February 12, 1986

Loreto Region, Peru

I awoke at the break of dawn. My sleep had been restless due to the extreme humidity. That and the bugs. Thousands of unimaginable, revolting insects. Some looking as if they had just crawled out of the primordial soup, complete with giant mandibles designed to choke goats. I got up and stretched out the kinks that a night of sleeping on the jungle floor had caused.

My neck was still stiff as I sipped my morning cup of coffee while standing on the bank of the Amazon. From behind me, I heard the familiar sounds of the camp coming to life. Junin, my field guide, emerged from his tent. He lit a cigarette as his calm gaze scanned the camp. I offered up a salutary wave as he made his way towards me.

"Martin," he said. "You wake early." He spoke with a thick, unfamiliar accent. He always called me by my full name, but he pronounced it "Mar-Sheen." Like I was from Mars. Given our drastically different life experiences, I might as well have been.

"I don't sleep is more like it." I took a final gulp of coffee to accentuate the point.

"We are not far now. If we are hurry, we will get there by noon."

"I'm ready when you are, Joon." The guide's face split into a toothy grin, as it always did when I called him that. Our travels together had fostered a true affection for one another; a bond of companionship not easily broken. Cheating death in the jungle can have that effect.

We gathered some supplies and headed down the soon-to-be overgrown path that led deeper into the jungle. The further away from the Amazon we moved, the darker the way became. The overhead canopy was growing thicker and thicker, strangling the sun rays before they had a chance to reach the jungle floor. As the darkness grew, so too did the heat. It wasn't long before my clothes were saturated with sweat.

"Damn, Joon. How do you smoke those things in this heat?" I asked, as Junin lit another cigarette. He held up the pack, revealing a green, leafy logo.

"Menthols."

We walked for what seemed like hours until we came to a small break in the canopy. Light blazed through revealing a small group of wooden huts and lean-tos. A large fire pit was dug in the middle of the settlement, filled with red coals distorting the air above it.

“Martin,â€? said Junin in a hushed voice. “This is the Aguaruna village.â€?

“You don’t say.â€? Our presence had attracted attention. There was a flurry of activity and raised voices. A group of Aguaruna, armed with crude spears and stones and dressed in little more than loin cloths, were cautiously making their way towards us. Not for the first time, I wondered what I was doing in the middle of the jungle thousands of miles from home.

“Just let me handle this, Martin,â€? said Junin, his eyes never straying from the approaching mob. Fine with me, I thought. I sure as hell wasn’t going to ‘handle’ it.

Junin raised his hands and began speaking. The mob gave a brief pause, not expecting one of the intruders to speak their tongue. I stood silent as the largest of the Aguaruna spoke back and forth with Junin. At one point, there was a break in the conversation and everyone’s attention inexplicably focused on me. I gave an awkward smile and little wave. The large Aquaruna let out a sound that sounded like a scoff. He turned and began barking orders at the small crowd behind him. Two Aguaruna left the group and walked back towards the village.

“They have agreed to our offer,â€? Junin said.

“Well that was easier than I thought it would be.â€?

“Don’t be so certain. I am sensing trouble.â€? The two Aguaruna returned carrying a small, covered basket between them. They walked the vessel up to the front of the crowd and placed it on the ground before us. The leader stepped forward and removed the cover. Inside was a pile of small, leathery shrunken heads.

“Tsantsa,â€? said the large Aguaruna, pointing at the contents. I stooped down and plucked a head from the top of the pile. It was devoid of any hair and the face was wrinkled to the point of distortion; nothing more than a hole where the nose used to be and three sewn slits representing the eyes and mouth.

“Monkeys,â€? I said to Junin. He glanced at the head and nodded a confirmation. Again he began speaking. The large Aguaruna stood stone-faced, his arms crossed and his expression sour.

“Tsantsa,â€? the giant repeated, again indicating the basket.

