Tag: abuse

Savages and Beasts

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perhaps closer than people thought, same as the change Anton
felt might perk up between the archons of this school and the
children of the savages, a change that perhaps might lead to a
dialogue between the two sides. Yet a doubt lurked deep in his
heart that what he hoped for would be proven to be just that.
He arrived at the school. He greeted Sister Gladys at her
desk. The spectacled nun graced him with a broad smile; the
nun knew that this young man was her insurance, her security,
this young man would make it impossible for her lover, Father
Jerome, to fool around, something her mind relished and seeing
here in front of her this young man she felt as if she had to get up
and hug him: to thank him for being here to protect her interest.
Yet she didn’t get up, she didn’t say anything more than what she
had to, and Anton walked away towards his submerged kingdom.
His mind recalled the beautiful body he held in his arms yesterday
and his attitude suddenly sweetened to the point that a broad
smile spread on his face.
“Mary, what would she be doing this early in the morning?”
He thought to himself and his mind ran to her sweet lips
which were whispering her morning prayer before she would get
ready to go to her daily responsibilities. The day was excellent,
such were her spirits, such was the attitude of the sun up in the
firmament, and such was the emotion of the north wind that
was blasting the old oaks and the chestnuts trees outside in the
School grounds.
Time passed. Anton heard the bell that announced the
first recess. Kids got out of their classes; Sister Anna and Father
Peter were on duty out in the yard. He walked up and taking
Mary from her office they too walked outside. There they walked
slowly towards the big oak on the eastern side of the yard. Father
Peter and Sister Anna saw them but didn’t care to disturb them;

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Savages and Beasts

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a few minutes to pretend of listening to their pleas and needs,
then the elections are over the politicians disappear as they have
done before and the Indians carry on living their substandard
life with no light anywhere to be seen. These are the people the
Anglos have to give a voice and a sense of what freedom means
by way of example and by way of re-distributing part of this
country’s wealth and share some of it with the Indians. However
I can’t see the Christian Anglo ever getting to that point
of psycho-spiritual advancement that he’ll accept this idea as
something doable. Then, they talk of racism and that they stand
against any form of it but not by example: only in their hollow
talk and the promises which they don’t keep.”
Anton’s father sighed and stirred in his chair. Then he
continued.
“Here we have two different cultures, totally opposite to
each other and each of them preaching their ways to the members
of their society and the hatred one feels for the other which
results only to a short-lived victory for either side thinking they
each make some progress while in reality the fundamental differences
remain and are perpetuated and all this because there
is no dialogue. None of the two sides truly want to sit down and
talk since each side distrusts the other and as long as that distrust
exists between them there won’t ever be a dialogue, there
won’t ever be an embracement. The only way forward is that
small room for dialogue, the exchange of ideas, views, thoughts,
images, and perhaps one day something positive will emerge; this
is the chance both sides must take because there isn’t any other
way forward, except of hatred, enmity, endless doubt, hell.”
He stopped again and took a deep breath; yes it was much
to take for anyone; besides the truth always hurt the ones who
didn’t like it.

