable to cause any damage. It was only a year later that we realised how much the animals had multiplied in the upper part of our valley. Hunting them became a highlight for the young people in the valley, but more on that in ‘book 6’. In any case, the boys from the mountain village were enrichment to the villagers and to all of our lives.

Meanwhile, I was preparing for our walk to the mountain village. I discussed the route with Ramona and Luisa. We wanted to let the rainy season subside a little. I also wanted to be there when Olivia gave birth to her second child. It was only about ten days away. Luca had told Luisa that it would be a long journey to her village. It would take at least four days. Kira, who was getting better at speaking Quechua, was to accompany me and the two boys as an interpreter.

In the evening, Babette asked for a partnership with great fanfare. She looked around anxiously to see if anyone had any objections, then added to her proposal, “You know, in order to clear the way, I’ve already given up a second partnership, and it wasn’t easy for me, believe me. The feeling of not only having sex but conceiving a child was so overwhelming the first time. My body tingled with excitement every time. Please agree. My Felix is waiting for a sister.”

Everyone looked at Babette in amazement, some with her mouth agape. Her confession about the special feeling of fathering a child had excited them all.

“Yes, that’s how I felt too!” exclaimed Lenya.

“Me too,” shouted two other teenagers.

Ramona tapped the table in agreement. Then there was no stopping. It wasn’t just tapping. Some of them slapped their palms loudly on the big dining table. What else could I do? No, it wasn’t a sacrifice for me; it was pure joy to spend a fortnight in love with my assistant. I picked up the worn green ribbon of partnership and, after a quick kiss, placed it around my assistant’s neck.

The partnership with Babette became a special highlight for me. Babette was almost as tall as me, already 1.80 metres, tough and tenacious at work, in sport and in helping others, but indescribably kind and tender to our Felix and so devoted to our love. She must have told me hundreds of times how much she loved me, how much she regretted having to share me with everyone, but in our new partnership she was like wax, enjoying every touch and giving me feelings and pleasure like no other.

Sometimes we dreamed of being alone in a lonely valley or on an island, giving our bodies to each other and melting together with our emotions. We often had our child, eight-month-old Felix, with us in room ‘13’, in my love nest in the Casa. He often joined us after our lovemaking, giggling and laughing, which made us burst out laughing, but only increased our pleasure. This is how I imagined the happiness of a young family.

If he was awake, he was allowed to share in our love after our wild moments on Babette’s heated body. Babette had stopped breastfeeding for a few weeks, but Felix would seek out the breast and suck when Beth allowed it. We had a lot of fun, sometimes I would suck on the other side just for fun and we would roll on the floor laughing. It was just a very nice, but sadly too short time.

But it was also two very useful weeks. We worked hard every day. The next climbing frame had been built and cemented in; we had mown the grass in several places in the palazzo garden, built two haystacks and stored hay.

Sula was no longer trying to be better than Babette, as she had been in the past, but they both worked excellently together, as if they were being paid for their joint effort. They made me very happy with their eagerness, but sometimes, even when working together, they pushed me to my physical limits. Then there were the exhausting hours as Babette’s lover and partner. I was beginning to feel my age, but I didn’t want to show it. Only Luisa told me to take better care of myself. More sleep would do me good.

But our dear Olivia robbed me of it. She was supposed to give birth on the third Saturday of February, had signs of contractions, but they did not happen properly. It lasted and lasted. When the redeeming news came late on Sunday evening that a healthy boy had been born, I rushed to the Casa. Olivia was not at all done, despite the repeatedly delayed birth. She beamed at me with pride. We were happy about our first child together. “May I call him Nicolas, I like the name so much?”

“Of course, that’s your decision, Olivia. This is a proper, a wonderful name. I am happy for you, but also for all of us”.

The raid of the two Indio men had nevertheless left traces in our collective. Isabella was often self-absorbed and needed comfort. The raped Kira, on the other hand, was bursting with new self-confidence, overplaying her battered psyche and always feeling the need to be the centre of attention. Her friend Mayari often had to call her to order. Babette angrily told me three times how much she had upset the men’s behaviour, but agreed that her rash attempt to intervene had been a serious mistake.

“Michael, you know how much this had upset me. A little man like that knocked me down with a single blow of his fist. Ever since that bad experience, I plan to train my muscles every day, doing push-ups and chin-ups. What I need is something like a punching bag. I want to learn to punch properly and powerfully. Will you help me?”

My nod of agreement was followed by a tender kiss. “But don’t overdo it, Beth. We will need you and your strength many times over.”

Sula, on the other hand, was slow to recover. It was ten days before my Kenyan assistant was allowed to get up again. She was weak and a little insecure because she could not remember everything. I visited her in the hospital room at least twice a day. Babette was like a big sister to her and often took over Esther’s nursing duties. But the most amazing thing was that Su remembered the lost magazine and cartridges. With the help of her friends, she searched and found the ammunition. Great girls!

