Tim Timbre had misunderstood the purpose of his Brazilian market assignment. He earmarked over 300 lbs of promotional post-it notes, chip clippers, hand sanitizer wipes, wall calenders, and stress-release squeezie mascots, in anticipation of schmoozing every primary care clinic in Rio de Janiero. Instead, he and his trinkets were riding a slow boat to the Brazil-Peru border, to talk to just one doctor - or shaman, actually.
Tim's employers, Fellit Pharmaceutical, were looking for the next Viagra - especially since Pfizer managed to extend their patent for another 5 years. Viagra had managed the type of global market presence that humbled other corporations. And yet there was one market that Pfizer had not managed to penetrate; It was believed a flowering plant native to the region could be the answer. A cousin of a friend of a board member had provided a trail, and Tim had been recruited to follow that trail, until it led to Rollo, a river runner with a taste for Dr Pepper. He agreed to lead Tim to the Mura-pirarra.
The Mura-pirarra tribe protected their stretch of the Amazon fiercely from other tribes or any 'crooked ones' (foreigners). They refused to join civilization, or even speak Portuguese. Their centuries-old dialect was only spoke by 115 people on the planet; Rollo was among them. In return for investing toward nautical repairs and upgrades, Rollo would help facilitate negotiations between Fellit Pharmaceutical and the Mura-pirrara.
In one of the lulls in their voyage, Rollo related his story. "I was a child when a minister came to our tribe. He knew as many Pirahan words as I did, so we learned together. He taught me portuguese and english. When he left, I left with him, and went to school. I come back to say what they do out there, what they have, and the others decide if they want it." Rollo gave a sideways look at Tim's cargo. "I tell you, probably not."
Rollo piloted the boat toward a bank with a clearing. He blew his whistle - twice short, twice long - and threw out the rope. Two spear-bearing natives emerged from the forest to secure the boat. Tim could see that the natives certainly weren't in need of Viagra; perhaps he was in the right place.
Three more armed natives arrived, pushing a half-dozen unarmed men and women towards the boat. Rollo muttered to Tim, "They were captured from another tribe; later, I will find out which. Right now, they are here to carry your things."
At the village, the caravan was greeted by a cranky old lady. Even the men with the spears were scared to be touched by her. "She is our grandmother," Rollo said to Tim, as she made a beeline to Rollo, cursing a blue streak. Rollo received the brunt of Grandmother's tirade, giving Tim a chance to step into the village.
Tim saw the rest of the village gathered together, already an audience for another visitor. Chet chuckled when he saw Tim's jaw drop. Chet had come up through the ranks with Tim at Fellit Pharmaceutical, until the day he disappeared. Management never commented, so it was up to the gossip to toss up wildly divergent theories for several weeks. But when Tim saw a tribesman wearing a Pfizer t-shirt, he put it all together. "The headhunters got to you, Chet, didn't they?"
"Don't sweat it, Tim, they're great." Chet offered to share his hand sanitizer. "So glad I made the plunge. You should think about it. I'm somebody there now, and I could vouch for you, coming out of the same crucible as me. Heck, you help me close this deal, and we'll be set!"
Rollo spoke into Tim's free ear. "She says we have to take the things back. His, too." The slaves, still holding Tim's cargo, looked at Chet's boxes of swag and moaned. "She says neither of you belong here. Says they need nothing you have brought."
"Are you kidding? I just got here!" Tim exclaimed, and swatted a bug on his neck for punctuation.
Chet shrugged his shoulders. "I've tried everything, from cigarette lighters to iPads. They won't budge."
Tim was panicking. "Rollo, tell her I just need a minute - a moment! Just ask her what she does want! What does the village want?!" Tim looked at the confused villagers, the disapproving matron, and Chet, laughing his head off.
Tim threw an uppercut to Chet's jaw. With some assistance from the heat, it was enough to knock Chet out. The entire village went silent when he hit the dust.
Embarassed, Tim picked up Chet's ankles. "Rollo, his arms!" Rollo grabbed his wrists, and they began the slow walk back to the river. Three steps in, the matron spoke again, in her machine gun tempo and unwavering squint of disapproval. Rollo nodded as her venom spilled, until she said no, and turned away. Rollo picked up the other man's arms, and said to Tim, "She says to come back after you put him on the boat."
inspired by Discover Magazine article "Biologists Modify Yeast to Produce Malaria Drug"
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