Omar turned pale at the thought of death by diarrhoea. “I, uh, didn’t realise.”

  “Being first won’t do you any good if you are dead,” Bear said. “The best way to be safe is to boil the water, but when we’re on the move …” He pulled a small bottle from his backpack with a smile and squeezed a couple of drops into the canteen.

  “Iodine,” Bear said. “It’ll make the water taste weird, but in a few minutes we’ll have fresh, clean water to drink.”

  After five minutes, the drops had done their work in the bottle and Bear and Omar both drank from the bottle. Bear was right about the taste – it was terrible and it smelt like a hospital. But it was clean.

  Omar was surprised when Bear called a halt soon after that in a clear space.

  “That was quick. There’s still daylight left.”

  “There is,” Bear agreed, “but it’s no good rushing on without thinking, and then regretting it later. We have to make camp before it gets dark. In the jungle, once the sun goes down it gets pitch black in minutes. We have to be prepared.”

  “Like the Scouts?” Omar asked with a smile. “Be prepared. Their motto, right?”

  Bear smiled. “Right!’ He looked around.

  “Look! There’s useful bamboo here, and –” He pointed up. “See how thin the trees are up there? It means there’s less chance of something falling on us during the night. So many jungle injuries happen that way – from falling dead wood. Crazy, eh?”

  Omar thought for a moment. “I suppose I thought the animals were the most dangerous thing in the jungle, not falling branches.”

  “Well, the monkeys often disturb the branches, and then the dead wood falls to the ground. So I guess it’s the animals and the wood!”

  “So, basically, the whole place is dangerous?” Omar replied.

  “I guess so. Unless you know how to handle the dangers. And you’re learning, Omar. It’s good.”

  Omar smiled back at Bear.

  “And the thing about survival,” Bear added, “is that we never stop learning. The jungle will always teach us a new lesson if we are calm enough, quiet enough and curious enough to hear it.”

  Bear pulled out his machete and lopped a branch off a bush. He handed it to Omar, and pointed at the ground.

  “Now, first job is to sweep this bit of ground clear. Sweep up the leaves and we sweep up the creepy-crawlies with them, so then we can sit or sleep there.”

  While Omar swept, Bear built a fire. Underneath the rotting leaves on the ground, Omar was surprised to find clumps of leaves that were bone dry – the top layer had kept the rain off them.

  Bear made a small pile of these dry leaves and arranged sticks and logs on top. Then he struck together two bits of metal he took off a chain round his neck. Sparks flew and the fire quickly started to burn.

  Next, Bear used his machete to sharpen a length of wood, which he stuck in the ground. Then he pulled the dead lizard out of his backpack and carefully cut its front open with the tip of the blade.

  “You have to make sure you don’t puncture the guts, or the acid just spills out and spoils everything …”

  Bear stuck his hand in and worked it around a bit, before pulling out a lump of meat the size of a golf ball. It was smooth and dark rusty brown.

  “This is the liver,” Bear said. “Very rich in iron and nutrients – and also pretty tasty once we’ve cooked it. Beats beetle grubs, anyway.”

  He skewered the liver on the sharp stick.

  “What else can we eat from the lizard?” Omar asked.

  “This.” Bear set about slicing off the lizard’s tail, cutting through the leathery skin. The tail came off with a few machete strokes. “It’s mostly meat, and this skin’s almost fireproof, so we can cook the whole thing as it is. Then we’ll just peel the skin off once it’s cooked.”

  Bear set the liver on a skewer over the flames, and carefully placed the tail on top of the fire. It only took a few minutes for cooking smells to fill the air and Omar’s stomach started to rumble.

  “Will it take long?” Omar asked.

  “Patience, Omar! Before we can eat we need to make somewhere to sleep, and for that we’re going to need vine,” Bear said. “Lots of it. Like this.” He pulled at a vine that clung to a nearby trunk. It was smooth and as thick as his finger, and it reminded Omar of electric cable.

