Chapter 6: June 2018

Winter in the Andes began this year with a strong storm and cold rain. The trees were whipped by the wind; bent back and forth, lost a lot of foliage, many branches, and stronger branches. When the strongest gusts had passed, I hurried up to the valley to our wind turbine, regardless of the rain and the occasional heavy gusts; still unsure whether I had set the automatic emergency shutdown correctly during the last repair, whether the rotors had set themselves vertically and were protected by the mast. Relieved, I saw from a distance that the automatic system had worked.

On the other hand, the small photovoltaic system was defective again. Strong branches from the huge trees nearby had fallen on the device and torn off the supply line to the storage system. As I was pulling the branches off the large plant, a tree crashed down next to me, almost my death sentence, but I was able to avoid the treetop at the last moment. Although the storm had abated, individual but powerful gusts continued to grip our valley. The storm was far from over.

Nevertheless, I managed to bring the large solar system back to its best possible performance, as far as daylight and the dark clouds allowed. When the control lamps flickered accordingly, I breathed an audible sigh of relief. Loudly I praised myself like a pubescent boy, for it had been a hard piece of work and I suddenly felt my exhausted limbs and the icy cold that had penetrated through my clothes. Without the large photovoltaic system, we would be without electricity because it was not yet possible to switch the wind turbine back on due to the violent gusts of wind, and the small solar system probably needed a day to repair and overcome the damage.

Soaking wet, I reached the Casa and took a warming shower. Outside it was 10 degrees centigrade at most, no fun being chilled by the wind for almost six hours with wet clothes. Olivia lovingly took care of me, even tried to stimulate me erotically. I didn’t feel like it at the moment. But at least I had dry clothes again, which Olivia had fetched for me from the laundry in the basement. Alejandra served me a warming Coca tea and some rice soup with pieces of meat. Only now, I did notice how hungry I was.

Olivia informed Ramona that I would spend the night in the guesthouse. That’s when our doctor made a racket full of jealousy. When I asked her over the radio whether she had also worked outside for more than six hours in the pouring rain and freezing wind, the question was first settled. “Of course, I would prefer a hot bath, but I can hardly move. Mona, don’t stress, rather tell me if everything is all right with you.”

Harmony was quickly restored. Nevertheless, the feeling of the last few weeks remained with me, how jealousy was increasingly creeping into the minds of the women, especially Luisa and Ramona. I saw this as a real danger to our continued life together. When the storm damage had been repaired, I wanted to sort it out with everyone, hopefully once and for all.

The next day, I was at the Palazzo in time for breakfast, had to listen to negative comments or taunts from many women about my relationship with Olivia. The virus of jealousy was making its way.

Actually, they were all right. Olivia had slept with me in room 13 and at dusk had used the physical closeness for a very pleasant coitus. Did anyone therefore have the right to criticise or even condemn me? I was of the opinion, “No!” So, after dinner I took the bull by the horns.

“My dear women, you are annoying. Instead of asking how it is in the valley and what I could do alone against nature, you sneer about the night in the guesthouse. Yes, I was completely chilled and exhausted yesterday, that’s why I stayed there. Yes, I had sex with Olivia early this morning. Who of you has anything against that?”

A disconcerted silence, glances and gestures were exchanged, not a word was spoken. “Trust me, tell me how much I neglect you, how much I prefer the little Peruvian girl. I am anxious to settle this today. Jealousy and resentment are what we need least. Come on, everyone has a mouth. Call me names ... condemn me. I stand in the stocks for you.”

No one dared to speak up. When I asked Ramona directly to give her opinion, she just fumbled around, finally admitting she was a bit jealous of Olivia, immediately apologising for it. “You’re right, Michael. You’re the only man. You do the best for us in all areas, thankfully including in bed. It’s your right to decide for yourself who you sleep with and when.”

“Guys, a few questions. Whoever thinks I love Esther more than Lenya, raise your hand.” No one came forward.

“Priya, who do I love more, you or your friend Olivia?” Priya shook her head. “You can’t just say that.”

“Okay. Still, I want you to know. Olivia has a special place in my thoughts and feelings because of her abuse and injuries, and Fahsai because of her mutilation. I don’t let anyone talk me into that either. If they need a little more encouragement and show me that, I’m there for them. I don’t allow any discussion about that. The end.”

There was no more whispering, rather nodding in agreement and undivided attention. Obviously, my prepared questions had the intended effect.

“Ananda, do you feel left behind because we have slept together less often since our partnership?” – “No, that was my decision, and I am grateful for it.”

“Now let’s talk about Luisa and Mrs Liebknecht. I have been sleeping with Luisa since the first day the girls’ group arrived. We have therefore made love the most. Should I now keep a list retrospectively of who I slept with and how often, or does Mrs Liebknecht even have the right to demand compensation for it?”

