The Shaman and the Stranger

Peter and Aldo stood at the foot of the bridge. Far beneath them, a dark green river snaked through a canyon, water caroming recklessly into the sheer rocky sides creating a repetitive scene of organized chaos.  

   Aldo looked back at Peter, then at the sun in its downward arc, casting long shadows across the river. “Just like Yachay said, the swinging bridge of maguey plant. This is a shortcut. You good to cross?”

   A knot tightened in Peter’s throat at the sight of the rickety-looking bridge. He started to drop his gaze below then stopped. “I am good.”

   “Okay, amigo, you watch me cross first.”

   Aldo stepped onto the first plank of the bridge that was no more than fifty feet in length. Slowly but surely he made his way across, each hand holding the vine latticed handrails. The bridge swayed when Aldo reached the mid-point, where he stopped for a moment before continuing. When he reached the other end, he waved for Peter to cross. 

   “What the hell,” Peter shouted. “Die here or somewhere else—some other time, some other place.”

    He put his foot on the first plank just as Aldo had done, then took another step. Don’t look down, he told himself, as he secured his hands on the railings. He continued across, not looking anywhere but at Aldo. At the midway point, the bridge began to rock, and Peter stopped to let the bridge and himself settle down. In his mind’s eye, he saw Debra at the kitchen table going over bills and Devon at his desk in his room. He could not see their faces clearly, like a bad reception. The faces then came clear and they said in unison, “Cross it, Peter, Dad. We will be here waiting for you upon your return.”  

   Peter was jarred from his daydream when Aldo shouted, “Pedro, you okay?”    

   “Yes.” He started making his way again, one step forward, one hand forward ...

   As Peter reached the end, Aldo extended his hand bringing Peter back on terra firma. 

   “You could use a coca leaf,” Aldo said through a broad smile. “Well done, amigo.” He patted Peter on the shoulder and said, “You cross bridge like nomada al cielo, like sky walker.”  

“Yachay’s way is known to few,” Aldo said nodding as if to confirm his words. “We save time but more difficult. As you say, what the hell.”