EDEN, No Longer
A
scorching sun beat down on the dry corn stalks that rustled on the
mountainside. A dusty village sprawled in the valley below. On the slope
opposite, Totonac coffee pickers worked under a canopy of cloudless blue.
The long afternoon shadows would soon give them relief, but for the moment
they just had to withstand the heat. Few people elsewhere, relaxing with
their morning coffee could ever imagine the hard labour involved in its
production.
With most of his
farm chores finished for the day, Teo watched in silence as his wife cradled
their tiny daughter on her knees. The afternoon heat made it hard to get her
settled. She was beautiful and healthy, and at two months, her deep brown
eyes already followed every motion. Teo just knew that those clear eyes were
looking at him. A mass of gleaming black hair crowned her face. She had an
olive complexion and already showed signs of inheriting her mother's
striking beauty.
Later that day,
Teo's thoughts were with his wife and daughter as he navigated the mountain
trail—an artery that had been worn deep into the mountain slopes by
thousands of barefooted Totonacs carrying heavy burdens. Teo no longer wore
the traditional Totonac white muslin of his ancestors. He was dressed in a
sports shirt and red-tab Levis. Although born in a primitive mountain
village, his Mexico-city education had changed his philosophy as well as the
clothes he wore. Somehow, he still felt drawn back to these green slopes
where he had played as a boy. He had returned almost a year ago now, seeking
temporary work to support himself and his new Mexican bride. He tended the
animals on the farm run by the Totonac Bible Centre and became friends with
many medical volunteers who came there.
The trail ahead
broadened as he moved along. A pair of brilliantly coloured macaws swooped
overhead but their loud shrieks went unnoticed. An armadillo rattled its way
across the trail into the shade of a tall oak tree.
Then there came
a sound that was out of tune with the natural symphony of the mountains. It
was the cold, sharp click of steel against steel. Teo turned. Now he
realized, with a chill, the source of the sound. Three men stood facing him,
one with a gun pointed directly at him. Teo felt the sudden sting low in his
stomach. There was a smell of smoke and he collapsed onto his side. His ears
hurt and his heart raced. He felt the panic of losing consciousness and the
terror and increasing pain. Then another shot echoed at close range. He lay
silent. One man rolled Teo's body over with his foot and pocketed his
wallet. The men stood watching for signs of life. When they found none, they
ran without looking back.
At the clinic
below, two doctors heard the shots echo in the valley. They looked at each
other, then moved in unison without speaking, stumbling breathlessly up the
steep trail until they were forced to pause for breath. In the high altitude
their lungs strained for oxygen. Standing for a moment on the winding trail,
they looked over the magnificent valley that fell sharply to the riverbed
below. The hypnotic rhythm of a mountain waterfall placed a curtain between
them and reality.
They continued
their climb more slowly. Then, as the trail widened, the first doctor saw
something blocking their way. He tried to suppress what he was thinking.
But, seconds later, when he reached Teo's lifeless body, his worst fears
were confirmed. Impulsively but with professional skill, he bent over the
dead man, his fingers desperately searching for a pulse.
He whispered his
friend's name in desperation. There was no sound—only blood oozing slowly
from a gaping wound in his head.