  Omar couldn’t yet see what Bear had in mind but he got busy, gathering up clumps of vine. He had to really yank it free of the trees and soon his arms ached.

  He couldn’t use the machete because Bear was attacking the bamboo with it.

  “You’ve seen scaffolding outside buildings?” Bear asked. “Well, bamboo is the scaffolding of the jungle. Light, strong and straight.”

  The bamboo grew higher than Bear’s head, in knobbly poles that were as thick as Omar’s arms.

  Bear chopped the poles into metre-long lengths, and he used Omar’s vine to tie them together. First he tied six pieces into two frames shaped something like giant letter As. The crosspieces were about thirty centimetres off the ground.

  “What are you making?” Omar asked.

  “This is going to be a sleeping frame. It’ll keep us off the jungle floor, out of range of anything crawly or slithery. And it’ll keep us dry when it rains – which it will, believe me.”

  By now Omar had gathered all the vine that Bear needed, so Omar was put on cooking duty. He had to keep turning the liver and the tail so that they cooked evenly. The smell of cooking meat made him really hungry.

  Bear tied more vine round and round the two long bottom poles on the sleeping frame. Eventually he had made a loose, baggy net between them out of the vines, like a hammock.

  “Now can we –” Omar bit his tongue before he said “eat”, because he could see Bear wasn’t finished. He almost squeaked with impatience.

  Patience … he remembered.

  Omar smiled to himself. If he had learnt anything on this journey so far, it was that he really didn’t want to be lying on the jungle floor in the dark with all those snakes and bugs around. He reckoned this was one job that was definitely worth doing properly and carefully.

  Bear cut bundles of long, thin palm leaves to lay down on the vine net.

  “These are our mattress, so we can lie on the vines without them cutting into us.”

  The last touch was to tie palm leaves along the top pole on the frame so that they hung down either side of it, like a roof.

  Omar looked at the leaves with interest. They weren’t flat; they were shaped like Vs, and Bear had set them all up so that they pointed downwards.

  Omar suddenly realised what they were for.

  “To catch the rain?”

  “You got it! This is a rainforest, so that means rain. The water will run straight off and into these – lovely fresh water.”

  Bear set his almost empty bottle at the end of one of the leaves, and he put chunks of hollow bamboo under the others. When it rained, they would fill up.

  Finally, Bear jammed the lump of termite nest onto a stick, and set fire to it. Smoke from the burning termite poo drifted over their small camp. It was sharp and caught the back of Omar’s nose.

  “That’ll keep the bugs away,” Bear said. “Now, let’s eat. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

  8

  NEVER SMILE AT A CROCODILE

  Omar woke up during the night and heard what sounded like all the rain in the world falling on them in the dark.

  He barely dared to move. The rain sounded like a wild animal. The normal night sounds of the jungle – all those chirping and buzzing insects, and squawks and shrieks from creatures he couldn’t see – were gone. They couldn’t compete with the roar of a thousand tons of water falling every second onto every leaf and twig around him.

  He was still more or less dry on the bedframe, protected by the roof of leaves Bear had put up over them. Bear had said there would be rain and it wouldn’t last for long. He was right on both counts.

  As the sound began to slacken, Omar felt his eyes growing heavy again. By the time the rain had stopped, Omar was asleep again.

  The next morning the jungle was full of steam. The background noise of birds and monkeys was back to normal. Bear’s water bottle was full to the brim with fresh rainwater, and there was plenty left over in the bamboo pots to drink and wipe themselves clean of sweat and grime before they set off.

  Bear checked the cut on Omar’s hand and changed the bandage. Then he retied the red and white bandana over it, and they picked up their sticks and off they went.

  Even though Omar was drenched in sweat, he also felt pretty good. To his surprise, he was getting used to walking in the jungle. A good night’s sleep had helped his brain sort it all out. The thickness of the plants started to make sense. He could make out the shades and shadows that showed their depth, and the best way around them. He could sense when the ground was going to fall or rise, so he could head in the best direction.

