Missionary

Jan. 11, 2000
Here begins the mission journal of Samuel French. I’m a 19-year old
college freshman – well, I’m taking a semester off for this. I’m about to
go on a missionary trip into Brazil! I never really expected it, but
about four months ago, a missionary on tour in the US came and spoke in
our church, and I really felt a calling – no, a Calling – to go
myself. Nothing like that had happened to me before.

When I talked to the church’s missions board about it, they were really
excited, because I’ve been working summers with my uncle for a long
time. He’s a general contractor, and apparently most of these villages
where they’ve founded churches have a lot of construction needs. So I
guess I’ll be building instead of preaching, which is kind of a relief – I
don’t think I could preach anyway.

It turns out, I’m going WAY deep into the Amazon, to an Indian tribe that
still lives pretty much like an Amazon Indian tribe. It’s not like I’ll
be the first white man they’ve seen, but it’ll still be pretty wild.

Feb. 9, 2000
Started upriver today. Heat, bugs, heat and bugs. I wonder if I can
handle this. Still, it’s incredibly beautiful here. Even some of the
bugs are beautiful. (Others are hideous.) And we aren’t even into the
wild parts of the Amazon yet. I’ve already shot off one of my six rolls
of camera film; I’d better slow down.

Feb. 12, 2000
Our last stop in &#034civilization&#034 – that is, a riverside town where there’s
gasoline, packaged food, and occasionally electricity. The bugs are
beginning to make me wonder if this was a good idea, but it would be
really stupid to turn back from a divine calling because of some bugs, no
matter how big and awful-looking they are.

Feb. 15, 2000
Well, today I was introduced to the Pachtikl. It’s it’s really
amazing. I wish I could write down everything, but I’m so tired from the
trip and the intense day! They seem really friendly, thank God for
that. I’d been a little afraid that they would just see me as some sort
of trespasser, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. They’ve given me a
nice hut (by their standards – good thing I brought mosquito netting) and
a strange, but edible, dinner. I sure hope I can be helpful to them; they
deserve something better than a light-skinned moocher, and I keep worrying
that that’s what I’ll end up being.

Feb. 17, 2000
A Pachtikl worship service today. The preacher is Pachtikl, he preaches
in Pachtikl; all I can understand is his occasional gesture toward the
open-air cross. They seem happy and enthusiastic, though, so I’m happy to
see it, even if my linguistic ignorance leaves me kind of bored. Maybe
this is what Catholic worship was like before Vatican II: Learn Latin, or
die of boredom.

Feb. 18, 2000
We started laying out the site for the schoolhouse today. It’s going to
be a sort of hybrid of modern and tribal construction techniques,
hopefully a practical mix. I’m not so embarrassed about my crash-course
Portugese anymore, since theirs is even worse. I don’t know if I’ll ever
learn their tribal language. Still, you can go a long way with gestures
and smiles when everybody’s friendly. And for the building, diagrams and
demonstration do the communicating.

Feb. 19, 2000
It rained all day. I stayed inside and talked with some of the women,
especially Chiacl, who’s my age and nursing her first c***d. She speaks
better Portugese than anybody else in the village, so I naturally end up
hanging mostly around her. I really like her; God forgive me, I can’t
help but wish she wasn’t married. She’s really nice to me, and incredibly
beautiful. Actually, all the women here are surprisingly good-looking. I
told Chiacl so, and she said it was because their medicine woman gives
them special potions. If that’s true, she should go work for Revlon or
something and make a few billion dollars.

Feb. 22, 2000
Started digging the schoolhouse’s foundation! I’m exhausted. The people
here are great; it’s like a Disney version of an Amazon tribe, where
everybody is friendly and helpful. And beautiful. It’s almost enough to
make me suspect I’m doing my missionary work on a Hollywood set. Well, a
Hollywood set wouldn’t include the occasional bits of modern flotsam in
the Pachtikl’s world – plastic jugs mixed in with the handmade pottery, a
chainsaw that used to work, a Miami Dolphins T-shirt re-sewn and
reincarnated as a carrying sack.

Feb. 23, 2000
Chiacl’s daughter, Myonnen, is such a cutie! She has the biggest eyes in
the whole world. I sometimes feel bad that she’s going to grow up where
life is so hard. But then, I think what life is like for lots of American
k**s: freeways instead of rivers, crows and rats and roaches for wildlife,
gangs, d**gs, c***d abuse, HIV maybe my pity is misplaced.

