by Graeme Cann
“Marita had one other amazing gift. When people were sick or injured, or even just afraid, she would go and sit with them. After some time she would begin to sing over them. In her song, she would describe their fears and their inner pain. Then she would sing courage, hope, and faith into their hearts. They would gradually grow stronger emotionally and physically, and then she would stop her singing and leave.
“Even so, not everyone could see what her mother saw. They did not see Marita as the fulfilment of Mesila’s prophecy until one very, very remarkable day. It was the day after the Mother-Father who had served Sampa for the whole of Marita’s life had died. The people rose that day to mourn the loss of a very great man. They would weep today, not for him but for themselves. Who would love and protect them now? Who would be their wise counsellor and the custodian of the Sampian Stories? As Marita dressed, she felt a strange mix of emotions. She felt fear, similar to the feeling that she felt as thunder crashed around the valley, but she also felt a strange strength, a strength represented by the powerful winds that sometimes blew up the valley from the south. She asked her mother to choose her orange dress, the colour of strength, and around her shoulders she draped a black shawl, the colour of fear. When she joined her friends that morning, no one dared to ask her why she wore the colours of fear and strength, because they could see on her face that farseeing and all-knowing look that warned them not to speak.
“As the people gathered in the village square and the Elders mounted the platform and stood solemnly around the flower bedecked body of the man they dearly loved and who had served Sampa for fifty years, Marita stood quietly, head bowed at the rear of the crowd. As the people began to sing a traditional Sampian funeral song, Marita felt a powerful urge to turn so that she faced away from the platform and the crowd. Then as if in a trance, she was drawn forward, slowly, one step at a time. Her hesitancy was not because she could not see, but rather the opposite. There ahead of her was the vision of a tigress. Many times in her bed she had dreamt of this animal and now it appeared as it had in her dreams. It stood one and a half metres tall and was clothed in the colour of warmth and purity. Around its body, like giant hoops, were evenly spaced stripes the colour of danger. Around her was a most beautiful aura of peace, happiness, love, and safety.
“She continued to be drawn toward the tigress when suddenly she became aware of the silence. The people behind her had ceased from their singing and had turned in her direction. They did not see what she saw. They simply saw a tigress: a massive white tigress with black stripes, piercing ice-blue eyes, and huge menacing teeth. They saw no aura around her that spoke of peace and safety. All they saw was their beautiful, blind Marita clothed in gold and black walking to what to them seemed like certain death. No one moved. They could barely dare to breathe. They watched Marita continue her slow trancelike walk until she reached the great beast. The girl and the tiger faced each other for what seemed like an eternity. What happened next was totally unexpected. A woman, a tall middle-aged woman, left the crowd and walked with great dignity and assurance toward where the girl and the great animal stood together. The woman was Marla, Marita’s mother: the great granddaughter of the greatest Mother-Father of all time. When she reached the place where Marita stood she turned, and in a voice that miraculously filled the whole valley, she spoke to the crowd.
“‘My name is Marla. I am the mother of Marita. We all know, because we have heard the story often, that when Galildra the Great was Mother-Father of Sampa, and Mesila was his son, chosen to succeed his father at his death, a man called Mordeca rose up in rebellion and led a band of insurgents with the purpose of killing Galildra and his only son and taking over Sampa. Mesila saved his father that day and carried him into the forest where he would be safe. He returned to the road, on which Mordeca was following after him, and confronted his enemy. In the hand-to-hand battle, in which Mesila was unarmed, Mordeca gained the advantage and stabbed him with his knife. Mesila died, and as Mordeca rose up to kill Galildra, he was blocked by the Great One of the Forest.’ Here Marla gestured toward the tiger, now sitting on its haunches beside Marita. Marla continued, ‘The tiger leaned over the dead Mesila’s face and breathed on him and he returned to life. Mordeca was so filled with fear that his heart failed him and he died.
