The Spirit Quest cotpl-2

by John H. Burkitt

  And yet his old worries about what being beaten up were worse than the pain itself. Now fighting was not an unknown terror, but an unpleasant memory. He was not as afraid as he used to be, and he determined that he would control his fear and face Duma. Maybe he would smile and say, “Good morning.” Yes, that felt safe enough. Of course, there was the chance that Duma would say, “It’s a good morning, but not for you.” That was a chance he had to take.

  Duma was not waiting for him by the Acacia tree. He was not in his usual place next to the basket weaver. In fact, for a while Metutu was certain he had left the village.

  “It’s late enough. I thought he’d be up by now.”

  Then by the path leading to the Council Rock, Duma appeared.

  Metutu faced him directly. “Good morning, Duma.”

  Duma bit his lip. His face, on closer inspection, was badly swollen and bruised. “Yeah. Good morning.” He came over, but not to push him. “Look, Metutu. I’m, like, really sorry I hit you and Wandani here. You’re not a baby and you’re not ugly. I just said those things because of the other guys.”

  “That’s fine. I forgive you.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Still a little sore.” Metutu looked more closely at Duma. “I know I never hit you that hard. Who lit into you? Did Wandani do all that??”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I don’t know who messed you up, but I didn’t tell. Honest.”

  “I said don’t worry about it, all right??” He dropped his stern tone. “I’m sorry I hit you. It will never happen again.”

  “That’s nice. Well, good bye.”

  Metutu breathed a sigh of relief and went on. Still in the back of his mind was a nagging doubt. Somehow, some way, a witness must have told his dad. But to have a boy beaten like that? Surely that was not in the village law? Then it occurred to him that his father sent him on that errand just to hear Duma’s apology. Somehow his Dad knew he’d be there cut and bleeding. He knew because he had caused it.

  Metutu still loved his father, and he understood that Kinara loved him too. But he didn’t know if he was proud of his Dad or ashamed of him.

  CHAPTER 6: SHIFTING THE BURDEN

  As soon as Asumini heard about Metutu’s fight, she came to see him. Metutu cringed, expecting another upbraiding over the leopardess. Instead, she was kind and sympathetic.

  Metutu was thankful to have her back. “It was worth getting beaten up if it means you like me again. I missed you.”

  “I never stopped liking you,” Asumini said. “You just need to learn a little humility. How do you think I would have felt hearing your screams? Watching you die?” She caressed his swollen cheek with her hand.

  “Yeah,” Metutu looked down, contritely, but he glanced up out of the corner of his eyes and smiled a little. “Thanks again. You were very brave.”

  Asumini smiled. “I don’t know where it came from. Every time I think about how close she was to my hand, I wonder if I had it to do over again....”

  “Oh, yeah. I know how you feel.” Metutu’s smile fell.

  “I was just kidding--but don’t put me to the test.”

  “Since you’re here, I’d like to go skip rocks. Wanna come with me?”

  “I can’t right now. Later, all right?”

  “Sure.” He rubbed his cheek again. “You sure you’re not mad at me?”

  “Sure I’m sure.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “There, now it will be all better.”

  Metutu looked at Asumini, open-mouthed with embarrassment. “Maybe tomorrow?”

  “We’ll see.”

  Early the next day, Metutu came to her cave. He caught a rare glimpse of her parents inside. Busara and Kima were the subjects of a lot of nasty rumors, including one about blood sacrifices under the full moon. Still, their daughter was so gentle and kind. How could there be any substance behind those stories?

  “Asumini? Can you come out?”

  She skipped to him, but saw him holding the smooth stone. In her hand was a grass whiskbroom. “Oh, the creek. I forgot.”

  “Yeah.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Can you get away for a moment? I mean, I was hoping we could beat our old record.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have chores to do.”

  “But Asumini, you promised! I can have one of the servants come over and sweep the cave. They don’t mind.”

  “I’d rather do what dad told me to.”

