Chapter 7: July 2018

On Sunday morning, it was the 1st of July, I went out to the terrace in the semi-darkness, wanted to smoke a cigarette and think thoroughly about things that urgently needed to be done and to plan the next few weeks. However, after a few minutes I could no longer take notes because of the cold. Winter began this year with temperatures that were far too low. My breath literally froze in the air. The days were slowly getting longer again, but the sun would not rise until shortly before half past six and then hopefully provide some warmth.

The last month had once again pushed our entire team to its limits with the storms, the thunderstorm, and the landslide. Fortunately, the Indios had celebrated the beginning of their Inca year with us on 24 June with exceptionally beautiful experiences, which gave us a lot of strength and motivation. I admired more and more the older Indio women in our valley, many of them widowed by the mining accident years ago, some of them also scarred by the loss of their sons in the mine collapse. Sometimes they told, about their other children who had been denied a home in the valley by the mining company and who therefore worked somewhere in Peru or abroad as day labourers or brutally exploited domestic helpers. There had been no sign of life from their children for many years. Now in complete isolation, contact was impossible anyway.

All the more to admire was the energy and their joie de vivre of the villagers. I respected the old people very much; only having to smile sometimes when they took their faith too seriously or used their Coca leaves too intensively. Then, when the strong wine or homemade spit beer came into play, some were incapacitated for the whole Sunday. Smiling, I decided it was best not to visit the village today. Who knows how many were lying in their huts in a daze.

According to my calendar, there were no special events this month, no special birthdays, and no birth. On last of July Cara would be fifteen years old years old, but we would celebrate it as normal one. The last birth had brought us all to the brink of despair. Lenya’s Vadim was the most difficult birth in the valley so far. After more than thirty hours, our Russian had finally made it. We were close to despair. Our doctor didn’t know what to do either. With the position of the baby after the birth began and the obstruction in the birth canal, a caesarean section was too risky. Whether the embryo was still getting enough oxygen was completely unclear, we could only hope.

Finally, in the early morning, Esther became demonstratively angry with her best friend. “Lenya, pull yourself together, fight, finally work properly. Your child won’t be able to breathe soon.” But the woman giving birth only moaned, apparently had no more strength, was as if in a trance. Lenya was almost a role model in all areas, but physically she had deficits despite her size and strong figure.

When our doctor left the treatment room for a moment, Esther suddenly lashed out and gave her friend two resounding slaps. “Come on now. I won’t let your Vadim die. Do it already! Fight for your child!” And it helped. The contractions started again as Lenya panted along with our midwife. Esther massaged the already slightly flaccid womb, somehow finding contact with the baby. The baby struggled to get free, cooperated well and intensified the contractions. After another thirty minutes, we were relieved by the first, barely audible moan of the newborn. Esther pressed air into the baby’s lungs with her mouth, pushed the air out again until the infant was breathing on its own and finally gave a tentative cry.

After Ramona and Priya took over, I pulled Esther into my bathroom, let her shower, and take a bath. I was so proud of our birth attendant, of our strong Hungarian. My words of praise just gushed out of me. Esther told me later that it had been such an exaggeration what I kept telling her in the bathroom, but I was sure at that moment; Esther had at least saved the child’s life, maybe Lenya’s too.

So, I was glad that there was no birth due in July. In the last third of August, Kira would give birth to a child, probably a boy. I took a deep breath. No birth stress for more than six weeks, which gave me strength and confidence for the many tasks to be done at the moment.

Shortly before the difficult birth, I had denied Zarina the second partnership she wanted, especially the procreation of another child, but not consistently enough, only by pointing out that her daughter Jinjin, had to be at least six months old, it meant a minimum interval of half a year before the birth had to be observed. That annoyed me this day. Lenya’s birth had once again shown me the risks of childbirth. It was extremely difficult for me to see the young women suffer so much. Our doctor assured me shortly afterwards that every second birth would be easier for a woman than the first. She supported Zarina’s renewed desire to have a second child and had laughingly said, “I have spoken to all the girls. Most of them see it like I do. A second child would be fine, but then that’s enough.”

