Day of the Dead

Today we had Día de los Muertos story hour in the camp, with a lot of good stories, both sweet, funny and scary.

A girl came to my clinic the other day,
thinking that she might be with child.
I scanned her, and as we waited for the scanner to run
she told me of a ghost near her camp.
Her story moved me so I wrote it down, and here it is.

The shortcut through the planted field

   is tempting as I go

The drifting clouds the moon conceal,

   I cannot wander slow

The corn stands high above my head

the path I chose is muddy

It grows in rows without an end

and in the dark I hurry

I look around, I might be blind

as down the path I hustle

The air is still, there is no wind

so why do cornstalks rustle?

I feel a presence close to me

the noise is all around

Try as I might I cannot see

   the reason for the sound

I’m running like a frightened cat

   I cannot see the cause

It’s first on this hand then on that

   I run without a pause

My heart is racing as I fly

   towards our campfires’ shelter

I fear although I know not why

   I tumble helter skelter

I reach the camp, I’m safe at last

   amid familiar friends

I look around, for breath I gasp

   as panic slowly ends

The morning comes, the sun gives light

   of ever changing hue

the cornfield’s calm, and all in sight

Is glistening with the dew

I feel my fathers’ loving arm

across my shoulders fall

I lean towards him, safe from harm

He’s warm and strong and tall.

“My grandfather is buried here ”

   he says and takes my hand

” he led our tribe against a foe

   who tried to steal our land “

He led the charge that turned the day

and when the foe was gone

we found him bleeding, weak and grey

his life was almost done “

“he gazed upon our sacred land

   and with his fading will

he reached out with his failing hand

‘I shall protect you still’ “

“We laid him deep beneath the ground

we laid him where he fell

We laid him with his feathered crown

and spear and shield as well “

“He gave his life to save us all

   He died so you might live

and once you’ve served this noble call

there’s nothing more to give “

“We planted corn upon his grave

   according to his will

and when we hear the cornstalks move

we know he’s with us still “

Hand in hand we trod the path

   that led to home and peace

and settled by our welcome hearth

remembered sacrifice.

So sometimes when the day is done

   and darkness floods the sky

I hear a rustling in the corn

and know the reason why
Diana

Clears throat, sits down, and looks into the fire, saying with a low voice, “This story I will tell you all is not a ghost story, and it is not a scary story to tell as amusement when it gets dark, No, it’s a cautionary tale about ancient evils, that roam the night here in the jungle”.

Click here to read the rest of the story….
Catten

Aisha tells the story of the First Strawberry

Smiles at everyone around and says “I’d like to share a story that my late mother used to tell me before she tucked me in at night. As some of you might know, she was killed by my father’s tribe when I was still young. By sharing this story, I am hoping I can have her memory to stay with me and share it with you and to show how wise of a woman she was.. This is the story about the first strawberry”

Click here to read the rest of the story….
Aisha

Mefisto tells the story of Mephistopheles

He clarifies his voice “Goethe, I never imagine that after writing Fausto his demon Mephistofeles will stay among humans learning from his fears” laughs

Click here to read the rest of the story….
Mefisto

Whisper tells the story of Bobble and Kvita

Clear throat and starts *Once upon a time in the heart of the Amazon Jungle, there lived two tribal elders… Let’s call them, Bobble and Kvita… Bobble was an old fearless warrior, renowned for his unmatched trading skills and survival instincts. Kvita, on the other hand, was known for her beauty and her compassion towards everyone

Click here to read the rest of the story…
Whispering Wind

Khaing tells the story of the Evil Priestess

Gives a small coughs and takes a sip of rum from her hip flask

A few miles outside the village there stood a ruined temple in a dark hollow of the rainforest overhung with dense foliage, which had a reputation for being haunted, because anyone who entered it was later found dead with all their bones broken

One late afternoon as the sun had turned deep orange and sparkled between the trees as it began to sink, a young girl from the village who had a bad reputation for drinking, was feeling really annoyed as she could not find a quiet spot where she could drink her rum in peace. So she went to the ruined temple and sat enjoying her drink.

‘Now the drama begins…’ licks her lips and grins

With loud footsteps a large fat priestess entered and asked the drunkard whether she could wrestle. The girl was surprised and annoyed as her drinking was being disturbed.

Of course, anyone who loves rum will of course understand her frustration,

‘Oh! Of course I can priestess’, she answered with a sullen look.

‘Come and wrestle with me then’, invited the smirking priestess with her sibilant snake-like voice. So the nervous girl and the slippery priestess wrestled.

Although the girl used all the tricks of wrestling she had learned at the village school, it was all to no avail, for the Priestess’s body was as soft as a sack of grass and as slippery as an eel. Although the girl was gasping, puffing and blowing, the priestess was

Glares at Diana, then pauses for dramatic effect, and says in a hushed voice with a smile on her lips, ‘A spirit…just think of it my friends and sisters – a slimy, grinning, grotesque spirit!!’

At last the girl was caught in a vice-like grip and her body was being banged against the floor repeatedly by the smirking priestess. In desperation the girl reached our her trembling hands and gripped the hair of the priestess and…. to her great surprise she felt a leather cap on the head of the priestess that she just couldn’t see. With widening eyes it seemed totally invisible to the naked eye.

She quickly snatched away the cap. At once the priestess let go her hold and in a pleading tone begged humbly for the return of her cap. ‘Why should I?’, answered the girl in growing confidence, realising that the spirit seemed to be in her power. ‘I have been needing a leather cap for a long time’.

‘Girl, groaned the priestess stretching out her hands, ‘but the cap is a vanishing cap which all spirits possess. Without it we can’t disappear. And when a human snatches it away from one of us, we are unable to snatch it back. We have to wait until it is freely returned to us.’

‘Haha!’ Laughed the triumphant girl, ’thank you for the information. Now I can take you home with me and make you fetch rum for me for three years. Then I’ll give you back your cap as payment for faithful service.’ But the spirit was in no mood for joking and pleaded with the girl to return the cap. Grovelling on the ground in front of her

In the end, the spirit in desperation told the girl that there were seven pots of gold buried underneath the stairs of the temple. ‘Now pleasee return me my cap and you can dig up the pots later.’

‘Dig them up yourself’, said the girl. So the poor spirit had to dig up the pots. ‘Now carry them and follow me’, ordered the girl and the poor spirit had to do what she was told. But when they approached the village the girl realised that the tribe’s villagers would come out and beat her if they should see her making a priestess carrying her heavy baggage. ‘I will have to have to explain that it’s a spirit and not a real priestess’, thought the girl, ‘then all the villagers will come to my house to ask me questions and they won’t allow me to drink my rum in peace’

So, turning to the spirit she said, ‘All right spirit. Thank you and goodbye. Here is your cap.’ The spirit took the cap and vanished at once.

The girl became very rich and was made chieftess of the tribe and lived in great luxury as most chieftess do, except me, as I am too humble to wallow in gold, as most of you will know!
Khaing