When the Tiger Roars Page 8

  “Late the night before they expected the Mordecans to arrive at the river, whilst the whole community slept, and the moon bathed Sampa in a soft hue, Marita left her house and, guided only by memory, slowly walked across the pastures that lay between the village and the rainforest. At the edge of the forest she halted and waited. Despite her acute hearing, she did not sense the Great One approach until she felt his breath on her face. She sunk to her knees, overcome with a deep sorrow and crippling tiredness. She began to weep and then to sob uncontrollably. Her whole body was wracked by her sobbing. She wept for the victims of the fire for whom she had cared. She wept for the murderous Mordecans, driven by bitterness and hate, and she wept for Sampa, because something that she could see but not articulate caused her to grieve.

  “As her weeping ceased, she became aware of a number of voices speaking to her spirit. Had you been there, you would have described them as sounds. There was the deep grunting sound of the frogs in the little stream nearby, the soft gentle call of the dove, the chatter of small monkeys, and the mournful howl of a distant wolf. But for Marita, all of these sounds of the night came together as one voice. She wept again, softly, as the words resounded in her brain. The message she heard made her desperately sad, and in her sadness she tried to cry out in protest, but nothing came from her lips. She stood and in her sightlessness reached out and wrapped her arms around the neck of the great beast. He allowed her to prolong the embrace and then suddenly, instinctively, she knew that she must release him. She turned uncertainly toward the village, and to her great comfort, the tiger walked at her shoulder all the way back to her house.

  “She rose early the next morning to meet the Elders as had been prearranged. She spoke to them of the events of the night and they talked together of the battle that was to come. One of the Elders addressed Marita and the others. ‘In the days of Galildra, a great evil arose and was defeated. Today we face the same evil. One temptation is to be afraid and flee, but we have never been afraid and the day that we give in to fear will be the day we lose our strength. The other temptation is to be violent, but if we are violent to our enemies what will prevent us from being violent to our friends? If we take up swords of steel against our enemies, what will prevent us from taking up deadly words, like swords, against our friends? Take courage, my friends, and do not be afraid.’

  “Later that morning the whole community gathered in the village square, then in lines of fifty across they marched toward the river. The Elders and their husbands and wives filled the front lines, but out in front was Marita. She had refused a guide, insisting that she knew the way to the river well and that she needed to be alone.

  “The river was a forty-minute walk from the village square and, after twenty minutes, they could see and hear the enemy. They could hear the axes being plied to the trees as the men gathered logs for the bridge. As they drew closer they could make out the shape of the horses pulling the logs out of the forest. They marched on and suddenly from this unarmed, untrained army, a small voice was heard singing a song of praise to the Great Creator. Other voices joined in and soon every man, woman, and child was singing. The sound of the axes was replaced by the abusive shouting of angry men. They were clearly offended that this rabble should advance against this well-trained and well-equipped army armed with nothing but a song. The Sampians were now only one hundred yards from the river, and some of the Mordecans loosed arrows into the air. The front line faltered. Marita kept marching. Suddenly a noise, the like of nothing a Sampian had ever heard before, rang out. It was an explosion from a primitive gun.

  “What happened then no one could explain later. At the same time as they heard the explosion, Marita crumpled to the ground. Some would say that they saw blood spray from her body, but when the front row ran forward to her aid, what lay on the ground was not the body of Marita but the body of a massive tiger. No more shots were fired. Marita was on her knees with her head buried in the tiger’s neck. For a moment there was an incredible silence, and then the most frightening noise that you can imagine. From the direction of the forest and from the rear and to the left and to the right of the Mordecan army, animals of every species large and small, including a number of tigers, rushed toward the attackers. The noise and the sight of the animals panicked the army, who turned to run, but every path of escape was cut off. To the further amazement of the Sampians, those who came to their rescue were not only the animals, but the mountain men who a few months before had lost everything in the bushfires. Many Mordecans died that day, while the others fled carrying their wounded with them.

  “That night as the people gathered in the Village Square once again, this time to thank the Great Creator for delivering them from their enemy, Marita told them about her encounter with the Great One of the Forest the night before. She said, ‘Last night, the Great Tiger who gave his life for us today spoke to me. Listen, people of Sampa, to what he said: “Marita, you are sad because you can see what has not for a moment occurred to any other person in Sampa tonight. You ‘who can see as no other can see,’ knows that tomorrow I will die. Do not weep for me, for what you do not know is that down through the centuries, many of the Great Ones who have lived before me have died for Sampa. We have abided by the requirements of the Covenant and have protected you from the dangers that lurk in the forest and the mountains. We have stood in the way of poachers in the forest who sought to do you harm. We have barred the way of men from Towin who had murderous intent. We have protected you many times from the mountain tribes, and on many occasions it has cost us our lives. Such is the nature of covenants. They are almost always sealed in blood. When I die, another will take my place. Tomorrow I will walk before you and my death will secure you your victory.”’ Marita suddenly stopped speaking, interrupted by the soft chuffing sound that she knew so well. As the people turned toward the forest they saw standing on a mound, its coat shining in the setting sun, a magnificent tiger. ‘Look! Sampians,’ Marita cried, ‘our victory is complete.’

