Iguassu Falls, Argentina: Pursued Through The Jungle (cont.)
The anticipation of the attack prevents me from appreciating these final moments of everything that was once mine: the biology of my body, the immediate world around me, the memories of places and people I’ve carried with me. Instead, just as I always do when I’m certain that, for example, the turbulence will bring down my flight; I reevaluate all the choices that led me up to this moment.
Why did I choose to jeopardize my life by leaving my home? I was happy there. Not entirely content, but happy. Many people know much worse. So why risk it? What did I expect to find when I arrived wherever it was that I was headed?
In planes the fear was always in my head. But here it is real, outside, yards from me, breathing, hungry, and hunting me. Maybe.
I look ahead at the widening gate of light, the opening of the footpath. Thirty yards away, at most.
I think of yelling. Maybe people will come running. It might also scare the jaguar, but perhaps it will excite it. What if I start talking to myself? Will it think there is more than one person on this path? Will it not believe its eyes? What would it think then?
“Yes, what then?” I say out loud, closing my eyes, firmly expecting this moment to be my last. But my feet keep carrying me forward; the roar of the waterfalls continues to fill my ears.
The footsteps stay by my side.
“Well, I don’t know,” I say in a different voice, this one higher-pitched and more nervous, “I suppose he would leave you alone.” “That sure would be nice,” the first voice now says. I swallow hard and clear my throat to speak in a lower register, “I don’t want to die.” I think it’s working.
The footsteps stop. I quicken my pace, imagining the jaguar crouching to the ground, readying to pounce. The fear grips my temples and the back of my head. The pressure is intense, nearly dizzying. The opening is only fifteen yards away. I concentrate. No sound comes from the right of me. Ten yards. I stop myself from thinking that I may have a chance to survive, fearful that such thoughts will attract the jaguar. The forest is silent. Five more yards. Three. I look over my shoulder. Nothing.
Relief.
Then I stand at the opening of the footpath. The rushing sound of the waterfall comes at me as if blown by a strong wind; the sound had been muffled by the trees. The green canopy of the forest rolls in front of me on wavy hills. A heavy mist from the waterfalls billows over the forest, and I think, yes, this is why I’m here, and then take my first step onto the bridge. I am now safe from jaguar attacks, but—good lord—that is a long way down.
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