In my study, I turned the heating on slightly and concentrated on planning for the month. First up was harvesting all the ripe crops. Soon frost would eventually set in, so all the carrots, tomatoes, onions, peppers, beans, and other fruits and vegetables were to be harvested. At the Casa, Olivia and Carmen were almost done with the harvest, having stored more than enough in the guesthouse cellar. They took potatoes out of the ground as needed, hoping of course that no too severe frost would reach our valley.

I did not have to worry about the village. The Indios knew exactly what was necessary and right at any given time in horticulture. In the palace garden, the young women were to work as much as possible in the coming week. Luisa had shown me her supplies in the cellar the night before. The cold room, formerly used as a fish store, was filled with such quantities of frozen vegetables, at least enough to last until Christmas. That was a great reassurance to me. After the huge flood in the valley, I could not have expected this at such short notice. I gave our cook a big hug and praised her for her hard work. She enjoyed the hug and the caresses, but said dryly, “Cara, Ananda, and Lenya did the lion’s share. When they could no longer afford other work with their big bellies, they cleaned and portioned vegetables in the kitchen. I could never have done it alone.”

But back to the planning for the second half of the year. In the following week, my main goal was to make the Toyota operational again. I had to find the right pipes in the plumber’s workshop to restore the exhaust, but without the catalytic converter. I had to succeed in at least halving the volume. Otherwise, it would be unreasonable to make the necessary trips to further clear the road. My ears were almost still ringing from the overloud engine noises on the descent after the recovery.

In the upcoming winter, we would need more electricity again. Every week the panels of the two photovoltaic systems should be cleaned and freed from branches and leaves. For this I assigned Mayari and Isabella, who were now less needed in the village. The electricity storage tanks were my job. I had to maintain and check them regularly. Fortunately, I had used a system of lithium-ion batteries for the project and housed them in a brick distribution house. This type of battery was expensive, but not as vulnerable to temperatures that were too low or too high. In winter, the system heated itself through its waste heat, and in summer, a fan automatically switched on when needed. It was also important to clean the surfaces regularly, because under dust they quickly became too warm and thus lost capacity and life.

For the Saturdays I assigned the women to shooting training and other military exercises. The attempt of the strangers to land with us in two planes weighed heavily on all my thoughts. There had only been four people in the two planes, but what did I know about their armament, their combat experience. Whether they wanted to take the moneybags or other valuables, whether they wanted to occupy our village or whether they were targeting the young ladies? I could only make assumptions, but the facts of the matter deeply unsettled me.

After breakfast, Sula and later Zarina had booked a massage with me. Ramona gave her skilled hands to her assistant’s body today. These had been very nice opportunities last year to discuss private matters, to tease each other a little and to learn a little more about the wishes and desires of the young women.

When I walked into my bathroom, the pregnant Kenyan was lying on the massage table completely undressed. “We won’t need knickers after you’ve already impregnated each of us, will we?” Sula smiled mischievously at me. Months ago, I had stipulated that abdomens were to be covered during a massage, but she was right. I looked at my chocolate brown beauty. Despite her heavily toned body, the sight of her was a feast for the eyes. Exactly two months from this day was her expected due date. She was feeling excellent. Her future son Ken would be a joy to her, would show her today what a strong boy he would become. She took my hand and placed it on her liver area. The embryo welcomed the paternal touch with strong movements. For the first time I could feel the growing life in Sula. Proudly, my dear assistant kissed me. She whispered tender words in my ear. Again, I caressed her body, carefully touched the breasts that were forming more strongly, straightened Su up, embraced her from behind and both hands caressed her body. Her back and sweet bottom pressed against me almost ruthlessly, as if she wanted more. I hadn’t been this intimate with Su in a long time. When I carefully touched her clit, she moaned lustfully, holding my hand there, wanting more. A little uncertainly I played with her pubic area. Was it still allowed to make real love? No, I didn’t want to harm the foetus.