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Swamped

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the process. Then she went to the bathroom and emerged a moment
later looking professional and businesslike again. She sat down next
to him and talked business as if nothing but business had ever happened
between them. Eteo listened carefully and agreed on what
needed to be done for his new company, now registered under the
name Alexa Ventures. While Rebecca talked business, Eteo played
with her combed-up hair and neck and ears to the point of giving
her goosebumps, and Rebecca loved every moment of this but without
giving any hint of her awakening desire.
But when she had finished talking business, she let him undress
her to nothing and let him place her on top of him and ask her to
make him feel as wild as he had felt earlier, and Rebecca did her best
and rode his firmness deep inside her and like an amazon gave him
the utmost sexual pleasure once again. They both went to heaven and
back numerous times until they couldn’t have anymore, and then
rested in each other’s arms until the time came for Eteo to drive to
North Vancouver and Rebecca to her husband and child in Kitsilano.
Over the next few days Eteo’s work kept him busier than ever.
Golden Veins was getting a lot of attention, and its price had risen
into the fifties. This enabled Eteo to unload some of his clients’ stock
and use the funds to buy shares in Wheaton for them. Platinum Properties
was also doing very well, trading at a dollar and a half now and
with good volumes every day. John from the trading desk had gone
in and out of it a number of times as the stock moved upward, and
Eteo had sold many of the shares he held, getting good profits for his
personal accounts and his clients. Even Helena made a few dollars
on Platinum Properties. This delighted her, since as a conservative
girl she usually stayed away from risky penny stocks, except of course
when Eteo advised her to take the plunge.
One morning Eteo asked Mitch to meet him, and within half an
hour, he entered Eteo’s office, wondering what this was all about. He
didn’t have to wonder for long.
“Have a seat, Mitch,” Eteo said without any preamble. “I had a
meeting with Rebecca Horton. She has put the wheels in motion for
a new company incorporated for me with the name Alexa. You’ll
serve on the board of directors along with Peter, the engineer…

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Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

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Eagle Talon and his son, Honiahaka Little Wolf, emerged from the forest with a
magnificent buck slung from a sapling pole between them. The two men paused to
rest and massage their aching shoulders. Below them stretched the mighty water,
birthplace of the sun and home to the great creatures who blew fountains into the
air. It was also home to the friendly man savers.
As Eagle Talon looked far out to sea, he remembered how his youngest son, Kosumi,
was washed out of his canoe by a savage wave. He thought he’d lost his son to
the sea, but two man-size sea creatures, those who blew fountains of water into the
air, came to Kosumi and swam him safely to shore.
From that day forward, the Nation declared these man-savers Friends of the First
Light People. Never again did they hunt them for food. Since that time, the sea mammals
leapt from the water to greet the young men whenever they sailed out to spear
the white fish or to dive for the clawed sea-cleaners.
Eagle Talon whispered his thanks once more for his son’s life. Then he whispered
his thanks to all the creatures of the sea that fed his family and his people.
Little Wolf saw it first and crawled on all fours to the edge of the embankment for
a better look and beckoned his father to join him. On the beach below was a great
canoe, big as a longhouse. Strange, white-skinned men with hairy faces shouted at
one another and banged at boards of split pine, inside. Outside, men were painting
the frightful beast whose head was a double serpent totem of scarlet, blue and green.
Eagle Talon and his son watched in awe. They must return quickly to the village.
Surely the sachem, White Eagle, would have an answer to the appearance of such
strange visitors.
Since Eagle Talon and his tribe greatly respected White Eagle as a wise elder, a
confederation of villages elected him sachem. He governed the people of his district,
upheld the law, allocated farmland according to the size of each family, collected
tribute, provided for widows and orphans, and taught all boys up to the age of sixteen
the arts of manhood. He also acted as arbitrator, whenever war threatened.
White Eagle sat erect. His grey hair flowed unadorned in long shiny strands to
his lower back. He wore a beaded doeskin jacket, pants and moccasins. The sachem
raised his hand to call for calm and addressed the gathering of braves.
“My brothers. These strangers have surely come in peace. Let us welcome them
with gifts of food, as is our custom. We will honour them with song and dance at our
Lodge Fire and celebrate Broken Wing’s success in the hunt. If they allow us, we will
help them repair their strange craft that they may soon be on their way.”
The gathered braves turned to one another in discussion. Then they voted by a
show of hands to follow the sachem’s advice.
White Eagle continued. “I will approach the strangers at their camp. Broken
Wing, Crow Foot and Eagle Talon will bring sweet corn, the gift of the gods, and
fresh salmon. I go to prepare my face and body with red earth as a sign we are men
of the earth.”
Freki, ever on the lookout, was the first to see the four Natives approach the fire.
They wore only tan breechcloths. Three of the Natives wore crow and turkey feathers
in long braids. They had their heads shaved except for a long strip of stubble…

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Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