  “Despite the euphoria that gripped the village that day, the reality was that Sampa had changed forever. It might have been expected that such a resounding victory over a feared oppressor would have resulted in Sampa being even more strongly united around their beliefs and values than ever. But this was not the case. Within weeks of the battle against the Mordecans, deep rifts appeared, surprising as it might sound, within the Council of Elders. The strength of the Council throughout the whole history of Sampa had been its unconditional support of the office of the Mother-Father and its fierce commitment to the Covenant of Abele. But now in the wash up of recent events, some of the Elders began to express qualified support of the Mother-Father, and serious disagreements arose around what was seen as the vulnerability of Sampa.

  “It is important to remember that each of the Elders was appointed by their family group. Each group was identified by the relationship between the males and traced back through the history of Sampa. Women when they married became members of their husbands’ lines. Even though there were over five thousand people living in Sampa, there were only twenty-five family groups. As the population grew and with the advent of refugees becoming permanent residents, the appointment of Elders became more and more problematic. One example of this was that refugees who had not married into a Sampian family, regardless of how long they had been part of the Sampian community, had no representation on the Council because they did not belong to an established family group.

  “A second issue was the difficulty that some family groups experienced in choosing a representative. As you can imagine, two or three generations in one family are always going to have different ways of viewing the world. Different family members had different opinions about whether their Elder was accurately representing their point of view. Some Elders found that they had an oppositional leader rise up in their family and challenge their right to represent the family group. The end result of both of these issues was that there were a growing number of people in the community who one
way or another felt disenfranchised.

  “Two of the current Elders held extremely divergent views when it came to the time-honoured values of Sampa. The first of these two, Domoni, was regarded by many as conservative when it came to cultural change. He was strongly committed to the Covenant and spoke always of the importance of thanking the Great Creator for all the blessings they enjoyed, but he was a radical when it came to economic development and education. Rubin on the other hand was regarded as a radical when it came to cultural change, and a libertine in issues of morality. His mother was a refugee from the mountains who, since marrying Rubin’s father, a Sampian, had had a profound influence on the family. When it came to education and exposure to the modernising influences of the wider community, however, he was frighteningly conservative.

  “Both of these men were not only active in Council but also in the wider community. Domoni was extremely active in matters of social concern and led the teams of men who travelled to the Mountain Villages to help them with the rebuild after the fires. Rumours abounded that he also had been chosen by the Great One of the Forest to be the next Mother-Father. Rubin’s popularity was the strongest among those who were concerned that exposure to the outside world, whilst still holding to quaint beliefs like the Covenant, was very dangerous. What he advocated was less commercial reliance on the outside world and an increased use of the boundless resources of the forest. He also appealed to those who were anxious about attacks from mountain villages by advocating the establishment of a trained and equipped army.

  “Almost immediately after the great battle, Rubin began to engage in what was a new activity in Sampa. He began holding political gatherings where he put forward his agenda for the future, urging Sampians to put pressure on their Elders to do whatever is needed to provide individuals with a sense of personal happiness and security. These gatherings, although largely boycotted by most of the other Elders, were on the whole well attended, and consequentially the tenor of conversations in the village changed as people debated Rubin’s opinions. There was no law against such meetings, but traditionally the only person who actually ever addressed public meetings in the past was the Mother-Father. Those gatherings had always been positive, optimistic, and reassuring, but the Elders were generally unhappy with what they called ‘Rubin’s scare-mongering.’

  “As you can imagine, this also changed the atmosphere in the Council of Elders meetings. In the past they would gather several times a week to discuss the issues being raised by their family groups, applying their own collective wisdom to the matters they discussed, but more importantly seeking the wisdom of the Mother-Father who was always present. They saw their role as one of serving the community rather than either governing it, or influencing the views of the population. Now the meetings focused on the opposing philosophies being championed by Rubin and Domoni and their followers, and the potential problems that change or the lack of change would bring. For Marita and most of the Council, the one nonnegotiable was any plan to plunder the rainforest through timber gathering, hunting, or mining. Whatever other advances they might consider as a community, the immovable boundary was the edge of the forest, and the reason was the age-old Covenant that declared that the rainforest was the domain of the animals, and the rich fertile valley was the domain of the Sampians.

  “Marita and the majority of the people would acknowledge that the reason they had always been able to live without fear was their adherence to the Covenant. If they broke the Covenant and forfeited the protection currently provided by the tiger, they would become a society driven by fear. Such an environment of fear would breed a community where suspicion, mistrust, and violence would flourish.

  “At the same time as this political unrest was being experienced in Sampa, fighting between some key villages in the mountains broke out. Sampa had always been a good neighbour to the mountain villages and so it was to be expected that when refugees fled their homes, which were no longer safe, they would come to Sampa. It had always been so. But this time it was different because when one day a group of refugees reached the river, after a gruelling and hazardous three-day journey, they were met by a crowd of determined Sampian protestors who had crossed the river and refused to allow them to proceed any further. Hungry, weary, and terribly afraid, these displaced people were desperate. A fight ensued and several people on both sides were injured. Tragically, at the height of the scuffle, overwhelmed by despair, a man with all his possessions strapped to his back deliberately threw himself into the river where he drowned.

