subject: The Wanderer: Part 20 of 73 [print this page] The Wanderer by Callie Roos, motivational speaker and author
Part 20 of 73
As we finally reach the river bank, he is already sitting in the Land Rover. The water is pouring from our equipment and our clothes into our shoes, making the leather swell up. 'Move your butts and make sure you get there in time!' he says again. "The Sergeant Major turns the Land Rover's ignition. 'Your food is here,' he barks, indicating the tin in front of the wheel. He pulls away, grinding the tin into the ground with the Land Rover's wheel. Tinned peas splatter everywhere.
'These guys are fucking mad!' someone grumbles. I don't remember how many of us were left on the course that day. That night, the eleventh night, the last of them gave up. They just could not continue. The table loaded with delicious food did not materialize. "But something else happened to me. About an hour later I began to feel ill. I was throwing up and had the shivers. My whole body was jerking from the cold. Before leaving the river, we had picked what remained of the peas out of the sand and divided it amongst ourselves. Everything was sopping wet our clothes, our shoes, our packs. We quickly unpacked everything and tried to dry what we could, including shoes and socks, before tackling the night. We used a ground sheet to catch some tadpoles in the shallow water and tried to fry them with the peas while our clothes were drying. Darkness was approaching.
"Then I made a big mistake. Next to me was a creeper growing out of the sand. Digging into the bank, I found a bulb which looked almost like an onion. I cut it up and added it to the pea and tadpole mixture. It smelled good, almost like the fried onions from the hotdog stand at home. It did not taste bad either but it must have been poisonous, deadly poisonous. "When I could walk no further, the others hauled me under a bush. They continued into the dark night. I lay there, waiting for death. "About two hours later there was nothing left to throw up - only dry bile. With every heave my body went into spasms. My sides and ribs were sore from the effort. My throat was burning, my mouth so dry I could not swallow.
The last little bit that was left inside me was out, all out.
