Poem 6: What Separates Us

The fear we feel is as old as life
And time after time it leads us to strife
When looking at the mistakes of the past
We are fast to promise never
Yet we draw lines in the sand
And pretend it is forever

We still seek to define ourselves in where we are from
Instead of seeking strength in who we have become
Wherever you are from
That is not your total sum
You are not European, African, Asian, or whatever
You are people; part of the human race forever
We are neighbours and we are brothers
We are children and we are mothers

We vainly fight our enemies hoping to win
But we lose because the true enemy is within

A country is just a geographical region, an idea which is a great divider in this world.
Everyone is born somewhere, and that’s what separates us…

Chapter 6: Blues and Whiskey

Eyes of mistrust. It does not matter where you are; people are always people. The natives gave us the same look that those in the town gave us when we first arrived. It is tribe mentality; an inescapable human bias. Then again I doubt they had any reason to trust strangers. It is always people who create the mistrust in people. Where does the trust begin?

The three beasts trotted slowly towards the outskirts of the settlement. Everyone had stopped what they were doing. They watched us watching them watching us. I smiled and I waved in an attempt to diffuse any animosity. The smile was not reciprocated. I watched on still smiling as some young strong men scurried towards the larger of the wickiups. One entered as the rest stood guard outside.
“Let us wait here to be welcomed” Gan spoke.
We waited on the outskirts. I continued to smile and wave. A child waved back but was quickly scolded and hushed away by her mother. Eventually the young strong man exited the wickiup with an old man. It was the settlement’s elder and chief; his headdress said it all. The chief approached us slowly. The young men followed.
“They have weapons” Michael John whispered.
“So do we” I replied.
By ‘we’ I meant Michael John and Gan. I was unarmed. My revolver lay buried amongst my stuff back at the hotel. I had been avoiding it. The thought of it firmly gripped in my hand made me feel uneasy. My trigger finger trembled at the thought…
I gulped in anticipation. There were no smiles, and there was no joy. Just people stopping their daily activities to watch warily as some strangers approached their camp. We were the strangers and we had greatly disrupted the mood of the settlement. I felt guilty, yet knowing that I had done nothing wrong. It is a shame that we often hurt others merely through existing…
“Hello!” I called towards the chief and his men.
The chief looked tall and strong for an old man. He had great posture. His eyes were glazed with the wisdom that comes with age, but he had that look… like he had seen too much. His expression was somewhat stoic.
“Are you from the Bank?” the chief questioned.
I turned and looked at Michael John and Gan. I doubted that we looked like men from the Bank. I guess we must look somewhat like banditos; three ragtag human beings united in one cause. The Bank had banditos on its payroll. They had probably sent the banditos to intimidate the natives to move. Their settlement was next to a small river. It was relatively fertile land; perfect for a new ranch. Big business would always supersede the common people. I understood why these people would act so unwelcoming to strangers.
“I assure you that we are not from the Bank” Gan spoke.
“Hmm… is that so?” the Chief’s face became more animated as he asked Gan “What tribe are you from?”
“The human tribe” Gan responded.
The chief smiled.
“I am Chief Kief”
“A pleasure to meet you Chief Kief. I am Gan. These are my travelling companions, Whiskey and Michael John.”
Travelling companions? Why not friends? I suppose our relationship as bounty killers is complicated. We fit into no clearly defined category. We are three people; the Beautiful Triumvirate, but I guess Gan cannot say who we are without word getting out. No one knows what the Beautiful Triumvirate look like, but they have all heard the stories… death follows us.

