When the Tiger Roars

by Graeme Cann

  “I began to injure myself and to deliberately put myself in danger in the hope that I would die. I starved myself and even went into the forest and ate poisonous berries, with the hope that they would kill me. When that failed, I began to hurt others. I flew into rages and one day I hit my wife and broke things that I knew she loved. Then she left me and went back to live with her parents. Alofa who was the Father-Mother at the time made me leave the family home so that she could come back. He told me that I was to give her money and food and that I must stay away from her. Every day I was to work with other men, and also spend time talking with one of the wise elders.

  “I realised that I loved my wife and that I wanted to live with her and the children. My mentor helped me understand that all my life I had been projecting the anger that I had toward my uncle on to people I loved and onto myself. My anger was meant to punish him but instead I was punishing myself and others who did not deserve it. Yes, Damon, I was living more like a tiger than a man.

  “When I understood how destructive my anger had become, I became consumed with a desire to kill my uncle and avenge myself once and for all, but before I could do it, my uncle became ill and died. Now I was angrier than ever. Not only had my uncle abused me and caused me all this pain, but now he had escaped my anger. I turned my anger then on to the Great Creator and often at night I would scream my hatred at the stars.”

  All the men sat in stunned silence. Most of them had known of his anger, but few if any had known of his abuse, nor of his hatred toward his uncle who had been a highly respected man in the community. Some felt guilty as they recalled the praise that they poured on this man at his funeral. He had been an evil perpetrator but had escaped detection. They wondered how many other young men or women he had abused. Their heads were bowed and their hearts ached. They could make no response that would have been appropriate at that moment.

  “One day my mentor asked me whether I blamed myself for the abuse I had suffered. I at first said that I did not. Then I began to cry. I was filled with a sense of self-loathing and disgust. I knew then that all these years I had felt guilty, and much of what I had internalised had been self-hatred.” He helped me see that the blame for the abuse lay completely with my abuser. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He had groomed me and manipulated the circumstances, knowing that what he was planning was evil and destructive. I had been the victim and because of my age and size at the time, I had been powerless to prevent it from happening. My mentor asked me whether I would be prepared to release myself from all responsibility for the abuse and shift the blame entirely onto my uncle. After a time I said that I would and the relief I felt was beyond description. For the first time in my life I felt that it was possible to like myself. Several days later my mentor told me that in the same way that my uncle was entirely responsible for the abuse, I was responsible for continuing to respond to the abuse in ways that I knew were destructive. At first I was shocked and angry at this. Was this not the same as saying I was to blame?

  “Over the next few days I began to understand. My uncle was responsible for the abuse and I should not be willing to carry the blame for anything that he had chosen to do. However, the beliefs that I had about myself, the anger I projected on my loved ones and the decision to isolate myself from others, are choices I had made and I was the only one who had the power to change those decisions. I cannot change the event but I can change my response to the event. Once I had made that decision, I realised that for many people including my wife and my children, I had become the predator and they had become the victims. I no longer felt guilty that I had been abused, but I did feel guilty that I had abused others. I asked the Great Creator to forgive me and then I went to those I had wounded and apologised for hurting them and asked them to forgive me for my anger and violence. Some of those to whom I apologised were not able to forgive me straight away, not because they did not love me, but because they were afraid; however, in due course, when they had seen the changes in me, they were able to forgive me and felt safe inviting me back into the home. At last I felt that I no longer needed to live as a tiger, isolated, afraid, and aggressive, and the freedom to love my wife and my children was the most wonderful feeling that I had ever experienced.

  “Some weeks later my mentor explained to me that my anger toward my uncle had the effect of binding me to the past, and though I should never condone his behaviour toward me because it was both criminal and evil, I could free myself from its negative effect on my life. He told me that ‘forgiveness’ means ‘to set free,’ and when we forgive another we set ourselves free from the destructive power of internalised anger. I realised then that that is exactly what my wife and children had done for me, and for the first time in my life I considered forgiving my uncle in the same way that my family had forgiven me. I found this a difficult step to take, but it was made easier by the realisation that even if my uncle was still alive, such forgiveness would not necessarily mean reconciliation. That would only have been possible if my forgiveness had been matched by his repentance and willingness to get help to change. But this was not my concern now, and in time I had the courage to step into another level of forgiveness and freedom.”

  The men continued to sit in silence for a long time, and then one by one they rose and walked slowly away from the group, each one stopping as they passed the young man to squeeze his shoulder in an expression of admiration and gratitude. Damon waited until they had all gone and then he went to the young man and they embraced each other for a very long time.

  Damon was greatly inspired by this event, and in the years that followed he frequently encouraged the telling of healing stories among the men. Each story strengthened the sense of belonging that the men felt to the community of Loloma, as well as deepening their commitment to the values of honour, respect, equality, and justice. In the years that Damon was the Mother-Father of Loloma, these values became increasingly important, and on the surface, at least, it seemed like the valley had become a safer and more peaceful place.