Feb. 25, 2000
Well, I hope I didn’t just violate some big taboo or something. Every now
and then, the Pachtikl adults break up into men’s and women’s groups and
spend the afternoon drinking some kind of local tea. This time, I was
hanging out with Chiacl and asked if I could come with her for the
tea. She said yes, but then there was some sort of big debate or argument
or something about it when we went to join the circle; lots of
jabbering. They asked me 5 or 6 times if I really wanted to. I never
made out quite what the big deal was, but I think they thought I might
lose respect among the men if I drank with women. I would have dropped
it, I didn’t want to create a fuss, but Chiacl was holding my arm and
eventually they decided I could stay. In fact, once they gave me the tea,
they were all smiley and friendly, even the ones who didn’t seem to want
me there before. I hope that means I didn’t do anything wrong.

Feb. 26, 2000
Well, I don’t seem to have lost face among the men for yesterday’s
teatime. If anything, they were extra-polite to me all day. The rain is
undermining the foundation diggings a little bit, but I think it’ll be OK.

Feb. 29, 2000
Another teatime today. I went to drink with the men this time, and they
seemed to think I was crazy. I guess I’m supposed to drink with the women
all the time now. No skin off my back; they’re more fun to be around,
even if I barely understand a thing.

Mar. 2, 2000
The Pachtikl have amazing endurance; it’s totally embarrassing to try to
keep up with them in the shovelwork. I’ve try, because I don’t want to be
like some bigshot white overseer who won’t get his hands dirty. Today,
though, they practically took away my shovel by f***e when I started
getting tired, and sent me to Chiacl instead. &#034Lead me not into
temptation&#034 No, that’s not true; Chiacl’s no seductress, she’s way too
innocent to betray Ellayon (her husband). That’s probably part of why I
like her. Anyway, I ended up helping her mash roots for some kind of
soup. It was actually pretty good. A pity I won’t be able to make it
again at home, but I doubt I’ll be able to find the ingredients at
Safeway.

Mar. 6, 2000
Myonnen is getting sick. Makes me wish to high heaven I were a
doctor. But the medicine woman, Tellengit, was all over her with goops
and salves and broths. Hope there’s something medically effective in her
stuff. We all prayed for her a lot.

Mar. 9, 2000
Myonnen is much better today! Praise God almighty! Chiacl is soooo
beautiful when she’s happy. Is it wrong to think that?

Mar. 14, 2000
We put in the main support beams for the school today. It’s all coming
along as well as I’d hoped, pretty much. The Pachtikl are good workmen,
and smart.

Mar. 27, 2000
Myonnen is making vaguely speechlike sounds. She’s an incredible cutie.

Apr. 12, 2000
A little embarrassing – I’m growing out of all my shorts. I’ve only got
one pair left that I can still fit into. Who would have thought I’d get
fat on Pachtikl cooking? Actually, the thing is, I don’t think I am
getting fat. In fact, I almost seem to have lost weight. Certainly, all
the hard work hasn’t bulked up my arms the way I was hoping it
would. It’s just that my hips seem really big.

Apr. 19, 2000
The schoolhouse frame is complete now! We started on the roof. There was
a sort of prayer-song thing to celebrate. Funny thing is, they had some
songs sung by the men and some by the women, and they wanted me to sing
with the women. And I think I could hit all the same notes as them. I
never realized my vocal range was so wide. Maybe I should join a choir
when I get back.

Apr. 27, 2000
I had to throw out my last razor blade about a week ago, but I really
don’t seem to have grown any beard since then. Strange, but I’m not
complaining. I thought the jungle life would make me into a bearded
savage, but I feel rather civilized for a guy who hasn’t seen a real
bathroom in months.

May 1, 2000
My hair’s been getting pretty long lately, so I asked if somebody could
cut it. Chiacl said yes, but I think she misunderstood me, because she
just braided it instead. But she also braided a string of beads into it,
with a thin braid of her own hair used as the string for the beads. I
think it’s meant as a special personal gift. Now I feel like I can’t cut
it, or I’ll insult her gift. Oh well. It’s actually kind of pretty, and
certainly a sweet gesture. I guess, out here, it doesn’t matter how long
my hair is.

May 14, 2000
I went to Tellengit myself for the first time today, for some kind of rash
I guess I’ve got. It’s making my nipples sort of itchy and swollen. She
made me some paste that helps with the itching. I think I’ll keep my
shirt on until the swelling goes down, because the appearance is really
kind of embarrassing.

May 16, 2000
I taught Chiacl’s baby to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star! Well, not the
words, of course, but she kind of gurgles along with me when I sing it to
her.

May 22, 2000
A boat came up the river today, and I’m going to ride out with him when he
goes tomorrow. Not for good, just to give myself a sort of vacation in
civilization and check in at the church’s missionary office in
Manaus. I’m really looking forward to buying bigger pants. I keep getting
bigger around the hips, but I still feel pretty trim. I think maybe my
hipbones are sticking out further, but that doesn’t make any sense, does
it?