…

After realising that we were not from the Bank, Chief Kief welcomed us to his settlement. We found out that the Bank had recently been trying to get to these people to move. I was right in assuming that the Bank had sent banditos. Some of their livestock had been killed and one of their wickiups had been burnt down; warnings of things to come. The natives were powerless to do anything about it. If they fought back they would face the full force of the law. They were left with no option other than passive resistance hoping that the greed whores would eventually get their fill and forget about their land. Little Boy Blair had voracious eyes; he would not be satisfied until the land was overused and made redundant. The lives of many were at stake. We had to make sure not to complicate the bounty situation. We only have one shot at intercepting the bounty before they have a chance to realise that the Beautiful Triumvirate are in town.
“Why did you come here?” Chief Kief asked.
He laughed when we told him why we came to visit. Recovering from alcohol was not the real reason for our visit but it was a good one to give. The sweat lodges were generally used for spiritual purposes; vision quests to be precise. Recovering from a night of too much alcohol was not their original purpose, but the chief granted us permission to use them for such although warned us that a vision quest may be unavoidable.

After showing us about and introducing us to some of the key members of the tribe it was time to prepare for the sweat lodge. Chief Kief invited us back to his wickiup.
Gan declined his offer “If you do not mind chief I would like to have a look around some more. The idea of spending the afternoon sweating does not appeal to me.”
“I understand child” the chief responded.
He had sensed something in Gan. I felt it too. It was the churning of nostalgia and a profound sense of sorrow.
I did not know how to feel or how to act so I hugged her and said “See you shortly.”
Michael John did the same and then we followed the chief into his wickiup.
He took out a long pipe and stuffed it with a plant. The plant they smoked healed the body and mind. Chief Kief told us to smoke with him before using the sweat lodges. We smoked and I began to feel strange… As I inhaled the pipe I began to cough vigorously.
“It is potent stuff” Chief Kief said with a large grin.
As I coughed I attempted to stand. I awkwardly stumbled. Time moved slowly. In my new strange state the I of Me was destroyed. It was total destruction yet I glimpsed Michal John laughing at me. I was a funny sight as I hazily roamed from the wickiup to a sweat lodge that had been freshly prepared. Several women disrobed me down to my long johns; my afternoon was going better than expected.
Chief Kief ushered me into the sweat lodge whispering that the spirits had a message for me.

Time moved more slowly in the darkness. I was alone with nothing but heat. Breathe in, and breathe out. The breathing is all there is to it; in and out, and disregard the uncomfortable heat. The heat slowly draws you in. It is uncomfortable but it produces an effect… it is moreish. The heat draws you in as you breathe in; warmth beyond warmth. Soon there is nothing but an empty universe. The darkness and the heat take over. There is nothing but the mind. With no external stimuli it begins to create the universe from scratch. You enter into yourself. The vision quest begins.

It begins with a splash of colour. In this instance a splash of purple. It forms an abstract shape as it slowly begins to take form; all the while the colour slowly changes hue. It changes from purple to blue to back to purple and then to red and then to orange and more. Constantly changing the formless form evolves. Soon it becomes a shape, multi-coloured. Each shade of each colour slowly morphs. They dance and ebb into each other. The splash of colour has gone from formless nothing to something more defined. More layers are added. The picture takes shape… It is something familiar, an elephant. I am standing in front of an elephant. I am surrounded by a savannah. The splash of colour has painted an entire universe. It only took a few seconds! I laugh to myself at the absurdity of a universe being created before my very eyes. I am watching the impossible unfold. The elephant stares at me with serious eyes. I am reminded that I am not here as a tourist. At this moment I believe that it was him who had fallen from the sky that had brought me here. He has a message for me. Perhaps it is time to repay the favour…
A deep gravelly rasping voice utters “Not here. Not now.”
It is him. But the debt is not to be repaid so soon. Not until under the light of the full moon…
The elephant silently roars as it becomes a glossed black. A liquid fluid tar drips from it. Glop by glop the elephant slowly falls apart. As its body twists and meshes its eyes remain fixed on me. Eyes as white as snow; they pierce me to my very core. The black tarred gloop slowly morphs into his face. He gently breathes. I have to cover my face from the gale force of his breath. The wind from his breath does not let up. I feel a certain anxiety at the strange sensation the wind induces. Eventually I give in and allow the wave of sensation to flow over me. It was foolish of me to resist. Wave after wave of euphoria floats up and down my body. As I finally end all resistance the ground dissipates beneath me. I am freefalling into the infinite. I feel ecstasy. Calmness, serenity, and Zen take over me. In this moment I am perfect. It is a familiar feeling. I have been here before. It is time. He who fell from the sky guides me. It is in his interest to see me succeed. A dead man cannot repay a debt, nor can a man trapped between worlds…