  During his time as Mother-Father of Loloma, Damon faced an unexpected challenge. Improved road and river transport meant that the people of Loloma now travelled to Towin freely both for business and pleasure. Indeed some of the young people now lived in Towin for work and study, returning periodically to visit their families. These young people and those who regularly visited Towin had contact with the people who lived and worked in the valley from which Alofa and those who were with him had fled nearly fifty years ago. Sampa, as it was then known, had been overrun by the Mordecan army, and on that day hundreds of Sampians died. The conquering army raised the flag of Mordeca and renamed Sampa Moloch, after one of its great generals. Kaluba and his generals were tortured and murdered, and ultimately replaced by a dictator who governed, as Kaluba had done, through the army. For more than a decade the Sampians who survived were harshly treated and forced to labour for the people of Moloch, receiving only their food and lodging in return. But gradually things began to change. The Sampians were hard workers and skilful farmers, and their new masters began to value them and give them responsibility and privileges, with some of their number actually attaining important positions in the army.

  At the time that Damon became Mother-Father of Loloma, the grief over what had been the fate of Sampa was still clearly visible, and the stories that were told and the songs that were sung were laced with great bitterness toward the Mordecans who had driven them from their beloved valley. So when stories of Moloch being a more prosperous community than it had been under Kaluba, and a much safer place than it had been in the days of their immediate ancestors, began to circulate, the people of Loloma rejected them angrily. When Damon received and accepted an invitation to go to Moloch and see for himself whether the stories were true, some of the Elders and some refugees who had recently come to Loloma from Moloch strongly opposed him, saying that for him to go to Moloch would be an act of betrayal of the founding fathers of Loloma.

  Two months after receiv
ing the invitation, he travelled to Towin by boat, and then to Moloch by road. En route, the vehicle in which he was travelling paused on the very hilltop from which Alofa had viewed the valley of Sampa only days before it was attacked by the Mordecans. On that day Alofa had been saddened by what he saw because he knew what terrible things were going to happen, but as Damon now stood in the same place, he was filled with wonder. Stretching out before him was a valley that in almost every respect was identical to Loloma. The river flowing at the foot of the mountains on one side, and the rainforest on the other, and in between, as far as he could see, fields filled with crops, gardens, and livestock. What he saw that differed from Loloma was the huge army barracks at the end of the valley nearest to him. Apart from that, everything else spoke of the same vitality and prosperity that he knew existed in Loloma.

  He was warmly welcomed at a reception in the village square, before being taken to the home of a couple who were of a similar age to himself. Although they had both been born just prior to the fall of Sampa, Randle and Lana described themselves as Mordecans. Their home was modest but very comfortable, and the hospitality they offered him was warm and generous. After the evening meal, they sat together on the veranda. As they watched the sun setting, Randle began to speak.

  “My father, Damon, grew up here in what was then called Sampa, with your father. They served in the army together before your father left to join Alofa and his followers. My father was Alofa’s brother, but did not see things as Alofa did. He had great faith in the army and strongly believed that if there was an attack by the Mordecans, it would be easily repelled. He saw Alofa and your father as prophets of doom and when he learnt that at the height of the battle they and two hundred others had fled taking their livestock with them, he saw them as deserters. For the rest of his life he refused to even say Alofa’s name; so great was his bitterness toward him.

  “After the army was defeated, the suffering of the Sampians who survived the attack and the transition from Sampa to Moloch was almost beyond description. Imprisonment, slavery, starvation, and torture was the daily experience of the adults, whilst as children we were forced to attend schools where we were taught the Mordecans’ version of history. Our teachers taught us that for hundreds of years the Sampians had been ruled by cruel wizards, one of whom had driven Mordeca, their ancestor, out of this valley. They had returned to claim what was truly theirs and to exact revenge for what their fathers had suffered. Eventually many of us believed these stories, and before we finished our schooling had renounced our Sampian background and embraced Mordecan citizenship.

  After school I joined the army, whilst others were put to work on farms, in the timber mills, and in the mines. As a young man I met Lana. She, like myself, had embraced Mordecan citizenship, but unlike me had not rejected the traditional beliefs and values of Sampa. Her mother and father had been part of the movement led by Alofa and had planned to leave with the others. However, on the very night that they were to leave, they were betrayed by a relative and arrested by the army. Her father was later executed because he refused to deny his belief in a Great Creator and in the truth of the Covenant, and her mother was put to work in a factory that manufactured military uniforms.”

  Lana who until this time had sat silent now took up the story. Damon noticed that despite the tears that had welled up in her eyes at the mention of her father, her whole demeanour was that of one who was deeply peaceful and happy.

