Everything was ready for the ritual. My name is Xix. I am 23 years old, a member of the Longagolongago tribe and I cannot believe what I am looking at. My tribe lives, and has lived for hundreds, maybe thousands of years on the banks of the Amazing River. I am the only member of the 300 strong tribe to have received an outside education, thanks to the wisdom of King Ommigosh who is no longer alive. I have a degree in ‘Tribal History’ from Harvard.
This means, of course, that I speak perfect English and I use a computer. It also means that if anything goes wrong with a connection or a power failure, I will be totally lost. So I am putting today’s events down and emailing them out to the world while I can and while everything is working.
Our year is a lunar year, meaning that it has 13 months each of 28 days. That amounts to 364 days, 1 day short of a full year, according to Mythagorus, the great Longagolongago wizard. The extra day is devoted to various magical events and the opening of the tribal vine-vat which contains the juice of the Gratevine which we drink and then retire to rest or to make new members for the tribe.
On this day a Tribal Virgin is sacrificed in an ancient ceremony.
In my 18 years before l left the tribe and headed for Harvard, I took part in the Mythagorus Day celebrations. I too witnessed the sacrifice and like all the other tribal members I clapped at the climax. Then I was led to a tent where a young girl waited for me and we indulged in our own climaxes. It was always a great day for all.
And then I went to Harvard. I was accepted there only after fellow students bought me modern clothing and made me throw away my animal skins. Once I learned a few words in English I became a popular student. In my final year of the Tribal History course, I was asked to prepare a lecture describing my tribe’s Mythagorus Day. I did and all went well until I described the Sacrifice of the Tribal Virgin ceremony when, to put it coarsely, all hell broke loose. I was summoned to the dean’s office and threatened with expulsion followed by a charge of accessory to murder. I was allowed to finish the year and receive my degree and then escorted to the railway station and told to ‘never darken our doorstep again'.
Back home and after a couple of months of serious thinking about the sacrifice and awakened by the anger of the Harvard students and staff, I made up my mind to try and ‘modernize’ the tribe, starting with the Elders. I prepared a talk that I intended to deliver. I edited it over a period of two weeks to ensure that it was perfect and would convince the elders to change the Mythagorus Day agenda. I asked for a meeting of the elders the day before the annual festival and addressed the group.
“The world out there is not the world of our ancestors,” I began, facing a circle of old men in a small clearing in the forest. “Men and women live in permanent buildings in towns. They drive around in different types of vehicles. No more horses. They fly in air machines to far destinations. They have doctors to heal the sick. No more shamans. They have hospitals to cure the very sick. They store their money in buildings called banks. It’s a different world and our Tribe should start preparing itself for the new world. The most important step is respect and love of our neighbors and the very first change we should make is to cancel the Sacrifice of the Tribal Virgin. This ceremony, which has been in our history for thousands of years, is not good for us. I find it hard to accept that tomorrow we will kill one of our own people, a young woman who could make a great contribution to our people, who could bear our children.
The ring of the Elders’ faces gazed at me in shock, but I continued.
“The new world has an annual festival day which I experienced 3 times. It is called Halloween. It is similar to our Mythagorus Day. The people drink the juice from the vines until they cannot stand. They dance and sing. The tradition originated with an ancient tribe’s festival, when people light bonfires and wear costumes to ward off ghosts. These days the adults dress up in costumes and the children go from family to family asking for money or sweets. No one is injured and no one is killed. This holiday is a celebration and celebrates life, not death as ours does!”
I sneaked another look at my audience. They had turned to stone.
“Each person is a part of our Tribe’s treasure. We must treat each other as such. No one may take another life. We are only 300 people and we need to look after each other otherwise we will disappear into the huge tribes that surround us. The next person who leaves our village will not come back to this primitive life like I did. I plead with you to listen to my advice. Let’s move on with the rest of the world! This is important for the future of our tribe. Our lives and the way we live do not exist outside this forest. One day soon, man will come with his axes and tools and topple our trees and we will be exposed to the world. They will take us away and lock us up. I beg you to heed my warning…
I drew a deep breath. The small circle of men was silent. They asked many questions: What is outside our place? How many people are out there? How far does our Amazing River flow? Are there women out there? Are the women beautiful like ours? Do the men and women make babies like we do? What do they do for food?
I never slept that night and I walked into the clearing where the festival was to take place feeling tired and nervous. What if my warning had been rejected by the elders? The program got underway, with lots of drinking, sports, and games. We all ate from dishes that had been prepared and we celebrated with more drinking.
Then it was time for the Sacrifice of the Tribal Virgin. I held my breath as the event was announced by the chief. A young woman, escorted by a bevy of young girls, all dressed in white with purple headbands and carrying garlands of flowers, emerged. I stopped breathing. I had failed.
A deathly silence fell over the spectators. And then to my amazement 3 loud blasts rang out from the tribal trumpet, demanding silence. This was followed by a strong voice from among the crowd. “By Order of the Elders, this event is canceled. It will never again take place in this Tribe!”
A great cheer rang out. We had taken our first step into the New World.
there? Are the women beautiful like ours? Do the men and women make babies like we do? What do they do for food?
I never slept that night and I walked into the clearing where the festival was to take place feeling tired and nervous. What if my warning had been rejected by the elders? The program got underway, with lots of drinking, sports, and games. We all ate from dishes that had been prepared and we celebrated with more drinking.
Then it was time for the Sacrifice of the Tribal Virgin. I held my breath as the event was announced by the chief. A young woman, escorted by a bevy of young girls, all dressed in white with purple headbands and carrying garlands of flowers, emerged. I stopped breathing. I had failed.
A deathly silence fell over the spectators. And then to my amazement 3 loud blasts rang out from the tribal trumpet, demanding silence. This was followed by a strong voice from among the crowd. “By Order of the Elders, this event is canceled. It will never again take place in this Tribe!”
A great cheer rang out. We had taken our first step into the New World.
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