  “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  She frowned. “That’s being sneaky. I thought you were better than that, but then how could you be with a politician as a father? You’re growing up to be just like him.”

  “And just what did you mean by THAT?”

  “My dad said Kinara is a leopard at heart, and he didn’t mean it nice!”

  The reference to the leopard made Metutu rankle.

  “Well that’s a fine how-do-you-do! I come over to throw rocks with you, and you insult my Dad! Well I hear that your Dad is a sorcerer. Tema says he kills goats on nights of the full moon!”

  “That’s a mean thing to say! He’s good and gentle and always trying to help sick creatures get well! He’s never killed anyone in his whole life! You’re an ugly little monster, Metutu! Go home!”

  Metutu stormed off. Soon from behind him she called, “I didn’t mean it! Oh gods, please come back!” There was an edge of desperation in her voice.

  He wanted to forgive her, but there was also a voice inside him that was indignant. It temporarily had the upper hand. “She’ll be sorry she called my dad a leopard! She called me an ugly little monster!” That was what hurt worst of all, for he knew that by mandrill standards he WAS ugly. “Maybe I won’t come back tomorrow either. She can get ALL of her stupid old chores done!”

  Metutu went home. He climbed to the crotch of the tree where he often slept. There was a knot there that looked like a rabbit looking back at it. “What about it, Bun? Girls!”

  His dad looked up at him in the fork of the tree. “Whew, a storm must be blowing in--I just saw a cold, dark cloud go by.”

  “A thunderhead is more like it.”

  “Uh huh. So, do you want to talk about it?”

  Metutu turned his face to look down at Kinara. “Dad, why can’t more females be like Mom?”

  “They are like Mom. That’s the problem.”

  “But she doesn’t go trying to make you mad all the time. Does she?”

  “No, because I learned the great secret of dealing with her.”

  Metutu climbed down. “Really? What is it?”

  Kinara looked all around, then whispered into Metutu’s ear. “Give them what they want. They have you where they want you, and the sooner you realize that and play along, the better off you are.”

  “But she didn’t want anything.”

  “Asumini, I take it?”

  “Yeah.” Metutu scratched behind his ear nervously. “Do you know what she said? She said I was growing up to be just like you.”

  “Gods forbid!” Kinara gasped and put his hands to his face. “Call the shamans! This is very serious!”

  Metutu fought back the smile and tried to concentrate on his anger. “She said her dad called you a no-count politician with the heart of a leopard, and she didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  “A leopard!” Kinara laughed aloud. “I’ve been called worse and by more dangerous opponents! I guess I could see how Busara might think it though--being wealthy has dulled his claws. He surrounds himself with comforts and he has all the ambitions of a gopher. He even lives in a hole like one!” Kinara laughed at his joke, then bucked out his front teeth and wiggled his fingers in front of his ears. “That Kinara’s a no-good politician with the heart of a leopard!” he said in a falsetto voice. “Bet he’s out hunting antelopes tonight!”

  Metutu couldn’t control himself anymore and he began to laugh. Kinara put his arm around his shoulder and gave him a pat. “Next time you see her, apologize like crazy.” />
  “For what?”

  “Whatever you did that made Asumini spout off like that. And don’t do it again. She has other talents you’re too young to appreciate now, but you might want them later.”

  CHAPTER 7: GROWING UP

  Metutu’s apology must have worked. As days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, he began to see more of Asumini. From time to time he would hear strange stories about her father, but he discounted them because of his feelings for her.

  They had an on-again off-again dating relationship. Usually when it was off-again, he had tried to impress her with some new skill. He almost always failed to do so, for she was very well educated where few mandrill females are. The frustrations she heaped on his struggling male vanity were actually part of her allure to him. With each new failure, she became more desirable, and if he couldn’t impress her with athletic ability or wit, he would pursue more intellectual goals. This would prove to be more of a natural strength for him.

  Once he came over to show off what he’d memorized of the Miracle Flower Saga. Because she knew the parts better, she ended up correcting him periodically. It made it difficult for him because the more frustrated he became, the more he forgot. It built on itself.