“‘It was on that day that the people of Sampa knew that Mesila had died so that the evil of Mordeca would be defeated. They also knew that he had met with the Great Creator and the Great One of the Forest, and they revered him as their deliverer. Listen, people of Sampa. Years later, shortly before his death, Mesila spoke of today. He said that at a time when she was most needed, a new Mother-Father would be chosen, and all Sampa would recognise her and follow her, because she will see as no one has ever seen before.’As Marla finished speaking, the tigress rose and for the first time moved her gaze from Marita and turned it upon the crowd. Those who were present that day said that though the tiger’s mouth did not move they heard her speak. A voice filled the valley. It sounded like thunder but at the same time it was as beautiful and melodious as Marita’s voice.
“‘It is true,’ the voice thundered, ‘as Marla has said. Today I come again to the people of Sampa, and I have three duties to perform. First, I have come to honour the man you are about to bury. For fifty years he has been faithful to our covenant. Neither has he broken it nor has he permitted any among you to do so either. He indeed was worthy to be called your Mother-Father. My second duty is to affirm the words of Mesila’s prophecy. The woman “who sees as no one before her has seen” stands here before you as the one I appoint on behalf of the Great Creator to be the human custodian of the Covenant. My last duty is to warn you of difficult days ahead. It is true that Mordeca died, but his spirit lives on in the Mordecans of the mountains. They do not acknowledge the Great Creator or the Great One of the Forest. They do not honour the Covenant or their fellow men or the animals of the forest. They will come to fight against you, and unless you listen to “she who sees as no one else sees,” you will perish.’ The voice stopped, and the tiger seemed to lower its head and breathe deeply on Marita. It then turned and walked slowly and noiselessly into the forest.
“When the tiger had at last disappeared, the people, with the quiet dignity for which they were well known, returned to the task of the funeral, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. However three days later, the whole community gathered once again in the village, this time to celebrate the recognition of Marita as their Mother-Father.”
CHAPTER TWO
MARITA’S STORY CONTINUES
Muralu stopped speaking and slowly rose from his chair. “I must rest and we must eat,” he said. “Then after lunch I have someone for you to meet, someone who will tell you something that you must hear before I continue the story of Marita.”
After lunch Alofu sat alone on Muralu’s veranda, facing north, the direction that he would later travel to Sampa. He was in a solemn mood as he considered the difference between Sampa as he knew it and the Sampa in which Marita lived. What had happened, he wondered, that had changed Sampa from a peaceful and compassionate place to the dangerous place it is now?
“At the sound of footsteps on the path, he turned to watch Muralu and another old man approach. The stranger was not black like Muralu, and was not as tall. His white hair had thinned and his shoulders were stooped. He smiled awkwardly as he offered his hand to Alofu. “This is Kadir, the great-great-grandson of Mordeca,” his uncle said quietly. “He has become my friend and he has agreed to tell you the story of his people.”
Kadir looked intently at the young man.
“You, Alofa, are a descendant of Galildra, and I am the great-great-grandson of his archenemy Mordeca, but you and I are not enemies. Many years ago I left the mountains and came to live in Towin. It was here that I met your uncle, who told me the stories of Abele, Galildra, Mesila, Marita, and the Covenant. You must understand that I had never heard those stories before, and when I did, I felt deeply ashamed. M
uralu urged me not to be ashamed. He reminded me that I was a Sampian before I became a Mordecan, and he encouraged me to become a believer in the Great Creator and the Covenant; so you see,” he said with a hopeful smile, “we are friends.” Alofa smiled warmly and held out his hand to Kadir again.
