Near Death in Fukatabe

It was the summer of 2000. Though it was not yet noon, the tropical air was like steaming hot breath in our faces. As we unloaded the plane, I began to take in my surroundings. The airstrip itself was rough, steeply sloped uphill, carved into the side of a mountain peak near the highest point on a spine ridge. I later learned that it took the Folopa nine years to build this airstrip with hand tools. Nine years of voluntary hard labor. The Cessna 206 tumbled downhill for departure, its propeller stirring the last movement of air in Fukatabe for the day. As the pilot returned to the 21st century, I walked down the ridge into a far-distant past.

There were no cheering crowds. No waving palm fronds or local musicians. Instead there was deathly silence.

As Neil and I made our way along the ridge from the airstrip to the village, we finally came upon a Folopa woman. She was prostrate in the dirt. Her head turned slowly toward our intrusion. Red-yellow eyes peered through a feverish haze and vaguely recognized Neil. A gaunt leather arm bent awkwardly toward Neil, and she exhaled a greeting. Neil held her hand like a dear friend and responded tenderly in Folopa. I stood paralyzed, speechless.

We left her in the dirt as we resumed walking along the ridge. That was when my heart began breaking.

Within a few more steps, we encountered several more Folopa men and women—all prostrate on the ground. All moaning their fevered greetings and reaching for Neil. He stopped and spoke and touched every person along the path. Neil explained that the villaget was experiencing a severe outbreak of malaria, not unusual in Fukatabe.

As I was trying to make sense of this surreal experience, I noticed that the Folopa all used a similar phrase when they greeted Neil. So I asked him what they were saying. "They're saying, 'I'm dying from this fever... I'm dying from the pain in my head... I'm dying from...'" Then he said, "This is their normal greeting."

They live so close to death that it has become part of their normal social greeting in their language.

Heart breaking completely. Eyes clouding. Head spinning. Breathless. Surreality overwhelming and crushing me fifteen minutes after I arrived.