I saw him lying on the ground.  I thought he was dead.  But when I lifted him up in my arms, I felt a faint puff of air from his nose.  He was still alive.  So I quickly hauled him into my jeep and drove to the nearest hospital. 

     His name was Kutambo.  He was my guide when I trekked the jungles of Africa when I did research for a book which I wrote.  Had I known there would be severe consequences if he were to become my guide, I wouldn't have accepted the service he offered. 

     Kutambo was a member of a cannibal tribe.  Aside from their eating habits, they had other strange practices, one of which was avoiding people who belonged to other races, especially us, the white men. 

     I didn't know why Kutambo disregarded this custom.  Whatever his reason was, it did not merit a pardon from their chief. 

     When he recovered from his injuries, he later told me what was done to him. 

     "I was beaten by four warriors.  Then I was carried out far away from our village into a bushy spot and left to be devoured by wild animals." 

     However, Kutambo did not lose heart.  Although he knew that he was already an outcast, a virtual stranger to his family and friends, he still found the will and the reason to live. 

     Yes, he did not lose heart. 

     But he lost his left leg up to the knee, a chunk of his right thigh, a portion of his lower lip and his left hand.  For in order to sustain himself while he was struggling to find his way to a safer place, those were what he ate. 

     Kutambo had this to say regarding his ordeal, "I held on to dear life even if it had become desperate.  For life is precious.  And also, I tasted good!" 

 
This book was published by 
 7th Whale Publishing.  
Other books by 7th Whale Publishing:  
NONE.