“Nearly two hundred years ago my great-great-grandfather led a failed rebellion against Galildra and his son Mesila, and as a result he died and all of his family and followers were banished from Sampa. They settled in a valley three days’ march from Sampa, and they established a village called Mordeca. At first they farmed the valley in much the same way as they had in Sampa, but the Council of Elders were cruel and greedy, and they claimed all the land as their own and forced the people to farm it for them. This meant that the Elders and their families became rich and powerful, and the rest of the people were relatively poor. The Elders taught the people that their real home was Sampa, and that they had been driven from it by the wizards who ruled it, and one day, when the time was right, they would return and take it back. They spoke about Sampa as a “land that flowed with milk and honey,” a land that was fertile and productive, and a land to which one day they would return. They told stories about a great leader, even greater and braver than Mordeca, who would rise up amongst them. This leader would possess a magic far superior to that of the wizards of Sampa. He would lead the Mordecans into a great battle in which all the Sampians would die and the valley would once again become their rightful dwelling place.
“After about fifty years the population had increased and the valley they had settled in was too small. Some of the people began to say that it was time to take Sampa back, but the leaders maintained that it was not yet time. Instead they attacked another village in a valley one day’s march from Mordeca. They killed all the inhabitants and stole their livestock and farming equipment. Some of the ruling families and their workers moved there and established another community. When fifty more years had passed, men from the towns in the north came into the mountains to dig for gold and many of our people worked in the mines and some learnt to manufacture tools and equipment that the miners use. The Mordecans became very wealthy and very powerful. They built a strong army equipped not only with swords but with guns. Every Mordecan young man and woman was conscripted and joined the army for three years.
“One hundred years after the Mordecans had been driven out of Sampa, a baby boy called Moloch was born, and as he grew he rose through the army ranks and gained a reputation of being a mighty warrior and a fearless leader. He was given great honour by the Elders, and in the same year that Marita became Mother-Father of Sampa, he assumed a position of supreme power. What I am telling you, Alofa, is very important. The news from Mordeca is that at this very time Moloch’s grandson, Mahka, is preparing to march on Sampa in the very near future. The information that I have gathered is that the Mordecan army will reach Sampa in early summer, maybe as soon as a month’s time. Whatever you are planning to do, Alofa, you must do it quickly.”
That evening the three men sat together on the veranda watching the sun set slowly in the western sky. They dined together, and during the meal Kadir told Alofu about how he had met Muralu. Soon after settling with his family in Towin, his small son had become ill, and Kadir and his wife had taken him to the doctor. However when the doctor found that they had no money and could not afford to pay him, he refused to see their son and turned them out on the street. Muralu had been passing by just at that precise moment and noticing their distress, offered to help them. Embarrassed by the kindness of a Sampian, they at first rejected his offer, but he insisted, and finally took them to a kindly Sampian doctor who treated their little boy without charge. In the days that followed, Kadir had sought out Muralu to ask him why a Sampian would help a Mordecan. A deep friendship grew between the two men and had lasted for many years.
“In the year after Marita became the Mother-Father of Sampa,” Muralu said, as he continued the third Great Sampian Story, “a great tragedy occurred to the people in the southern end of the mountain. A bushfire driven by hurricane force winds tore through hundreds of miles of heavily wooded country, wiping out everything in its path. Every house in three separate villages was destroyed. So quickly had the fire come that many had no time to escape, and hundreds lost their lives. Sampa was not directly affected by the fire but quickly became involved. Hundreds of people made it out of the mountain and travelled down the river to Sampa seeking refuge.
“For many days the Sampians and the refugees worked side by side, building emergency accommodation on the banks of the river. The women cooked meals, and the men travelled to Towin for extra supplies. Some of the refugees had been severely burnt in their escape and needed special care and attention. A building in the middle of the village was made available to be used as a hospital. The children were cared for in an improvised day care centre. In the weeks after the fire, many of the men returned to where their village had been. They began to rebuild their houses, whilst the women, children, and the injured remained at Sampa.
“It was during this time that the stories of Marita ‘the healer’ began to spread through the remaining villages in the mountains. The stories even reached Mordeca, and because of their hatred toward Sampa, the stories soon became ‘the myths of Marita the Sorcerer.’ There were stories of ‘the one who sees as no one else sees’ coming to the ‘hospital’ during the night and quietly sitting with a badly burnt patient. She would softly sing over the patient, and in the morning she would be gone and the patient would be healed. Even the scars would have disappeared. During the daytime, Marita tirelessly supervised the entire rescue mission, and within six months almost all the refugees had returned to their villages where their new homes awaited them.