May 26, 2000
WOW. Manaus is incredibly overwhelming. I feel like some terrified wild
a****l. The amount of noise and motion is just too much to deal with. I
was going to walk around the city this afternoon, but I think I’m just
going to hide in my hotel room, wait till tomorrow to face the modern
world. I should probably cut my hair before I meet with the church office
people tomorrow – the hotel bellhop accidentally called me &#034miss&#034. But I
really don’t want to take out Chiacl’s braid.

May 27, 2000
I had a shock when getting ready for my meeting today. The mirror in my
hotel room was the first I’ve seen since I left. I look a lot
different. I can still tell it’s me, but I can see why the bellhop
thought I was a girl. Not just the hair, although my hair is really rich
and long, longer than I expected. Something about my face, too, seems a
lot softer than before, my features more delicate. Plus with my weird big
hips, and that swelling in my nipples that just gets worse and worse… I
wonder if something weird is going on with my hormones. I made an
appointment with a doctor for tomorrow, before I go back.

Anyway, the meeting went OK, although they did look at me a little funny
and ask about my hair. They agreed about the importance of the braid,
though, that I shouldn’t do anything that might seem like a rejection of
friendship.

May 29, 2000
I don’t think the church referred me to a very good doctor. He just said
something about ‘gynecomastia’ not being uncommon in young men, and that I
shouldn’t worry about it and it would go away. I almost wonder if I
should go back home, to America, to see a specialist or something. But
that would be wrong. It would be totally selfish to abandon the Pichtakl
just because I’m worried about looking funny. No way am I going to be
that vain. I’m heading back upriver tomorrow.

June 5, 2000
Wow, from the way they welcomed me back, you’d think I’d been gone a
year. I love these people.

June 13, 2000
I don’t think I can doubt it anymore – I’ve definitely got some kind of
severe hormonal problem. The workers on the schoolhouse were singing a
song today, and I tried to sing with, but I had to go up a whole
octave. I never used to have a high voice, but now it seems like I’m
probably a soprano, or at least an alto. And I might as well be honest
with myself – my &#034swollen nipples&#034 are really breasts, a little small for
a girl but obviously breasts. And they’re still growing. I don’t think I
stand out at all among the women anymore, except for my light skin and
American clothes. I think I’m walking like a woman, too; I’m pretty sure
my hips didn’t used to move this much when I walked. But it’s hard not to
walk that way, my hips have grown so big that it throws me off balance if
I try to hold them still.

It’s really tempting to get out of here to get to a doctor, but I just
can’t do that to them. They ought to be able to give me something to fix
it once I get home, anyway. At least nobody here acts like there’s
anything wrong with me. I’d be terribly embarrassed anywhere else, but
not here.

June 17, 2000
Chiacl actually grabbed one of my breasts through my shirt today – they
don’t have much concept of personal space here – and said that it was
&#034very good&#034. I asked her if she thought I was strange for growing
breasts, but she just said again that it was very good and seemed to think
I should be happy too. Weird.

June 22, 2000
A few days ago, I asked Tellengit the medicine woman if she could do
anything about my breasts. Hey, she’s the only medical resource around,
so why not? Can’t be any less help than the doctor in Manaus. Today, she
brought me her therapy: a bra. Well, it’s a woven strap that the women
here use like a bra. Very funny. Still, I think I might wear
it. Otherwise my breasts might get all stretched-out and droopy, and then
I’ll have stretch marks when they do go away. She also gave me stuff to
rub into them. I hope it helps.

July 20, 2000
Well, I gave up on trying to hide my breasts under my shirt. (It’s
getting easier to think and write that phrase, &#034my breasts&#034. Guess my
masculine self-image can only stand up to reality so long.) It’s too hot
here, and they’re pretty obvious anyway. I’m just baring them (with my
bra-strap, of course) like the rest of the Pichtakl women. No snide
comments; I don’t think the Pichtakl even know how to be snide. I just
thank God none of the guys from back home can see me like this.

July 30, 2000
That song from South Pacific keeps going through my head – &#034 and broad
where a broad should be broad&#034 It’s scary, but kind of fascinating, the
way I keep developing. It’s hard not to be a teeny bit proud. Not that I
want to be a woman or anything, but these are really kind of nice-looking
curves I’m growing. If I imagine that I weren’t ever going back home and
nobody would bother me about it, maybe I’d just let it be this way.

Aug. 8, 2000
Chiacl’s a bit sick today. I helped her out with her daughter, not that I
really needed to. Everybody takes care of everybody else’s k**s
here. Still, I’m really attached to Myonnen, and I think she is to
me. When she cries, I’m almost as good at quieting her as Chiacl is.

