by Graeme Cann
How long she had slept or remained unconscious she could not tell, but as she became aware of her surroundings she realised that although she had left her home in morning sunlight, the sun had now disappeared below the horizon and darkness was settling over the forest. In the gathering darkness she felt strangely calm, and the strong desire to end her life and the endless torturous dreams had left her altogether. The night was warm and she lay back on the grass and watched as the moon, slowly climbing into the sky, seemed to smile at her, and the stars took their place like hundreds of celestial guards watching over her.
And then there were the sounds. Close by she could hear the constant gurgling of a nearby stream. Not far away an owl hooted eerily and opossums chatted to each other noisily as they moved from branch to branch somewhere above her. She wondered why she was not afraid and then realised that she wanted to belong to this forest world in which she now found herself. For many months since discovering what really happened in her valley, behind closed doors she had desperately wanted to escape. She knew now that she really had not wanted to die, but she did not want to live in the valley amongst the fear and violence that she now knew existed. Feeling safe and happy for the first time in many months she fell asleep, and when she awoke the sun was already high in the sky and the forest had come fully alive. She felt hungry and thirsty, and as she made her way to the stream she plucked large red berries from twisted vines that grew along a narrow path made by the animals which watered here.
She laughed when she came to the stream, because the large antlered deer that stopped drinking at the sight of her, rather than fleeing in fear, seemed to welcome her, stepping back so that she could go down on her knees and cup the water in her hands, bringing it to her lips. She felt so happy she wanted to dance. She was certain that she would never return to Loloma. This forest with its streams and its berries would become her home, and the animals would be her community. The violence in Loloma would no longer be her concern. She had made a choice to reject fear and violence, and someone, maybe the Great Creator, had led her here.
The big brown stag that had made room for her at the water’s edge began to move away, following a path that seemed to run parallel with the stream. He was unhurried and it seemed to Mishka that he expected her to follow him. She did, stopping now and then to pluck a berry or smell a wildflower.
There seemed to be no end to the birdlife in this forest. Birds the like of Mishka had never seen or heard before. Small brightly coloured birds with melodious calls, and larger, red, blue, and green parrots and noisy, argumentative, sulphur-crested cockatoos were everywhere. Somewhere out of sight, squabbling monkeys could be heard and other larger animals like deer, wild goat, and buffalo could sometimes be seen crossing the path on their way to the stream. After what seemed to Mishka like a lifetime of wonder and awe, but probably was only about an hour, the stag stopped in a beautifully grassed clearing and began to graze. She sat on the ground watching him, engulfed, it seemed, by the cacophony of sound that came from the birds, the animals, the crickets, and the frogs that inhabited this beautiful new world that she had discovered. But when the cheerful noise stopped suddenly and the forest was clothed in breathless silence, Mishka was startled.
There on the other side of the clearing, not more than a hundred metres from where Mishka sat, stood a magnificent tigress. What she felt was not fear but awe, and surprise. Her first encounter with the Great One of the Forest was with a male tiger, deep brown in colour with black stripes that wound their way around its body like giant hoops. But this glorious animal, whose presence had the power to still the forest, was not brown but white, with large stripes that were almost black. As she moved toward her, Mishka could see that her eyes were an ice-blue colour, and as she approached she made the unique chuffing sound of a tiger who meant to do her no harm. Mishka was overwhelmed with an emotion that she could not describe. Later she would explain to others that it was like being a frightened, lost little girl who suddenly realised that Misha, the only person who really understood her, had walked into the room. The pain and anger that she had carried for many months flowed from her as she wept floods of hot tears. The only sounds in that forest at that moment were the sounds of her sobbing and the quiet chuffing of the gentle giant, who had lain beside her and whose breath on her face felt like a healing balm that was infusing her whole body with peace. When the sobbing ceased, Mishka rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around the neck of the tigress and buried her face in the soft fur and the rolls of soft skin on her neck, and there the unlikely pair stayed for almost an hour.
Speaking of this encounter in later years, she described it as a moment of the most profound revelation. The disappointment and the suicidal despair that had gripped her heart and mind when she had discovered the extent of violence in her community gave way to the confidence and calm of someone who knew that she had been born to be an agent of change and a mother of transformation. She no longer felt like a girl hopelessly out of her depth in the face of an irreversible disaster. As she sat in the presence of the white tigress, she instinctively knew that she was in the presence of someone who had faced what it meant to be marginalised because she was different, but had emerged victoriously over whatever hardships she had had to face.
When at last the Great One of the Forest stood, Mishka stood too. She understood that the tigress was about to lead her from the clearing to the edge of the forest, but she surrendered herself willingly to the prospect of returning home. As they walked together, a voice, not unlike the voice of Misha, engaged her mind. The voice clearly came from the tigress and was gentle but strangely filled with incredible power.
