People called him Jack. His carving knife was as sharp as the fangs of a jaguar.
[A jaguar did not need much water. There used to be a fresh water hole across the street. The water was sweet. It was long gone now. A pub replaced it. The water was also sweet but it intoxicating. A jaguar went to a fresh water hole at dusk to drink and to catch a prey. After drinking he would sit on a log and sharpen his claws on a piece of wood.]
“Howdy Jack?”
“Hi. I’m great. How’re you doing?”
“Good, I’m good. What are you carving?”
“Nothing. Just keeping my knife sharp, you know, cleaning the rust.”
“It’s an eagle, is it?”
“Yeah. I always wanted to fly, fly away to the streams and creeks where the water is sweet and not intoxicating.”
“But you are a jaguar my friend.”
“I want to become an eagle or a jaguar with wings.” he grinned showing his white sharp teeth.
“See you around Jack.”
He hadn’t finished his eagle but thirst crept into his dry throat. The hot summer days always made him thirsty. He stood up and crossed the street holding his carving knife on his right hand and the unfinished eagle on his left.
From across the street he heard an eagle called faintly. His ears were weak now. It sounded like a red tail eagle.
All of the sudden he heard the eagle barked and flew toward him in the speed of light invited him to fly. His gentle soul took the invitation, flew to the blue sky leaving his body lying on the side walk with the carving knife and an unfinished wooden eagle.
***
[The local and national newspapers reported a police shooting incident of a Native American in Seattle, J.T. Williams. Hundreds of people held candles and prayed for the victim near the club he often visited. The community leaders were worried and anguished that more members of the most vulnerable community would suffer from harassment and abuse on the streets.]
By ouda, on September 18th, 2010
This posting is published on Ubud Writers and Readers festival 2010
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