"When Jesus Christ came upon the Earth, you killed Him. The Son of your own God. And only when He was dead did you worship Him and start killing those who would not."

I have begun to write the second novel in what will be a trilogy. It opens on the banks of the Solomoes River in the Amazon. The blog below gives you a draft (subject to copyright) of the opening paragraphs picking up on the story from ‘The Corleone Christ’. One character from ‘The Corleone Christ’ appears in these early paragraphs. Who do you think it is?

Day 1

The Solimoes River, State of Amazonas, Brazil.

Sunday

November 10

A small group of Ticuna children, were fishing out of their village near Tabatinga, on the Solimoes River. Looking up from their lines, they noticed an eight-foot dugout, canoe taxi approaching downstream. The taxi was hugging what local people, now laughingly described as a ‘riverbank.’

With less and less rain, the children knew the bank of the river was shrinking from its original boundary; they were standing on what had been the riverbed. What they were unaware of was that this was being checked and reported by satellite year in year out.

This year, as in previous years, First Nation people all over Amazonia knew they were seeing a repeating pattern of severe, unrelenting drought. Yet again, way up stream in the Andes, there was no sign of snow caps on the mountain tops; the Andean glaciers were also still shrinking back every year. The warming South American land that had first spoken in an anxious whisper, now spoke in a rasping growl of an increasing thirst from deep inside its throat. Elders, parents, brothers and sisters, neighbours, and friends, who lived with the growing fear that the rainforest was drying up, saw the forest being reduced to tinder again.2 Conservation News. Amanda Magnani December 2

Catching no fish, the children had become bored, so they began shouting and waving at the approaching canoe. The travellers, however, remained steadfast; they looked forward in a silence which was punctuated only by the pulling gurgling and sucking sounds of their paddles.

As the children’s mood intensified, the group began quickly dragging in their lines. Then, gathering round the eldest child, they agreed on a race to see who amongst them was the fastest and could reach a patch of dry scrubland two or three hundred metres away. The groups leader loudly pronounced that the winner would be carried, dressed, and served food as their ‘King’ or ‘Queen’ for the rest of the day.

Counting down from ten to one, they all set off.

At the start a young girl, pumping her long legs faster than anyone else had quickly eased into the lead. Then, glancing back over her shoulder to judge how far ahead she was, she found her attention drawn back toward the canoe taxi again. Suddenly, breathing deeply to catch her breath, she slowed to a standstill, her hands on her hips; the rest of the group overtook her, laughing and teasing her, they laughed, pointed, and shouted, ‘Te’pe’ (meaning weakling’) as they passed.

Looking out onto the river, she put her hand up to shade her eyes from the glare of the sun; now she could see more clearly upstream, four men were making their way in the dugout. Two men paddled, one at the front and one to the rear. A third dark skinned, man with black hair smiled towards the girl, showing just three broken pegs for his front teeth. Unlike the others, he knelt upright, with a straight back, free from the exertion of paddling; a rifle rested against his shoulder with its barrel pointing skywards.

It was the glimpse of a much older man who had first attracted the girl's attention, distracting her from the passion of the race. This fourth, grey-haired white man sat cushioned, shaded, and cool, under a bright red and blue umbrella.

To the young girl, he reminded her of the businessmen she had seen on her family visits to Manaus.

She thought to herself, ‘This man is dressed for the city.’

From where the girl stood, she saw his white skin looking dirty and unshaven. He was wearing a dark blue suit, a red and yellow patterned tie against a crumpled green shirt. On his head he wore and a large, white, ten-gallon hat. Right at the front of the canoe, a travel bag poked its fat side pockets, over the canoes prow.

Mesmerised, and rooted to the spot, the girl heard the silence of the four men break as the ‘lookout’ let the croak of a deep throated chuckle echo across the surface of the river. Then, as the canoe came level with her, she saw he had repositioned his rifle, level across the sides of the dugout. The canoe was drawing nearer. Suddenly she felt the ‘lookout’s’ shining eyes, lock onto hers as he spoke to the suited man in front of him.

“Hey! Frank, see the young girl staring at us? Shall I take her down? Her friends have all run away and left her on her own. These Ticuna people, they need to start feeling the fear. Yes? Our people are just down river now, we are coming for their land, aren’t we? The quicker the land and the river dry out; the sooner we will drive them out like cattle! You’ll see, the time is upon us, this part of the Amazon land will be helpless and alone; it will bare its throat naked of its trees, animals, and snakes. Soon, we will be digging and drilling.”

Frank had other things on his mind.

He glanced over to the ‘bank’ where the girl stood, still shading her view of him from the sunlight.

“I have daughters with granddaughters now, Ricardo. I remember how precious they were to me; my girls are all grown-up now. We don’t talk anymore. But this one on the bank, looks like she is just another Ticuna Indian, am I right? Yeah! Why not then! You’re right, it might be good to send her folks a message; ain’t no indigenous people gonna be safe here for much longer anyhow.”

Suddenly the girl, watched the ‘lookout’ turn his head and raised his rifle butt to his shoulder, she instinctively felt him focus, aiming directly at her.

Panicking, and then screaming, she turned on her heels and ran.

Her friends, having finished their race and ceremony, crowning their eldest peer ‘King’ for the day, heard their friends piercing scream go up; rooted to the scrubland, they watched as their fastest runner suddenly took off. As she ran, she began sharply and randomly zigzagging towards them; her long black hair flowed like a wild wind behind her as she tried to make her way back to safety.

This excerpt is subject to copyright.

GJ Mann