Aug. 10, 2000
Dear God, now I’m scared. Chiacl’s really sick today, and her milk for
Myonnen has dried up. I’ve been standing by the medicine woman, praying
while she works, and offering to do anything I can to help. She finally
took me out away from the village, pointed to a grove of plants, and told
me I could help by picking the leaves. When I brought them back to her,
she had me chew on them – not Chiacl. I guess she just wanted me to leave
her alone and let her work. Can’t pester her with questions while I’m
chewing a wad of leaves. They taste bad.

Aug. 12, 2000
Chiacl’s getting better now, but her milk isn’t coming back. Other mothers
have been trying to nurse Myonnen, but she won’t nurse from them. I’m
with her almost round-the-clock now while Chiacl recovers. The poor thing
is already losing her baby fat. Dear God, please, help us.

Aug. 13, 2000
My breasts feel really swollen and sore today. Maybe it’s sympathy pain
for Chiacl, or her baby. Why won’t she take milk from anybody
else? There are seven other nursing mothers in the village, but she just
fusses if they try to feed her. Meanwhile, Tellengit is keeping me
chewing leaves. All I can understand from her explanation is that it’s
supposed to help Myonnen somehow. Maybe it’s supposed to be some sort of
magical effect, where one person can take medicine on somebody else’s
behalf? Oh well. It may be superstition, but maybe it can have a placebo
effect on somebody.

Aug. 14, 2000
I got one of the other nursing mothers to get some of her milk into a
gourd, then managed to pour a little bit into Myonnen’s mouth. I’ll never
be able to feed her enough that way, though. God, where are you?

Aug. 15, 2000
Miracle. Today I experienced a miracle. Tellengit came to me in the
morning and started kneading and squeezing my breasts, until – milk came
out. Real, warm, mother’s milk, out of me. I still can hardly believe
it. So then she took me to Myonnen and I fed her. She was perfectly
content to take it from me… I guess I’ve always had a way with her.

I suppose I should be horrified that I’ve turned into some milk-giving
hermaphrodite freak. But I’m not, I feel wonderful, I feel joyous, I feel
incredible. I have been the conduit of a miracle, I have saved Chiacl’s
baby’s life. And it’s… sensual, sensual in a very pure and innocent
way, to be nursing her baby. It’s better than marrying Chiacl, I think,
to be sharing motherhood with her. Maybe someday, when I’m back in the
states, this will all seem like some surreal and frightening dream and
I’ll want to burn this journal. But here, today, I am happy. Praise God.

Aug. 16, 2000
Nursing a baby. Sheesh! It’s still a totally sensual and mystical
experience. I’m absolutely in love with Myonnen. But I do kind of wish
her little jaws weren’t so strong.

Aug. 17, 2000
The medicine woman says Chiacl’s milk won’t come back until she has
another c***d. I guess I’m staying here until her baby is weaned. Wow,
try explaining that in a letter home! I guess I’ll just try to say that
&#034they really need me here&#034 and leave it at that.

I moved into Chiacl’s hut to make the breastfeeding more convenient. I
would have been scared of the temptation before, but now it’s like we’re
already bonded so much closer than sex could ever achieve. How could
simple sex tempt me now? Chiacl’s husband, Ellayon, sure doesn’t seem
threatened. He’s almost as affectionate with me as he is with
Chiacl. (No, not like THAT! But there is definitely something very close
and sweet joining all four of us, me, Chiacl, Myonnen, and
Ellayon. Something I could NEVER explain to well, to a man.)

Aug. 18, 2000
I asked the medicine woman today whether it was because of her that my
breasts gave milk, and she said yes. Well, I don’t consider it any less a
miracle.

Aug. 20, 2000
Now I’m beginning to wonder – I’d thought that my hormone problem was just
me, but what if it was Tellengit all along? They’ve all acted all along
like I belonged with the women. I thought maybe it was because I was a
soft American, but maybe they knew that Tellengit was – well, was turning
me into a woman.

I’m not mad, not really. I mean, I saved Chiacl’s baby’s life. Maybe she
had some sort of prophetic vision, so she knew Myonnen baby would need
this? Gosh, I’m finally the recipient of a genuine, old-fashioned
miracle, and it’s one I can’t exactly stand up and tell the church back
home about.

What am I going to do back home? I guess I’m not really going to see
anybody until I can get my body fixed. Well, time to worry about that
later.

Sep. 1, 2000
The schoolhouse is done. We dedicated it to God today with a big day of
prayer and feasting. Some songs were sung by the men and women
separately, and I took my place among the women as a matter of course. I
don’t think I could sing like a man anymore to save my life. It’s obvious
now that they’ve been treating me as a woman all along, even before my
breasts started growing, I think. It’s hard to believe I didn’t notice it
before, but well, guys are supposed to be socially oblivious,
right? Anyway, I’m not going to complain. It would be kind of stupid to
try to assert my manhood while I’m holding a suckling baby to my breast.