  Now he was starting to see why Bear took the route he did, and he could see why they needed to take it steady. At jungle speed.

  After a while Omar could see that the canopy of leaves over to their right looked thinner.

  “Is it lighter over there?” Omar asked.

  The day before, he wouldn’t have noticed. Leaves were just leaves back then – something that got in his way. But now he was getting used to the jungle he could see that where he was looking more light was getting through. And that meant there was open space ahead.

  Bear smiled.

  “It does. Let’s check it out.”

  A few minutes later they stood on the bank of a river. It was about fifty metres wide, and the water was dark brown, like cold tea. A floating log showed how fast the river was flowing. It was going at the kind of speed Omar could just about manage if he walked as fast as he could.

  “Now, that is good news,” Bear said. “All rivers go somewhere.”

  “Where does this one go?”

  “I don’t know – but if we follow it, we’ll get to a village or town eventually.” Bear stood with his hands on his hips and stared across the water. His expression was thoughtful and maybe a bit worried.

  “Is there a problem?” Omar asked.

  “It’s much easier going on the far bank. Look. See how the riverbank extends out into the water all the way downstream? But this side is all dense jungle.” Bear paused, as if considering. “I think it is going to be worth it to attempt to cross the river and continue downstream from the other side. You good with that? Can you swim?”

  Omar looked at the far bank. He had swum fifty metres at school, no problem. He had the badge on his trunks. He was about to say, “You bet! Let’s go!” but then he noticed how Bear was taking it slow. “I guess we should be careful about crossing?” he said instead.

  Bear nodded silently.

  “Act in haste, repent at leisure, eh?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means if you rush in and make a bad decision, then you will have a long time to regret it! In other words, a bit of patience never hurt anyone. Let’s watch for a while.”

  “For what?” Omar asked.

  “Well, let’s see. These waters hide all sorts of dangers …”

  They sat, watching the river.

  Soon, a group of monkeys came down to the far bank. They had dark fur and their arms were longer than their bodies.

  They chatted and hooted amongst themselves and drank from the water …

  Just then, the water exploded suddenly in a cloud of white spray. Something dark and deadly moved within it. The monkeys screamed and screeched and fled – all except one.

  The monkey was caught in the jaws of a three-metre-long reptile. Omar stared in horror. The monster’s skin was knobbly and dark, the exact colour of the water. It slid back under the surface, still with the monkey in its mouth, and disappeared.

  “Move back from the water, Omar,” Bear said. “No sudden movements.”

  They walked backwards for a few metres. There was no more sign of the creature.

  “That was one big crocodile!” Omar exclaimed.

  “Technically it was one big black caiman.” Bear didn’t stop looking around. “They’re native to this part of the world – closely related to crocs and alligators. They’re river animals, designed to blend in. They can hold their breath for up to forty-five minutes and swim without a ripple. So now you see why we waited.” He paused. “Remember, instinct is the inner voice you should trust. Okay. We won’t cross here. Let’s fight smart and stick to battles we can win.”

  They trekked together along the riverbank, keeping a few metres back from the water. If the vegetation by the river grew too thick, Bear pulled back even further.

  “You’ve seen how well they can hide,” he said. “A nice thick clump of bushes is all they need. Caimans have an attack zone of a couple of metres – on land. If we stay further away than that, we’re probably safe.”

  “What about in the water?” Omar asked.

  “In the water, they’ll come for you whatever. As far as they’re concerned, the water is theirs. So, we’ll cross when we come to a nice straight bit, where we can see as far along the river as we can in both directions.”

  They followed the river until they got to a place where Bear felt it would be safest to cross. The river was about twenty metres wide. Both of them kept their eyes well peeled for anything long and scaly, as Bear got closer to the edge of the water.

  “Keep an eye on the surface,” he said, and he used his stick to hit the water several times. Omar ran his eyes back and forth along the river. Nothing popped up to see what the disturbance was – as far as Omar could tell.

