Tag: procelytism

Arrows

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…how to use the strainer made of woven palm leaves. She took me to a
kind of oven that consisted of a circular structure with a large, flat
earthen plate on top and a fire burning underneath. I poured the
grated root and scattered it into a more or less round cake. I stood
there watching over it, lest it burn. I admired my first cassava cake,
an irregular spill, and fingered it so often that it cracked into pieces. I
ate it that night—it tasted like triumph.
From a tree beside the hut where I slept, I ate mamones by the
dozen, playing with the big, velvety seeds in my mouth until my
teeth felt as if they would fall out. The guavas, which had disgusted
me because of the little worms that sometimes infested them, I now
ate with delight—worms and all.
In time, I learned to differentiate the people of the Teque nation
from the others, who remained indistinguishable. Pure joy filled me
when, thanks to the boys who had taught me to use a bow, I
contributed a small, wild pig. After that, people spurned me less.
Tiaroa, Guacaipuro´s sister, came to me one day and offered me
an onoto—a red-dyed, sleeveless, hoodless tunic. My cassock was in
tatters, but it was the significance of the gift that left me speechless:
they had accepted me. I took the tunic and went to Tamanoa´s grave
to show it to him, so that he could rest assured that I was making
progress.

Weeks turned into months. I kept my distance from Apacuana. As
far as I could tell, she was not living with Baruta, and yet she was not
with other men either. Sometimes when I went to my cave to pray, I
would wonder to myself what might happen if she ever followed me
there, and I struggled to dismiss these thoughts, and often flayed
myself accordingly.
I preferred to make progress teaching my language to
Guacaipuro. If he could one day learn to read the New Testament,
he might be awakened to the ways of our Lord. I often ate at his
house and exchanged words with him. He was particularly puzzled…

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Savages and Beasts

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indeed Mr. Wilson was there with an Indian girl who
he violated sexually in front of their eyes. What could they do
with such a secret? Marcus shook his head.
“We could tell the teachers about this…you know,” Marcus
said to Lucas then he added, “no we’d better let know George;
yes, he’s the one we should let know, no one else. You promise?
No one else for now…” he added and Lucas nodded yes. With an
undoubted ache filling their hearts they took the piece of wood
they went to the wood working shop for and as silently as they
could they returned to their beds. Marcus hid the wood under
his mattress hoping to give it to a relative next time he might visit
his tribe and ask him to create a totem out of it.
Next day the clock struck seven thirty as if someone had
struck it with a strap when Marcus and Lucas got up. The Kamloops
sky was full of leaden clouds which spread moist over the
houses with their green yards and the slanting roofs and on the
hearts of the people. Marcus and Lucas and three other kids were
peeling potatoes for George when Marcus got his chance to
talk to the Cretan cook about the event they witnessed. George
freaked out when he heard the detail description of what Mr.
Wilson did the night before. So angry he was that he left the
kitchen and ran down to Anton’s domain where he related to him
what he learned from the boys.
Anton’s face darkened, his eyes turned fiery red, his lips
tightened as did his fists; he could strike anyone at this moment,
so angry he felt, though the guilty person wasn’t around to
take the punches. He looked at George and his voice sounded
as if coming from the darkness where his heart was now. He
gazed at the window facing east while the horizon at the far distance
told of the presence of forests, which stood opposite the
beastly human behaviour, and valleys with rivers…

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Arrows

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…didn’t address me. We ate in silence, and I contented myself with
what he offered me. I knew it was pointless to discuss Tamanoa, to
protest.
“Do you know why I have decided you will not die like your
servant?” he finally asked, breaking the silence, scowling at the fish
he was eating.
“I think God must have told you to let me live.”
He snorted.
“I am not to tell you why. It is for a reason for someone else to say.
But I know it took courage for you to come to us. And now I see the
way you have mourned your servant. Pariamanaco has told me. I
had never believed it possible that a white man could cry over an
Indian, as you call us, half-breed or not.”
“Tamanoa was my friend,” I said, feeling sadness and anger
welling within me. I dropped the bite of plantain I had pinched
between myfingers onto the plantain leaf. “Why did you kill him?”
“Half-breeds, they are traitors. They are not white, not one of us.
They learn our ways and betray us.”
“Tamanoa was good,” I said a bit more sharply than I had
intended.
He gave me a derogatory grimace.
“Why did you save her?” he asked, referring to his wife.
“I didn’t, God did.”
He glared at me briefly, but then turned his attention back to the
fish and cassava.
“I want what is good for you,” I continued. “I want you and your
people to see the Creator when you die.”
He gave me a fearsome scowl.
“I’ll see Mareoka. I am shaman, don’t need you for that.”
“Only born-again people can see him,” I paraphrased, for
understandably they did not have a word for baptism. “That is the
message I bring.”
“Born again? How can you be born again? That is crazy.”
“You are born again when I pour water over your head in the
name of the Father, the Son and the . . .”—suddenly it struck me …