I’d be heading back to America, now, if not for Myonnen. I don’t mind a
bit, you know? I’m going to help them start a cement-floored food
storehouse next, but I think they could do it on their own with what they
learned from the schoolhouse. The real reason I’m here is Myonnen. She’s
more than reason enough.

Sep. 4, 2000
I wrote a big letter today, to a nutritionist at the University of
Manaus. Not that I know a nutritionist there – I’m hoping that somebody
at the university will direct the letter appropriately. I’ve been
obsessed lately with making sure my milk will be good enough for Myonnen,
which means making sure that I get plenty of nutrients, which means
figuring out what’s in all this Pichtakl food. I probably don’t have
anything to worry about – don’t they always say that primitive diets are
the healthiest? Still, I can’t help worrying about it. The size of my
responsibility here overwhelms me completely.

Anyway, I’ll have to give my letter to the next boat that comes down the
river, and pray that it gets into the right hands somehow.

Sep. 14, 2000
First day of classes back home. No regrets. I don’t think anybody could
seriously tell me I’m having less of a learning experience here.

Sep. 24, 2000
With the Pichtakl building things just fine on their own, and Myonnen
nursing all the time, I’m hardly spending any time on the building
project. Instead, I’m hanging out with Chiacl and with the other nursing
mothers, and learning gobs of weaving, cooking, and c***dcare. It turns
out that I’m a rather talented weaver, for a beginner. If I do say so
myself. I’m going to make some things to bring to my mom and s****r –
beats buying a T-shirt from the airport souveneir shop, huh?

I’m learning so much about life here! From the women’s point of view,
anyway; I don’t spend much time with the men, except for Ellayon. I
should switch majors to anthropology when I get back. No, double
major: anthropology and women’s studies. Except I can just imagine some
stuck-up girl in the class asking me how I could possibly claim to
understand women’s issues.

Oct. 15, 2000
There was some sort of prayer ceremony today to bless the nursing mothers
of the tribe. Myonnen made me come with her. Well, really, I’m glad I got
to go, it made me feel very special and honored and blessed, even if it
was strange. We both got all covered in paints and stuff, lots of
fertility symbols and things, erotic-looking patterns painted on my
breasts, the works. Probably more old pagan magic than Christian prayer,
but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, really – The church
has always grown by incorporating spiritual customs instead of replacing
them.

Anyway, I think it was good. I felt very, um, joyful in my motherhood, a
living, powerful link in the cycle of life. It sounds silly to write it,
but it wasn’t silly. The truth is, I felt so much a part of this, this
female mysticism, that I honestly felt surprised and shocked and, yes,
disappointed, when it was over and I remembered who I am. I’m not really
a woman, I don’t have a womb, I’ll never give birth no matter how many
fertility symbols you paint on my breasts. Damn.

There’s no point in being discontent. I’m trying to look at it this way –
how many people have lived through both manhood and womanhood to the
extent that I have? I’m, like a duck. Can’t fly as fast as an eagle,
can’t swim as fast as a fish, but eagles can’t swim and fish can’t fly,
and I’ve done both.

Does that sound weak? I admit, I’m still fighting this crazy sense of
longing for real womanhood. I always used to look forward to life as a
man, so what’s wrong with it now? Why shouldn’t I be eager to get back to
the life I always thought I’d have?

If anybody ever reads this, sheesh, they’ll think I’m totally nuts. Maybe
I wouldn’t feel like this if I’d ever done anything really amazing, really
wondrous, as a guy. In my short life so far, what do I have to compare to
nursing a baby? Boy Scouts? Ha!

Nov. 10, 2000
Somebody answered my letter about the nutrition! I’m going to grind
through the numbers right away.

Nov. 11, 2000
Well, I think I’m doing pretty well, nutritionally. I should maybe try to
eat more sintlic leaves, for the iron, but other than that I think I’m
OK. I give good milk – hooray! This beats making the Dean’s List any
day.

Dec. 14, 2000
We started Myonnen on solid food today, as the first step in weaning
her. It’s hard, harder than I imagined, to give her root mash; she cries
for my milk, and I want so badly to give it to her. I went off by myself
to cry twice today. It seems like nursing Chiacl’s c***d has been such a
magical experience, I can hardly bear to think it’s ending. And then I
get to thinking about how I’ll leave for America, and I might never see
Chiacl and her baby again… wow, I think I have to go cry right now.

Dec. 29, 2000
Myonnen is beginning to crawl! Poor thing, the dirt floors here don’t
seem as kind to a crawler as good old carpet, but I guess they all manage
it.

Jan. 12, 2001
The village has a visitor – Distokini, who left the village as a c***d to
work down the river. He’s back to receive a blessing from his f****y
before he marries. His Portugese is fluent and he even knows some
English, so I’m eager to talk with him when he has time.

