User:Mmcknight4
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Ten years after my first birthday I could recall memories from nine years prior. My parents moved us from Florida to a secluded tribal village in Guyana to protect us from the constant threat of fish hawks. They were a beautiful animal, as I recall them, but had, within their three-toed feet, a vicious set of talons much accustomed to penetrating fish and mammals. Guyana was merely the name of the country we retreated to; we resided high in the mountains where the designation of countries and their boundaries were meaningless to the tribal population we joined. We roamed the mountainside catching sparrow monkeys and picking mountain pineapple, a bromeliad species I fear I ate the last of. Sparrow monkey and pineapple are quite a breakfast on a cold morning in Guyana. Our tribe leader 'Kinchusa' was fatally wounded by a chimp in a territorial dispute leading to a splintering of factions among our group. Thirty of us set off for the coast where we fashioned a quasi-democracy and sustained ourselves by netting fish and hunting small game. We had been told our father's fate was the vast prison labor system in Guyana but we later learned he had escaped and returned to Florida where he took up a law practice. We raised plane fare and joined him there where we have been happy citizens since. USA!