Once we landed, it took three weeks of exhausting camel-back travel through the dry Zombabi desert and its overly social sandstorms to get to the medium sized town; I wouldn't have bothered if I had known that there was a train that could have taken me to the heart of Buckaboo in just a day. In the end, it was trivial, or it will be trivial, because life is very much like that: a journey not a destination – we're all headed to the same place, but we'll do so at our own pace in the style that suits us best, because that is the only way we know how to.
There is a forest in Buckaboo, can you believe a forest on the edge of the desert! Buckaboo started life as an oasis, an oasis in life for many of the tourists who pilgrim there for spiritual enlightenment. People are often drawn to things that are out of the ordinary, that lift them out of the mundane tar pit called everyday life. “What to do in Buckaboo?” sing the locals, while enjoying a beer with the neighbours, after selling crappy souvenirs to visitors all day long. I wasn't even sure what the dominant religion of the area was, but I bought a hand-painted wood-carved donkey with its tongue sticking out, the corners of its mouth freakishly turned upwards like a clown – I hated it, but it was a souvenir, and you're supposed to have some kind of unconditional love for souvenirs, so I handed the cash over to the vendor who greedily snatched it away from me, avoiding skin contact with him as he did so, then wrapped my arm around the ugly abomination and set off to see the notorious “serenity boy” at the boundary of the town.
The Serenity Boy is the sensation of Buckaboo, a celeb in his own right. I remember watching videos of him on the internet, five years ago; they showed a fourteen year old boy meditating under a tree, perfectly motionless, his eyelids closed, the villagers who lived nearby claimed that he hadn't moved for several months; he didn't drink water and he didn't need to eat. Word got out about this mysterious boy, and people came from far and wide to see this child and hope that he might bless them in some way, for they believed that he was the reincarnation of the Great Burrah who also grew up in the region.
I climbed the steep stone steps that led to the top of the hill where a small forest grew. On the way up, I encountered various beggars, each one bearing some kind of disfigurement - they smiled at me with an outstretched palm as I approached, then snarled at me as I strode past, hissing with dissatisfaction at the way I averted my gaze. I examined each one that I passed, each consecutive face appearing less abused, the higher up I went, the more improved the condition of the beggar - I came to the conclusion that eventually I would meet a beggar who was in mint condition. A fruit tree was perched at the top by the side of the steps, an array of golden ripe yellow fruit dangled like precious jewelery from a branch. I paused for a second to feel a breeze, raising my arms to cool my armpits and take some of the sweat away from my chest, the sunlight twinkling leaves rustled as the air moved, then a sudden gust. A spherical fruit fell onto the carved stone block, some of its juice sprayed me, then it began rolling down the steps, leaving a trail of torn skin and wet prints.
There were already people here, tourists and locals mingled among the tall spindly trees. Wooden trestle tables had been placed along the boundary of the grove, there were piles upon piles of souvenirs and memorabilia, from t-shirts to CDs. By the side of one of the tables, some midde-aged women were cooking, plumes of ashy smoke churned the smell of charred meats into the air. The object that they were poking at looked like the head of a goat, “You want eat meat?”, the voice came from behind the veil of fumes. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to eat, but the thought of plunging my teeth into the flesh of a burnt animal carcass did indeed sound tempting; images of me running naked through a tall grass field while chasing a cute four legged creature with a fork flashed through my mind. A plump face with rosy balloon cheeks emerged from the smoke, “You want eat some?” I peered back at the woman, her features appeared to grow and swallow up my vision; her pockmarked skin creased unevenly as her mouth unskillfully sculpted a grin to expose blackened and decaying teeth. Her eyes motioned towards the sizzling body part, she prodded it with a stick and some juice poured out of the eye sockets, I licked my lips then quickly walked away to look at the other things that yearned to be consumed by my ravenous wallet.
To be continued ...
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