Main Course

Prompt: Write about someone who must fit their whole life in one suitcase.

Main Course

My mind drifted as I heard ba dum, ba dum , ba dum, ba dum the sounds of drums beating in the distance. It gets louder as I scramble to pack my suitcase. The Ratu (chief) is at my hut. “You must leave the island now. The Shaman wants your head. You will be boiled in oil if he catches you. Take your God and your magic water with you. The women are crying out because of the deaths of their babies. The Shaman wants to avenge their deaths because he says your water made them sick and die.”

“Finished. I think I have all my things in this suitcase. My stole, my Bible, my holy water, my vestments. I said to the Ratu “If there is any more of my stuff you can send it to me on a slow boat to China.” The inference was lost on the Ratu as I chuckled.

“Most respectfully, Ratu, you know the real reason why those babies died. It wasn’t because I baptized them with holy water. The Shaman secretly poisoned them as sacrifices to his kalou ca (bad evil gods). Now he wants to blame me for his murderous rampage on the innocent. He wants me off this island one way or the other. If anything does happen to me, please send my suitcase to the American Missionary Association. It contains my most precious mementos and items of my ministry."

“You have the power to stop him. Why are you so afraid,” I asked him.

“I fear his veimatai ca (bad magic). He has calagi (wickedness) to destroy me and my family,” said the Ratu in a subdued voice. “You must go now. I will show you the way to the sea.”

“Aye, aye aye, shrieks of rage filled our ears. No sooner had we stepped out the door the shaman was wielding a large machete at me. The Ratu had sold me out. He never was going to show me anything but the vengeance of the Shaman. I held up my suitcase in my defense!

‘Pop.’. The case opened as soon as the Shaman struck it. I grabbed the Bible and bottle of holy water as it fell into the air. “Stop or I will sprinkle my water of death on you and on the Ratu. Back away and let me through. Ratu, you must come with me.” But the Ratu grabbed my arm holding the bible and wrenched it free. The struggle forced me to drop the bottle of holy water. The Shaman lunged at me grabbing my torso.

“I have the white dragon (drako veivua). We will feast on his boiled flesh tonight.”

Then the Shaman grabbed me by my hair.” I won’t resist. Please let go of my hair,” as I fell to my knees. Neither of them saw me as I picked up the bottle from the ground putting it in my pocket. I could barely breathe as the Shaman continued to hold me by my chest pushing me to his gruesome lair of skulls and bones.

The air was pungent with the smell of rancid fish oil. I could see a large cauldron set over a roaring inferno. Apparently, the Shaman had anticipated catching something big for his dinner. Something or someone was destined to be deep fried. By the looks of it, it was going to be me.

Villagers gathered around to see the commotion. It had been a century or two since cannibalism occurred on the island. It was either as a curiosity or hunger pangs that compelled them to come to witness this savagery. Ropes were tied under my arms and waist; my hands were bound directly to my waist. I was hoisted above the cauldron with its swirling hot fish oil.

“Your God is weak. My power is strong. I will avenge the deaths of the babies. Today your flesh will nourish my flesh,” said the Shaman with spite. The crowd oohed and awed at his vicious words.

I said, “Shaman, you are a liar and a sham. Your power is from the Evil One (diavoli). My help comes from the one true God.”

Nervously, the Ratu yelled up to me, “You are not helping your case. Say something to save yourself!”

“Ok, I will. O my God if it is your Will save me from this wickedness. But if You do not save me, then let it be known to these people that I still love and honor my God no matter what He decides!”

Kaboom, kaboom, the clouds darkened and lightning streaked across the sky. A few raindrops fell and that was it. The sun poked out of the sky. The Shaman snickered.

“Your God does not care about you,” said the Shaman.

At least I gave it a shot I thought. Then Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh the air swirled around me and the cauldron. Instantly, the fire was extinguished. Despite the sun, a torrential rain fell from the skies. A frenzy of jubilation ensued.

The villagers shouted “Praise his God for He is mightier than the Shaman’s kalou ca. He is a God that saves! Cut him down and remove him away from the pot. Throw the Shaman in and see if his god saves him!”

The throbbing in my head was intense from the hot sun beating down on me. Fortunately, I nearly was able to finish my class notes. Hopefully, I can connect with the kids in my Sunday school class with this story from the book of Daniel about the fiery furnace. My Fijian is improving as well as their understanding of English. But I think they will understand the meaning behind the biblical passages about a loving, saving God.

“Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego answered and said to the king, “O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If that is the case, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver us from your hand, O king. But if not, let it be known to you, O king, that we do not serve your gods, nor will we worship the gold image which you have set up.” (Daniel 3:16-18 NKJV)

The question I think the kids will eventually ask is “did the Shaman get boiled in oil?” What do you, the readers think?

My next class will be on the forgiveness of God. Stay tuned in for the latest on the Shaman. Meanwhile, I am headed to my assistant pastor’s hut for lunch. I smell the aroma of fried chicken as I head inside. A rarity on the islands, indeed.

-END-

NKJV=New King James Version (Tysdale Pub)

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsyprompts.com