Jan. 13, 2001
WOW, do I feel sheepish. I feel like a whole herd of sheep, all at once.

Distokini helped translate for me today, so I was able to converse for
with the Pichtakl for the first time ever without the language
barrier. And… well, yes, I was right, my feminine form is indeed thanks
to Tellengit. But it’s not because of any prophecy; no, it’s simple
misunderstanding. She thought I wanted to become a woman all along.

Everybody knows Tellengit is the Pichtakl tribe’s greatest expert in the
medicines of womanhood. The beauty potion – that is, the tea – that she
gives the women is so strong that a boy who drinks it will grow up to look
like a girl. Over the years, three boys have been sent to her from other
Pichtakl villages because they wanted to be girls. With her tea and some
other medicines, she accomplished the task. All three returned to their
home villages as women. (Presumably no more female than I am now, but I
guess that was enough for them.)

When I asked about joining the women for their tea, that first time,
that’s what they thought I wanted. In fact, they decided that that must
have been the reason I came to the village in the first place, and that
helping to build the schoolhouse was just my thanks for the sex
change. When I asked Tellengit for help with the growth in my breasts, she
thought I wanted them to grow faster.

One good Pachtikl-to-English dictionary – not that such a thing exists –
could have saved my manhood.

Well, I didn’t tell anybody that it wasn’t my idea. What good would that
do? It would only make them feel bad. And I’m happy with the way things
turned out.

And, you know, I don’t consider it any less a miracle. So the whole thing
flowed from a miscommunication; so what? God works miracles through our
mistakes. Is that news to anybody? Blundering your way into your purpose
is humbling, and humility is valuable.

So, here I am. Samuel French, nursemaid. Gee, the career counselor back
home never saw my talents in this field.

God has a great sense of humor; so what if it’s kind of twisted? All the
best comedians are.

Jan. 18, 2001
Distokini went back downriver today. Before he left, I got his help to
tell Tellengit how happy I was to be a woman and how grateful I was to
her. She may as well believe it was exactly what I wanted. Besides, she
did a great job, and it was certainly necessary. If an angel had appeared
to me at the height of Chiacl’s illness and told me I could either grow
breasts or watch Myonnen starve, I wouldn’t have hesitated for even a
moment.

Feb. 2, 2001
It’s been two days now since I last nursed Myonnen. It’s tempting to
squeeze the milk out myself just to relieve the pressure in my breasts,
but if I do that I’ll never stop producing. I can just imagine meeting my
Mom with milk leaking through my bra and leaving spots on my shirt… oh,
God, I have a lot to take care of when I get back. Time to pay the price
for my miracle, I guess.

Feb. 5, 2001
Myonnen is weaned. My mission – my real mission – is over. My
Calling. Did God even care about the schoolhouse, or was this all about
Myonnen? She’d be more than worth it. Worth more than gold, that
girl. I’ll leave the next time a boat comes. I can’t help but hope it
never will.

Feb. 13,2001
I’m writing this from the boat going downriver. I am going home, except I
feel more like I’m leaving home, leaving the c***d I suckled and her
beautiful mother. I’ve cried so much today my head aches. Ellayon kissed
me. Chiacl told me that, wherever I go, we will be s****rs forever.

Feb. 15, 2001
I arrived back in Manaus today. Seems so Western, so unreal, so noisy. I
wonder if I’ll ever really be at home in the modern world
again. Absolutely everybody takes me for a woman now, and this being
Latin America, there were some wolf whistles and such. I hardly noticed
that, though, through the culture shock. I don’t even feel like I’m the
same species as these people; who cares what sex I am?

I have to admit, the shower at the hotel room was quite a delight. But
the mirror in the bathroom I had thought I wouldn’t really look at myself
in the mirror until I felt ready, but I caught a glimpse of myself and had
to stare. Looking at myself, I could hardly believe myself that I was a
man. Even my genitals are atrophied, hardly able to argue the case for my
maleness.

Actually, this sounds really vain, but I look beautiful. As beautiful as
any other Pachtikl woman. I guess that’s basically what I am, for now – a
white-skinned Pachtikl woman. Does life throw you curveballs or what?

Feb. 16, 2001
I miss the Pachtikl terribly, but I also miss my Mom. Maybe nursing a
baby gave me a new understanding of the maternal bond. I wish I could go
straight back to her, but it would be too much of a shock for her to see
me this way. Instead, I decided to go stay with my big s****r Carrie in
LA until my body is fixed. I tried to tell Carrie what was up on the
phone, but couldn’t quite get up the nerve. I hope it doesn’t freak her
out too much. She must have figured something was up, especially with my
high voice, but she just said she wanted to see me. I wish I had the guts
to warn her.