“No tsantsa,â€? Junin said. He took the head from my hand and tossed it back into the basket. The large Aguaruna stood silent. Long moments passed. It seemed we had reached an impasse.

“Come Martin. We are having wasted our time.â€? He turned and began walking back down the path. I gave the Aguaruna one last glance before following. Another wasted trip I thought miserably as I made my way down the trail.

“Wait,â€? a spindly voice said from behind us. We turned to see that the crowd of Aguaruna had vanished. In its place stood a deathly skinny man leaning on a large, crooked staff. His face was as wrinkled and distorted as the shrunken head I had been holding moments earlier. Around his neck was a circle of vividly-colored feathers and atop his head a mane of long, black hair was tied into a knot. His body was nearly covered in black tattoos depicting odd symbols and animals. “Why do you seek tsantsa?â€?

I looked at Junin. He seemed entirely unsurprised by this strange turn of events. He gave me a nod.

“Curiosity,â€? I said. “I seek wisdom.â€?

“LIES!â€? the skeletal man screeched. “We are seeing through you. Your heart is being as dark as this jungle.â€? As he spoke the words, the opening in the canopy began to close, once again blocking out the sun. Darkness consumed the jungle. A stiff wind rustled the surrounding leaves.

“Martin!â€? Junin shouted as he grasped my arm and yanked me out of the way. The strange man’s staff came inches from splitting my head. Faster than his frail form belied, the man quickly spun and struck out again. His staff hit me square in the back. If not for my pack absorbing most of its force, the blow would have snapped my spine in two. I lost my footing and fell flat on my face. I rolled onto my back and found the strange man standing over me, staff held high, ready to drive it down into my sprawled form.

Just then, Junin grasped the menacing stick and twisted it backwards out of the savage’s hands. The force of the move caused the man to lose his balance. He staggered backwards and nearly fell to the ground. He regained his composure and snarled.

“You would betray your people?â€? he demanded, shooting Junin a hateful glare. “Then you shall burn!â€? He raised both arms in the air. The fire pit behind him blazed to life. Tongues of flame leapt into the air, casting sinister shadows on the man’s already sinister face.

“Not today,â€? Junin calmly said. He launched the staff back at its owner. The missile flew straight and true, striking the man square in his boney chest. A look of shock plastered his face as he was knocked back into the wall of flames. The fire roared and washed the village in a blinding light. Then it was gone. Sunlight streamed down as the canopy opened back up. Junin reached down and helped me back to my feet.

“Martin, are you okay?â€?

“I think so,â€? I said, stretching my back. “What the hell was that?â€?

“We came to seek tsantsa. But tsantsa was not being glad we found it.â€? Junin popped another cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He walked over to the fire pit and picked a small, shriveled head off of the ashes. He held it up for me to see. To my surprise, the face looking back at me was that of our attacker. “Martin, here is your tsantsa.â€?

I reached out and delicately took the shrunken head in my hands. Unlike the forgeries in the basket, this was a decidedly authentic- human- shrunken head. It emanated the pungent, sticky-sweet smell that I had long associated with mummification.

“At last, Joon,â€? I said, studying the head. “After years of searching. After countless dead ends. Do you have any idea how rare and valuable an actual shrunken head is? This is amazing.â€? Junin took another drag of his cigarette and exhaled.

“Amazing, yes. But also, it is representing the shame of my people. The shame of all people. The willingness to slaughter in the pursuing of power. You hold a great evil in your hands, Martin. Please be careful. Many good men have being corrupted by less.â€?

I looked down at the shrunken head. It was so light and delicate. So small. Yet Junin’s words made me realize the true weight of what the artifact represented. The countless people who had died, only to become trinkets sold to nineteenth century tourists. If I were to sell this tsantsa, as I had intended on doing, then I would be just as guilty as the Aguaruna who created it.

“Help me gather some wood, Joon.â€?

We built a fire in the pit and tossed the tsantsa into the flames. Neither of us spoke a word as we watched it burn.