Screwworm

“Get these damn things out of me! Get them off. Please get them off! My God what just happened? I can’t breathe!” Help me!”

“Please try to stay still, we are doing our best. Men be careful getting those off”

“Please I can feel them alive inside me”

“There are just too many of them. We must make sure we get them all, one at a time so they don’t split and multiply”

It was then that I apparently passed out. The medical staff dressed in hazmat suits and cumbersome fiber gloves, meticulously operated those specially designed titanium tweezers. The 3-pronged instruments had an electrical charge, stunning the burrowing worms with a 450-degree charge before being extracted. The extra-long tweezers were instruments of death and life. The medical expert was trying the best he could, like a violin virtuoso accompanying an Aria with rubber gloves. It was the only way not to spread the disease. The field doctor probed deep in the tissue trying to stay steady while she struggled with no anesthesia.

“I love you, my love. Please wake up Marta, it’s me Paulie”

This was my recurring dream that would be my constant companion.

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I had just finished up my undercooked egg, warm orange juice, burnt toast at The Sunset Motel in McAllen, Texas when on the TV I heard the news anchor say, “The Screwworm has moved into the Mexican state of Tamaulipas, just across the border from McAllen, TX. The Center for Disease Control and Prevention, the CDC, has just issued a health alert for public health experts to look out for signs of the Screwworm. Doctors are being put on high alert as the dangerous and potentially deadly parasite inches its way closer to the U.S.”

“People are at the highest risk of being exposed to the Screwworm if they spend time in areas where the flies are present. Those who spend time outdoors or are around animals are at the highest risk of exposure. The CDC says there are currently no known cases of Screwworm in the U.S but are very concerned as the parasite approaches the U.S. / Mexican border. They estimate that the recent outbreak has already affected about 150,000 animals and 1,200 people in Central America and Mexico”

After our excursion and our return to the U.S., I was planning on proposing to my girlfriend Marta on this very important trip in my young career. She had accompanied me to Texas on spring break as a graduate student in psychology. I officially had my Ph.D. in horticultural science, focusing on advanced research in plant cultivation, physiology and genetics. Along with my love of the natural world, SHE was my love, my world. She was a woman with curious mind, perfect skin, a natural beauty, never needing to wear make-up. She always lit up like a child, still in awe of everything around her that was new and exciting.

“I’m ready honey, are you?” she said with a sparkle in her eyes that looked like a sunrise sky.

“Yes, they just said on TV that there is a Screwworm infestation in Tamaulipas, where we are headed”

We were scheduled to cross into Reynosa, Mexico to meet with a local farmer named Carlito. an old man with worn tanned wrinkles, with worn skin like a broken-in catcher’s mitt. He was an heir apparent of the great Mayan civilization. A knowledgeable and rightful descendant, who retained the magic of the distant past if not also its guard. Carlito was to supply me with a prized Mango species, The Ataulfo, native to the Mexican state of Chiapas. The cultivar known as the “Honey or “Champagne” Mango in the U.S. It was small and golden yellow with a sweet creamy texture. Prized above all others. It was also where the Screwworm originated.

I had been searching for such a prize. A prize and truth that money couldn’t buy. A truth, like the love, the eternal love that Marta and I had for each other. That prize of the Ataulfo was unlocking its secrets as there still were secrets of Marta’s heart left to unlock. I had spent years as a botanist and horticulturist trying to develop drought resistant varietals. Now with my Marta I realized that there was more to life than fruits and berries. This would be my best attempt to make my mark in my agricultural field of study which had brought me to this very place, to this very moment with Marta.

I was never very religious. Yes, I had gone to Catholic school, but I was always drawn to science, collecting bugs and doing experiments as a young boy. But now I was beginning to truly believe in a higher being. That science and faith could co-exist. I started to pray that I would not encounter any another obstacle. If there was another hurdle, maybe it would be overcoming the revenge for man’s insatiable appetite for gold and riches. The Mango, the Ataulfo or in Yucatec, called, Táak'iin yuumtsilo'ob, Gold of the gods. The Screwworm scourge or The Devil’s Worm, was known as U xnook'ol le kisino'. Either way, regardless of the language or pronunciation, the result was the same. Death.

Crossing into Mexico on the pedestrian bridge, the pretty woman in line, whispered, “Ten cuidado al cruzar la frontera” Be careful crossing the border.