“Please, kiss me downstairs, I’m so keen to have an orgasm.” Was that my Sula, who always had problems giving her fully to me and letting the pleasure flow? After two minutes of tongue play, suddenly the time had come. My partner had a wonderful climax, screaming with pleasure. Her plump body was rising and falling, completely out of control for the first time. I could hardly breathe, so her hands pressed my head into her lap. When I finally came free, Zarina stood fearfully beside us. She had been waiting outside the door for her massage. Then our Chinese girl smiled, gave Su and me a kiss. “Sorry to disturb you, but you scared me. I thought Sula was already having her baby. But you were just having fun, weren’t you?”

I was completely embarrassed by the situation, but my partner laughed. “Zarina, which was horny. But honestly, you’re disturbing.” I held my next massage client tightly. “Stay, Zarina. Sorry, we forgot ourselves a bit. For the first time, Su had given herself fully to me. I couldn’t say ‘No!’ then.”

Sula pulled me to her, sought my lips and whispered, “Thank you. Finally, that was really good. I hope that didn’t hurt my child.” – “If you’re doing well, your son is doing well. You were great. That was your first rush of love, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, and that was ‘alligalli’, as Luisa often says in her language. That means: ‘It was especially nice’. Thank you, Mikel, thank you so much.”

Zarina now helped me rub lotion on the pregnant woman’s body and back. The room smelled pleasantly of aniseed and lemon in no time. The main ingredient of the skin cream, however, was a lotion from a special aloe species that grew here on the southern slope next to the vines and would spread almost unhindered if the village women did not regularly dig up their offshoots. The plant juice, mixed with some aromas and lime juice, was a wonderful remedy, cared for the skin without oils or fats.

As I was saying goodbye, my dear assistant whispered to me, “Please, Michael, will you give me another good time like this today? Soon it won’t be possible, but I want to have that high one more time. I can’t believe how good that was.”

“Su, please. You can’t. There must be no exception. But you are welcome to sign the list where Esther plans our love life. But before that, I have to talk to our doctor again to see if it’s still possible or if we’re harming your child.”

Su did not let up. “Zarina, dearest sister, may I help Mitch with the massage?” Zarina smiled. “What if I want to experience the same thing as you?” – “That would be exciting. It has always been my desire to watch others do it one day.”

Soon Zarina welcomed four busy hands all over her body. Her figure was very youthful again. Only her bosom, with which the young mother was still nursing her five-month-old daughter twice a day, was disproportionate, but would surely normalise soon. Sula took over this part, felt the upper part of her body very tenderly, and was happy about every dear look from her friend. After my hands had wandered from the feet to the calves to the thighs, the massaged one sighed and pushed my hands to her centre of delight. I was undecided but spread a few squirts of skin balm there too. Sula watched every movement of my fingers, delighted when Zarina made the first sounds of emerging pleasure. And the feelings of the massaged grew. Honestly, I found it hard to control myself to take advantage of the situation. My pants strained at my arousal. Luckily, my assistant was with us. So, I only increased my massage in the unplanned place.

Zarina enjoyed it with her eyes closed and was also pleased with Su’s caresses of her breasts, shoulders, and neck. It came as it had to come. Her breathing became stronger; her breasts rose and fell more and more. During the first, prolonged kiss of love as my fingers continued to make love, Zarina gasped into my mouth, whispered unknown words, and surrendered in a wild lust. The high sensation did not seem to want to subside. Then two of my fingers took full possession of her body, intensified her ecstasy with a quick in and out while twisting her fingers at the same time. Zarina was still quivering when my hands were on her breasts. We had completely forgotten about Sula, only noticing her presence again when she said dryly, “Yes, yes, now I know what your ‘fire of love’ means. It was so brilliant that I was allowed to watch. Thank you, Zarina. Are you alright?”

Zarina pulled the young African woman to her, took her by the head with both hands and kissed her not exactly sisterly. Then we had to laugh when we saw Su’s astonished face. “Is that possible? You love Fahsai, don’t you?”

