When the Tiger Roars

by Graeme Cann

  Forty eight hours after Alofa had returned from Towin, Ofa arrived with the news that the Mordecans would reach Sampa in two days. They would camp about one mile from the river and the next day they would launch their attack on Sampa.

  Ofa told Alofa about their journey. Just one day’s travelling out from Sampa, they had come upon a division of the Mordecan army encamped in a valley. As they watched them from their hiding place on a rocky outcrop, they noticed that there was a soldier on guard just below them. Two hundred yards further on there was another and further on again a third guard. None of the guards could see each other but were within shouting distance, and during the night that is how from time to time they would communicate with each other. Ofa’s first plan was to take the guard by surprise, capture him, and make him talk. The weakness in the plan was that if the man did not talk, or if he did not have the knowledge that they were seeking, they would have wasted precious time. The plan they finally agreed to was that they would take the guard and strip him of his battle garb. Ofa would then dress himself in the soldier’s clothes and wait for the replacement guard, who would come at the end of the shift. They would do the same with him, and then Ofa, dressed in Mordecan clothes, would infiltrate the camp, whilst a second spy, also in Mordecan garb, would act as the guard on duty. The third spy would guard the two unfortunate prisoners. Capturing the guards and relieving them of their uniform was not difficult. The element of surprise and the skill of Ofa and his men soon meant that that part of the operation was complete. However, entering the camp was much more of a challenge. It was important that Ofa looked like he knew where he was going, and equally important that he stayed with a crowd and avoided one-on-one conversations with Mordecan soldiers.

  As he neared the borders of the camp, he realised that a significant number of soldiers were heading toward a large tent near the centre of the camp. As he followed them in, he realised that it was a dining area of sorts, and hundreds of men were drinking and eating there. To his relief no one seemed interested in him and he lost himself at the back of the crowd. Just then, an officer leapt onto a table that served as a bar and called for everybody’s attention. “Men,” he said, “we are closing the tent in an hour as we have an early start tomorrow. We will spend tomorrow packing up the camp in readiness for marching the next day to Sampa.” As Ofa carefully made his way back to the guard post, he knew that they had no time to lose. They must walk through the night and they must take their prisoners with them.

  Before reporting to Alofa, the three spies took their prisoners to the barracks where, under threat of torture, they freely gave up more information. Almost immediately the Sampian army was mobilised and two large divisions crossed the river. One of the divisions took up a position about half a mile from where it was reckoned that the Mordecan army would rest for the night. The other encamped on the mountain side of the river, and a third and fourth division encamped on the Sampian side. Smaller battalions centred themselves in each of the hamlets and in the manufacturing area. For the Mordecan army, the element of surprise had been lost. This was not just the beginning of hostilities for the Sampian army, but also the signal to Alofa and his followers to activate their meticulously planned exodus. All the families leaving Sampa with Alofa were packed and prepared. The men and women who would gather the livestock were in position. Alofa, Misha, and some of the other leaders met together to go over their plans one last time. Then with a prayer to the Great Creator for protection, they waited for the sounds of battle that would signal it was time to leave.

  In the meantime, the Mordecans had reached the place which would become the launching pad for their assault on Sampa. They were busy setting up when they were startled by the blasts of trumpets that signalled the Sampian attack. Every able man and woman of Sampa had joined the Sampian army in a desperate attempt to defend their village. Despite the surprise attack, the Mordecans quickly overwhelmed the Sampian front line, and within hours controlled all the land on the mountain side of the river. Hundreds of Sampians died and hundreds more were injured. The Mordecans stormed so quickly across the river that the third division of the Sampian army were powerless to turn them back.

  At the height of the battle, Alofa and his followers activated their plan, and by sunset they had reached a place of comparative safety in a broad clearing surrounded by gigantic trees. Then astonishing as it may seem, under the cover of night, Alofa and Ofa retraced their steps, till they came to a hilltop from which they could see the Sampian valley. What they saw made them weep uncontrollably. The valley was alight. Scores of houses and other buildings were on fire. Other fires had been built using timber from fences and houses, and horrific as it sounds, the bodies of dead Sampians. By the light of those fires the two men could see the Mordecan soldiers dancing and cavorting in a drunken celebration, of not just victory but also of revenge that they had waited one hundred and fifty years to exact.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE EXODUS

  “Show me that age and country where the rights and liberties of the people were placed on the sole chance of their leaders being good men, without the consequent loss of liberty.”

  Patrick Henry

  Standing together, Alofa and Ofa silently thought about the many years when they and others had warned Kaluba of this very destruction. They thought of Loloma and other men and women who had given their lives because they had dared to oppose the despotic leadership of Sampa, and they thought of Muralu, the keeper of the Great Sampian Stories, now lying in his shallow grave near his cottage in Towin. As they stood, arms around each others shoulders, utterly devastated by the carnage that they looked upon, they both sensed at the same time that they were not alone. They turned together and watched breathlessly as a magnificent tiger approached to within a few metres of where they stood. This was the same tiger that Alofa had met in Muralu’s garden, and the same sadness that had emanated from him then now surrounded him as he looked down at the victory fires in the valley.