We were motioned to the line for the Americans by La Policia. The border agent peered over the counter in his open stuccoed outdoor office, glancing at our passports saying “Paga Cuarenta dólares americanos” Forty dollars felt more like a bribe than an official transportation fee, as there was no paperwork or record of our arrival into the country. I handed him the money like I was being robbed.

It was mid-morning and the neighborhood was bustling like a carnival. We followed the worn cobbled road along the city outskirts like some TV western, with donkeys, carts and stalls selling all kinds of goods.

Carlito had sent his son Paco to pick us up in an old Ford pickup truck for the trek to Los Coyotes, a small provincial pueblo almost two hours farther south. We met Paco in front of the pharmacy called Farmacia Del Socorro in town.

“Señor Paulie?”

“Si soy yo” I responded with my best Spanish pronunciation.

“I am Paco”

It was a relief that Paco spoke English and would act as a translator for me and his father Carlito.

“This is my girlfriend Marta”

“Mucho Gusto”

“Paco, how did you recognize us here on the street?”

“Only Americanos wear khaki pants and do not tuck in their shirts”

I was eager to ask Paco what he knew of the Screwworms and the impact they were having in the state of Tamaulipas.

“Let me ask you, Paco, what do you know of the worms?”

“Worms? You mean the Gusando Barrendor? Ah yes, they are not like earthworms, these Screwworms fly, the flies lay their eggs in a wound, in your nose, eyes, ears or mouth. Then they hatch and develop into a parasitico larva, how do you say in English, magate?

“You mean maggots?”

“Yes, like maggots that feed on your flesh and burrow deeper and deeper into your body”

“That doesn’t sound like too much fun. So, I guess we must hurry and get the Ataulfo quickly”

“Yes, the Ataulfo, you will recognize it by its unique "S" shape, it has a thin pit, and wrinkled skin when fully ripe. The peak season is now in April”

“What about the Screwworm?” Marta quickly hastened to add.

“Don’t worry Señora. I’d worry more about the cartels than the worms. Do you have any open wounds, scratches or cuts”

“No I do not. Paulie please don’t break my heart. That wound would be the only entry for the disease”

“My Marta, that would never happen” as I gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“Señora, don’t worry, The Gusando like cows and pigs, but they can lay eggs on and burrow into any warm-blooded animal – including people. If people don’t get treated, the Screwworm can be deadly to humans”

After a bumpy curvy truck ride, we arrived at the green garden plantation of mango trees called, U Jool Ka’an. Señor Carlito greeted us with a welcoming smile, straw hat, and Huapilla, a slightly fermented and opaque, orange-colored drink made from the wild bromelia hemisphaerica plant. Carlito was a sagacious farmer and entrepreneur who over his lifetime had collected rare seeds and plants.

After the customary pleasantries we refreshed ourselves in the shade with our Huapilla. Walking the rows and rows of the Mango plantation we tasted samples of the different varieties of Mangoes.

“My father says that this particular Ataulfo, called “U Jool Ka’an” is particularly prized and in danger of becoming extinct”

“I see that is what this place is named. What is the meaning of that word, U Jool Ka’an?

“It is a Yucatec word, meaning, Heaven’s Gate in English”

As we tasted the most ambrosial of fruit, Carlito produced a dozen of the Mango seeds he had wrapped in a linen cloth.

“My father wants to inform you that the cartels have been made aware of their rarity and value. They have made it quite clear that they have every intention to profit from this Ataulfo’s exclusivity”

“What is your plan to protect these living jewels?”

“We must work with them but would like for you to smuggle these seeds out of Mexico. For my father and I, it is more than just the money. It is our heritage. We will not be held hostage, or worse”

He handed the seeds to me like they were blessed eucharistic hosts. I placed them in my backpack ceremonially with the utmost reverence.

I was starting to feel tired and exhausted from the heat and our busy day.

“Marta, how are you feeling? I’m tired, I could sure go for a siesta”

Forever thinking of me and my wellbeing, Marta asked, “Paco, is it possible for Paulie to lie down and rest?”

“Of course, my father says he prefers you stay the night and you can stay in the Casita next to our home. You can rest there. We can discuss the next step after your rest, after we have dinner this evening”

“Gracias por todo” I said with a sigh of relief happy to rest and hold Marta.

