Nirvana Effect

6



The tribe stopped their shouting. They had long awaited this hour to hear the wisdom of their Manassa. They knelt before him, the white man momentarily forgotten.

Already, their god had conjured the clouds; the rains had come for two days just as he had foretold. He had, of course, slain the panther. He had defeated the medicine man, even though the medicine man had cheated and attacked Manassa unarmed upon his triumphant return. Manassa had even healed a child, Tomy, of demons.

Every day, for a short time, Manassa talked to his people.

The tribesman Tien, on his knees, pushed his way closer to Manassa. He had a mission that would fail if he did get near.

Even if Tien’s deed meant his death it would be for the greater good of the tribe and his god. He was to slay the white man on sight. If the white man didn’t come out, Tien was to wait in the night and assassinate him as he slept.

Others were agitating the crowd to draw out the white man. Tien was to wait at the front of the crowd, his dagger in hand. But the crowd was thick, thicker than any other day. Tien could not get up to the front; the people there were jealous and kept pushing him back. They refused to be far from Manassa. They had waited all day to be near Him.

“MY PEOPLE!” shouted Manassa in the traditional Onge tongue he favored. My great god, thought Tien. He had been one to see Manassa fight the panther, and again fight the medicine man. Earlier, he’d seen Manassa shatter the medicine man’s spear. He had no doubt in his mind that this boy was the immortal of their legends.

“Manassa!” shouted the crowd in unison, Tien along with them. He was several rows back. Now that everyone was kneeling it was difficult edging closer.

“YOU ARE THE CHOSEN!” shouted Manassa.

“As are you, our god!” said the tribe.

“Hear me today, my people. A mighty miracle is at hand. Here today is the first shudder of a powerful earthquake. Here is the first branch bent by an unstoppable typhoon. Here is our first advance to the high throne to which the Onge are destined.” Tien had never learned traditional Onge. He did not understand what Manassa was saying. He would hear the story later, from Dook or another. He could not help but be excited, though, by the tone of his god’s words, by the rustling enthusiasm of the tribe all around him.

Dook had explained it all to him. All was as had been prophesied for generation upon generation. Their living god would lead the tribe to become the chieftains over all chieftains…

Manassa continued. “I told you that past the horizon, where the sun sets, lies a land ruled by the white man, a land of untold riches and plenty. Though we know of them, they know not of us. We are but a speck to them, a termite, an ant. They know not that their living god walks the earth today. They fear not the Chosen Tribe.

“But today, Manassa has made the white man his slave, has made the white man to recognize the living god. For today, the white man, the Jesus-man-no-more, Edward Styles, is healed!” He dramatically pulled aside the bamboo reeds. The white man exited the temple.

The priest stood resolutely, every muscle in his body tense. There was no sign of his head injury. Tien had seen Edward’s body in the clearing after the panther fight. There was no way he could be standing so soon; no human could recover so quickly. White demon. He is here to work his witchcraft on our god. He wished he knew what Manassa was saying. It would help him kill this demon.

Tien felt a fluttering in his stomach, the same that he got while on the hunt. A part of him wished the white man had never shown himself. He did not want to have to perform. I must not fail. Dook had promised to kill him if he failed. Tien gripped his knife’s reassuring handle. To succeed was glory.

“I am healed!” shouted Edward, also in traditional Onge. “I am grateful eternally. I renounce my God and my ways.” Edward took the cross hanging from his neck and broke it off its necklace. He threw it to the ground. “Manassa, you are my god, the only living god on earth, with the power to change nations.”

Tien slid the dagger from its sheath. Odd the priest was throwing down his necklace. Perhaps he was working some kind of spell. He was always wearing that strange cross. Why is Manassa permitting him to do his magic?

Tien launched through the rows of onlookers. They resisted his surge instinctively but he pushed through. Finally, he was in the open, stumbling forward, the white man within his reach. He leapt to plunge his knife into the kneeling priest’s back.

In a flash, Manassa interposed himself in front of the white man. Tien couldn’t stop his momentum. Manassa chopped the knife out of Tien’s hand before it reached him. Oh, gods, thought Tien. I attacked our god!

“TIEN!!!” shouted Manassa.

Tien collapsed on the ground, trembling. He sensed the eyes of the Onge upon him.

Manassa loomed over him. Tien felt his shadow. It would be nothing for Manassa to shove the dropped dagger into his head. He’d seen what Manassa had done to the panther.

“My child!” shouted Manassa. “Think you a dagger can stop a god?” It was in that old Onge tongue, again. Tien risked looking up at him. Manassa narrowed his eyes.

“I…” Tien mumbled. He looked back down at the ground. “I don’t know what you’re saying, my lord,” he mumbled in vulgar Onge.

“My child,” Manassa said, matching his dialect. The god sized up Tien and the silent crowd. “You didn’t hear my words, unmindful of the tongue of our ancestors. Others have heard my words, however, and still they disobey. For them there will be no mercy.” Manassa’s eyes locked with Dook’s, but only for a second. “I thank you for your service and your heart, but this white man recognizes me now as his god.”

Manassa glanced over at the white man. He was shaking heavily. Perhaps he’d gone into terror over the assassination attempt.

“The white man is now my chosen servant,” continued Manassa. “Let it be known that he is higher than all mortals, for he is the first of foreign lands to recognize the true living god, and he shall be the only mortal to ever sleep in my temple. So it is said, so it is. The words of Manassa.” He said the last in traditional Onge. Every word was memorized by the old women to be added to the oral history.

Manassa forcefully grabbed the white man and practically threw him into the hut. Edward was trembling all over. Apparently, the incident had given him quite a fright. Our god does not permit weakness.

“LONG LIVE OUR TRIBE!” shouted Manassa, retreating back into the hut.

“ETERNAL IS OUR LIVING GOD!” chanted the tribe. They stood. Tien plunged into the crowd. He had to get away.

Tien made it only ten yards before Dook seized him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground once more.

Tien cried out, holding his hands before him begging for mercy. “It was the will of the god.”

Dook spit on him and growled. “Perhaps. But that foreigner will be dead along with the other, despite your cowardice. I will be chieftain of the living god, and your idiocy won’t stop me.” Dook kicked him and walked away.

Tien noticed the boy Tomy walking past. Had he been listening? Tien dismissed it. He was just a boy.

Tien pulled himself up. It was not yet noon, and it had already been far too long a day.