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Arrows

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thundersticks of the white men, never making it to the appointed
battlefield. Others fell under the hoofs of the frightening beasts or
were stuck by the long spears while trying to break through metal
with their wooden swords.
Guacaipuro and Paramaconi persisted in their attempts to pass,
thinking that the rest of the coalition must long be engaged in battle.
Precious hours went by. It was past noon when Losada, sick to his
stomach in bed, was notified of the unnatural gathering of savages
on the outskirts of the city.
The several caciques that had opted to wait and those who had
wanted the charge soon found the choice made for them. I was told
later by Benjamin that Losada dressed leisurely when alerted to the
Indian presence, showing once again the temperance that had
always characterized him. He chose thirty men and appointed the
rest to the protection of the city.
The cavalry went out first, forming a crushing front with horses
bred and trained for bodily conflict: horses that would kick, turn and
caracole on command; that would not shy away from the sound of
battle; that would dismiss wounds as long as they could stand. The
infantry followed, finishing off any stubborn traces of life. Many
Indians fled in confusion, but it was a massacre all the same.
In my days with the conquistadors, I heard many stories of battle
and triumph. In those accounts, there were always thousands of
Indians attacking a handful of heroes who, despite the odds,
managed to come out victorious. The Indians could not possibly win
simply because of their inferior means, but had there been so many
thousands, as the Spanish accounts relate, I am sure no Spaniard,
half-breed or traitorous Indian would have survived.
From living amongst them, I knew there was no lack of courage or
commitment from the Indians. On that day, according to Benjamin,
after the Spaniards had thought most of the Indians were dead or
had withdrawn, a solitary voice defied Losada. There, amid corpses
and dying friends, stood Tiuna with gold bracelets on his arms and a
gold pendant on his chest. He was a warrior from the Caracas
Indians, of which Catia was cacique.

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Savages and Beasts

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his wife of eighteen years got pissed right off and left him; she
filed for a divorce which was issued with no contention at further
financial loss for Mr. Wilson, who moved to a shabby apartment
and he even had to sell his truck to pay off some of his debt.
These days Mr. Wilson finds enough satisfaction in his
present work since it pays him some money, which along with
the government assistance on which he also relies gives him just
enough to support himself. Today though his mind ran to his
ex-wife, who he found out was cheating on him long before the
downturn of the real estate market and that recollection truly
pissed him off to the point that he saw women as nothing but gold
diggers. His mind bothered him a lot lately, when he recalled the
last years with Ariel, his ex-wife who he could simply kill if he
would get the chance.
His angry eyes fell on a young man who responded to the
name Lucas, an Indian youth, who by handling his handsaw the
wrong way he misplaced a cut on the piece of wood he was working
and this was something Mr. Wilson couldn’t tolerate. He
clenched his teeth, grabbed the ruined piece of the plank from
Lucas’ hands and struck the back of the unfortunate young man
with such force that made the boy scream in pain and run away
from his teacher who was still holding the instrument of pain
ready to reapply it on the back of the youth.
“You stupid dog, you ruined your wood,” the teacher
yelled on the top of his lungs while Lucas, being in extreme pain,
kept on yelling and cursing in his language something his teacher
couldn’t understand and which made him angrier. The boy’s fists
tightened and he ran against his teacher when Marcus, who had
witnessed everything as all other boys had, stood in the middle
between the angry student and the scared teacher and upon hugging
Lucas, he whispered to him,

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Arrows

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Arrogant and stupid, that’s what I was. And being what I was, I
failed to stop the last great war. I hesitated. I waited too long.
One night I was startled awake by drums in the small hours
before dawn. Indians used hollow tree trunks that were remarkably
loud, hitting them with sticks of about the length and diameter of a
forearm. The women started a hellish racket that would have
awakened Lazarus.
I went outside and found the fires blazing and a sizable group of
women walking rhythmically about in single file, each with a hand
on the shoulder of the next in the firelight.
Some men stood while their women painted their bodies with
crushed onoto seeds mixed with ashes and adorned them with
feathers. Others were ready and gathering their weapons. There was
tension in the air. I made my way through the confusion in search of
someone who could explain what was happening.
I went to Guacaipuro’s hut and saw him standing very still at the
entrance, his gaze lost in the distance. Beside him, Baruta, painted
and feathered, waited unobtrusively. Someone tapped me on the
arm. Pariamanaco was breathing fast, a stern expression on his
boyish face.
“What’s happening?” I asked him.
“War.”
“Who? Where?” I asked.
“The city they founded.”
“Santiago de León de Caracas?”
He shrugged, curving the corners of his mouth. Those words
meant nothing to his ears.
“I must talk to your uncle.”
“He ordered to be left alone. He doesn’t want to talk. All caciques
will bring their men. They will meet at Maracapana. It is too late for
talk.”
“Maracapana?”
He shrugged. He didn’t know where that was. He had never been
more than a few miles from the confines of the village.
Gaucaipuro stood while Urquía ceremoniously placed a jaguar’s

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Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