The day of the march to the mountain village was fast approaching. On Friday we were again surprised by torrential rain, which fortunately stopped in the afternoon. The summer sun quickly dried the paths and meadows. Fortunately, there was no need to delay our departure. Early Saturday morning we loaded the two mules at the Palazzo, mainly with food and drink. Kira and I each carried a rucksack with our personal belongings. Of course I had a lot of money, all Peruvian Sol, a hundred thousand US dollars in a sealed package, thousands of dollars in smaller bills, my passport and enough ammunition for the long range hunting rifle and the pistol stowed in my backpack.

The atmosphere was great. Almost everyone accompanied us to the village. Luca and Diego were ready to go. Both had swashbuckling, wide-brimmed hats hanging over their chests to protect them from the sun. I handed them two more bags of changing clothes that Priya had provided. The weather was very pleasant. There were still veils of mist on the mountain slopes, but nature seemed to be enjoying the warming rays of the morning sun.

We made good progress. After an hour we were already above the waterfall. The animals had mastered the climb without any problems. When I took a quick look back into our valley, I could still see the wide swaths that the flood had caused last year, but I enjoyed the fantastic sight, the green of the trees and shrubs, the shining blue-green of the ponds. Our small wind power plant was spinning in the pleasant breeze. The solar panels reflected the sun’s rays as if they were made of pure silver. We left our paradise behind us. At that moment, I was hoping to meet all my loved ones again soon, safe and sound.

The gold miners had come to us via the mountain road, but the path I had chosen was much shorter and without the initial strong ascent. Luca showed me at which point they had turned off to the old mine road and clapped his hands because we had easily found the path of his group.

Soon we were walking like a goose march along the winding path. After hours we reached the place where we had tried to extract salt. There were animal tracks everywhere. Salt, usually yellowish, had been deposited at our artificial spring. Obviously, we had created an opportunity for wild animals to meet their salt needs.

We sat down to rest in the shade of a huge Araucaria, or Andean fir. The trunk was at least one metre in diameter. The four of us could not fully embrace the tree - here was a huge relic of prehistoric times, reaching into the sky at almost two thousand metres above sea level. Diego collected some of the spherical fruits, tasted a seed and opened some for Kira and me. They tasted nutty with a hint of cinnamon.

The mules drank from the small pond and ate their fill of juicy grass. Our lunch break was short. Luca tasted the spring water, beamed with joy and drank her first empty canteen with Diego. Then the Indian boy filled his bottle with the slightly salty water straight from the spring. Kira told me that, according to Luca, it was the best water they had found on the way.

In the evening, we reached the mountain lake I discovered two years ago with Sula and Babette. Diego had caught one of the long-legged frogs and was teasing Kira with it, who was shrieking and flapping after the boy. They were truly frightening creatures that nature had created here.

Luca waved his hand to show us the way. We had to go around the lake and down the other side, a long way that we could not manage that day. After a few hundred metres we set up camp on an elevation in the light of the setting sun. Soon a warm fire was burning, for it was quickly getting cold. Luisa’s soup was delicious, as were the sausages from one of the few tins of food we had left. Cramped in the small tent on the two sleeping mats, we fell asleep surprisingly quickly.

The next morning, I was the first to wake up. Smiling, I looked at the three of us sleeping. Diego was snuggled up next to Kira. Luca was lying on his back, snoring lightly, when he suddenly opened his eyes, looked uncertain at first, then smiled at me and followed me outside. In no time at all we had rekindled the fire.

A cool wind blew through the valley. We warmed ourselves by the fire. Soon the water for the tea was boiling in the grill pan. While I made the tea, Luca watered the mules and led them out to graze on a small patch of grass between thorny bushes.

Kira stood yawning at the tent entrance, then disappeared behind the tent to relieve herself. I had already fried the onions and the young woman from Haiti was whisking the eggs in the pan. When the scrambled eggs were ready, she woke little Diego.

It seemed like a feast. The baked pita bread was delicious with the egg. The tea warmed our chilled bodies. At last, the sun came out, sending us its first warming rays. We carefully extinguished the fire, removed the traces of our stay and immediately made our way around the mountain lake. It was difficult to cross the tributary. Luca helped me roll stones into the knee-high water. With long branches we helped each other to reach the other side of the river with almost dry feet. Only the mules trotted through the water, making reluctant noises.

Just before dusk we reached the end of the valley. The outflow of the mountain lake disappeared under a steep rock face, flowing somewhere underground. It seemed we had reached a dead end, but Luca led us around a wide rocky nose. Here a path climbed quite steeply. There were steps carved into the rock in places. The path didn’t seem to have been used for ages, maybe it was an old Inca trail. Many of the rocks were covered in moss and lichen. Only in a few places could you see freshly cut branches. This was where the gold diggers had made their way. I hugged Luca with joy. We were on the right track.

We spent the night in a small cave, more like an open grotto. On the walls you could see that the cave had been man-made hundreds of years ago. On the back wall we could make out some ornaments and reliefs in the dim light, but there was time for that in the morning. I didn’t want to use my hand lamp for that. Who knew what else we might use it for?

Everyone was exhausted and tired. We lit a small fire on an existing fire pit. We could not pitch the tent on the rocky ground, but we stretched the tarpaulins in such a way that the cool wind from the mountains could not reach us directly.