“You don’t have to squeal right away, my dear. But it was also your caresses that brought me to a climax so quickly. My kiss was the thanks I got.”

Before breakfast I had already spoken to the young mother Lenya. She worried me. Her son Vadim was doing better than his mother. Although our doctor had stitched up the wound well, Lenya was weak and in a lot of pain. Her friend Esther had to help with breastfeeding. Now after the wonderful massage session, I sat with the dear Russian, praised her again. Suddenly the burden of the birth burst out of her. She sobbed cried harder and harder. Finally, she whispered to me, “I couldn’t have done it alone. Only Esther’s slaps brought me to my senses. I am so grateful to her. Please, will you ask her to come see me?”

Esther and Ramona were in the best of moods. Not only Esther had been well massaged by her boss. The young Hungarian had given everything back to her masseuse, our doctor had especially relaxed her back. Whether there was more to it than a simple massage, I didn’t even want to know. Her feeling of well-being quickly spread to the young mummy. Soon the three women were joking with each other. The tears had dried up. At that moment it had become clear to me that Lenya was not only in physical pain, but also in severe mental pain, ruminating on her apparent failure. It visibly did her good how casually the two women treated her.

According to my wish, Babette and Priya handed over their babies to Mayari and Daja. They were happy to help me with the car repair. On the way to the container camp, we felt the cold of the day. It was 5°C at the most. But my mobile phone showed me 46 F. Apparently, an app was working in the background to give me the temperature in Fahrenheit today. That was such an urgent task too. Where was my mobile phone getting this information?

We ran almost the entire distance so as not to freeze. The car battery was still dead, of course. We had not yet found a charger for it. After a short time, I had managed to convert the charger for the chainsaw batteries so that we could connect the two bare wires to the battery terminals by means of soldered terminals. This was primitive and with less power, but it worked.

The most difficult part followed, jacking up the car so that a new pipe could be welded between the engine and the exhaust. It was a great effort, but finally we had pushed the Toyota up over first one, then two, finally three pallets over strong planks. The front wheels were soon on three more Euro pallets. It was okay for analysis, but there was little room for welding.

The manifold was in full working order; the following connecting pipe was crushed off. There were no more fixings for the remains of the exhaust that we had recovered at the crash site. We had a hell of a job ahead of us. It took us three days of soldering and welding to reasonably fit an exhaust system, but it worked in the end after a few failed attempts. On the test drive, the car was louder than the original, but much quieter than after recovery. At least we had brought the battery back to life. We had a car ready to drive. My two helpers, today Babette and Mayari were with me, got a kiss, wanted more, but I didn’t take time for caresses, was keen to test how the car took the incline on the cleared road. We easily negotiated the steepest five hundred metres, but when we got out, an icy wind made us shiver. A few cold days were ahead of us. I looked with concern at the ladies who were dressed far too lightly. Winter clothes were missing everywhere.

Back in the valley, we went to the Palazzo to present our achievement to everyone. We were marvelled at, there were many words of praise. Daja and Isabella undertook to wash and clean the vehicle thoroughly. Especially on the inside, you could see how long the car had been exposed to the vagaries of nature.

Babette wanted to go to the clearing site the very next day, but there were classes on Thursday. More and more often I had to insist that this rule was observed. I had taken over the mathematics lessons for Lenya and I was very pleased with the performance of all the pupils. Our young teacher had done a really good job. For tomorrow, I had prepared tasks on the ray theorem. After Ramona’s English lesson, physics was planned. Here the interest of some ladies was not so great.

Therefore, I had prepared some interesting things on energy and power transmission. My ambitious goal was to empower the students so that one day they would have the opportunity to graduate from a normal school or at least take the necessary exams for a degree recognised in Peru. But it was damn difficult without knowing valid curricula or having textbooks to follow a certain system in the imparting of knowledge. So, I dreamed into the night, saw ‘my girls’ in school uniform attending a wonderful school, looking forward to a time with permanent contact to the outside world, with internet and unlimited possibilities to buy medicine, clothes, and other missing things. But unfortunately, at the moment it was only a dream, just my fantasy. Nevertheless, I was sure that we would succeed one day. I fell asleep that night smiling, so happy that we had enough food, water, and energy every day.