“In Sampa,” said the voice, “for hundreds of years your people have lived in communities where there was no difference in the value that was given to young and old, male or female, weak or strong. All people were valued because they had been created in the image of their Great Creator. There were no special privileges enjoyed by men that were not also enjoyed by women. One gender did not rule over the other, nor were positions of leadership or even menial tasks distributed on the basis of gender. Instead all relationships and roles were based on honour and respect. For nearly one hundred years before the destruction of Sampa, however, it was not so. Rubin and his son Kaluba were men driven by fear and were not capable of living with values of equality and acceptance, and in their fear they eroded trust and kindness and replaced them with dominance, control, and ultimately violence.
Since your people came to Loloma, you have enjoyed the leadership of two good Mother-Fathers, Alofa and Damon, and they have reinstated the values that undergirded ancient Sampian culture. However, Mishka, you can take a tiger cub out of the forest and care for it in your own home and raise it like your own child, but it will forever be a tiger. So it is with the men in your valley. They and their fathers, their grandfathers and their great grandfathers have been raised in and shaped by an environment of anger, violence, and control. Male superiority has been modelled in each generation, and destructive attitudes and behaviours have been embraced as normal. Fear has become the primary emotion that inhabits the hearts and the minds of the people. And even though they have benefitted from living in a community that collectively, in principle, has adopted healthy core values and ideals, it is fear that still rules their hearts. At any time when their significance or their security or their sexuality is threatened they will become afraid, and in their fear they will become controlling then defensive and then angry, and in many cases their anger will lead to violence.
“Mishka, do not be dismayed. You have been chosen and equipped to be an agent of change in your community. You have been in the valley of despair and you have survived. You have been to the forest and you have been reempowered. You will lead the people of Loloma in a transformational struggle. You will teach new ways, you will model new attitudes and behaviours, and you will be joined by others who have been inspired by your efforts. One day you will be the next Mother-Father, and you will be re
membered as the ‘Mother who healed her people.’”
CHAPTER SIX
THE WHITE TIGRESS
“This is not what I would have chosen, but I have a heart to be obedient.”
Willie Aames
“What we call our destiny is truly our character, and that character can be altered. The knowledge that we are responsible for our actions and attitudes does not need to be discouraging, because it also means that we are free to change this destiny. One is not in bondage to the past, which has shaped our feelings to race, inheritance, or background. All this can be altered if we have the courage to examine how it formed us. We can alter the chemistry provided we have the courage to dissect the elements.”
Anais Nin, The Diary of Anais Nin
When Mishka had returned from the forest she promptly visited Damon, who had been her Mother-Father almost all of her life. He was now an old man, but she loved him dearly and deeply respected him for what he had done for the people of Loloma. Many men had been greatly helped by him and had become men who, like him, strongly believed in equality, honour, and respect. She told Damon of her investigations and what she had found. She could feel his distress but she sensed that he was not surprised. She also spoke to him of her attempt to escape the terrible darkness of her discovery by fleeing to the forest and of her life-changing encounter there.
With bowed head she told him what the tigress had said about her future and her destiny. Damon leant forward an cupped her face in his strong but gentle hands, lifting her gaze until she was looking into his eyes. “Mishka,” he said softly, “you have been chosen to succeed me when I go at last to the Great Creator. And you have been chosen by a white tigress. A white tigress has come only once to our people and on that occasion she chose Marita to be Mother-Father of Sampa.” Damon took his hands from her face and Mishka, her eyes wet with tears, rose from her chair and, crossing the room, stood staring through the window at the forest. Marita, blind from birth and spoken about then and still remembered now, as the “one who sees as no one else sees”! Marita who was chosen to lead Sampa through one of the most difficult times in Sampian history! Marita the martyr, slain by a compatriot of Rubin! Marita, the last Mother-Father in Sampa for a hundred years, was chosen to be a Mother-Father by a white tigress!
Mishka returned to the chair in front of Damon and sat down again. Damon continued, “You must not underestimate the significance of the white tigress, Mishka. They are extremely rare, and for us they signify something very mystical and very important. They only come it seems at the beginning of a new era in the history of Sampa, and in this case Loloma. The tiger that came to Abele and established the Covenant was a white tiger, and that visitation was followed by centuries in which Sampians lived without fear. Marita was chosen by a white tigress and after her death came the era of Rubin and Kaluba and ultimately the destruction of Sampa.. Now you have been chosen by a white tigress because you are to usher in the renewal of a covenantal community.”
If Damon meant that Mishka would be the architect for what was to follow he was right, but it would be he who would open the door for her to pass through into what indeed was to be her destiny. Not long after Mishka’s meeting with Damon, on a clear summer evening the people of Loloma were summoned to the village square for what was described as a celebration of Damon’s life and leadership. The people came, dressed in brightly coloured garments, the women and girls with flowers in their hair, and the men with necklaces of coloured river stones around their necks. Each family brought food and drink for the party, and Mishka had organised a music extravaganza. Oil-fuelled lamps on poles, ready to be lit when it became dark, surrounded the dance area in front of the platform that had been decorated with flowers and shrubbery in preparation for Damon and the Elders. As the people arrived they gathered on the dance area, and when the music began, they moved rhythmically together like a heaving ocean of brilliant colour, creating an atmosphere of joyful celebration.