Luca and Diego sang two songs from their village, which moved me deeply because of the wonderful acoustics of the rocks. Kira even cried as the singing touched her. Before we went to sleep, we stood in a circle, hugged and warmed each other. My three companions received a kiss of thanks on the forehead. We had achieved so much. I was proud of each and every one of them, and tried to express my feelings by stroking their hair and shoulders.

Fortunately, Kira had received a first aid kit from Esther. She had sore little toes. Her shoes were just too tight. I was happy to help her put on some plasters. Unfortunately, they were very old and barely stuck, so Kira had to pull her bloody socks over them. Bravely, she smiled at me with her fiery eyes, which sparkled even more in the glow of the blazing fire. In her funny, helpful way, she was a ray of sunshine for all of us.

It was a short, cool night. Long before sunrise we warmed ourselves by the roaring campfire. Shivering, we danced around the warming embers. We cooked the last six eggs. Luca had assured me that his mother would soon be serving us delicious food. Our supplies would probably last us another three days, but then we would desperately need more food.

Unfortunately, we found no food for the mules in the rocky passage. Luca had tied some leafy branches on the animals’ backs before the ascent, but the animals had eaten them.

I quickly took some photos of the back rock wall of the grotto with my mobile phone. They were clearly Inca, some faded, but I saw many of the symbols and reliefs I had seen in the cave in our valley. We were certainly on a secret Inca passage.

We hurried up. Suddenly Luca stopped the group and pulled me along a rock face into a previously invisible passage. After a few metres we were in front of a tunnel. The walls glittered like gold. There were unusually wide veins of gold running through a rock face. There seemed to be nothing but dead rock on the floor. At the back of the cave we found chipped boulders, mostly made up of gold. After a few minutes we had collected a few kilos of gold with the help of the boys. We put some of it into the one saddlebag where the food had already been eaten.

Luca explained to Kira that the gold diggers had taken their loot from this cave. Treasures of immense value were stored here, but Luisa had warned us that the gold belonged to the god of the mountains, ‘Apu’. The Incas had only used it for sacred purposes. According to our cook, it should stay that way. Anyone who used it for greed would be punished by the Inca gods.

To be honest, as we continued our ascent with the ‘forbidden’ treasure of the Incas, I felt a slight pounding in my heart. Three words buzzed in my head: “Quri kamachi hucha”. And I saw a kind of funeral pyre. Were the Inca priests sending me a message? I interpreted it: “Whoever does something forbidden will be burnt at the stake”. I still don’t know if I was right, but it was certainly one of the Inca’s rules. But how did these thoughts get into my head?

Kira translated the mimicked words for me as ’gold that we had illegally taken with us’. Was this a bad omen for our future path? Somehow I didn’t feel good about it, even though as a scientist I should have laughed about it. I pushed the thought away and urged everyone to hurry.

Finally at the top, we found some fresh grass and young shoots on the bushes for our pack animals. We took a short break and then marched along the winding corridor halfway up the huge rock massif. After a wide bend, Luca pointed at the road in front of us in fright. A huge avalanche of rocks was blocking our path. We tried to overcome the almost insurmountable obstacle, but we had no chance.

Completely dejected, we sat down on stones warmed by the sun. They were sharp-edged, showed no signs of moss or weathering, and had probably fallen recently. Suddenly I understood. These were the remains of the top of the mountain I had blown away on the other side of the mountain in December. I had blocked the last way out of the valley. Obviously, the diggers and the boys had passed this place before. Otherwise, they would not have got to us.

Somehow the despair spread to all four of us. The boys could not return to their family, and we had no way of leaving our valley.

I had hardly ever smoked before. With trembling hands, I put one of the glowing sticks into my mouth. Again and again, I heard an unseen voice in my head. “Qankunaqa dioskunamanmi pertenecenkichis.” What did that mean? I repeated it word for word to Kira. She consulted Luca and translated: “You belong to the gods.”

What had just happened? Was I having feverish fantasies? But it got worse. New thoughts moved me, tormented me. “Dioskunaq wayq onmantaqa manan pipas lloqsinchu.” Again, I repeated this word for word to Luca and Kira. They deliberated for a long time. Finally, she said, “If we have understood this correctly, it means something like this: ‘No one can leave the Valley of the Gods.’ What does that mean, Michael?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, Kira. I have no idea. The thoughts came into my head like in a dream. I have never heard such words before.”

Kira had a lot of questions. We discussed our fate. Finally, we came to an almost impossible conclusion. It seemed as if there were higher beings here in the mountains that wanted to prevent us from ever leaving our valley. I was close to despair. I, an atheist who had often mocked the beliefs of others, was receiving unimaginable messages from a god or the Inca gods. It did not exist, it could not be true. I inhaled the smoke of the cigarette deeply. At last, I could think more clearly. Whether the message had come to me through my imagination or in some incredible way, there was only one way out of this predicament. We had to make the long journey back to our valley. Our supplies would not last for the three days we needed, but that was irrelevant now. The only thing that mattered was that we had to gather our strength and start walking back immediately.