  “When more Sampians arrived to support the refugees, the asylum seekers were finally escorted into Sampa where they were fed and accommodated. Later that night the people gathered in the village square calling for Marita to address them. The protestors were enraged that more refugees had been welcomed when there was only just enough space, food, and jobs for those who were already there. Those who welcomed the refugees were equally outraged that the traditional generosity and welcome offered to strangers by the Sampians had been threatened. When Marita stood to address the vast crowd, she startled them by announcing that as Rubin had organised and led the protest, he would be given the opportunity to explain the actions of the protestors. Many in the audience booed him as he stepped forward, but some brave souls dared to cheer.

  “‘People of Sampa,’ he began, ‘As you well know, I serve Sampa on the Council of Elders, as my father did before me. My mother is a refugee, so I am grateful that in the past, Sampa has been a generous and welcoming village. When my mother and her family came here, the population in the valley was smaller, and there was spare land in the valley and there was an abundance of materials to build new houses. This is not the case now. Most of the land has been occupied, our population has reached five thousand, and the building materials that we harvested from the mountains are no longer as plentiful. Unless we expand our farm land into the rainforest and develop new sources of income through hunting, timber gathering, and mining, we have no room for natural growth let alone providing for refugees.

  “‘Today we took the unprecedented action of protest because we need to make a point. Sampa is hindered by our adherence to a silly old-fashioned belief in a mystical covenant. If there is a Great Creator, then would not such a loving and generous being have given us the rainforest to provide for our needs and the needs of those who from time to time come seeking our assistance? It is time for change. Change requires courage and Sampians have never lacked courage.’ The crowd remained quiet as Rubin paused for breath. ‘The changes I refer to’ he continued, ‘are these: We must assure our security by recruiting and building an army. We must manufacture or buy suitable weapons. We must no longer rely on charitable but incapable leaders. A community like ours must be “governed” by elected leaders, or if necessary by a person backed by the army, not “served” by a group of benevolent volunteers. And we need to increase our farming land by clearing some of the rainforest. Timber needs to be harvested and other resources in the forest that have been protected by the so-called covenant must also be mined. It is political and social foolishness to continue as we are. The way forward is clear: Appoint a visionary leader, support him with a well-trained and resourced military, and give him a mandate to enlarge our borders, strengthen our economy, and increase our security. Today I challenge Marita and the Elders of Sampa to take up this challenge.’

  “When Rubin had finished speaking, Marita was welcomed to the stage with warm applause. Even those who pressed for change had a profound respect for the woman who marched in front of a few hundred unarmed people against an intimidating enemy. ‘Friends,’ she began, ‘I thank Elder Rubin for sharing with us once again why he calls for political, social, and spiritual change. It is important that there is in our society a freedom to develop and share new ways of thinking. Indeed, a great deal of the new ideas and vision that have shaped and improved our life in the valley have been inspired by those who have joined us from the villages in the mountains. As I have moved around the villa
ge and heard your stories, I have been impressed by how many of you, your parents, grandparents or great grandparents have come from the mountain villages either as migrants or refugees over many, many decades and contributed richly to the growth and development of Sampa.

  “‘Whatever our generosity may have cost us, we have been rewarded a hundredfold. We must never stop asking the question, “What aspects of our life as a community need to change?” but first we must ask the question, “What manner of people should we be?” Indeed today, we must ask that question. What words should describe us? Peaceable and peaceful? Yes! Loving and kind? Yes! Generous? Yes! Forgiving and gentle? Yes! Industrious and hardworking? Yes! A people who refuse to be ruled by fear? Yes! Friends, if that is who we essentially are, what has made us like that? Why do we not war against other villages and them against us? Why have we always been able to live toward each other in love and kindness, without suspicion? Why was our revered father Galildra, a stranger, without a mother and father and with his twisted and crippled body, welcomed, nurtured, and raised by the whole village? Why was I, a disabled child, made to feel that I was not “special” or “different”? Why today did we welcome more displaced, frightened, and hungry people? Let me tell you why: because we are a people who live without fear, and we live without fear because our father Abele entered into a covenant, that made us the unchallenged custodians of this valley, and the tiger the undisputed custodian of the forest.

  “‘Because of this covenant, no Sampian has ever died as the result of a tiger attack, and no forest animal has died at the hand of a Sampian. In fact the opposite has occurred many times. Sampians have been protected and rescued by tigers, and animals have been rescued and nursed to health by Sampians. Can we be a people who are kind to animals and reject refugees? Will we ever put our perceived needs ahead of meeting the real needs of others? Will we experience the violence, war, and murder that other villages experience? Will we one day build fences to keep our neighbours, who we do not trust, from trespassing on our properties? Will we one day build gaols for criminals, wife beaters, and drunks? The answer to all of these questions is yes! If we no longer obey the Covenant.’