You've Gone Too Far This Time, Sir! Page 27

  I had seen 'Avatar' in 3D in Mumbai over Christmas, and Chembakolli had many similarities, not least the sacred tree in the middle of the village.

  I visited the families and was welcomed with tea (as usual) and smiles. Some kept their distance from the 'strange one', others were transfixed. I saw some children with scabies but the hospital, funded by Accord - a partner of ActionAid in India, had given them the necessary medicines to effect a cure.

  Night was drawing in, so we made our way up the hillside, climbing roots and avoiding vines and palms. At the top, the chief’s house was the same as all the others - simple, clean and friendly.

  We lit a fire immediately to keep the wild animals away and, after chatting for hours by fire light (there was no electricity), I was brought a gourmet meal cooked over a fire in the kitchen. Lying down on the mud veranda, the head teacher of Vidyadaya School and I settled in for the night. It was surprisingly cool after the heat of the day, and the call of the wild lulled me to sleep as birds made their nests and beasts began to hunt by night.

  I was woken in the pitch dark by the chieftain who was announcing excitedly “Listen. Tiger.”

  Oh my goodness, there was a tiger close by.

  He explained it was some way off. Thank goodness. The only protection I had was my sleeping bag and I'd even forgotten my mosquito repellent which would probably not have been much use against the King of the Jungle. I lay and listened a bit longer but the tranquillity had me at its mercy and I was asleep before I knew it.

  A few hours later, I jumped out of my sleeping bag. The dog was going crazy, I switched on my torch and saw a leopard disappearing into the jungle. A leopard had become attached to the chief’s cow. I liked to think two creatures from separate worlds had fallen in love, but the reality was probably a little more gruesome. The leopard, unlike the Indian human population, wanted beef on the menu. It had been within two metres of me. This wildest of creatures was one pounce from having Mr Bent à la carte.

  Again I slipped off to sleep, lying on the hard floor with wild ideas in my head. When I awoke in the morning, I was surrounded by children. A gazillion balloon animals and flowers later, when they were all happy, I was allowed to go for a tour.

  I walked down the steep hillside, stopping in at many of the hundred and fifty houses that constituted the village. Then, by another simple temple, we met another chief who had his bow and arrow on him. We practised shooting my shoes (they were off my feet at this point). After a while, a youth took the bow and wanted to show what he could do. He fired one shot and a tiny bird fell from the canopy way above us. The young children scampered off to retrieve the tiny bird and the arrow.

  I felt a bit guilty. Did a bird have to die just because I was here. "What will you do with it?" I asked.

  "Eat it," they responded as if I was an idiot.

  A fire was rustled up and the bird was plucked and gutted and just thrown on. It was barely larger than a wren, but we all took a piece. I had both breasts (about the size of a penny), as the guest.

  It was my turn to pluck the second bird to fall. I didn't want the most succulent breast when it was cooked. I wanted to be fair. They said I should take the head. I was told to remove the beak and gouge out the eyes. After doing so, very proficiently I have to say, I was left with the skull. “What do I do with it?”

  “Eat it.”

  “What, the whole thing?”

  'Man,' they're thinking, 'this white guy has no idea - of course all of it.'

  I popped it in like a boiled sweet and bit down. The brain oozed into my mouth.

  Before I knew it, it was time to leave. They invited me to stay for a week next time. I was keen, very keen!

  On the way back to the school, we had to avoid elephants again. This time I was on foot because the head teacher had taken my bike (after lowering the seat a lot), and was flying around like a kid at a fairground. His eyes were wide and his smile was bigger than ever. He came back to me and declared 'This is soooooo cooooll!'

  ‘Luckiest man alive' doesn't come close to me.

  With thanks

  There are so many thank yous to make. Below are just a few:

  Firstly Mum and Dad who suffered more than I did during my trip, worrying incessantly, distressed, suffering sleepless nights and harrowing dreams. This manifestation of your love which you have lavished upon me my entire life is unfortunately what drives me to take up a challenge; to make a difference to others; to love unconditionally; to brighten the lives of those around me.

  My sisters for partnering me on adventures from an early age. Who would have thought crawling up Prittle Brook tunnel in the pitch black, surrounded by rats, could lead to such an epic journey into the unknown? I felt you both with me at times on the expedition, and I thank you for the company.

  Everyone at home, from friends to family, from my pupils to my teachers. Thank you for the kind words and kinder sentiments. Those few words on paper honestly kept this trip alive.

  My sponsors: Cotswold for your valuable advice and equipment, Bicycle Richmond for introducing me to Shirley, Interhealth for keeping me alive, and also Nakd, Buff, Specsavers and Starbucks. Without you, children who are now healthy and attending school, with a future ahead of them, would still be working the streets or, worse, would no longer be with us at all.

  I have to thank the people I met on my trip, from the lady who blew the kiss (and I never even stopped to ask your name), to the thousands of people who waved but will forever remain anonymous smiling faces and waving hands, to the many friends I met on the way who kept me company and shared your own awesome adventures with me.

  Thanks to Carina for creating and maintaining my website. Since I moved down south with my northern accent, sticking out ears, and freckles we have been on adventures, which generally entailed you getting me out of a scrap of bother or two with breath-taking grace.

  And a special thank you to Sandra Rivaud for her amazing illustrations. I fell in love with your work in Ahmedabad and am honoured to have your pictures in my book. An illustrious career beckons you young lady!!

  Thank you from the deepest depths of my all-too-human heart. I will forever remain humbly in debt for the love and generosity I received.