“Paulie I wanted to ask him if there any specific medications that are an effective treatment, should anyone contract the Screwworm disease?” Marta inquired.

“Why are you worrying about that?

“Ever since you mentioned it this morning and what Paco had said, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind”

“I don’t know, we’ll ask Paco tonight. Let’s not think about that now. Let’s go to the Casita and take a nap”

We arrived in our room and there was an unexpected cool breeze that somehow made me uneasy until Marta said,

“It is so beautiful here. Do you smell that? It smells like cinnamon”

“Yes, those are wild orchids, they’re called Canela orchids”

“I am so grateful we are here together”

I smiled staring at her beautiful face before my heavy eyelids could no longer stay open. Love was in the air as we napped to the fragrance of the cinnamon Lycaste aromatica orchid. We woke up to the savory aroma of grilled carnitas and folk music played on the flute and guitar as our alarm clock.

“Paulie this music makes me happy. I’ll always think of you when I hear it”

“You are always so positive Marta, that’s why I love you”

After washing up, we met our hosts in the courtyard of the main house and even though the sun was setting it was still oppressively hot.

“How was your siesta Señor?”

“Very restful I feel much better?

“Paco we would like to know, what do these Screwworms look like and what is the treatment for the Gusando if one is infected?”

“First you will feel them Señor burrowed deep in your skin, dancing under your skin, feeling their jelly bodies. Then you will smell them. An unholy unnatural odor from another world. They have no eyes but two long sharp like fangs. If you have the infection, you must eat mucho garlic, ginger, pumpkin seeds and drink lots of water. Now let us sit down and eat. Please sit next to my father”

After that explanation I had lost whatever appetite, I may have had. But slowly the smell of carnitas, roasted peppers and jalapeno’s cured my sour stomach.

Raising my glass I toasted, “Gracias, Señor Carlito, a Salud!”

“Salud!”

After the exquisitely prepared dinner and more toasts of Tequila, I wanted nothing to do with Mezcal or any more mention of worms. I had decided then and there it was the perfect night for my proposal for Marta’s hand-in marriage on that star-filled night.

Walking hand in hand down the moonlit pathways with my love, my head spinning with anticipation and excitement.

I remembered holding her like I never held her before. I quietly whispered, “Marta, I love saying your name, the most beautiful name, the name of an angel. I love when you say my name, calling my name. The only thing you can say to make me happier my Marta, will be your answer to my question… Will you marry me?”

She looked oh so lovingly in my eyes with the flames flickering in hers, smiling she said, “Oh…Paulie…”

“Senor senor! Hurry quick!”

Not wanting to let go of Marta, I turned around and yelled out to Paco, “What is it, what has happened?

“My father, Carlito, he has collapsed, I need to take him to the hospital in Reynosa”

“Paco we will go with you”

In the black of night we quickly gathered our belongings and with my backpack by the dim light we jumped into the Ford truck. It was not the smoothest of rides, as we headed north, we held onto Carlito and braced and steadied ourselves in the old truck cab. Paco drove at speeds approaching 90 miles an hour. Taking the turns and curves, the branches brushing the car like a file on metal.

“Is Papa ok? Are you ok? Hold on Señor Paulie, hold on! Watch out!”

The ear-splitting sound of the tires squealing around that final turn we careened out of control. The fiendish sound was only exceeded by the shrieking screeches of the metal roof stopping in the thick jungle of trees.

Then headlong, the sounds of night, truck and road all went silent.

“Papa are you ok? Señor Paulie? Are you alright?

“Marta my love, Marta can you hear me, are you ok??”

“Paulie?”

Yes, I’m here honey”

“Paulie please get these damn things out of me! Get them off. Please get them off! My God what just happened? I can’t breathe!” Help me!”

As the mangled metal trapped us in that ghastly cab, I held my dying love in my arms as I prayed.

“Please try to stay still, Marta, don’t cry”

“Please I can feel them alive inside me, Paulie. Please get them off”

“There is nothing inside of you my love, everything will be ok. I love you, my love. Please wake up Marta, it’s me Paulie”

I rocked my love back and forth, tears streaming down my face as the distant sirens blared our matrimonial song. I kissed my dear Marta as she opened her eyes in a moment of lucidity she whispered,

“I love you, I do”