Little big savior

by Irina Shateeva (Russia)

I didn't expect to find Indonesia

Heavy clouds surrounded me. I could hardly see anything even in five meters distance. I desperately tried to find the way back using the map in the mobile App. Raindrops were running down the phone`s screen and tears – down my cheeks. The thought which I tried to whisk away like a troublesome fly landed on my head – I got lost. I was at a height of 2000 meters on active volcano Sibayak, situated on Sumatra. The idea to go hiking in such a cloudy weather was stillborn. I understood very soon I wouldn`t see picturesque views, but stubbornly continued hiking. Until the fog made it impossible to move further. I was afraid to walk in the low visibility because I knew there were a lot of cliffs here. At the end I found my weak body plonked down the stone. Episodes of the last days made me bone-tired, but I kept high spirits till this moment. Standing at the top of volcano – without mobile communication, absolutely alone – I felt weak and lonely. Suddenly through the tears I noticed a yellow spot. With my dim-sighted eyes I tried to see what it was. The spot was coming closer. Is it a man?! My wild imagination drew a picture of a savior – a brawny experienced hiker who would show me the way back. My fantasy played a cruel joke to me – a savior turned out to be a thin local guy aged twenty.I refrained from a doomed sigh and dropped: - Hello. I am lost. Do you now the way back? – I spoke with an appealing tone. - Saya tidak bisa Bahasa Enggris – the boy said. Great! Now I need to use sign language! - I – I pointed at my breast. - Need to go down to Berastagi, - I was gesticulating intensively, my voice trembling. - All ok, - the boy said slowly. I looked into his eyes. There was no firmness of a grown up man in them, but some strange calmness instead. He offered me a hand: “Go”. I took his hand and went after him. We were going down slowly – my sneakers were not good for walking on slippery rocks. Once I lost the balance and was about to fall down. The boy took me by the elbow which helped me to remain on my feet. His hands were very thin, but he held me tight – there was a sense of habit in what he did. Like Nepalese porters who walked in the Himalayas in their flip-flops as steadily as tourists in their fancy trekking shoes. Nature decided to send one more challenge in the form of increased rain. It felt like somebody poured out a water bucket on us. I was wet through. Due to the hunger, cold and fatigue I caught myself on a thought I couldn’t go any more. Only yellow spot of the boy`s coat like a lighthouse kept the ability to move my legs. The lower we descended the dirtier and bumpier the road became. The loam smashed with water squished nastily in my shoes. Several times I didn’t hold up and plopped fatly down the ground. With a poker face the boy came to me and offered a hand. I tried to wipe out my dirty hand on a coat but the guy didn’t wait and took my hand. -Terimah kasih, – I jointed my hands in “Namaste” to extend thanks to my little savior, when we descended. Some sort of blank calmness could be seen in the boy`s eyes. At the same time I noticed his brows going up in amazement – in his opinion he didn’t do something special, there was no danger. Finally the boy smiled which made his face look younger. Now he seemed to be not more than 16. We walked together for some time, than met a company of youngsters, which he joined. “Terima kasih” - I said taking leave. I didn’t expect calming confidence in this adolescent, but one of the biggest values of travelling is that it always keeps space for wonder. Journeys show us the world is wider than our ideas about it. And sometimes you find the things you seek not exactly in the place you expect it to be.