On Saturday, something extraordinary happened. When I stepped onto the terrace, everything was white. The mountains glistened in the morning sun; the trees had lovely bonnets of snow. I had been in the valley for more than three years by then, but I had never experienced anything as beautiful as this.

The girls were beside themselves, frolicking in the snow on the forecourt. Many saw snow-covered meadows and paths for the first time in their lives, formed snowballs, tried to build a snowman, but the icy wind forced us back indoors. Still, it was a resolved mood in the house too, despite the cold. Sula tried the song ‘Little snowflake’ for toddlers but couldn’t quite get the words together. Soon, however, everyone was singing in a squeaky voice, imitating toddlers, “Little snowflake, little snowflake, falling from the sky, falling on my head, falling on my face.” Everyone joked and laughed.

Ramona surprised us by reciting a poem from her English class in Germany.

Snowflakes, snowflakes, soft and white, Falling, falling, through the night.

While the children sleep for hours, You will cover fields and flowers.

Snowflakes, snowflakes soft and white, Falling, falling through the night.

Our doctor and English teacher suggested learning the poem in the next English class, but after less than five minutes the students were saying it in chorus.

However, shortly afterwards I was a bit angry with Ramona. She showed me the collections from her language training in Germany on her computer. She had the complete documents for five consecutive language courses, so-called Cambridge certificates. I would have liked to use this material too. My English was really weak. I had taught myself most of it during my stays abroad, but I still made a lot of grammatical mistakes. Ramona apologised; wouldn’t have known I had taken the time. In any case, she copied her papers onto my PC. Hopefully, I would find a few free hours for it. However, I had little hope. In the office alone, there were so many folders and files waiting to be thoroughly examined.

The snow remained for days, along with frost and icy winds, unusual for this region so close to the equator. We were freezing; we didn’t have enough warm clothes either. In my heated study, the small children were accommodated and well looked after by at least three mothers. Classes were held in the cinema hall. We had again covered all the doors, gates and the roof exit with tarpaulins or the curtains sewn last year, but in the big hall we reached 10 degrees Celsius at most with the few heaters. Fortunately, we had enough electricity. The systems were working at full power and the hours of sunshine had also increased again.

The residents of the Casa and the village also suffered. The guinea pigs in the palazzo garden had frozen food and water. Fahsai had placed several cardboard boxes, lined with hay and straw, in the enclosure in places sheltered from the wind. She provided the animals with dry food and warmed water.

Late on Tuesday evening, the house was already completely quiet, and I was just getting ready for bed when the siren sounded in the village. I quickly jumped back into my clothes and grabbed the machine pistol. Luisa rushed towards me. “There’s a fire. You don’t need a gun. Can I help you?”

“Please send me the non-pregnant ones to the village. I’ll get the nozzle and hose from the pool.” Standing at the gate, Sula let me out. “Babette, Mayari, and Esther have already gone. What’s on fire?” – “I don’t know, Su. Probably a hut.” Ramona roared up in a buggy, let me in and we drove to the end of the concrete road to the village. On the way, we let Esther get on. The two other young women ran ahead of us to the fire. It was Jimena’s hut that was on fire again, only much stronger than last year. The roof was on fire. There was no point in putting it out anymore.

The power supply to the village was interrupted by the residual current circuit breaker. As a result, I could hardly see where the villagers or the helpers were. Only the blazing fire illuminated the ghostly scene. While my four helpers moved everything flammable as far away from the hut as possible, I prevented Djamila’s hut from really catching fire with the nozzle. The roof was already smoking, but that was quickly extinguished. Soon, we had also dampened down the flames of the fire. This made everything pitch black. We were able to get some air. Only now did I notice how heavily I was panting. The cold chilled my sweaty body, made me freeze immediately when the hardest part of my job was done.

