Draft

I could have stayed where I was. I was doing pretty good. No doubt it: a steady "four hour a day job" at a Public Service of Campinas, in my own office, afternoon and nights were not bad at all. But, the cry of the jungle was stronger, and I heard it. Living in the richest and biggest city of the first brazilian state, Sao Paolo, well married ( at that time ), two lovely children, practcing a good odontology. Why ? I now ask, I decided to leave everything behind and go to a place 3.000 miles away, and deal face to face with the craziest people composed of all sort of losers, " wanted by the police croocks ", desperates, people with delusions, etc. Why did I changed everything for this madness ?
Sometime ago, in the afternoon I was sitting on the waiting room of my office, made of plywood and stained with the dirty hands of the "garimpeiros" (name given to the gold diggers), who stamp everything on the wall that divides my office from the room with hammocks, and the kitchen, where Raimundo, my cook, always smillind, tells us stories about boto and the jungle to Marinheiro, a brother that lives with me.
I sit down and look trough the window, on a hot afternoon of a 102 F day and see a few ragged people, bateias on hands, melexete, with dirt on their eyes full of a hope, when all of a sudden Bernardo, a bearded garimpeiro,shows up spitting blood. He attracted the attention of everybody. And there were a lot of bums over there panhandling the dust that fell from lucky pockets full of a gold. There comes Bernardo again with a snake around his neck when I realized that I was stepping my foot over the paddle that lifts the dentist chair (an old one) when she rolls up her tail. I didnt know what to do, if I should stop the hemorrage coming like a sprinkle of red blood or take out the enormous snake, his pet. Carefully, I climpped the cotton thread #00 in the middle holder and sew the wounded gum, due to five extractions made to him one day before, in the Amazon jungle by someone without knowledge or health standard.
Raimundo, the cook, a 50 year old man, born in the far north, whom I met in a hot drinking day in Marabá, and at the first glimpse I recognized him as and ex-waiter in a placed Jariloca, a club in the town of Jari, another far away Amazon project owned by Daniel Ludwig, a north american millionare, well , Raimundo scared with the jiboia ( one of the biggest brazilian not poisonous snakes ) coiled in a corner.
The fine dust comes in through the walls and sits in layers all aroun me. The garimpo is running , nature turned into dust, making a visit without being invited. Marinheiro, which always dreamed of going around the world by ship, nicknamed Sailor, went to get some alcohol at the local hospital.
The general mood of the garimpo was very tense. One could feel riots in the eyes, in the distrustful look of their faces. Something was about to happen. Everybody knowa that was a lot of gold under our feets. And also, we knew what this gold was causing on the high levels of the Brazilian government, where the greed would speak louder than the humble voice of the garimpeiro. Breaking his back to dig and bring to light tons of gold, the cause and origin of this strange fever or curse which dragged us from every corner of this big and crazy country; we were sure , pretty sure that they would take back the mines from us if nothing was done to prevent this. In the meantime , I could hear the people of great wisdom speaking and making plans of fighting, plans of war. Sometimes, strolling by the dusty road a couple of Federal Agents were seen looking menancingly at the clutters of miners, at little groups of talkers forming in every corner of the scene. The story was: Sierra Pelada will be invaded by the regular troops of State Police. I was invited to a meeting at the Sierra Dourada resturant, owned by Victo Hugo (ex-airline employee) and the leader of a gay community, where the first plans of resisttance were being drafted to neutralize the so-called invasion. All of these was going through my head while the hemorrage clogged out, in the nose of the snake -man, actually, I forgot of her presence, when Daniel steps in (an ex-cook) of mine and says: " Doctor Paolo, I brought with me Roberta who needs a fix in her denture ". Ok, come in, I said, (while the snakes shakes in the chair ).
By the door came in a big black man with an empty mouth, his broken denture in his hands and says " Im Roberta doctor Paolo". The patient in the chair turns over and spits some blood.