  For a while he was upset, but he grudgingly admired her abilities. He settled back to watch her perform, and paid careful attention.

  As she recited verse, her hand gestures melted one into the other with a grace and beauty that made the gods take notice:

  Many days the journey lasted

  As the sunset dies on nightfall

  And the nightfall flees from sunrise

  Ever dancing in the heavens

  Sun and moon would count the hours

  Hearts grew weary, hope was waning

  And their feet grew tired of walking

  Yet so steadfast was their leader

  And his countenance unchanging

  That they dared not disappoint him

  Great Numinu flowed before them

  Guarding with her sacred waters

  All approaches to the garden

  Where the magic blossoms flourished

  Lest a thief should steal their beauty

  She stopped and looked at Metutu’s rapt stare. “Are you all right? Was I doing something wrong?”

  “Nothing wrong,” he said slowly. “You were a goddess speaking words as smooth and beautiful as water flowing over stones. They should let you perform for the council.”

  “Are you sure it’s my voice you like?”

  “Well,” he said hesitantly. “You have special kind of presence too. Your gestures are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful. Uh, you know what I mean.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re very sweet. But if you think that’s something, you should hear me do the leonine ceremony of rising over. I did that for my Auntie Asumini when she died last moon.”

  “You did?” He’d never heard of a female doing ceremonies before. “That lioness we’ve always heard about--so she was real?”

  “I told you I had a lioness as an Auntie. A second mother was more like it.”

  “I’m sorry about your loss. I know you loved her, and it’s sad that you’ll never see her again.”

  “Don’t be too sorry, ‘cause when I die, she will be waiting for me. Till then, she is in here.” She put her hand over her heart. “Sometimes she’s out there too! There is no difference in the way God treats us when we die. I follow Aiheu, and believe that all animals are brothers and sisters.”

  Metutu was shocked. “You’re an Aiheuist? I always thought you were one of us.”

  “One of you?” She smiled. “Everyone is one of you and one of me. We are all one large family. All that divides us is our opinion, but no opinion alters the truth So there is no us and them except in the mind.”

  “I guess so,” he said, dubiously. “Did your Aunt Asumini teach you that?”

  “I have many good friends who happen to be lionesses.”

  “Pfff! Any lions?”

  “Only a couple of times ever saw a grown lion, and didn’t get to say much, but their manes are so wonderful. You know, I have a secret desire to hold one around the neck and roll in his mane.”

  “You would disappear down his throat in seconds. Maybe two whole bites, if he didn’t swallow you whole.”

  “Have you forgotten the leopardess so quickly? Didn’t you see how she did not bite when her honor dictated it? Teeth and claws are sharp, but much more of them is soft and furry.” She sat back against a tree trunk. “They teach you that God is just a bigger one of us. As if one of us could hope to become like Him by simply learning the right spells and overcoming mortality. No. There is a fairness and kindness in Him that is a goal to strive for, but which we could never reach.”

  “What does Aiheu look like?”

  “Everything and nothing at the same time.”

  “Now that makes NO SENSE.”

  “Oh? Unlike those who follow the great ape Pishtim, we believe Aiheu is aware of all things and all peoples. Otherwise, how could he hear our prayers? So he must not be an old ape, or he would only be one place at a time. The wind is real, but you don’t see it’s shape. You know it’s there because you feel its effects. And if he is not an old ape, than we apes have no basic superiority unless we choose to ACT superior. And that does not come through trickery or negotiation. It comes through compassion, generosity, and honesty. The traits that make us noble make us more like God. But there are others besides us who have those traits, therefore all animals must be brothers and free to please the gods. And greatness is a matter of the heart, not an accident of birth.”

  “That’s a really nice philosophy. You’re as clever as Little Brother Chako!”

  “I hope not! Little Brother Chako was a rogue, someone who did not honor his promises. How we could pick someone like that for a hero is a slap in the faces of the gods. When I ask you to make a promise, I expect you to keep it. When you do, I look up to you. Those who treat me honestly are my brothers and sisters, not Little Brother Chako.”