The dancing and the music stopped briefly as darkness fell, and Damon and two Elders made their way on to the platform. As the people clapped and roared their welcome, young boys and girls lit the lamps that surrounded the stage and the dance area. Mishka, standing with the orchestra and looking strikingly beautiful in a gown she had made herself, watched the old man move slowly to his chair. Then, suddenly, instinctively, she understood. This night was not so much about his life as it would be about his death. Damon was about to say goodbye to his people and hand the baton of servant leadership to her.
As the music began again and the crowd started to dance, Mishka laid down her musical instrument and withdrew to a quieter place behind the platform. She felt overwhelmed by a sea of continually changing emotions. There was the cold feeling of sadness that this moment had come for Damon, and that neither his wife nor his two daughters were there to share it with him as all of them had predeceased him. There was the warm feeling of gratitude for this gracious and wise old man, who for forty years had loved, served, and guided his people. Then there was the icy feeling of fear as she knew that her moment to step up and lead had come, and this was followed by the burning feeling of excitement that she felt about the years that lay ahead.
Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of a tall young man who walked with the bearing of one who had been chosen to carry an important message. “The Father-Mother wishes that you join him on the stage,” he said quietly and then turning on his heel, he strode purposefully toward the rear of the platform. She followed him up the steps and when he stepped aside and gestured that she should continue on her own, she walked slowly to where Damon sat. He greeted her with that warm welcoming smile that seemed to envelope the whole of his handsome, albeit age-worn face, and indicated the empty chair by his side. “You are a very wise and insightful woman, Mishka,” he said softly, “so I do not need to tell you what tonight is about. In fact,” he chuckled, “much of it is a mystery to me also.
“This morning I rose knowing that this would be the last day that I would have the opportunity to publicly say goodbye to the people of Loloma and to endorse you as my successor. What else is going to happen tonight has been hidden from me until now, but as you joined me I saw something out there, beyond the dancing crowd; do you see it, Mishka?” She followed the direction of his pointing chin. What she saw filled her with excitement and awe.
“Father,” she whispered, “she has come for you.”
Damon stood and moved to the front of the platform as he had done many times in the past forty years. He raised his hands, a signal that was seen by the musicians who immediately ceased playing. The crowd stopped dancing and broke into spontaneous applause as their eyes turned to the place where their beloved Father-Mother stood. The children pressed forward for a better view, couples stood hand in hand, whilst others stood in groups, arms good-naturedly draped around each other’s shoulders, waiting for the great man to speak. Instead he just stood gazing out into the darkness behind the crowd. One by one the people turned to follow his gaze and then a collective gasp of fear and awe rose from everybody. What they saw was a massive white tigress.
“Do not be afraid, my people.” It was Damon’s strong, confident voice. “She means no harm. She has come for me.”
As the tigress approached the rear of the crowd it parted, leaving her an open path to the platform. The people marvelled at this beautiful animal. Her head was carried low and from her enormous mouth came a gentle chuffing sound. The muscles in her shoulders rippled under snow-white skin banded by pitch-black stripes. She stopped several metres from the platform and the silence that had fallen on the whole village was suddenly broken by a voice, both commanding and compelling, that impressed itself powerfully on each and every mind. The tigress’s mouth did not move but no one doubted that she was the speaker.
“People of Loloma,” the voice said, “you have been served well for forty years by this man who stands before you. Like Alofa before him, he has embraced and modelled the values of honour and respect
and has taught many of you how to practise these values in your marriages and in your community. However, many of you have embraced these values only in your mind but you do not live by them. The generational influences of your forbears and your own personal pain are powerful shapers of your behaviour. Behind closed doors some of you men resort to verbal and physical violence against your wives and your children. Your anger against your own parents for their harsh, unloving treatment of you is unresolved and therefore is being projected on those you love. You cannot continue to be committed to the ideals of honour and respect and at the same time be driven by fear and anger. The Great Creator has chosen Mishka to lead you. She will be the Mother who heals and she will build on what Damon has already done. Now it is time for you, Damon, to leave your people and this valley and go to your reward.”
Damon turned to face Mishka. His voice seemed to gain strength as he said, “Mishka, I anoint you to be Mother-Father of Loloma. You are worthy of such honour. Be courageous and do faithfully what has been revealed to you.” Then turning back to the crowd, he raised her arm and said, “I give you Mishka, Mother-Father of Loloma.”
The brief silence that followed Damon’s announcement was suddenly broken by the singing of the choir. The song they sung was in honour of the great old man as he stepped off the platform and walked with grace and dignity at the shoulder of the white tigress. He did not look back as the crowd joined in with the choir and the song reverberated around the valley. They watched as the pair, man and tigress, disappeared into the forest and when the singing ceased they went thoughtfully to their homes.