My plane won’t leave until tomorrow. I submitted a final report to the
church missionary office by mail and spent the day wandering the city, a
little dazed. I stocked up on shapeless sweatsuits and things, hopefully
stuff I’ll still be able to wear when I get back to normal. I’d hate to
waste the money.

I bought a regular Western-style bra, too. Needed lots of help from the
woman at the department store to help me find one and fit it. I almost
wished she would say something, give some sign that I didn’t seem like a
woman to her, reassure me that I wasn’t just one more ordinary lingerie
customer, but of course she didn’t.

Feb. 17, 2001
I had a layover in Caracas, and had to use a restroom in the airport. The
men’s room was obviously out of the question. I felt a little scared
going into the women’s room, like an alarm was going to go off something,
but nobody looked twice. When I came up to the long mirror, with a crowd
of a dozen other women around washing and primping and all, it took me a
second to figure out which woman’s reflection was my own. Now that the
culture shock is receding, the gender thing is scaring me more. I’m
coming back to the world I’ve always known, but walking around in an alien
body. I feel like I ought assert my masculinity to people, talk football
or something, but that’s ridiculous. I have none to assert.

Feb. 18, 2001
I traveled all day, and then Carrie and I talked all night, so I don’t
have energy to write much. Carrie is amazing. She’s totally supportive,
totally behind me. It’s a huge relief. I never realized what a great
s****r she is.

Feb. 19, 2001
I called Mom to let her know I’d be staying with Carrie for a while. It
was hard to dissuade her from flying out to see us, but we managed, for
now. Carrie and I spent the whole day talking. I wish I’d stayed closer
to her when I was in high school, but I guess we’re making up for it
now. She had a bad boyfriend (worthless scumbag jerk) experience not long
ago, and I’m glad I could be here for her. I made some doctor’s
appointments to get myself fixed. Carrie said she likes me better as her
s****r and I shouldn’t change back. I laughed like she was joking, but I
don’t think she was.

Feb. 21, 2001
I went to an endocrinologist today. I don’t think he really believed my
story; he kept saying that a year of taking hormones couldn’t produce the
effects I was showing. Well, who said Tellengit’s medicines were normal
hormones? Anyway, he also said that taking testosterone wouldn’t be
enough to fix me, so he referred me to some plastic surgeons.

Carrie said it was obviously going to take a while until I looked like a
guy again, so I might as well get some clothes in the meantime, because
she didn’t want to room somebody who looked like a slob. I finally agreed
to let her take me shopping with her tomorrow. After all, it’s not like
staying in sweats makes me feel male anyway. And it made her really happy
when I agreed. That’s important.

Feb. 22, 2001
Went shopping with Carrie today. She had a great time, and I admit, I had
fun too. We got some jeans and tops and, yeah, some skirts and dresses
too. There was sure a weird feeling, seeing myself in a dress in the
changing room mirror for the first time. Still, it feels good to look
nice, take care of myself and all. I guess I’d expected to hide out from
American society until I could re-enter it as a man again, but there’s
really nothing wrong with being here as a woman. I guess it’s fun. Hey,
half the population manages it, why can’t I?

Feb. 23, 2001
Carrie got me to come to a friend’s party tonight. I didn’t want to stay
home without her, and she really wanted me to come. It was actually a
really good party, mellow and not noisy, and with neat people. She’s got
good taste in friends. Some of the guys there tried to flirt with me, but
that wasn’t so scary, because they were really nice about it. Actually,
it made me feel kind of good. Male attention is such a weird thing, like
a kind of electricity, and it comes in all flavors, from disgusting to
scary to – well, to nice. Is it weird to be flattered? Sometimes I felt
like the center of attention in a really affirming way. Wow. I’m
probably going to need an army of psychologists when this is all over. It
doesn’t help that Carrie keeps telling me what a great s****r I am and
that she doesn’t want me to change.

Feb. 24, 2001
Well, I enjoyed myself so much last night, I couldn’t really defend myself
from Carrie’s suggestions today. She actually got me into a wispy little
blue dress, lipstick and everything, and out to some dance places. I felt
wow. Like a sensation, like the star of the show. Like in My Fair
Lady: &#034I could have danced all night&#034 All eyes, all smiles on me. Shy,
longing looks yeah, I recognize those, I’ve given plenty of them
myself. No guy should ever go through this, it does really weird things
to my brain. But I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. I should
write papers in psychology about this next year, except nobody would
believe me.

Feb. 26, 2001
I met with a plastic surgeon today. He was talking about how to remove my
breasts. As he was talking, I started feeling so weird, I excused myself,
ran to the bathroom and threw up. I felt so nauseous and scared. I know
I should be eager, but how do I explain it? It’s like well, these are the
breasts that nursed Myonnen. That is the most sacred experience of my
life, and now this doctor’s talking about chopping it up, throwing the
bl**dy pieces in the medical-waste bin, rotting in some giant LA landfill
wow, now I’m getting nauseous again.

