Manos' Encounter With the Gods, Volume III by Marko Lampas E-book $10.50

Volume III
Amourán

Chapter Forty-Two

Amourán is born

It was the beginning of summer, and as usual the humid air in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, was heavy this early afternoon when the plane with Mános aboard landed at the small airport, now called “Maria Santos Airport.”

José Silviera was anxiously waiting on the field with Hector, the helicopter pilot, along with some other sentinels to make sure Mános was not swarmed by the hundreds of spectators waiting around the arrival building. Somehow the word had gotten out about his coming and the airport was mobbed with Bolivians and others who wanted to see him. The security guards were caught by surprise as well, and were vigorously trying to keep the crowd orderly and away from the taxiing plane in the far corner of the field.

The moment Mános stepped out of the plane, the cheers and screams reached a deafening point from the men, women and children calling his name. Many, especially women, were murmuring with their eyes full of tears, "Thank you, thank you, great one! Welcome back to our country. We love you!" Most of them had had some tragic encounter with the former Gonzales assassins and this man was the one who had saved them.

José rushed to the plane with open arms. “Great one! I am so happy to see you!” The two big men embraced.

 “I am happy to see you too, José. I have missed you, and I’m hungry for Margarita’s delicious cooking.”

“Oh! Mános, she’ll love to hear it from you! She’s a great cook and she loves you as much as we all do - and she’s crazy with happiness that you’re coming back.”

Mános turned, lifted his hands high toward the crowd, and smiled, nodding his head in a greeting gesture. The cheers reached an earsplitting level with the happy people acknowledging his greeting. He turned and put his arm around José as they walked toward the waiting helicopter in the other corner of the field where Hector was waiting.

He rushed over with open arms as well. “Welcome, great one, welcome to our land once more.”

“Thank you, Hector - did you get jealous? Let me look at you! You’ve grown a striking beard!”

“Yes, Mános, just like yours. I want to look just like you!”

They boarded the helicopter, and after getting clearance from the control tower, Mános waved at the outstretched hands below before they circled the airfield and took off for the home in the forest. There were at least two thousand or more spectators with happy faces waving at the plane from the tarmac.

Maria tried to keep Mános’ arrival a secret from the media and the people staying at her home and around the center but somehow they found out. They were outside on the terrace, eagerly waiting for him in the beautiful gardens and surrounding grounds. The young faces peering expectantly through the windows of the two huge cure centers were the first to see the helicopter in the distance. The moment they saw it, a surge of enthusiastic screams rose up.

“Mános! Mános! Mános! Nuestro padre! Aquí ... Nuestro padre! èl viene! èl viene!” The security men made ready to keep the enthusiastic crowd a safe distance away, especially the mothers of the children who were now cured from the dreadful virus. They were jockeying for position to get as close as possible, hoping to touch the great one.

The helicopter landed, and Maria, unable to control herself, ran out onto the landing pad before the rotors of the helicopter had come to a stop. Sofia and Sandro grabbed her and held her back until the blades ceased whirling completely.

“Come! Come help me up the steps!” she commanded Sofia and her cousin. They helped her up the four steps onto the landing pad while Maria held onto her belly, looking as radiant as ever. Her tears flowed down her face as she saw her handsome god step down from the helicopter and into her embrace. He held her in his arms, kissing her beautiful black hair. She was once more in the arms of the man she adored, murmuring love words through her emotional sobbing.

The joyful cries of the women, men and children echoed all around and as far as the near hills. Mános and Maria stood together, whispering their love for each other before he lifted her face and wiped away her tears as he had done so many times before.
He kissed her tenderly on the mouth. “I'm here, my love, and this time I'll stay for a long time with you.” He then raised his hands to salute the jubilant, screaming crowd.

He waited until they had quieted down before he straightened his shoulders and addressed them. “My loving friends, I thank you for your gracious welcome! I want to tell you, I will be staying here to see my child born, and will raise it until the time ... but let us not talk about any departing time. Let us celebrate our reunion with a delicious dinner by our master chef. Where is Margarita?”

“Aquí! Aquí! Here! Here I am, mi amor, nuestra vida! Wait till you see what I have prepared for you!”

She rushed up onto the pad and into Mános’ embrace. The emotional reunion lifted everyone’s spirits and their voices to a deafening height. The Bolivian music by the colorfully clad musicians echoed across the mountains with the people singing and dancing joyfully as they slowly headed toward the terrace and the big house.

Maria was beside herself; she couldn’t take her arms away from Mános, reaching constantly to kiss his face and mouth. He would caress her belly and whisper lovingly to his child. After Mános greeted every one of the children and adults on the large terrace, he and Maria took a stroll on their favorite path west of the now huge complex. There, in the woods, was where she first fell in love with this great man. She was once more in her lover’s arms and this time his visit wouldn’t be a short one. 

That evening they sat in the big dining room to enjoy a special dinner when Margarita came and put her arms around him. “Mános, mi amor, I have a surprise for you! Look!”

A young girl came in with a small pan containing beautifully roasted potatoes; colorful red, purple, yellow and green sweet peppers; onions and garlic along with zucchini and ripe red tomatoes soaked in pure olive oil. The basil, oregano and rosemary plus other spices gave it the aroma, for which Mános had to bend over the pen and take a deep breath with an ecstatic expression.

It smelled heavenly. Another girl held a hot plate with melted Kasseri, Mános’ favorite Greek cheese, just like his mother Elefteria and Penélope used to make. He was pleased beyond words. He stood up and took Margarita into his arms.

Margarita Hernandez was in her late forties, a native Bolivian with beautiful black eyes and waist-long black hair. She was a robust woman with an incredible gusto for living to the fullest. She seemed to be always laughing and ready to help with anything she could. Her husband Pedro had been killed eleven years earlier in one of Juan Gonzales’ wars. This most lovable person had never remarried. She became the head cook at the center and surrogate mother to the many who needed her.

“Thank you, Margarita. Thank you, my dear wonderful friend. You remembered what pleases my palate and the fact that I eat only the gifts nature provides for us.”

After one bite, Mános’ face lit up in ecstasy. He placed a kiss on Margarita’s lips, making everyone cheer.

“Pass the red wine; this masterpiece needs the gods' nectar,” Mános cheerfully called.

The dining table was huge and round, allowing everyone to sit together as one family. After dinner, a party started on the terrace. All the men had gathered around Mános, to tell him about their latest accomplishments. They also spoke to him about the calls from the people of Latin America, wanting Maria to take over the leadership of their country, which Maria had declined.

“Manuélla Martin is destined to achieve her goal: Maria has other responsibilities. The child she’s about to give birth to will be superior to me, and will take over after I’m gone.

Manos' Encounter With the Gods, Volume III by Marko Lampas E-book $10.50

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