  Metutu looked at her in shock, but not outrage. “I bet you spend a lot of time just thinking.”

  “You should give it a try, Metutu.”

  “As if I never do?”

  “I don’t mean it that way. It’s just that the problem with mandrill philosophy is that they teach you WHAT to think, not HOW to think. We’re not supposed to question authority.”

  “Whoa! We’ll have to continue this talk sometime.” Metutu went home. He was somewhat thoughtful, for she had made many good points. “All animals are brothers,” he said to himself. “Even the leopardess and I.”

  When he reached his home, old Wajoli was waiting for him with a bowl. “Here, Master Metutu, your favorite dish. Elephant Stew.”

  Metutu took the bowl and smelled it. “Ah, fresh and sweet. You did well.”

  Metutu noticed how Wajoli’s eyes followed the bowl. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “No sir. I was running late, so I came straight over here. I’ll take care of you first. When you are finished, if you don’t need me more, I’d like to go scrounge something up.”

  “I see.” Metutu held out the bowl. “Scrounge this up. I’ll get something from the orchard.”

  “Oh, no sir! If your father found out, he wouldn’t like that.”

  “IF he found out. But you can go hide behind those trees.”

  “Is it not to your liking?”

  “It’s fine. But you know something, Wajoli? If you would be like the gods, you must practice compassion, generosity and honesty. You’ve always done right by me. Now I’m going to do right by you.” He handed the bowl to Wajoli and gave him a little pat. “Enjoy, old friend.”

  “I will,” he said. “I’ll enjoy knowing you are the next Chief, even if I don’t live to see it.”

  A smile spread across Metutu’s face. He headed for the orchard with a great joy in his heart that was almost too great
for words. “Yes! I feel more godlike already!”

  CHAPTER 8: THE GREAT OUTDOORS

  Metutu yawned, scratching his back languidly as he lay sprawled upon a branch high in the tall tree that Makedde had made his home in. Initially, the move had been exciting. Metutu had thought that he would enjoy the independence from his parents, but after only a few days, he had begun to miss the comforts of home already. He had napped fitfully the first night there, awakening abruptly to see the stars dimming in the early morning light. He had arisen eagerly, sitting up and stretching...how disappointed he was to find no mother there with a bowl of elephant stew to greet him! No Wajoli, no Wandani, no Asumini. Only his brother there to greet him.

  Makedde picked up his staff, twirling it playfully. "I usually go for a walk in the mornings. Would you like to come?"

  "Yes!"

  The two descended carefully, pausing at the base of the tree. Makedde peered about thoughtfully, then looked at Metutu. "Which way shall we go?"

  "Uh...that way, I guess." Metutu pointed.

  "Why go that way?"

  Metutu frowned. "I don't know. Is there something wrong?"

  “Should there be?” Makedde asked, looking at him intently.

  “Is there a swamp out that way? Mosquitoes? Snakes??”

  “What do YOU think,” Makedde said with a serious nod and a wink. “Use your powers of observation.”

  He stared in the general direction. “Well I....” Metutu stopped, looked at the hint of a smile on Makedde’s face, and shoved him. “You dirty lizard you! Gods, I hate it when you do that!”

  Makedde laughed aloud. “I can’t help it! You should have seen your face!” He patted Metutu’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ll take you on my usual route.”

  They set off at a leisurely pace, enjoying the cool breeze, and feeling the morning sun warm their back. Makedde's home lay at the border between the jungle and savanna, and Metutu stared at the new world just waiting to be explored. Few trees dotted the greenish gold sea of grass which was swept with waves as the winds played tag among the acacias. Small islands of scrub brush thrust their stubby crowns defiantly towards the sky. Here and there the thorny acacias had begun to put in an appearance, and in the distance, Metutu saw what looked like the trunk of a dead tree, pointing heavenward like an accusing finger!