  “Okay,” Bear said. “We’ll wait fifteen minutes and scan the water for bubbles. Those are the telltale mark that a caiman is below the surface. Then, if all is clear, we will cross.”

  After fifteen minutes they had seen no bubbles. Omar looked at Bear.

  “Shall we maybe wait a bit longer?” he asked with a worried expression. “Patience is good, isn’t it?”

  Bear kept looking at the water.

  “We have been patient and now is the time to be brave. It’s as good as it’s going to get. Time to get ready …”

  Bear stood up and started to use his stick to demonstrate how to cross. He stood so he was leaning on it, with his legs apart.

  “You don’t know how deep the river gets, or what the bottom will be like, and the current will always try to knock you over. So, use this as a third leg. Every time you move one foot, make sure your other foot and the stick are planted on the riverbed. Don’t move your stick without both your feet being secure.”

  Omar hadn’t realised crossing the river would be such a challenge. He nodded nervously. There was a whole new set of rules to learn.

  “And above all …” Bear began.

  Omar finished for him. “Don’t hurry, take it steady!”

  Bear grinned and nodded, and led the way into the water.

  9

  PART OF THE JUNGLE

  The water quickly gurgled into Omar’s boots, then felt its way up his legs. It was cool and refreshing, for about a second. Then Omar could feel it tugging at him. It wanted to sweep him away. The bottom of the river was soft and slimy, and it was hard for his boots to get a grip. He jammed the stick into the riverbed with every step to give himself some extra hold.

  The water kept on rising, as they got further out. Knees, hips, stomach … The higher it got, the more it wanted to knock him over. He set his eyes on the far bank and trudged on. It was so tempting just to chuck the stick away and try to wade faster. His mind was telling him, Ignore the law of the jungle and just swim for it.

  But Omar knew if he stopped doing the river-crossing technique, then the water would just take him. Sure, he could swim for the bank and get there eventually – but he would be swept downstream, and then what might happen? He remembered that caiman, and how invisible it had been right up until the last moment …

  He needed to stick to the plan.

  Omar shifted his bandaged hand to the top of the stick to keep it out of the water, and kept going. He started to breathe heavily. It was impossible to hurry, even if he’d wanted to now.

  “Keep going, Omar,” Bear said, turning to look at him. “Slow and steady, but keep going. You’ll need to find that inner determination if we’re going to get across this safely. You can do it, Omar!”

  More than halfway over, Omar finally felt the water start to give. It was getting lower. His legs were aching but he didn’t give up or stop trying. He still took every step just as carefully as before, even when the water was down to his knees and he was splashing through the shallows. His tired legs wobbled with the effort.

  Finally, Bear gave him a hand up onto the far bank. He grinned down at him.

  “You couldn’t have done that yesterday. You hadn’t learnt jungle discipline and determination.” He paused. “Or jungle humility,” he added with a smile. “I’m impressed, buddy.”

  Omar laughed. “I guess not –”

  But Bear was looking over the top of his head, back at the river. His face suddenly changed abruptly and he gave Omar a violent shove.

  “Up that tree! Run!”

  The ache in Omar’s legs vanished and he ran at top speed for the tree that Bear had pointed at. Bear grabbed Omar around the waist and boosted him up. Omar gripped the nearest branch with both hands and swung his legs up. With a bit of wriggling he hauled himself up.

  Meanwhile Bear had shinned up the trunk and sat behind him.

  A caiman was coming across the river like a small torpedo. Its eyes, sticking out of the water, made a small bow wave.

  Omar gasped. “How fast can they go?”

  “Up to twenty miles per hour. That’s faster than me or you!”

  The caiman hit the bank and kept going. Massive claws the size of a man’s hand dug into the mud as it hurled itself onto the land. It slowed down as it strolled over to the tree. It seemed to be swinging its hips as it walked, like it didn’t have a care in the world.

 

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