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“True, but first we must find a safe shore and make repairs to the prow. She is
ready to break up if we run into more rough weather.”
“Fresh water is running low, and we need fruit and vegetables to stop the spongy
gums and bleeding. Several men are quite sick. Their wounds from the sheep capture
are not healing.”
Hjálmar was the last to speak. “Well, then, we will let the current carry us farther
south. There is land to the west, but ice still floes between here and that far shore. We
have plentiful fish and fresh lamb on board to last us to safe harbour.”
When Captain Hjálmar informed the crew of his decision, they expressed their
approval with a loud cheer. Only Ari voiced disappointment to his new friend,
Brother Lorcan. “Now you will not get to meet my brother, Melrakki, nor fish with
me in our mountain streams, nor ride our Norse horses. But most of all, I will not
see my dear father whom I miss so much. We argued when I left to go to sea. I have
been away from home so long that he will think me drowned as he threatened I
would be.”
With the tremendous pressures of having to fight currents, winds, and unexpected
disasters finally over, Norsemen and monks alike began to relax, to enjoy the
leisurely voyage south. Some mended clothes. Some whittled dogs, horses and sheep
out of bone and driftwood as toys for their children at home. Others fished by attaching
gut line to small blocks of wood. With rock weights and bronze fish hooks
baited with lamb liver, they hauled up cod hand-over-hand as they sailed once more
over open water, steadily southward. The diet of fresh fish was welcome, although
several of the crew were experiencing sores and lesions in their mouths and on their
lips caused by lack of fresh vegetables and fruits.
Brother Rordan at last sat talking with Ul beyond the almost silent sheep pen.
The captain’s thrall had given up trying to avoid the Celtic monk who had been so
insulting.
“Please forgive me and trust me to be your friend. If we were to be sold in Thulé, I
doubt if we will be now. Whatever time we have left, I would like to get to know you.”
“I bloody well doubt it. There’s not a member of Hjálmar’s crew wouldn’t like to
get his filthy hands on me, and if he catches me talking to you, I’ll be in for a beating
and so will you.” With that, the Irish thrall rose to his feet and slipped away.
Eighteen days after the eruption off Thulé and five since their ice encounter, a
huge whale, almost sixty feet long, began following the ship. It blew a fountain of
water higher than the ship’s rail. Then, with a massive sigh and a gentle rippling of
the water, it sank beneath the surface and reappeared far ahead. Later on the same
afternoon, the Norsemen were visited by a shining black pod of killer whales. One
by one, the dozen beautiful mammals moved gently under the hull and resurfaced
on the other side, blowing water like Moorish fountains.
Captain Hjálmar saw the visit as a good omen. “Tomorrow,” he told the men, “we
will find good harbour and all will go ashore.”
That evening, everyone drank toasts of mead to Ægir, King of the Sea and to the
Sækonungar, protectors and patrons of Nordic sailors and explorers. Every Norseman
also drank to the Irish God who had delivered them from an icy grave.
Finten felt a sudden surge of excitement as he recalled stories told to the student

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Arrows

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voices when the breeze allowed it. Looking for so long into the
distance, we were completely unprepared to turn and see five men
behind us.
Even before we could rise from our crouching positions, five big
warriors, scowling fiercely, materialized from the bushes, pointing
arrows at us.
“I looks like you may never get to know Guacaipuro, my friend,”
said Tamanoa.
I could not imagine ever responding with such aplomb. This was
his way of retaining control of himself, not showing fear. He was
showing me what to do, how to face death. Or to avoid it. I
mimicked Tamanoa’s stalwart behaviour, literally at ever step, as
the Indians led us into the village; two ahead of us and three behind.
In the days and months that followed, our captors would assume
Tamanoa was my servant because he was a half-breed, and yet it
would be Tamanoa’s ability to interpret their speech and their
behaviour that would keep me alive. Without Tamanoa, I would
never have been able to develop the language skills that enabled me
to talk to Apacuana, and I would never have survived to tell this
tale. But it was God’s will, or the way of Mareoka, to make everyone
assume I was the leader.

