The Devil's Garden Read Online Free Page A

believe because they wear certain clothes and affect an innocent demeanour
that this changes everything. And yet to me – and to most of my countrymen – they remain exactly as they are: the children of a thousand unseen privileges flown in from their own
continents, where their every whim has always been met at the direct and continual expense of the rest of the world, to lecture us . . . to lecture us about rights and restraint. Thank you but no.
We much prefer businessmen – the honest pigs of profit and war.’
    In part, he was toying with us and Kim knew it. But she would not be so treated and there was anger entering her voice. ‘You are wrong,’ she said. ‘There are lots of examples
of honest science. And there are loads of aid organizations that achieve real things for the people they’re trying to help. We know for a fact that educated tribes make good decisions about
their circumstances and what they—’
    ‘What you consider good decisions.’ The Judge drew a backhanded curtain of smoke. ‘What you consider reasonable and fair and thoughtful. Everything by your
standard, by your laws, by your decree. There is a covert we-know-best in the dark heart of everything you do and everything you say.’
    ‘That’s just not true.’
    ‘Isn’t it?’
    ‘No. Not always.’
    I intervened. ‘The majority of the non-governmental organizations do have good intentions.’
    The Judge smiled his scabrous smile again. ‘Doctor,as you will soon discover,this place is the death-mire of good intentions. Ah, yes, you mean well. You mean well . . . until you
discover that you do not know what exactly it is that you mean.’
    This time Kim was silent.
    The Judge extinguished his cigarette. ‘I myself am a keen anthropologist,’ he said, suddenly genial. ‘An amateur, no doubt, but I have read my Durkheim and what fascinates me .
. . what fascinates me is that it is always the same with young women: the good-looking ones, they secretly want you to admire them for their minds; and the intelligent ones, they want you to
admire them for their bodies. Now why would that be? But I see by your face you are offended.’
    Felipe’s eyes were watering.
    ‘I am not offended.’ Kim blew her hair from her forehead. ‘We are all entitled to our opinions.’
    ‘I’m afraid to have an opinion, you must know something of which you speak. But please . . .’ Kim had risen and the Judge’s face lit up in a disarming expression of
conciliation. ‘I am a contrary man and I make no claim for superiority. I, too, am looking for a big house on a pretty hill wherein I can indulge myself and pretend great spirituality while I
forget about the rest of the world. Consider me an idiot.’
    I stood noisily and began to collect plates. I had been aware that the Colonel was watching us throughout. He had not spoken – almost so as tacitly to encourage us, I thought. Such
conversations with strangers – officials – were at best uncertain and at worst dangerous. And everything bled into everything else: land rights into land reserves, the un-contacted
tribes, the recent killings; the reserves into questions of agriculture, science, conservation, development, energy, resources; these, in turn, into narcotics, policing, the guerrillas, arms and
the government, the president.
    ‘Kim, it’s our turn to wash up,’ I said.
    Cordero rose and addressed Felipe abruptly: ‘Do you speak the language of the local tribe?’
    ‘No.’ Felipe nodded and then shook his head.
    ‘They are called the Matsigenka,’ Kim said. ‘Or perhaps you mean the Yora or the Ashaninka or the Ese Eja or the Harkmbut?’
    ‘Sole speaks Ashaninka and a little of some of the other languages,’ I said. ‘Or there is a neighbour of ours who is Matsigenka – his name is Tupki.’
    Cordero nodded curtly. ‘The men will make their own provisions. But we take breakfast at seven.’
    ‘You had better tell Jorge,’ I said. ‘He prefers to take breakfast