School Project. The story of three characters who decide to participate in a pilgrimage in the Sacred Lagoon of Peru
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 The Beginning (Part 1)

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Tatsuhiro Satō

Messages : 7
Date d'inscription : 2016-03-08

PostSubject: The Beginning (Part 1)    Wed 23 Mar - 12:50

Tastsuhiro Sato came out from the other side of the customs feeling profoundly violated. He suspected the custom woman to judge him while tossing his underwears around his bag, looking for something ambiguous.

« Is she part of it? Have they followed me here? »

He looked more carefully at the woman and as soon as she finished her excavation, he abruptly took his belongings and escaped. The judgmental look of others seemed to be upon him once in the airport station, but he felt protected by the anonymous crowd. He took a deep breath and tried to make sense out of what was going on.

« A conspiracy has taken control of Japan. The government wants to sequestrate all the young men and force them to consume cultural merchandise. But me, Tatsuhiro Sato, is now aware of the fact and need to take down the whole thing or at least make the world aware of it.

He swept a lock of hair away, suddenly more confident. He started walking toward the exit.

« But to do so, I had to get out of this vicious circle myself. I took the first plane out of the country. »

Lots of planes were departing from to Japan to Peru, due to the increasing diaspora. Japanese men were leaving their country to start businesses somewhere else and bring profits back home. Working class tickets were in consequence far less expensive and Sato had jump on the occasion.

« But now, what to do? »

He walked to the automatics doors and made his first step on Peruvian soil. He felt assaulted.
First thing unexpected was the heat. The airport was at a comfortable temperature of 20C. The outside world was at least at 30C. Due to the high luminosity, he went blind for a second and covered his eyes. He then saw the people swarming everywhere in a constant brouhaha.  Then appeared the smell. Smell of perspiration, of hot asphalt, but mostly of old gasoline. Instantly, Sato felt sick and covered his mouth. A strain of cold sweat ran down his back as he looked left and right for a place to flee. A car honked and Sato ran away like a scared rabbit. He found shelter in shadows a few meters further.

« Get a hold of yourself Tatsuhiro! »

It was definitely not like he had imagined. He somehow thought Peru was still a pre-urban country with nature and fresh air. He had not imagined this atmosphere of big city, with cars and people crawling like vermin. And the heat! It was simply maddening.
He was still recovering from his traumatic experience when he heard the voice of a man speaking English.

- Trip in the mountains! Explore Peruvian’s nature! Seeking remedy for your problems? Try Peruvian magic! Peruvian Shamans can help you with everything!

Sato opened wide eyes, like a miracle had just happened. Without a second of hesitation, he went up to the voice and discovered an old man of indigenous origin. He was standing near a mini-van half-eaten by rust.
- How many? Asked Sato.

The Peruvian, at first surprised by this sudden apparition, then offered his most charming smile.  

- For you sir, only 500 sol!

Tatsuhiro swiftly counted his money and gave it to the man. Bluntly, Sato opened the car’s door and sat on the back seat while the Peruvian was still surprised by the amount of money between his hands. Usually, people bargained his steep prices… Today was a good day. He smiled and took place in the vehicle.
Tatsuhiro finally relaxed when hearing the motor’s reassuring purring. It is at this moment that he noticed someone sitting next to him. A young Spanish man, by the look of it. Startled, Sato stuttered a little:  

- Oh! Hi! I had not seen you there! Sorry…. Um… I am Sato. Who are you?

He had naturally talked in English,even though his accent was pretty bad.

Last edited by Tatsuhiro Satō on Sat 30 Apr - 20:28; edited 3 times in total
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José Luis García

Messages : 6
Date d'inscription : 2016-03-26

PostSubject: Re: The Beginning (Part 1)    Wed 30 Mar - 23:49

José Luis had just gone out of the Lima airport, and the stunning heat surprised him. It was even hotter than the regular summer temperature in Málaga as he could remember. The humidity was stifling. He had never felt something like this before. He started walking to find some shady space. He was walking on a wide road with some modern buildings. “Why am I here? Why did I choose to come here? For a whole week. . .” he thought. A man and a woman passed by him speaking. “At least, I chose a country where people speak Spanish. What a strange accent!” He knew he could communicate with Peruvians. So, there was nothing to care about. After all, going to China would have been quite a crazy choice.

Montserrat. . .

His eyes became full with tears. He did not want to cry. He did not want to think about her. A wave of anger grew in his chest. He really wanted to forget her for a while. After all, he came here to. . . Was it only to flee? Coward!

