Chapter 2: Deeper Into the Kasai
The morning mist clung to the forest like a thin veil, and I felt the humid air pressing gently against my skin. The Kasai River had receded into the distance behind us, leaving only the faint echo of water lapping against the steamer's hull. Henri led the way, stepping carefully over roots and fallen branches as we entered the denser part of the forest. Each step seemed to awaken the forest itself birds called from hidden branches, insects buzzed, and somewhere deep, an animal rustled.
"This forest doesn't forgive the careless," Henri murmured, his voice low and steady. "Every step, every glance… matters."
I nodded, clutching my notebook tightly. I wanted to record everything the towering trees with trunks wide enough to hide a man, the vines that twisted like living serpents, and the faint smell of wet earth mixed with decaying leaves. Every sound, from the soft drip of water to the distant call of monkeys, seemed magnified in the silence that enveloped us.
Hours passed without a word. Henri moved like he belonged to this place, his eyes scanning the undergrowth as if reading its every secret. I, in contrast, felt a constant thrill and unease. The forest was beautiful, yes—but it was alive in ways I could not yet understand.
We finally arrived at a small clearing. The ground was soft with moss, and shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy, painting the forest floor in golden patterns. Here, a cluster of huts emerged, smaller than those near the river, with smoke curling lazily from the chimneys. Villagers were gathered around, their movements quiet but purposeful.
Henri whispered, "These are the Eshona people. Fewer outsiders ever reach this far. Watch carefully. Observe before you speak."
I stepped forward, my eyes taking in everything: the intricate patterns of beads on women's necklaces, the way men balanced spears with effortless grace, the laughter of children chasing one another among the huts. A young girl with bright eyes and bare feet approached me, curiosity overcoming caution. She tilted her head, studying me as if trying to understand what I was.
I knelt slowly, holding out my hand in peace. "I'm here to learn," I said softly.
The girl's lips curled into a small, tentative smile. She whispered something to her mother, who nodded before gesturing for me to follow. Henri stayed close, his gaze never leaving the group.
Inside the central hut, the elder of the village waited. His presence was commanding—not through force, but through the quiet authority that seemed to ripple from every line of his weathered face. "You come seeking stories," he said in a voice low and measured. "But stories are only shared with those who respect the forest and its people. Are you ready for what the forest teaches?"
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his gaze. "I… I am ready to learn."
A nod. "Then you will watch. You will listen. And you will understand, slowly."
The first hours were spent observing. I watched as villagers prepared meals over small fires, their hands moving with precise, practiced motions. I watched children learning to hunt with tiny bows, the adults correcting their posture with gentle words. Every action, every gesture, seemed to carry lessons I was not yet ready to fully comprehend.
Henri leaned closer to me at one point. "Notice how even the simplest tasks are meaningful. They are connected to the land, to each other, and to the past."
Night fell quickly. The forest transformed under the blanket of darkness, alive with whispers and unseen movements. I sat near the fire with the villagers, feeling a shiver of anticipation. My journal was open, pages already filled with sketches, observations, and questions that had no answers yet.
As I wrote, the drumming began a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to come from the very heart of the forest. My chest tightened. This was a call I could not ignore. I felt both fear and awe, knowing that the real lessons had only just begun.
Henri's hand rested lightly on my shoulder. "Tomorrow, we enter the deepest part of the forest. There is beauty there… and danger. Remember everything you see."
I looked up at the stars peeking through the canopy. Two years here… could I survive the wild, the isolation, and the lessons waiting for me? Could I truly understand the Kasai, in all its mystery and majesty?
And in that moment, as the drumbeat echoed faintly through the trees, I understood: the forest was no longer just a place I entered. It had become a part of me, and my journey had only just begun.