The sort of story that once started, I have to finish in nearly one sitting. A fascinating account of a woman whose childhood was spent in part among monkeys in the Colombian jungle (as a five-year-old, she was kidnapped, then abandoned in the jungle). Later, surrendering herself to a stranger, she is sold to become a slave-worker in a brothel but her wits, along with a kindly neighbor's warning, keep her from actually becoming a prostitute. Street life and more follow but Marina's wits, well-honed in the art of survival, as well her need for genuine human connection, keep her safe for the most part and alive.
I am fascinated by wild child stories: what makes us human? What makes us 'civilized'? What are we without the human family? Marina's account of her time among monkeys adds to my appreciation of animal intelligence. More than once she is saved by a member of the clan: once, terribly ill from something she ate, she is brought to water by an elder, made to drink and hence, vomit.
Some of the other goodreads reviews doubt the veracity of the account. I do not, or at least no more than I doubt other memoirs to be 100% "true." Intrinsic in the act of writing about one's life is embellishment, and the line between memory and imagination is not always clearly drawn in our mind. But those who doubt, it seems to me, fail to consider both the incredible cruelty humans beings can have for others, the mercenary ends we engage in, the extent of human trafficking, and the capacity that the animal world, in particular primates, have for connection, empathy, and awareness.
There is one aspect that I'm not sure I believe and that is the actual length of time Marina lived with the Capuchin monkeys. Looking back with her daughter, she calculates time in terms of how much her daughter's hair grew in childhood with memories of how much her own had and comes up with x number of years. But who's to say whether her own hair would have grown at the same rate, especially given her limited diet, and more to the point, how can time spent alone as a child be calculated? I remember summers feeling like years... Seasons in the jungle are not so noticeable, so not a reliable marker of time passing. I question whether she really spent the 3 or 4 years she calculates. I don't doubt, however, that the author did live with monkeys, followed their ways and learned much that was important: what to eat, where to sleep, for example, along with playfulness and affection.