I’m reminded of the words of the first European in Louisiana. He crashed there and lived with various indigenous groups for 8 years before he got out. Some highlights:

• I’m always burned. My skin peels constantly, like I’m some kind of lizard
• The mosquitos cover me all day every day. They don’t seem to bother the natives. I’m covered in welps, and the fires that keep them away burn my eyes
• I’m always hungry. They tell me “don’t worry, the feast is coming soon” but it turns out that was three months away. And then, after walking for weeks, ‘the feast’ was only prickly pears! They ate until their bellies were distended. I tried, I was so hungry, but the fruit stung the inside of my mouth and made me raw inside from top to bottom. I could only manage three or four
• I finally got a piece of meat to cook today. As I had it on a stick in the fire a man came by, snatched it bare handed from the fire and ate it raw. He laughed in my face and walked away

Over 8 years he never got used to it. These complaints were constant. He only survived because of the kindness of the indigenous groups he came across.

Don’t feel bad for him either. When he finally convinced a group to get him to the white folks, against their own terror at the idea, they were immediately slaughtered. He had them lay down their weapons ahead of time and everything, promising good treatment. His protestations afterwards consisted of “you didn’t have to do that.”