  “My mother was not alone in her commitment to traditional Sampian beliefs,” she said quietly. “There were other women who would have followed Alofa on that fateful night, but because their husbands were either unbelievers or in the army, it was not possible for them to leave. These women continued to believe that the Great Creator had not abandoned them and because of their faith, over time many others joined them in this belief also. They taught us children all the stories that Alofa had learnt from Muralu, and we in turn have taught them to our children.”

  Randle took up the story. “When Lana and I met, she took a great risk telling me about what she believed, because as an army officer I was expected to report anyone who propagated Sampian myths and beliefs. However, I was greatly impacted by her sincerity, by the peace and serenity in her life. Instead of reporting her, I also became a believer. When we married, I left the army and was given land to farm. It was then that I noticed something very strange. From the very first week of the Mordecans’ occupation of Sampa, tiger attacks had become a regular occurrence. At first a cow, a sheep, or a horse was killed somewhere in the valley almost every night. Then came reports of people who worked close to the forest disappearing, taken, apparently by a tiger. Hunting groups were deployed in the forest but not only did they never kill a tiger, they never even saw one. But the strange thing, Damon, was that no animal or person belonging to a family who believed in the Covenant was ever taken.

  “Soon after I noticed this, the authorities began to realise that some farmers never lost an animal, whilst others, sometimes right next door, lost many. Our leader at the time was a much more compassionate person than our former dictator, and he personally began to visit all the farmers in the valley. What he discovered first was that all the animals that were ever taken were from farms owned or managed by families who had come from Mordeca or Sampians who had completely sold out to the values and beliefs of the Mordecans. Then he learnt that the farmers who had reported no losses, whilst all loyal and hardworking citizens of Moloch, believed that they were beneficiaries of a covenant made long ago between the Sampians and the tiger of the forest. Instead of being angry and punishing these farmers who had continued to hold on to the myths of Abele and the Great One of the Forest, he publicly invited anyone who could tell him the story to come to his headquarters and do so.”

  Randle paused and Lana said, “So my mother and two of her friends took up the invitation. He listened very respectfully as they spoke and when they had told the story of how the Covenant was established, they told him how it had been broken and how tiger attacks had begun as soon as Rubin had allowed timber-gathering, mining, and hunting in the rainforest. He thanked them, and to everybody’s surprise a few weeks later he announced that he intended to ban all hunting immediately, and phase out all timber-gathering and mining activities in the rainforest over a period of two years, and to reemploy all persons involved in these activities in new industries.

  “As soon as the hunting parties were banned from entering the rainforest,” Randle continued, “the tiger attacks ceased, and while there are still only a few people who really believe in the Covenant, it seems like the whole community is being protected for the sake of those who do.” For several hours Damon listened to Randle and Lana as they spoke about the many ways life had changed in Moloch since their dictator had shown respect for a traditional belief of the people of the valley he and his army now occupied.

  The next morning he rose early, and leaving the house where Randle and Lana still slept, he walked thoughtfully on the road that led to the river. He was lost in a paradox. The people of Loloma lived peacefully in a valley that was rich in beauty and fertility, thankful that they had escaped the terrible fate that befell Sampa, but despite such glorious deliverance, many still lived every day with the crippling burden of bitterness and hatred toward the people of Moloch. While here, in Moloch, with a past stained with blood and injustice, were a people who lived with thankfulness that a harsh regime had become softer and more humane because of the faithfulness of a few.

  Still lost in thought he reached the river and sat on a log close to the river’s edge. All his life he had marvelled at the courage of Alofa and his own father, who with others had fought to avert the tragedy that had eventually come upon Sampa, and when it had ultimately come, led hundreds to safety in a new valley. But today he pondered another type of courage. It was the courage to accept the inability to avoid a painful circumstance, without ever losing the faith and hope that one day a new morning would dawn. He had sensed no bitterness in
Randle and Lana, only bemusement that in Loloma, many of those who had experienced such wonderful liberation were still imprisoned in a web of resentment.

  Suddenly his musings were interupted by a firm and gentle voice.

  “Alofa led the people of Sampa to Loloma because the Great Creator told him to. I know because it was one of my ancestors who conveyed the message to him in Muralu’s garden.”

  The unexpected voice did not seem to come from any particular direction. It just simply seemed to fill his mind. He knew that the Great One of the Forest had come, but at this moment the tiger was not in his line of vision. He did not turn his head, instead he just waited for the voice to continue. “I want to speak into your paradox,” the voice said. “A painful circumstance is not necessarily an extension of ourselves, but an unwanted and unwelcome external event that intrudes into our lives. It is usually an event that threatens our well being or the well being of a loved one. It brings with it such things as fear, pain, grief, and even guilt. It demands a response from us. It matters little if the response we make is deemed by others to be right or wrong. What matters is that it is a courageous expression of the eternal truth on which all that is good and true in our lives depends.” The voice stopped and the tiger, so magnificent that at the sight of him Damon could hardly breathe, stepped into his line of vision and settled on the ground with his head on his front paws and his back legs stretched out behind him.