“Some twelve months after the devastating fires had occurred, one of the villages that had been rebuilt by the people of Sampa invited Marita and the Elders to a celebration in their new village. After a sumptuous feast and many speeches, all of which expressed the heartfelt gratitude of the villagers, Marita was asked to speak.
“‘My friends,’ she began, ‘what we have been able to do for the people of this village is not extraordinary. You suffered a great tragedy. Many of you lost loved ones who were burnt to death. All of you lost your homes, your gardens, your crops, and your animals. Some of you will experience the consequences of your physical injuries for the rest of your lives. You are the real heroes. You have refused to be bowed by your pain and your losses. You have chosen to believe that a new beginning is possible.
“‘All we have done is to provide you with resources and companionship, both of which enabled you to pursue your vision of a new beginning. Without your remarkable courage and resolve, we would not be celebrating today.’ As she finished speaking, a young man whose name was Shua and his beautiful wife Tina stepped forward and stood beside her on the platform. It was clear that they were regarded as leaders among the people of the village, and they waited respectfully for them to speak.
“‘Marita,’ he said, ‘we are grateful for our new houses, our new fences, and the new livestock that Sampa has provided for us, but all that pales into insignificance compared to what you have taught us. You and your people were not afraid to welcome us even though you knew that our coming was going to cost you dearly. You taught us about love and generosity. You listened to our grief. You tended to our injuries. You calmed the fears of our children.
“‘We heard you speak and sing of the Great Creator, and we know that who you believe the Great Creator to be is the reason that you could act with such selfless love and generosity.’ He paused, and Tina continued.
“‘Marita, we have always been a superstitious and warlike people. We believed in spirits and magic, and now we understand that what we believed is what made us afraid. Now that we understand that, we have burned our idols, and instead of rebuilding our spirit houses, we have decided to honour the Great Creator. We now meet here in our village square to sing the songs you sang to us, and to celebra
te the love and mercy that Great Creator has shown us through you.’ As Tina and Shua embraced Marita, all the people of that village applauded before breaking into a song of thanksgiving.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE GATHERING DARKNESS
“Fear and intimidation are tactics that work very well on those who allow themselves to be afraid and intimidated.”
Morgan Rhodes, Gathering Darkness
“While Marita and the people of Sampa had been busy attending to the needs of the mountain refugees, Moloch, the Mordecan military leader, was busy mobilising his armies to march on Sampa. He was supremely confident, because he knew that Sampa had no army, no weapons, and no defences. He would march into Sampa with little or no resistance, kill the wizard-worshipping natives, and occupy each of the hamlets. Then at last Mordeca would be avenged, and his people would once again live in the land that rightly belonged to them.
“When they left the village of Mordeca, it was a warm spring day. They had a three-day march ahead of them. They were fit, well prepared, heavily armed, and well victualled. By the time they reached camp on the first day, word had arrived at Sampa that an attack was imminent. Alarmed by the news, the people gathered in the village square, and Marita mounted the platform. ‘People of Sampa,’ she said, ‘one hundred and fifty years ago, those who opposed Galildra criticised him because Sampa did not have an army, or weapons, or even lookouts on our borders. Now the descendants of the very people who criticised him for that are marching against us. They know that we still do not have an army and therefore believe we will easily fall. We do not have an army, but we have a plan. On the day after tomorrow, they will arrive on the other side of the river which they will plan to cross by building a log bridge. We will march to meet them. Every man, woman, and child will march. We will carry no weapons. We will take no lives. But we will be armed. We will be armed with an unshakable belief that the Great Creator will deliver us from our enemy. We will be armed with the courage of good people who do not know how to be afraid. We will meet them at the river, and we will drive them back.’