No! All the young ladies shook their heads. “All right. Please remember. With Carmen and Olivia there are seventeen women in the camp, with Leonie and Florence there are even nineteen women. It’s hard to keep track of them all. I therefore have a request. If anyone notices that I prefer a lady, talk to my team of advisors and they will tell me. If I’m really neglecting one of you, message me on messenger or speak to me directly. Enough of this debate, right?”

Most made gestures of approval, some looked down sheepishly.

“One more thing. We still have the thirty minutes of massage. Since the flash flood, that’s been cancelled. That will change from next week. Anyone who wants to spend thirty minutes chatting and massaging with me, Esther is running the schedule again, yes, Esther?” She raised her right thumb in approval. “And Olivia and Carmen get to sign up too. Honestly, I’ve been putting them at a disadvantage on this so far. And, as I said, massages and chatting, no sex. Any questions or opinions?”

Ramona started tapping the table approvingly, everyone followed suit. We were unanimous agreed, I hoped. At least there was no discord in the next few months, and that was good.

In the evening I asked Babette, Daja, and Sula to stay in front of everybody. Esther had printed three certificates according to my request. Babette received a brooch from the property of Rus as a medal, certainly valuable because it was set with diamonds, so to speak as a prize of honour for her heroic defence of our palace. She was appointed ‘captain’ and ‘commander of the guard’ by me. Sula received the title of ‘First Lieutenant’ and a small golden clasp, as did Daja, who at the same time received a certificate of appointment as ‘Lieutenant of the Guard of Paradise’. I tried to hold it as solemnly as possible, but also in a military tone. I was amazed at how well it was received and felt that I touched many a soul in a positive way. We practised some commands and how to react to them. Everyone learned the command “Stand still.” means “Attention!” and “At ease!”, at least with the commands I knew or hoped corresponded to the English commands.

The honour had had a positive effect on everyone. The certificates were looked at longingly and the gifts were touched. That evening I sensed in all the women how much they admired Babette, but also how much they would have liked to be honoured themselves. In several conversations I noticed an increasing motivation to do even more for our community. Kira and Isabella, two women I had thought less of, emphasised their willingness to risk their lives if necessary to protect the women and children in an emergency. I was absolutely sure that they were not paying lip service to this; it was their inner wills, their firm determination, as they asked me to be trained in weapons as well. Moved, I held the two young people from Central America in my arms. Oh, I had it good. So many brave young women had grown from the almost helpless creatures of the first days, a great happiness for us all.

It took us almost a week to clear the fallen trees and branches. The chainsaw would have helped us a lot, but through my fault we had no more batteries and had to make do without the one chainsaw that was still available but not usable. Sharpening the saws and axes alone cost us a lot of time and energy.

From this perspective, life in the Andes was not exactly easy. Several times a year the earth shook noticeably, fortunately without any major damage in our area. Heavy rain, severe thunderstorms, and the change from intense sunshine to fog and cold made life difficult for us, as it did for all mountain dwellers. However, we had the advantage of particularly good conditions for agriculture and animal husbandry. Almost without much help we had fruit, vegetables, and grain in abundance, only this year we were badly hit by the flood. Otherwise, there was enough food for the animals. Compared to many valleys and plateaus in the Andes of Peru, we had excellent natural conditions, as I only realised much later.

Nevertheless, without our example and help, the villagers would only have done the bare minimum in keeping the paths and their surroundings clean. At the beginning of our isolation, it looked quite tidy immediately around the huts in use, but all around the settlement was disorder. It stank of waste and some places were impossible to walk on because of litter and broken branches and twigs. We had introduced a system of composting biological waste and storing split broken wood for cooking purposes. Hygiene had also improved noticeably with the construction of latrines further away from the settlement and the use of a toilet and shower room in the Casa.

But there were also good experiences in the village. Apparently, there has always been a trough where the Ashes from the cooking places and the excrement of the animals were collected, mixed with limestone pebbles and washed-out sand several times a year and painstakingly applied by hand to the fields and beds before sowing or planting. Near the village there was a small side valley with several caves where the Indios extracted special fertiliser from deposited bat droppings. They used this fertiliser for special bedding plants, especially for peppers, tomatoes, and chillies, but only once a year at most per bed, as Leonie knew to report. Today, I know that it was a kind of guano fertiliser, only from bats, but just as effective as that from the sea birds.

Due to the large losses of animals in the flood, we had to economise on meat this year. There was also not enough fish, which had to be bred first. However, we did not have to starve. In the upper valley, some alpacas and an astonishing number of llamas had survived. And something else extraordinary happened when I was hunting in the upper valley with Mayari and Leonie. Leonie caught a whimsical animal with her snare, more of a llama but also with alpaca-like hair. She called it a ‘huarizo’, usually a forced brood of a llama stallion with an alpaca mare, stockier in build than a llama but clearly stronger than an alpaca. The Indios caught each of these animals as a faulty freak of nature, sheared it from head to toe and slaughtered it for their use. We did the same with this young animal. Luisa was very pleased with the part of the llama-alpaca cross she had brought with her. The meat was easy to cook, and the dark red roast was exceptionally tasty. Everyone was happy about the two particularly tasty meals.