There is nothing in every infinite direction. Infinite nothing is infinitely big and also infinitely small. A single spark is all it takes for a nothing to become a something. He draws me from the nothing. The nothing is overwhelmed with something as I find myself in a long dark stone corridor. There is no candlelight yet the corridor is illuminated. I see him towards the end of the corridor. His back is turned and he slowly walks forward. His shoes click as he walks. I walk after him. My feet do not make noise as I walk. The only noise is the clicking from his shoes.
Click! Click! Click!
As I get closer to him at the end of the corridor I see that he is wearing a dark green jacket with padding in the shoulders, and black trousers. I am about a metre away from him when he turns the corner at the end of the stone corridor, but as I turn the corner he is nowhere to be seen. There is nothing but metal tanks. My eyes are transfixed on the wall beside the metal containers. The wall glows. I enter the glowing portal. The corridor is gone. Now there is nothing but a stone room. Doors, windows, and stairs ignore any notion of up or down; they are scattered about in every direction. I see him. He is upside down to me, or perhaps I am upside to him. I do not know. He ascends/descends up a flight of stairs to the top? of the room. I climb upwards ignoring the paths, opting to jump from one platform to another to ascend. He looks at me and shakes his head in disapproval as I reach the top platform. There is a hole in the wall. It is a spiralling slide. He puts his feet forward and enters the spiralling slide. I watch as he spirals down feet first with his arms crossed over his chest. I walk over and inspect the slide. It appears to lead into nothingness. I enter expecting to slide but instead fall onto a chair. I am sitting beside him. We are in a dark room facing a large white screen. He stares forward unflinching facing the screen.
“What should I call you?” I ask.
“Blues” he replies.
“Why did I write myself that note mentioning you?” I ask
“Whiskey” he replies.
Blues and Whiskey…
“Why am I here?” I ask.
He turns his head and looks at me. I notice a decorative bowknot around his neck. With intent he slowly raises his index finger to his mouth quieting me. He then turns his head back to face forward towards the white screen. Light resonates over the white screen. I watch.
The message begins:

A train and images of Manchuria flash before my eyes. A memory… I attempt to distract myself unwilling to watch the events replay themselves. In avoiding those memories I am brought back to another memory instead. It is a more recent event; the last time I used my revolver…

“Hey! What do you think you are doing drinking in here?” he asks.
I turn and look at him; my whiskey is in my left hand. He is moving his hand towards his revolver.
“I would not do that if I were you” I say sipping at my whiskey.
“What are you going to do about it you queer?” he says with presumption as he grabs his revolver and takes aim at me.
“So why do they call you Whiskey?” he asks aiming his revolver at my head.
“Killing makes me thirsty for the stuff…”
There is only one shot as the man falls to the floor. I holster my revolver and finish off my whiskey. Before I exit the saloon I glimpse the young boy running to his dead dad.
As I quickly walk away from the scene I hear him scream “Papa Papa!”
The memory jumps forward. I am riding my beast away from the town with tears streaming down my face. Fear and guilt cling to me. I have killed a man, and left a child fatherless all because I exist, but deep down I know there was an alternative… there had to have been one.

I pull out of the memory and find myself back sitting with Blues.
I ask him “Why?” as tears stream down my face.
He does not answer. He simply blows on my face and just like that I am back in the sweat lodge. I cannot tell if I have been crying. The sweat covers any evidence. It is time for me to return.

