Imagine life in the wild, the trees surround you with all their inhabitants, and you are one of them. Not a visitor, or a guest. It’s been a long time since we’ve considered the ways of our parents as relevant to our own lives, not to mention our grandparents’. Their habits can seem strange, outdated. And yet, there are still pockets of living history still left unburst.
We know very little of them, only what we can see through the bubbles. But they fascinate us, they capture our attention and imaginations, which go wild with romantic notions of something we lost long ago.
That which was lost can be found once more, it can be reclaimed – if we want it to be.
Supposedly the Sentinelese had chosen to remain secluded from the world, but what does that seclusion mean? How much of the world do you experience yourself, and how much is through the media? They have intimate knowledge of their territory, to an extent rivaling and surpassing most of the people living as part of the globalized society have of theirs.
They are aware of outside forces, they cannot be so familiar with their territory and not notice the outsiders. Perhaps they’ve seen a plane fly overhead, perhaps a foreigner made contact once upon a time. Whatever the case, the Sentinelese and other tribes like it, know of our existence and seclusion was not the decision they made, but rather our interpretation of it.
What is it that makes us feel so worldly compared to them? More than half of Americans have never left the US, and yet they would never be called “secluded.” Perhaps the answer lies in fear. We do not fear them, while their decision to refrain from contact most probably stems from apprehension.