Robert Puffer:
CLASS OF 1966
Melrose High SchoolClass of 1966
Melrose, MA
Harvard University - EducationClass of 1990
Cambridge, MA
Tufts University - Graduate SchoolClass of 1988
Medford, MA
University of MaineClass of 1971
Orono, ME
Robert's Story
Sometime back now, I had an occasion to come across a girl who was to alter my perspective forever. I call her Vickie, for her story was similar to one I had read about a wild boy who was named Victor by Eighteenth Century French investigators. Deep in the Manu Rainforest of Eastern Peru, lies an outpost of technology. Here they cook their food. I had traveled to this place in a quest for photos of the elusive night monkey. Never before had this nocturnal creature, some six inches in length and living in the upper most canopy of the forest, been photographed in situ. It just so happened that at this juncture in time Vickie had worked her way into the light of the river¿s edge near the camp we had made.
When first we met, Vickie was a naked, pre-fire, native of some distant and unknown tribe from the deeper recesses of the selva; no one to this day knows from where she came. None of my guides, well-versed in the various local dialects of the Piro and Machagenga peoples, knew her tongue, so they urged caution in her presence. I was immediately aware of the strength of her personality, for her eyes were particularly intrusive. She approached with little hesitancy to give a tug at my beard (native people there were essentially hairless in that regard). I was stunned by this adventuresome creature. What nerve it must have taken to approach this white, bebearded outsider laden down with packs, assorted cameras and a twenty-five inch blade. Yet almost as immediately as she had approached, she withdrew some distance, sat down and began to rock and hum some solitary enchantment.
Some days later, I was able to approach Vickie again; this time with the intention of having some sort of exchange. She was waiting for me; I must have been an incredibly noisy outsider. She had prepared for my visit by placing a reed bandana around her head. As I approached her she gave no indication that I was present but continued to work some bark into a mat of some sort. Writing in my journal later, I was struck at this point, by the juxtaposition of this lone girl against the backdrop of the mighty Manu River, a mere twig of the Amazon. By dugout, we were twenty-odd days from Cuzco and seeing her calmly ...Expand for more
sitting there I nearly forgot that she was aboriginal. Her hair was coifed; she appeared clean and only her fingernails betrayed an existence devoid of tools. Where were her tools? She was obviously healthy. What did she eat in this land surprisingly lacking in edibles? I knew that one of the best ways to ease oneself into an indigenous group was through food and hospitality ritual. I decided to approach Vickie again by offering her a cellophane bag of peanuts. Sitting across from her, I indicated that what I was giving her was food. With hand language, I motioned her to put it into her mouth. She was amazingly trusting; she placed the entire bag, unopened, into her mouth, only to spit it out in exaggerated disgust. I cannot describe the concerns that assembled in my mind at that moment, for those fingernails and strong arms were now menacingly close. Would she attack me for being oblivious to her ignorance? I quickly took out another bag and in an exaggerated manner opened and placed the peanuts one by one into my mouth. She followed my every exaggerated move. She recognized the value of the salt which clung to the bottom of the bag and savored each grain, for salt is perhaps the most valuable commodity of the hot and humid jungle. Several moments passed and as I began relax, I saw the flicker of a smile race across her face. She turned, and reached for what I can only describe as a shriveled coconut (I later learned that this was a palm nut). She handed it to me with obvious delight. I was well aware that such exchanges of food were extremely important for the development of symbolic trust; moments like these were exceedingly rare and yet I did not know how to consummate the exchange. Was I to put the nut, shell and all into my mouth? How does one open a nut such as this, if indeed it was a nut? By this time I was aware that Vickie had been intensely watching my every move. She held out her hand indicating that she wanted the nut back. No sooner had I given it to her than she returned it to me open! How had she done that? Suddenly, filling the forest, she burst out in raucous laughter; I, too, followed suit. She had succeeded in doing to me what I had done to her.
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