This body, you see, it was a gift from the Pachtikl, my adopted people,
they gave it to me. And it was my gift to them, to Chiacl and
Myonnen. This is how I did the most important thing I’ve ever done. I
was a part of the circle of life. This body was my miracle in flesh; it
was sanctified.

If only I could wrap it up in tissue paper and put it in a box! Take it
out to reminisce and show my closest friends. But no, it’s all or
nothing. Live this way forever, or chop it up and throw it away. It
doesn’t seem fair, that’s too violent a choice.

I’m a boy, I’m not supposed to want to be a woman; but in the Amazon, I
was a woman, a mother. Was that wrong? Was it bad? Should I put that
under the cold steel scalpel and treat it like garbage?

God, I don’t know what to do. The truth is, I don’t think I want to go
through with the surgery, or the hormones, or any of that. I’m happy like
this, I’m having a great time, but I have to change back – don’t I? What
would everybody say? &#034Oh, OK, you went to Brazil for a while and now
you’re a woman. That’s nice.&#034 Yeah, right.

Feb. 28, 2001
I’m feeling a little better today, but it’s still scary. Here’s what I’m
facing:

Beard should come back with testosterone, no problem.

Voice should go down again, although they’re less certain about
that. Muscles should fill out again, too. Genitals may grow back to full
size, but no guarantees.

Breasts will have to be removed surgically.

Making my face back to the way it was would take a LOT of plastic surgery,
and the surgeon doesn’t even want to do it. He says he’s not used to
cutting a pretty face to make it plain, and it might even violate his
Hippocratic oath. I guess I could get by without the surgery. I’d
probably be a lot more attractive than I used to be, but in such a
feminine way, it would be really weird. Maybe bisexual girls would like
it.

They say they could cut my pelvis back down in theory, but it would be
major, major surgery and not at all worth it. So I’m pretty much stuck
with womanly curves below the waist.

In short, with a lot of time and pain and expense, I could become about
half the boy I used to be.

How am I going to pay for all this? I don’t want to ask Mom, she’s
strapped already from my college costs.

Maybe I’m just looking for an excuse not to go through with it. Or maybe
I’m crazy to even consider mutilating myself for some machismo ego
thing. I don’t know!

Mar. 4, 2001
Somehow, I took it for granted that I couldn’t go to church last
Sunday. Today, I realized that that’s just what I need. Carrie’s not
usually the church type, but she came happily enough when she saw me in my
Sunday best.

I feel resolved. I didn’t get some big supernatural message, not like the
calling I got to go on mission. But I felt good, I felt right, praying to
God as a woman. And I realized – I guess that I shouldn’t worry about
it. If I can face my God joyfully this way, then why shouldn’t I face the
rest of my life, too? I’ve been afraid to stay this way, without any good
reason but with this irrational suspicion that I shouldn’t be allowed
to. That’s gone now; I feel like I can choose with a clear mind. It’s
whatever I prefer. And there’s really no question about that anymore.

Carrie is overjoyed. We decided that I’d room with her and get a job as a
woman over the summer while she teaches me what I need – all the stuff I
never got to learn as a little girl. I’ll try to transfer to UCLA for
next year, and see if I can get registered as a female student, so I can
start making my own life but still stay close to Carrie. There’s so much
to plan but I’m looking forward to it. The second-biggest adventure of my
life.

I thought before that I had given up my manhood for Chiacl and
Myonnen. Truth is, I ended up receiving more than I gave away. Doesn’t
God always work that way?

Well, Mom, I don’t know what else I can say. Maybe, reading all this,
you’ll understand. But please, just talk to me, ask me anything you want
to, I really want you to understand. I love you with all my heart, and
I’m dying to see you again. Please know that I love you and I’ll always
be your c***d, no matter what.

Love,
Sam

P. S. (from Carrie)

Mom,

I promised Sam I’d help her explain to you, so here goes. Please, you’ve
got to understand what a wonderful thing has happened to her. It’s
totally amazing the way she’s matured and deepened, but she’s still got
everything we always loved about her before. She’s the same person, but
better. I know you’re probably completely freaked about it right now, but
trust me, when you hang out with her now it just seems really right, she
seems like she was always meant to be this way. Besides, I think, if you
tried to make her change her body back to the way it was before, it would
be like stripping away her experiences, or invalidating them, or
something. That just seems really, really unhealthy. I really think we
have to embrace everything that happened to her and help her keep growing
instead of going backwards.

Anyway, I’m sorry I’ve been kind of evasive on the phone lately, but I
didn’t want to give away anything Sam wasn’t ready to tell you yet. Call
me as soon as you read this, OK?

Love,
your other daughter
Carrie

–Finis