…

Chief Kief was waiting for me as I exited the sweat lodge. He gave me a drink and I gulped it down. I saw colours as I tasted the drink. It was the first time I had seen colours from taste; it was a peculiar but interesting after effect of the vision quest.
“Follow me. Your friends wait for you at the river.”
Chief Kief walked and I followed. It reminded me of when I was following Blues.
“You were away for a long time.”
It had felt like an eternity.
“How long was I in there for?” I asked Chief Kief.
“You were in there for just over an hour.”
“An hour?!” I questioned out of shock.
“Time out here is irrelevant to time in there…” The Chief said with a laugh.
I looked up at the sky and saw that he was not lying, unless he had the power of moving the sun which I doubted. It was a silly thought.

Michael John and Gan were splashing about in the river with some other people. I joined them. Michael John and I nodded at each other. We both now knew the profound implications of a vision quest, but it was something that we could not talk about; it was too otherworldly for this world that we currently reside in. Instead I asked Gan what she got up to when Michael John and I were using the sweat lodges. She told us what she had been doing, but it was one particular thing she said that stuck out. Gan had planted a tree. It was such a simple act. I pressed her for more information on the subject. The Chief had told her that the sign of a good society is one that plants trees for future generations to enjoy. This idea of planting a tree for future generations captivated me. It was such a simple act, but the ideology behind it was potent.
“You should both do it” Gan suggested before continuing “I will show you were I planted mine.”
I was in no hurry to leave the river, and so we splashed about and played. The vision quest had evoked something in me. Playing in the river with Gan and Michael John was fun, and I wanted the moment to last as long as possible. Thoughts of the past made me sad, but the present made me happy. It is moments like this that will stay with me for the rest of my life. It is important to outweigh the bad with the good. Playing is always paramount.

After we finished splashing about and lounging we followed Gan out of the river and dried off. The women who had disrobed me approached and gave Michael John and I our clothes back. We dressed. Gan had two seeds in her waistcoat pocket.
“The chief gave these to me. I think he wanted me to give them to you” she said.
There was a small mound where she had planted her tree. The ground around the mound looked arid and infertile. I thought that it would be more efficient to place the seeds in a more fertile looking area.
“Make sure you plant the trees with sufficient space” Gan commanded.
“Are you sure anything will grow in this soil?” Michael John questioned.
Gan explained “The Chief said that almost all of his tribe’s land was barren when it was given to them, but now look at it! They have worked the land and they have cared for it. As you can see it has come a long way.”
I could not help but think about how the Bank wanted to make this area into another ranch, now that the land was worth something. I clenched my hand feeling the seed in my fist.
“When we plant these trees we are putting our foot down. These trees are for the future and no one can stop that!” I exclaimed.
Michael John and I paced ourselves away from Gan’s mound. We both dug into the ground with our bare hands feeling the hot inhospitable soil as we clawed. Deep down enough it felt cool. I planted my seed and then began to cover the hole until there was nothing but a small mound. I looked at my now dirt covered hands. I could not help but think back to Manchuria. It was a long time ago but it still hurts to think about it. I have always been seeking the alternative to violence. Planting trees for future generations… perhaps this ideology would provide me with what I seek. Unfortunately planting a tree was not enough; the memory from Manchuria would not leave me so easily.
“I think it is about time we get back to the town” I suggested.
“The chief has asked us to stay for dinner” Gan spoke.
“I wish we had the time” I regrettably had to say.
“I know… we have a bounty to collect” Gan said wistfully dreaming of a more perfect world.
Michael John placed his hand onto Gan’s shoulder and said “Come on Gan. We have seeds to plant.”
Gan looked at Michael John and I. I felt happy to see that she was smiling.

We said farewell to Chief Kief promising that we would return for a night of feasting and festivities. The chief spoke some words muttering for the spirits to watch over us.
“Stay safe my child” he said to Gan before warning us all “and be careful! That town is full of liars and thieves!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

Previously...

@RiskDebonair
Irish Writer, Poet, & Lover

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