I was as lost as I have ever been as we marched to the village at
arrow point. People gathered on the trail and around an open space
dominated by the imposing figure of a man who could only be
Guacaipuro. The sun shone directly above our heads, gleaming
silver on the silky raven-black hair of Guacaipuro, whose face was a
mask chiselled in stone. His eyes were ominous black slits. The
hollows of his cheeks were elongated shadows.
He stood immobile, his chest heaved, and deep lines creased his
brow. The corners of his mouth were pulled down in outright
loathing. He held a spear, the butt resting on the ground.
As we approached, he held the spear almost to my chest, glaring

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Savages and Beasts

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schedule from the wall and placed it on the desk; he’d like to give
a fresh coat of paint to the place.
Evening came as an August surprise; cool air blew from
the northeast horizon gracing Kamloops with a soft feathery
touch, people’s faces rejoiced in the soft reprieve of the twilight;
muffled chirps of birds were still heard coming from the bushes
and trees, the odd owl call was heard from a deserted barn or
the top of the huge oak trees or the wild chestnuts. Anton had
cleaned his beddings and had placed them on the bed, he had
finished all the drying of children’s clothes for the day and had
them in bins ready to get to the maids in both the boys’ and girls’
quarters; He sat for a minute to recall the events of the day and
closed his eyes in satisfaction that the day was as productive and
busy as it should had been; after a couple of minutes of meditative
recollection he got up and one by one he pushed the loaded bins
two to the boys’ sleeping quarters and two to the girls’. Maids
took them from there and did their side of work.
He was getting ready to leave for the day when Mary
rushed in his domain. Her face gleamed with joy to come and
see him; she closed the door before she fell in his arms. They
kissed. They touched each other. They wanted each other. Eros
took over their moments and before one could imagine it Mary
and Anton were under his clean bed-sheets. Lust commanded
their bodies to join, there where the earth smelled of endlessness
where time didn’t matter nor existed and moments passed fast
like their pulse that galloped at the demands of lust and nothing
was reserved, nothing was held back. Only their muffled moans
were heard for a good length of time until the consummation
overpowered everything and relaxation followed.
Later that evening, after Anton went home and had the
family supper he went to his room to reflect on today’s events

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Arrows

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Although she had suffered terrible humiliation at the hands of
Gregorio, and possibly Baruta, there was nothing weak about her.
She was undefeated, strong. Like the jaguar, I thought, bold and
proud. Perhaps Tamanoa found her independent spirit was
unbecoming for her sex.
As she bathed, Apacuana told us more. The night before,
apparently Baruta had gone to the river looking for her in vain.
When she returned, they argued, for she had told him she was going
to get water; instead, she went to feed me. That night she had cried in
my arms because Baruta wanted to take her with him to Suruapo,
Guacaipuro’s village up in the mountains, as his woman. Apacuana
had refused and ended up telling him she did not want to marry
him, at least not yet. Baruta had reached for the macana, intending to
hammer some sense into his betrothed.
As I had guessed, Baruta had pressed Yulema into talking. She
sang like a nightingale, telling him everything except the precise
whereabouts of the cave. Instead she had led him off the track,
thereby allowing time to forewarn Apacuana. Fuming with his
inherited hatred of white men, Baruta had set off to find me, but he
had looked further east of the river.
“Will Baruta keep looking for us?” I asked.
She thought not. Guacaipurowas anticipating Paramaconi’s answer
with the greatest urgency, and so Baruta’s duty to his father would
have to take precedence. It was very important business, Apacuana
told us. Paramaconiwas being summoned to a war council in Suruapo.
The meeting would take place very soon, in a matter of days.
All the principal caciques of the region were being called upon to
unite forces in a major attack against Losada in the valley of San
Francisco.
I waded further downstream where I might discreetly disrobe
and wash my privates. I was obliged, by my race, to warn Losada,
but Apacuana had just run away from her betrothed because of me,
she had been raped by Gregorio, and I couldn’t possibly take her
back to the valley of San Francisco.