Maybe it’s boring if I keep reporting on a birth, but it was a special highlight in our lives every time. When our petite Indian Ananda, by now also taller than 1.70 metres, her enormous body entwined by four oversized gangly limbs, gave birth to her child, it was an extraordinary experience. Ananda slept in the doctor’s treatment room for the last few days. The mother-to-come told Ramona in the early morning of the 19^th of June that she would have her baby that day. Ramona smiled indulgently at this statement, thinking she knew better. However, Ananda was right, as Esther told us shortly afterwards. When I rushed to the woman in labour, she was lying on her back as if in a trance, her body rising and falling as if by itself, panting in short breaths, much faster than the rhythm in which her body was moving.

Esther arrived just in time as the amniotic fluid was coming off. Priya helped to re-cover the bed. Ananda again lay completely relaxed on her back, got used to the changed feeling in her womb for a few minutes, and then started her exercises again. Soon she panted a few times, then clenched her whole body. A short cry, renewed panting, another powerful compression. Esther palpated the birthing woman’s abdomen, looked in amazement at the mother-to-be, then at me. “It isn’t to believe, there is no such thing, and the child is on its way. Amazing how you do that, Ananda.”

Esther was right; you could even see the change in the previously bulging womb. Again, Ananda performed her relaxation exercises, panting like crazy and pressing the child further into the birth canal. Now and then a short groan, short cries of pain, her abdomen opened. Soon we saw the child’s sticky dark mop of hair. Shortly afterwards, the little girl was in Esther’s arms. During this time, our doctor had done some examinations with the children born that year, had left the first hours of the birth to her assistant. She couldn’t believe it when I told her about the successful birth. Ramona immediately rushed into the treatment room, where Esther and Ananda were already making little jokes. Unbelievable how the young Indian woman seemed to feel hardly any pain and recovered so quickly.

Mayari and Daja were missing for dinner. They had driven up the former mine road to extend the passage through the overgrowth but wanted to be back before dinner. We were worried. Hopefully nothing had happened. As so often, they had not taken a radio, despite my instructions. Just as I was preparing my bike to look for the two friends, they dashed up on their bikes. They were sweaty, covered from head to toe in dust and mud. They excitedly reported that a landslide had made the road impassable just past the hollow way, two huge trees lay across the cleared road and large boulders blocked the way. Mayari blurted out, “Michael, now we are locked up for good. We’ve tried very hard, but there’s nothing we can do.”

Worried, I took the two young women to my bathroom. They had been sweating and were totally hypothermic from the wind and the evening cold. Their faces were freezing. Mayari, however, was crying out for her Neymar, who must have been hungry. It was a unique picture how the two youngsters warmed each other up in the tub, and the nursing naked boy on the bosom of our sports teacher. It didn’t bother them when the little boy added a little urine to the bath water. They jeered, played with the thin stream, and took turns kissing Neymar’s forehead.

Babette came along, also having great fun with Mayari’s son, but wanted to know exactly how far away the obstacle on the road was and whether there was any chance of clearing the road there with the excavator. Determined, Babette came to me. “Michael, I’ll drive the excavator up the road tomorrow and try to push the trees and debris away. Someone has to help me, though, and possibly supply diesel so I can drive the digger back.” – “And your Felix?” – “Don’t worry. Mayari has more than enough milk. She’s already promised me, she’ll feed my son tomorrow.”

Unfortunately, Ananda’s great achievement of a painless birth was lost. Ramona called everyone together later in the evening and showered the young Indian woman with so many compliments that we had never heard from our doctor before. Ananda walked unassisted back to the treatment room. Her steps were springy and light. The praises had further stimulated the young mummy and given her strength. I sat at her bedside for almost an hour, rejoicing with her over the perfect birth and giving thanks for my fourth daughter, another impressive gift for our community and me.

The next morning, I rode a bike ahead of the excavator and looked at the buried site. It was chaotic. Whether Babette could do it with her excavator I strongly doubted, but any other solution was unthinkable.

Babette chugged her vehicle slowly up the steepest section and drove at walking speed to the destination. There were four canisters of diesel in the excavator bucket and two more tied up in the driver’s cab. On the way, she already had to refill the tank twice, as she told me later. The construction equipment was a real gas-guzzler. After more than two hours, she arrived at the site, where in the meantime I had worked with saw and axe on the giant trees that were totally stuck together.

First our excavator operator pushed aside the rubble I had climbed over to the trees. Ignoring my instructions, she shouted at me to get out of the way, grabbed with the bucket the free-floating part of the tree, contrary to my idea of starting with the top of the tree, she took the trunk, lifted it as high as possible and let the piece crash down. On the third try, the tree was already leaning towards the abyss. Babette gave it a blow with the excavator shovel. With a loud roar, the tree rushed down the slope, surely taking some trees with it, for the fire had not raged up to here. Almost simultaneously, we cheered with joy at the first victory over the forces of nature.