Not knowing what to do, he held out both hands in front, ready to grip hers. Arriving, she slapped his hands down and moved to him, encircling him with her arms and rubbing her nose against his. Her breath came to him, sweet and aromatic, the source unknown. Mid way through the ritual, the woman stopped, looking intently into Saviour’s face. Her expression was one of shock and disbelief. The silence reigned deafeningly for many seconds before she spoke. “From where do you come?” she asked.
Saviour had to have the question repeated slowly in Portuguese, as he did not know the languagein which she had first spoken. The woman did as asked, but haltingly, all the time staring into his eyes. “From the West, across the seas,” he stuttered, puzzled.
Amazingly, the proud female dropped to her knees, her hands sliding down his sides. She bowed her head saying: “Man. You are not of this earth. Of which God are you?”
Saviour could not believe his ears — was she seeing him as a God? “I am from the Christian faith and my God is the Creator of all things.” He hoped his Portuguese was good enough.
The answer did not seem to satisfy. She backed away, still on her knees, saying: “Man. You come to teach us of your Gods and you are among them.”
Just then, a figure appeared from the dense vegetation surrounding the village. It was a man, naked apart from a small loincloth, carrying a long spear and holding a bunch of dead birds. He was of the same attractive colouring as the women and not much taller, around five feet six inches. Then another, and another, and another, emerged from different parts, all bearing spears and carrying some kind of dead animal or birds.
The women broke from their trance and began a loud cheering, raising and lowering their arms as if in worship. They were not worshipping the men, merely offering thanks to their Gods for the food that had arrived. It was a daily routine. The tall woman then stood and walked to the centre of the area where the tribesmen moved to her with their kill. She clearly held a position of importance with them.
From the jungle, there then came a sight to warm Saviour’s heart; one by one, his colleagues emerged. They had survived! On seeing Igantious there, standing, clearly over the main effects of the illness, they ran to him, shouting greetings. Ignatious noticed that the clothes they had been wearing at the beginning of the journey were now replaced with crudely made shirts and shorts, and each wore a wide-brimmed straw hat on their heads. The group met, more collided, with their comrade, almost knocking him to the ground in their exuberance. Words poured out in an excited babble.
Through the throng of his comrades, Ignatious glanced toward the tribe. All were stood, silently watching the proceedings. Sensing Ignatious’s tension, the missionaries ceased in their greetings and turned to follow his stare. For a few moments, the two groups stood, each motionless and silent.
Then, a figure new to Ignatious appeared. From the mode of dress, he was obviously the witch doctor. He moved toward them with a tribesman and the tall woman following, a couple of feet behind.
“What is happening?” Ignatious asked Father Christian.
“I don’t know,” he replied, puzzlement in his voice. “Something seems to be bothering them.” Nodding his head in the direction of the oncoming trio, Christian explained: “The witch-doctor has a lot of power and influence here. He is quite friendly towards us now but he was highly suspicious at first.”
“At first?” Ignatious turned to Christian. “At first? How long have we been here, then?”
This is our sixteenth day, Gawain,” he replied. “You have been very sick. These people have nursed you like a baby. They also tended to the rest of us and had us on our feet in days. We…”
The words fell short as the trio stopped some fifteen yards away, the Witch Doctor shouting in a harsh, high-pitched voice: “Man! Leader! Come. Meet here!”
The message was aimed at Christian who, without hesitation, moved from his friends to meet the three tribes-people. Once there, he became engaged in what appeared to be serious but not agitated conversation. Occasionally, one or other of the trio would lean to the side in order to get a clearer look at Ignatious and then return to the conference.
After five or six minutes, Christian turned and shouted Ignatious over. He joined them, walking without the fake limp. The journey seemed ridiculously long, the sun beating on his back, but, as it was, he was there in seconds.
Christian put an arm around him when he arrived. “The good people of the village, being a tribe known as The Remunaras,” he began, speaking in Portuguese for the benefit of his hosts, “say you are a God. Nothing I can say will dissuade them. Excanda, here, is a Chieftain of the tribe and she has powers that allow her to know of things unknown to normal mortals. She has been visited when in your presence and has been told of your status.”
Saviour almost laughed but, realising that it would have been taken as a great insult, he kept a solemn expression.
Christian continued: “The good people wish to offer their greetings to you and hope you will grant them good harvests and plentiful food. Whilst here, you will not be expected to carry out any tasks and you may have the pleasures of whichever young female you desire, at any time.”
“What?” expounded Saviour. “Pleasures of their females?”
Christian replied hastily, in English. “Yes. Don’t rock the boat. Just accept. Our task here is now made that much easier because if you tell them of our Lord, they will believe it. We hold daily classes and have made progress but we have not been able to convince them yet.”
“Well, Father. I will do all I can to help, of course but…girls? No. I do not think I should do that.”
Christian shrugged his shoulders and let out a short sigh, before turning back to face the tribal leaders. “Our holy companion, says thank you for your hospitality and he is pleased that you recognise his powers,” he said, in their tongue again. “He wishes to withold his mighty knowledge and live amongst you as equal.” Quickly spotting the concerns on the leaders’ faces, he added: “But he will accept that he should not work in your presence.” This seemed to appease them and they urged Christian to introduce them to the new God.
The Witch Doctor was introduced as She-Akbiyla and he also greeted Saviour with the rubbing of noses. The aroma from him was not nearly so pleasant as that of the woman, Excanda, who was next to be formerly introduced. Finally, the silent one of the trio stepped forward and, after giving his name as Ko-At-Skanta, he carried out the now familiar ritual with the noses.
The trio formed a line next to each other, three feet from Saviour, bowed as one and retreated slowly backwards until the body of the tribe was reached. They then went their separate ways.
“Well done!” said Christian to Ignatious, slapping his shoulders. “I think we should find you something to wear, don’t you?”
On the climb back to his quarters, Ignatious was much more aware of his nakedness and found it most embarrassing to be climbing above his colleagues, especially Vasquez, feeling that they would all be staring at his naked bottom! Once inside, he quickly found a beige-coloured shift, donning it just before the head of Sister Vasquez appeared in the entrance.