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Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

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Fire and Ice
For several days, the ship lay on a becalmed sea. While Finten and Ailan sat discussing
their worst fears – their slavery, the long cold winters, and uncertainties of the
future – bubbles began bursting on the water surface, becoming more and more
intense as the ship drifted slowly landward. When several fish popped up to float
dead on the water, one of the men reached over the side to retrieve a floating cod. He
remarked that the sea felt amazingly warm. Two other crew members reached into
the water and pulled out a small halibut. Everyone gathered around in amazement.
As more Norsemen plucked up floating fish, the meat fell apart in their hands
and onto the deck. When the first man remarked the fish he’d pulled up smelled
fresh-cooked, he pushed back the scaly skin and took a tiny nibble then another
and announced that it tasted good. Another sniffed then took a nibble while others
watched. Those who had dared to taste ate on and other Norsemen reached over the
sides for fish and laughed as they ate.
The Brothers joined the crew at the ship’s rail but by then hissing hot air burst
close to the prow and pulsating plumes of sediment, the colour of egg yoke, rose to
the surface and surged all around the ship. Clouds of yellow steam filled the air with
the smell of sulphur, making breathing difficult. Then a slow-moving cloud of white
smoke enveloped the ship and droplets of rain burned exposed skin, causing blisters.
The men dropped their fish and ran to the prow in a panic.
Finten’s worst fears had been realized. He knew they had finally travelled too
far and were now on the edge of hell. Soon pagans and Christians alike would be
plunged into the fiery depth. Once more he prayed aloud the psalm of death and his
Brothers joined in: “Out of the depth I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my prayer.”
Captain Hjálmar shouted for calm. “And shut that infernal babbling. You papish
thralls are worse than a bunch of old women. How can I think with all that commotion?”
After about an hour of increasing turmoil in the water, the ship lurched, as a firebreathing
monster rumbled, spurting hot ash into the air. A wave formed, seemingly
out of nowhere, and pushed the Nordic knarr from the seething mountain, which
now burst and heaved its way above the boiling water. Freki ran to his captain. “I
knew it. I knew it. Now we’re all going to die in fire and water.” Everyone on board
cried out to different gods in fear and trembling. Only Captain Hjálmar appeared to
maintain his calm until he bellowed, “Quiet! Pay attention.”
Still Freki jumped up and down pulling at the captain’s cloak and shrieking. Hjálmar
pushed Freki aside and shouted above the din, calling for buckets of seawater
to douse the hot coals smouldering among the panicked sheep. The sky filled
with black clouds. A staccato of thunder and lightning sounded like Thor’s hammer
to the terrified Norsemen, while a monstrous wind roared out of nowhere to send

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Savages and Beasts

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Yet the evil pouring out
of that entry shook him up as if a powerful tempest unlocks a
house off its foundations, such was the thunderous burden put on
his mind to comprehend the atrocity the details of which he read.
“Why, father? Why a man would end up doing these evil
things?” Anton asked.
“Most of these behaviours relate to the man’s psycho-spiritual
essence or level of human’s advancement but in this particular
case it all flows out of what these people who run the Residential
Schools believe, on what philosophical basis they have been
brought up, what values they have been taught in their schools,
and believe me, in the era we live in this country, the Anglos, still
live with the colonial era mentality. They still consider themselves
occupiers rather than co-existent people next to other
people they see themselves as the archon class and everyone else
down under them. That’s where all this misery springs from.”
“Dad, how could that be possible, we live in the 20ieth
century, this is an advanced country, this is not Africa,” Anton
resisted his dad’s negativity.
“Yes, son, it is true this is Canada, yet think of it seriously,
how did these evil things could ever occur? Where would their
origin be but in the colonial era mentality of the people? Because
when we supress we follow in the steps of tyrants who declare in
speech after speech their desire to bestow freedom to all and to
work for the betterment of people’s lives whereas they indulge
in self-deception and monologues which have themselves as the
only audience, satisfying themselves and their ideologies, whereas
when we reject suppressing others and accept others the way they
are we transcend deception and become true societal citizens.”
Anton said nothing. He felt his father was right. He felt
it in his heart and he only hoped that one day things might get

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