I often wondered whether the mosquitos, the mud, the heat, and the constant sweat were worth it. My fourth trip into the jungle was unlike any of the others. Six days in a canoe eating stale food that smelled like rotting fish and tasted even worse, and I felt I was no closer to achieving my objective than when I first arrived in Brazil.
My quest was to find and take samples of what native tribes called Punali. Rumors, legends, and several testimonials I had heard on my previous expedition were enough for my company to invest in a search for the elusive, and possibly mythical, leaves from which the jungle medicine is derived. The only place in the rain forest to find them, I had been told, was deep in the interior at the village of a mysterious tribe called the Unomo. Supposedly, they guarded the plants so religiously that only a hand full of people had ever even seen them, let alone taken the “potion,” as it is referred to.
If the descriptions of the miraculous propert...
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