  The tiger did not appear to speak, but as at other times they could hear in their minds the words that they knew could only come from him.

  “Many hundreds of years have passed since my ancestor stood with your ancestor, Abele, and committed to a covenant between the Sampians and the animals of the forest. Because of the Covenant, we lived side by side without fear until the days of Rubin, father of Kaluba and Muralu. Since then fear has driven the greed, the anger, and the violence that has destroyed the Sampian nation. What began, built of faith and trust, exists no more. Sampa has been destroyed, obliterated from the pages of history, not by the Mordecans but by fear. Fear weakened them by making them self-absorbed, suspicious of others, controlling, and manipulative.

  “They trusted in laws to make them strong, and they became weak because only love strengthens the hearts of men and women. They trusted in armies to defend them and they were defeated, because safety and security are the fruit of faith and trust, not of fear and violence. Now Kaluba and all who followed him are dead. But the spirit of Muralu lives on in you, Alofa, and in you, Ofa, and in all who acknowledge the Great Creator and dare to live as a Covenant people. I will guide you to your new home, which you will call Loloma, on the other side of my forest. There you will live once again as a people of the Covenant and you and my kind will live side by side once more without fear.”

  When Ofa and Alofa joined the others in their sheltered and protective valley, their first task was to share with them what had happened to Sampa. The outpouring of grief was both heart- rending and prolonged. All day they sat in huddles weeping together and speaking in hushed tones of loved ones who had refused to come with them and now were dead. Some of them expressed feelings of guilt that they had been saved and others had died. Their only comfort was that the direction to leave Sampa at that particular time had come from the Great One of the Forest. The adults gathered their children around them and silently gave thanks that they were alive and together.

  It is difficult to describe the next
three weeks in the lives of these men, women, and children who, without knowing where they were going, were seekers after a new land and a new life. Each day they travelled for several hours through the rainforest. There were almost 200 people, accompanied by flocks of sheep and herds of goats, cattle, and even pigs. There were horses, too, some of them carrying loads on their backs and others, brought along for breeding purposes, running free. There were no clear pathways to follow and most of the time the men went in front hacking at the forest to make a way.

  Every day was painfully slow and every moment was lived within a breath of imminent danger. There were animals like wolves, wild dogs, cheetah, and tigers that seemed to be constantly present, and the sight of them and the continuous sounds they made would have terrified the travellers out of their wits had it not been for one thing. That one thing was that for the whole three weeks, from the beginning of the journey until the end, walking in the midst of this great posse of people and animals, was a magnificent tiger. At first some of the children were afraid, but soon they understood he was there to protect them from danger. Some of the small children sometimes rode on his back and at night they would lie close to him and rest their heads against his great belly. In addition to the apparent danger represented by wild animals, there were steep hills to climb, terrifying cliff faces with deep ravines below to navigate, and of course fast-flowing rivers to cross. Each day ended without loss of life or injury. There was always food and shelter, and in the evenings a comforting fire to sit by as they talked together of the beautiful valley that they would soon call home.

  Each evening after a hard day of trekking, Alofa would sit surrounded by the men, women, and children who travelled with him and for an hour he would tell some of one of the Four Great Sampian Stories. Most of them had never heard of Abele, the father of Sampa, or Galildra, “small in stature and bent in body, who stands among us as a giant among men.” Nor had many of them heard of Mesila, who had “died defending his father and later rose from the dead,” or of blind Marita, “who could see as no one else could see.” Few of these “pilgrims” would ever forget that early afternoon when they stood together on a hilltop looking down on a valley almost identical to the one they had left. There were no buildings or any other evidence of human habitation, but the mountain in the distance, on the other side of the valley, was the same, the river flowing at the base of the mountain along the full length of the valley was the same. For a fleeting moment for Alofa, it felt like this was Sampa in the days of Abele. But he knew that these were not the days of Abele: they were the days of Alofa and this was not Sampa—it was Loloma.

  Before they descended together into the valley, Alofa gathered the people together and spoke to them. With Misha by his side, he said, “We are Sampians, all of whom have lived our whole lives under the cruel rule of Kaluba and the Elders. Few of us know what it is to live without fear. Many among us have been beaten, raped, and imprisoned. Some of us have lost loved ones like my dear friend Loloma, who with Ofa and Domoni has stood in this very place, looking down on this valley, knowing that the Great Creator had given it to us. His wife Portia and his children are with us today. We all grieve because of the past, but this valley is our hope of a new life. This is not Sampa of centuries ago. This is Loloma of now. But some things have not changed. We still acknowledge the Great Creator as the Father of all things, and the Great One of the Forest who stands among us as the evidence of the Covenant on which we will build our lives in this valley. This, people of Loloma, is the place of new beginnings.”

