FATHER
AND SONS
By
Michael
Edwin Q.
The old ways had been slowly
fading away. The witch doctor warned the village elders on many occasions – if
tribal customs, laws, sacrifices, and festivals were no longer followed, the
jungle’s wrath would descend on all, and he would be blameless.
Despite his determination, his
word of warning went ignored.
The witch doctor remained in his
hut for three days, fasting and praying for a sign. On the morning of the
fourth day, he went out and took the first laid chicken egg of the day, and
cracked it open on the side of a large rock. The insides ran done the face of
the stone; it was pitch-black – this was the worst of all omens.
Again, he made a plea to the
village elders, and again his warnings fell on deaf ears.
That season, five women of the
tribe became pregnant. At the proper time, they all delivered within days of
one another. All five children were boys, which normally would have been reason
for great celebration; but, in this case, it was not. All five children were
born blind.
They called a special assembly of
the village elders to discuss what action to take. Someone suggested
sacrificing the babies, something quick and merciful. Perhaps, smash their
skulls and leave the bodies as tribute to the jungle spirits. But if a lion or
tiger were to find the bodies first, the wildcats would pick up a taste for
human flesh, and that would be detrimental. Another proposal was killing the
babies painlessly, and then cooking and eating of them by the entire tribe.
On hearing this, the witch doctor
stood up in protest.
“You foolish people, don’t’ you
understand why this misfortune has befallen us? And I warn you, this disaster
will repeat itself time and time again, until we repent and vow to return to
the ways of our ancestors!”
“Very well,” proclaimed the chief,
“We must take an oath never to stray again from the path of our ancestors, so
this evil will leave and never return.
“The entire village will shoulder
the burden of raising these five children, as atonement for our transgressions.
But…you will be the one responsible!” He addressed this last part to the witch
doctor.
They erected a communal hut where
the five lived. They scheduled wet nurses. Undertaking of raising the five the
entire village took up.
When the five were no longer
children, but young men, they assigned menial tasks for them. Ones they could
do without leaving their hut – weaving, grinding, and such were their
responsibilities. In return, the tribe presented food and clothing offerings,
which the witch doctor delivered.
Only the witch doctor had direct
contact with the five.
Not having any family to call
their own, they had taken to calling him, “Father”, and he, also without
family, called them, “Sons”.
One day, the witch doctor brought
three times the normal daily offering to the five.
“I am traveling to a nearby
village, and will not be back for a fourth night. This other village has
captured an elephant; they have tamed the animal and are using it as a beast of
labor. I feel it is my duty to investigate.”
“What is an elephant?” asked son
number three – each called by number only, because they never received names.
“It is a strange beast, difficult
to describe.”
“Take us with you, father,” said
son number two, “True, we cannot see, but we can also experience
this…elephant!”
The five seldom ventured outside
their hut, let alone the village. But, looking at their now adult faces, the
witch doctor thought it good to take them with him.
They traveled for days, the witch
doctor in front, the five close behind. Son number one, with his hand on the
witch doctor’s shoulder, son number two, his hand on the shoulder of son number
one, and so on.
Standing before the great domestic
elephant, the witch doctor addressed the five, “Go, my sons, the elephant is
before you…experience!”
Son number one took hold of the
elephant’s tail. Number two put his arms around one the legs of the beast.
Number three ran his hands across the rib cage of the animal. Number four took
hold of the ear, and number five, the trunk.
One by one, the five ran back to
the witch doctor in excitement.
“Father…father...the elephant is
like a piece of rope,” cried number one who had taken hold of the tail.
“Father…an elephant is like the trunk of a tree”, said number two who had
grabbed hold of the leg. “Father…an elephant is like a great wall”, cried
number three who had touched the side of the beast. “Father…an elephant is like
a palm tree”, said number four who had taken hold of its ear. “An elephant is
thick and muscular like a long python”, said number five who had held the
elephant’s trunk.
“You are all correct…it is as you
say! But, it is getting late, and we must return to our village,” said the
witch doctor.
“Thank you, father,” said the
five, “Now we know what an elephant is.”
He guided them home; with tears in
his eyes, he could see little much more than they could.
THE END
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