Suddenly, he realized he had just entered a poorer neighbourhood. The houses were lower and built with shabby bricks. He noticed that he was not unnoticed. People were looking at him. First, he did not look like a Peruvian. Secondly, the clothes he was wearing showed he had some money. Uncomfortable, José Luis returned to where he had come from. As doing so, he realized he could not go anywhere in this city and. . . Where would he sleep? He had not thought about it.

“Take your chance! A wonderful trip in the Huaringas to heal your wounds. Meet shamans and discover breathtakingly beautiful landscapes!” a man said in English near José Luis.

¡Hola! Quisiera hacerlo,” José Luis said to him in Spanish, for he is not very fluent in English. “How much does it cost?”

“Oh! It is only 500 quetzals! Don’t hesitate,” he answered.

A little voice inside him told him he had to do it. After all, he did not know what else to do here in Lima.

“Yes!” he said. He looked for some money in his pocket. He had enough. He had almost 2000! The man looked very surprised and happy. He warmly invited his client to get into the very old minivan he had. The indigenous man stayed outside and continued to shout for new clients. José Luis had thought they would leave, but he had to stay. . . He was literally suffocating in the minivan. He was getting impatient.

After a while, he saw an Asian man run and stop by the indigenous man. A Vietnamese, a Chinese, a Japanese or a Korean. Who knows! The Asian man barely uttered two words and gave money to the indigenous man, who looked even more surprised than earlier. The Asian man got into the minivan and apologized when he saw José Luis. He said: “Oh! Hi! I had not seen you there! Sorry. . . Um. . . I am Sato. Who are you?”

“Hi. I am José Luis. So where are you from? You don’t really look like a Peruvian.”

“I. . . I am Japanese,” Sato said hesitating.

“And why did you come here? Why do you do Las Huaringas?”

“Because I wanted to,” answered Sato, who looked somewhat offended by the question.

José Luis found the man a little shy and they stopped talking. The indigenous man had got into the car and they were going to a bus that would bring them to the Huaringas. The indigenous man had turned on the radio, and a kind of indigenous music was playing. There was no conditioned air in the car, so Sato and José Luis were litterally melting. They were leaving the centre of the city, and they saw a shantytown far away. As they were on a main boulevard, a black man came from nowhere and the indigenous man braked and shouted something in his dialect. The black man remained calm and walked toward the mini-van and got into it beside Sato and José Luis. The indigenous was trying to tell him to get out of the car. His only answer was to give 500 quetzals and he said: “I want to go to Las Huaringas.” Everyone else in the car was stupefied. The indigenous quickly came back to his senses and took the money. Today was a good day for him! Sato and José Luis looked at each other not knowing what to say. . .

Last edited by José Luis García on Mon 9 May - 22:55; edited 1 time in total
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Zuberi Diallo

Messages : 5
Date d'inscription : 2016-04-01

PostSubject: Re: The Beginning (Part 1)    Sat 2 Apr - 13:40

I am the last living son of a long line of shamans, magic has flown through the blood of my ancestors, the men of the Diallo heritage. The future of my tribe’s spirituality relies solely on me. Although, ever since my father mysteriously disappeared, I feel darkness reaching out to me, I see death, fire and pain. In the last few months, newborns have been uncommonly sick, women have disappeared and our cattle have fallen dead to the ground suddenly, inexplicably. The Maasai people have been plagued and if I do not I intervene, I fear all will be lost.


I woke up slightly confused, my legs are sore from too many hours of sleep in the same position. The flight attendants keep hurriedly asking passengers to go back to their seats and fasten their belts. The plane is about to land. I look out of my window and see the blurry glimpses of green of a land called Peru.


I tried to fit in and blend in the crowd as much as I could. I had to let go of my traditional red clothes and abundant jewelry to wear outfits that were more westernized, t-shirts and shorts for example. Far ahead, on the side of the busy street by the airport, I noticed a vehicle slowly driving away, the one I had to take and the last one of the day. I ran up to the car but it did not stop so I stood, arms extended, in front of it. Quite in the same way I used to stop our herd of cattle from going any further when they were heading in the wrong direction. The driver stared at me in disbelief, I inhaled slowly and climbed in the car before paying the obligatory fees. It wasn’t until I was finally comfortably seated that I noticed the strange unfamiliar faces looking at me from the corner of their eyes.

The car reared forward in an instant and we were finally on our way to the small village Salala. I am so close to reaching my goal, such a long trip, so much energy spent. I could feel the anxious glances of the strangers beside me, their heavy breathing, I am making them uncomfortable. I tried as hard as I could to look normal and once again, it did not work out as I had planned. I will never be or look normal, I should make up my mind to it already. The car ride to Salala was a considerably long one, I could feel the overwhelming fatigue getting a hold of me once more. I slowly closed my eyes and let myself fall asleep to the almost soothing sound of a truck's engine.

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The Beginning (Part 1)
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