  Few of the people who were there that day would ever forget what happened next. All of the forest animals, reptiles and birds, large and small, began to move down the hill and although the edge of the valley was two miles away, within a few moments they had placed themselves in two lines, forming the most remarkable guard of honour you could ever imagine. Then slowly, down this avenue came the people, the sheep, the cattle, the goats, the pigs, and the horses, until finally they surged onto the pastures that stretched out before them.

  As the last person stepped into the valley, a voice that sounded both as loud as thunder and as gentle as the voice of a mother said, “Children, welcome to your new home!”

  BOOK THREE

  THE PATHWAY TO HEALING

  INTRODUCTION

  Alofa and his wife Misha, both idealistic and passionate Sampians, had never experienced what it was like to live in a community like the one Muralu had described in his stories. But without having experienced it, they believed that such a community was possible, and in leading a party of Sampian survivors through the rainforest to an almost identical valley to the one they had left, they were following their dream.

  The Great One of the Forest had renewed the Covenant with Alofa, and all those who had travelled with him and Misha to the new valley of Loloma believed in the values and traditions of the original Sampa. However, it was also true that all of them were deeply wounded people. They had spent their whole lives in Sampa under the cruel reign of Kaluba. They knew what it was to be betrayed, sexually abused and enslaved by others, and to live under a crushing load of fear. They longed for things to be different but trusting others, and giving up the emotional mechanisms that protected them from being hurt again was far too difficult for many of them.

  Alofa served as Mother-Father for forty years, and when he died his place was taken by Damon who also served for forty years. After his death Mishka took his place and serves Loloma to this very day. One hundred years have passed since Alofa and Misha led that brave group of pilgrims through the rainforest and all the original founders of Loloma have died. Now it is time to reflect on the process that has brought the people of Loloma to where they are today.

  CHAPTER ONE

  MISHA’S STORY

  “Pain is a pesky part of being human. I have learned it feels like a stab wound in the heart, something I wish we could all do without in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that cannot be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of the pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart, but then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air! We may not have wings growing out our backs, but healing is the closest thing to the wind against our faces.”

  C. JoyBell C.

  Alofa’s dream when they had first arrived in the valley was to create a culture built on love, trust, equality, work, play, and worship. Each generation since has sought to continue to embrace that culture. This of course had been tested over the years as new families came to live in Loloma, and as political and economic changes were taking place in the world outside of their valley. From the very beginning the Loloma community, like the pre-Rubin Sampian community, was served by a group of Elders, both men and women. Each extended family met each year to either select a new Elder or affirm the one who was serving already. In the original population of just over two hundred people, there were about six extended family groups.

  Now, one hundred years later, with a population of just over two thousand persons, there are thirty family groups. These appointed Elders functioned then and still operate today a little like a council might do in another cultural setting. As in Sampa of old, one especially chosen person would always be recognised as the Mother-Father of the village. They would be usually a person who had distinguished themselves in some significant way and were respected for their wisdom. Even more significantly they would have had an encounter with the Great One of the Forest. Their ability to do that without fear would lead them to being regarded by all the people as the chosen one. Whilst this person did not serve with the Elders, they would consult him or her on many issues.

  The current Mother-Father is a granddaughter of Ofa, one of the founders of Loloma. She is a gracious lady with the beautiful name of Mishka who, despite her eighty years, carries herself with great dignity and poise. For more than fifty years she had taught and administered in the
local school which in that time had grown from a one-room school to a student community of more than three hundred students. It was in this role that she had distinguished herself as a woman of almost unlimited wisdom. As an accomplished musician, she had introduced musical instruments such as the flute and guitar. She had established musical groups and choirs, and every festival event was a musical extravaganza. Her husband had died in his forties, and she grieved his death deeply. It was at this time that she had her own personal encounter with the Great One of the Forest.

  The enormous tiger met her at her husband’s graveside where she had gone to weep as she had done each day since he died three months before. He had stood silently, near where she lay on the ground. For the umpteenth time she was questioning the Great Creator. “Why,” she cried, “do you make us so that we are capable of giving and receiving such deep love then, without warning, you take the one who we love from us? Would it not be better if we could not love so much, so that when we lost that person, we would not hurt as badly!”

  “My child,” a deep, compassionate voice said in her mind, “the Great Creator lets us choose how deeply we love another. You chose to give yourself unreservedly to the task of loving your husband, as he did also, to the task of loving you. As a result, your sense of loss is very great. In time the dark cloud of grief will begin to lift and you will understand that she who is capable of great love is also capable of arising from the deepest grief. Everything that you have given and received in the love relationship you had with him will become the core of the wisdom and courage you will need for your next task.” From that very day her courage and wisdom became evident to all, and she became a valued and wise Elder. When the time had come to appoint a new Father-Mother, she was chosen, and the whole village valued her wise judgments and gracious leadership.