A spotlight shone in the distance. Priya and Zarina came to our rescue with two handheld headlamps and a torch. Priya even had a toolbox with her. We cut the supply line to the burnt hut. Priya insulated the ends of the cables and said dryly, “Ready. We can switch on the FI-plug again for all I care. At least we’ll have light.”

Was that what I wanted? I thought about the situation. Actually, it was only Jimena’s fault again that the whole village had to suffer. I did not want another confrontation, on the contrary. I hoped our quick help and the restoration of the power supply would further increase our reputation.

“Can you do it without me, Priya?” When she nodded, I asked Zarina to accompany our electrician to the transformer station and shine her light. I was sure our Vietnamese woman could do it on her own. I looked proudly at the two Asian women as they walked confidently to the distributor.

A little later, the village was lit up again. In the meantime, I had rushed to Olivia, who was already taking care of the completely distraught woman, whose things were completely burnt. Jimena was crying, stammering incomprehensible words, shivering, perhaps from cold, perhaps from inner excitement. Together with Olivia, I led her out of the acrid smell of burning into the saloon. It was only in the light of the dining room that I saw how badly Jimena was injured. Her arms were blistered, the front of her hair and parts of her scalp were scorched. She had probably tried to put out the fire. She had to go to the infirmary immediately.

Esther and Ramona took care of the injured woman and brought her to the Palazzo. By now we were freezing to death. I sent all the helpers back to our house. Olivia was to ask Leonie to watch during the night if flames appeared again. I extinguished the remains of the hut once more, left the hose in place and explained to Leonie how to use the sprayer. I was the last to set off for home. Babette came towards me smiling. “Your taxi is ready, sir.” The laughter that followed released my tension. Beth got her desired kiss and drove me safely to the centre.

I sat for a long time with Luisa and Ramona in the heated study. The wounds of the ‘Arsonist’ were taken care of. But our doctor was worried whether her patient had the strength to survive the night. Despite a sedative injection and painkillers, her blood pressure had not decreased. The heart began to race again and again. Jimena was already starting to fever. Ramona had immobilised the patient and put in a drip to supply her with fluids. All the affected parts of the body were cooled. However, the burnt forehead and the front part of the scalp worried our doctor more. In the morning, she wanted to check whether a skin transplantation was necessary and possible given the patient’s condition.

Luisa praised our help. The villagers would never forget that, even if we didn’t get told right away. “This stays here.” Luisa pointed to her heart area. “Tomorrow you must appear like a high priest, tell everyone in the village it is the punishment of Iqiqu, the god of fire. If anyone doesn’t follow the rules, Iqiqu will take all their possessions.” Cunningly, my ‘first wife’ smiled at me. “Whether you believe in it or not, Michael, that’s the only thing that helps with the old people. Iqiqu is often worshipped secretly. He is also the god who gives wealth. That’s why everyone worships him, especially the greedy.”

I thanked Luisa with a kiss and visited our patient together with Ramona. Jimena had calmed down. She slept almost motionless, breathing more evenly. Ramona now had more hope of saving the patient. I thanked our doctor with a kiss of appreciation. We were no longer able to do later at night.

The next day, school was out of the question. Ramona and Esther took care of the injured Indio woman. Babette took over the leadership of a construction crew and wanted to first bring order to the village, then remove the remains of the burnt hut and build one of the old huts on Jimena’s previous site. Mayari and Isabella rushed to the two solar plants to clean them and test their operation.

I drove the Corolla towards the village. Only a few levellings with a spade were necessary to make the oxcart path passable for the car. In daylight, the fire site looked even worse, it smelled pungently of burning. Three of our hard-working young ladies were carting away beams and charred boards. Leonie looked to see if there were any usable parts of the household left. Two older women brushed the ashes from a pan, a small grill, and a pot. Everything else was burnt or no longer usable.

Babette stood on the ladder and repaired the roof of Djamila’s hut. Fortunately, it was only slightly singed. The leader of the construction crew was painting the outermost rafter with the available bitumen, smiling at me. Beth was a ray of sunshine.