Unexpected Companions

There lay almost 15 people before my eyes, each of them wearing clothes made from the skin of some furry animals. While they looked confused to see me, some others acted defensively and pulled out the staffs they were holding.

I glanced down at the plough I was holding and immediately understood the reason for their defensive stance. I threw the plough to the side and continued to observe them. Gradually, their staffs were lowered as well.

A few people grunted at me, while the rest remained silent. In the midst of it all, my gaze frequently wandered to the wound on the man who carried the child on his back. He wore a headpiece that hung from his forehead, making him appear like their leader.

"Do you guys understand me?" I asked, but their response was met with confused looks exchanged among themselves.

The boy, whom I had expected to be sleeping, looked up at me with half-covered eyes and muttered something. Though I couldn't hear what he mumbled, his last grunt was audible enough for everyone. His voice carried pain, and his restlessness on the man's back had already informed me of his condition.

I gestured for them to follow me, slowly turned, and began walking toward my shelter. After a few steps, I turned back to find them still rooted in their place. This time, I gestured more gently, patiently waiting for them to take their first steps.

The supposed leader of the tribe took the first step, and the rest followed suit. I found myself leading the entire tribe toward the shelter, feeling a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. What had happened to them? I did not know, but one thing was clear—the wound on their leader's abdomen and the condition of the boy couldn't be ignored.

Upon reaching the shelter, I stopped just in front of the door and pointed a finger at the leader, motioning for him to come inside. He hesitated for a while, but eventually made a decision and entered. I followed suit, leaving the door open so the others wouldn't feel threatened. I guided the leader to lay the boy in the bed, and he complied with my instructions.

As I approached the boy, the leader suddenly positioned himself between us. Sensing his protective stance, I decided not to act abruptly and took a few steps back. The boy grunted in agony once again, and this time, the leader excused himself from the way.

Sitting down near the bed, I gently placed my finger on the boy's forehead. His body felt unnaturally warm, considering the average human temperature. He was shivering and sweating profusely.

As I examined his body, I noticed he was cold to the touch. When I pressed his abdominal muscles, he grunted again, this time louder. The leader took a reflexive step forward, but quickly stepped back.

Every symptom pointed to the same conclusion—he was suffering from malaria. In this stone age, malaria was a common threat, unlike in my time. Ignoring the condition could prove fatal.

Determined, I stood up and knew what had to be done. I grabbed my knife and was about to leave when something crossed my mind. I retrieved the rotis from the container—it was a total of eight.

I handed a roti to the leader, who initially appeared perplexed, holding it in his hands. However, when I tore off a small piece from my own roti and started chewing it, he watched in awe.

I distributed the remaining rotis to the people who stood outside. After counting, I realized there were only eight men (three of them children) and six females (two of them children). After giving them the food, I hurried off into the forest. In my haste, I failed to see their initial reaction.

Having roamed the forest for years, I had memorized every turn and pathway. Despite my doubts, I recognized the mark I had made—it was the tree of Cinchona.

Cinchona bark contains a high concentration of quinine, which was extensively used during World War II to treat malaria. I stripped the bark from the tree and collected it in my pocket. To be safe, I decided to dry it a bit more by lighting a fire.

Using my wheat grinder, I ground the bark into a powder. After collecting water from the river, I warmed it slightly and mixed the powder to create a solution. I poured it into a bowl.

Lifting the boy's head, I made him drink the concoction. The remedy took about five minutes to take effect, and he fell into a deep sleep. Interestingly, throughout the entire process, the leader never shifted his gaze from me.

I gestured to the leader, suggesting we step outside and allow the boy to rest. He seemed to understand and we exited the shelter. The others who had gathered remained nearby, occasionally stealing glances in our direction while I carried out my daily chores. They communicated through gestures and grunts, but whenever I looked their way, they fell completely silent and averted their gaze.

While grinding wheat with my grinder, their curious eyes fixated on the device from a safe distance, observing it from various angles. It struck me as amusing, so I invited them to come closer and experience it for themselves. Initially hesitant, one brave man joined me, although his nervousness led to comical moments. Encouraged by his participation, others took turns as well. Throughout this time, the leader's unwavering gaze remained fixed upon me.

That night, I treated the entire tribe to a feast of rotis, boiled potatoes, peas, and berries I had collected. The delight on their faces as they tasted the food was a joy to behold. Each bite seemed to reveal new flavors as they chewed with enthusiasm.

I administered another dose of the quinine solution to the boy in bed, feeding him the meal with my own hands. As there were no spare beds available, I set up three spots for campfires to bring everyone together. People gathered around two of the campfires, but the one I sat at remained empty. I understood their lingering apprehension and didn't take it personally. However, after a while, the leader came and sat opposite me, providing some reassurance.

The following day, I served each person a potato for breakfast and provided the quinine solution to the boy. It became evident that I needed to give him the remedy at least three times a day.

I tended to the crops and led some of the tribe members into the forest to observe my work. After completing my tasks, I showed them the flower bed, my personal place of relaxation. However, they didn't show the same level of excitement as they did for the crops, and soon left after a brief glimpse.

After providing their midday meal and the quinine solution to the boy, this routine continued for five days. As I finished my work one evening and returned to my shelter, I noticed more commotion than usual. It was then that I saw the boy, who had been bedridden in the morning, surrounded by joyful people, grunting and embracing him as if it were their first time seeing him walk.

One of them caught sight of me and halted the celebration. Everyone turned to look at me and began walking in my direction. The boy now appeared healthy, walking without pain or discomfort.

The crowd stopped at a distance of one meter, and the leader stepped forward to stand at the front. Then, they all sat down and bowed their heads. The leader removed his headpiece and placed it in front of me, a gesture of reverence and respect.