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the ship’s rail while Brother Berach bathed his fevered face. Hrafen climbed aboard
in a fury of curses. First, he picked up the bucket of water Berach had been using and
dumped the contents on the two monks. Then he grabbed the protesting Berach by
the back of his tunic, swung him around, and flung him against the rail. The old man
lay unmoving on the deck.
Brother Keallach had taken a few moments from the hot job of caulking to
come on deck to relieve himself over the side. On seeing what was happening between
Hrafen and the two elderly Brothers, he bounded to the prow to face the
bully. Though he shook with anger at such an unwarranted attack, he held himself
in check while the Norseman continued his tirade. When Hrafen bellowed that the
two old thralls must have been responsible for the ram’s escape in the first place,
Keallach, who had seen how the animal bolted the moment it was released from
its pen on board ship, could neither speak nor understand the Norse tongue. As it
was, the two men stood glaring at one another. The Norseman picked up the empty
bucket and flung it with all his might toward the open sea. Then he stomped off to
the far end of the knarr.
Finten, Rordan, Ailan and Lorcan came on deck, along with Atall their guard, to
see what was going on. But Kyrri was sufficiently deaf that he had not been disturbed
by the ruckus on deck. He just carried on caulking and did not come up until he
noticed his helpers were gone.
Father Finten knelt in a slowly forming puddle of blood to hold the old man, now
limp in his arms. Brother Berach’s neck hung at an odd angle, blood trickling from
his open mouth. Rordan and Ailan crossed themselves and dropped to their knees
in silent shock, tears streaming from their eyes. Keallach stood glaring at the bully,
holding his own anger.
Brother Lorcan did not kneel. He looked at Keallach, turned to follow his gaze toward
the killer and slowly, deliberately walked toward him. By the time they thought
to hold him back, it was too late. Hrafen picked him up with both hands around his
throat, shook him violently and heaved him over the side.

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Savages and Beasts

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indeed happened a few years later when the teacher with her
epiphany passed into the sweet embrace of her Lord, only to leave
behind the unhealed scars of ridicule inflicted upon these Indian
girls; scars which they were meant to retain for the rest of their
lives.
Anton’s and Mary’s feelings strengthened as they days
went by and as they had their occasional intimacy when the circumstances
would allow it and when Mary’s psychological state
of mind would cooperate; they felt strongly about their future
which at times they discussed.
“I want us to leave and go someplace far away,” she would
say to Anton.
“I want that too, and I’m certain time will come for it, yet
for now we have a duty to do: what is best for these kids before
we bail out and leave,” Anton would say to her and to which she
never had any objecting word to say. It was enough for her that
she’d have a future with the man she loved and when it would
come together or in which part of the world they might decide to
move she was wholeheartedly willing to give it a chance.
Anton had devoted some of his time to fix his room. He
took all old things out, donated them to the local charity, one’s
leftovers are always someone else’s treasure, as the saying goes;
he also got a couple of gallons of paint and gave his office a fresh
look. He bought a new bed and beddings from the local Hudson’s
Bay store which he transported with his truck to the School and
put it together. He didn’t even ask Father Nicolas whether the
School would cover the expense, he just bought it and with the
new coat of paint the room it looked a lot better than before.
Anton had also developed a very strong friendship with
George the Cretan cook of the School and they often talked of
Anton’s plans which always included Mary and also the fate …

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Arrows

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When he had finished with my face, he gave me an appreciative
look and nodded his satisfaction. Then, he extended the gourd to me
and told me to do the same over the rest of my body. I was reluctant
at first, but after a spell he left, and I began to feel the itching ease.
Good enough for me, I thought, and proceeded to do as I was told.
I was squeezing the last of the sap and applying it to my groin
when Guacaipuro appeared, still wearing his perpetual scowl.
“Mareoka,” he said.
Apparently he was resuming our conversation. He extended his
hand, palm upward. I looked at it stupidly and then at his
countenance, failing to grasp his meaning.
“Mareoka,” he repeated. He thrust his hand toward me again. I
felt as though there was a tiny monk running amok inside my head,
looking in every corner for something related to this one magic word
that was the gateway to his witchcraft.
“Ah! Mareoka!” I slapped my forehead, as if I suddenly
understood.
For the first time, Guacaipuro smiled, as if he had finally won me
over. From the pocket of my habit I extracted my copy of the New
Testament that he had previously rejected by tossing it onto the
ground. I offered it to him again. “Mareoka,” I said, solemnly.
If I was agreeing that Mareoka was superior, it was only to allow
me the freedom to prove to him otherwise. I hoped God would
forgive me.
“Tamanoa,” I said, pointing to my friend.
Guacaipuro was more interested in the strangeness of the book. I
seized the opportunity to take advantage of my newfound
respectability by untying the ropes. Guacaipuro did not appear to
object. I moved slowly, deliberately, until Tamanoa was able to
stand beside me, free.
Guacaipuro shook his head, dissatisfied. He took the rope and
tied Tamanoa’s wrist to my wrist. This was his compromise
solution. I must not allow my servant to run away. As soon as I
gleaned his intent, I yanked hard on the rope, jerking Tamanoa
beside me.

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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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