Shamanka

by Jeanne Willis

  Bahut doesn’t answer. Instead he stands up, tucks his right foot behind his ear and balances on his left foot. “Once, I stood on one leg for two years,” he boasts.

  Fascinated, Lola copies him.

  “Didn’t you get bored?” asks Sam.

  “Not at all. I visited more places in my head than I ever could on my legs. A man who balances on one leg is never lonely; people visit out of curiosity. I have met all sorts. But none more interesting than a magician who turned up a few months ago.”

  Sam leaps up. “Was his name John Tabuh? Was he with my mother?”

  Bahut nods, causing himself to wobble and tip to the left, so Lola kindly props him up again.

  “Mr Tabuh and his lady wife were most agitated,” continued the sadhu. “There had been a hoo-ha in the village. He had recklessly challenged the resident magician to perform the Indian Rope Trick at dawn, rather than noon.”

  John Tabuh had watched the trick and worked out how it was done. I will now pass on his observations to you, in case you ever wish to perform it.

  1. The glare of the midday sun created a blind spot at the top of the rope, making the boy invisible.

  2. The “bloody limbs” were bits of monkey meat wrapped in cloth, which the magician had secreted in his pocket.

  3. As for how the boy reappeared – simple! He was hidden under his master’s robes and carried down the rope. The audience was misdirected to watch the top of the rope, whereupon the boy slipped unnoticed into the basket.

  4. Yes, the rope was supported by a hook caught on a fine thread between two trees.

  The magician insisted that the Dark Prince was wrong: the rope trick was no illusion – it was magic. But when John asked him to prove it by performing the same trick when the sun was down, he refused. He said he had to visit his aunt. Noon was the only time of day he was free.

  “How about tonight then?” John had asked, at which point the magician punched him on the nose for fear that he’d steal his trick and expose it.

  “My father would never expose a trick,” Sam protests. “It goes against the magician’s oath. He was only trying to find out what’s real, what’s magic and what’s illusion.”

  “I know that to my cost,” harumphs Bahut. “Your mother was exhausted and your father asked if I had a bed she could borrow. But my bed is most uncomfortable – ooh … ow … cramp!”

  He unhooks his leg from behind his ear, rubs it, then hops into a cave. He returns with a begging bowl and a bed studded with nails, which he throws down, pointy side up.

  “I explained to your mother that she was most welcome to borrow this, but unless she mastered pranayama, she would have a most painful night. Only a sadhu in a state of religious ecstasy can endure such torture.”

  “Nonsense!” John Tabuh had said. “If you distribute your weight evenly, it doesn’t hurt.”

  Unfortunately, Bahut had found this remark more painful than any amount of nails.

  “Is it true though?” asks Sam. “Was my father right?”

  Lola is about to test the mattress, but Bahut won’t allow it. “Don’t! You are not a holy, thus you will become holey and a most excruciating experience that will be!” He lies down on the nails and shuts his eyes. “I am not feeling a thing, but that is because my faith is so very strong.”

  Sam crouches down to see if the nails are penetrating his flesh; they aren’t. “Your faith in what, Mr Bahut?”

  “That when I die, I will not be reincarnated as a dung beetle. Thanks to my extreme devotion, I can jump the queue and assume a permanent, godlike status in Nirvana, thus breaking the tedious cycle of life and death. Please leave! You are coming between me and my cosmic consciousness.”

  “Just one more thing,” says Sam. “Do you know where my father went?”

  The sadhu opens one eye. “Not telling!”

  They’re about to walk off when he sits up again. “It is the custom to give the sadhu a donation. When you behold him, you receive a spark of his spiritual energy.”

  He stares pointedly at Sam’s ringmaster’s hat and presses his palms together. “I’m supposed to renounce worldly goods but I wouldn’t mind coming back as a slimy slug if you gave me your hat.”

  Sam hates to part with it but she needs it for a bribe. “You can have it if you can tell me where my father went.”

  Bahut doesn’t hesitate. “Australia. Katoomba – to meet a medicine man in the shadow of the Three Sisters. He said it was a matter of life or death – hat, please!”

  Sam gives him her hat. He puts it on and smiles as if he’s reached Nirvana already.

  “Does it suit me? This hat is something magical, isn’t it!”

  Magical? Is he using the word loosely or is he wiser than he seems? Sam isn’t sure.

  “What is magic, Mr Bahut? Is it the hat? Or is it something much larger?”

  “If the hat fits, that is magic,” he replies. It could be a very shallow answer or it could be a very deep one, so Sam asks him another question.

  “What is real?”

  “Dreams are real. I’ve always dreamt of a hat like this, and here it is in all reality.”

  “Then what is illusion?”

  “Ah,” he says. “It is an illusion to think that I will ever give you back your hat.”

  “Goodbye, Mr Bahut.”

  They leave him studying his reflection in his begging bowl, under the shade of the banyan tree. As they head back to the tuk-tuk, Sam notices that Kitty is lagging behind.

  “You’re very quiet today, Kitty.”

  She’s hardly said a word.

  “Jet log.”

  They’ve done a lot of flying, but is it really jet lag that’s bothering her?

  Or does she know something we don’t?

  HOW TO MAKE A CURSE

  Curses have been practised in many cultures for thousands of years, their main use being to protect the home, treasures and gravesites and, of course, for revenge. Different countries have different ways of cursing:

  • Point a kangaroo bone and recite the curse (Australia).

  • Inscribe the curse on a piece of lead, bury it or throw it down a well (Ancient Rome).

  • Make a wax effigy of the monster Apep, write his name on it in green ink, wrap him in papyrus and throw him in the fire (Ancient Egypt).

  • Take a cursing stone, stroke it then turn it to the left while reciting the curse (Ireland).

  • Write down the curse and bury it with an egg or an animal heart (Europe, Middle Ages).

  TUHAB

  The flight to Australia is far too long. Kitty keeps sighing and thumping her chest, telling anyone who’ll listen, “I’ve got terrible indignation.”

  Indigestion is a plausible excuse: the meals on the plane are awful. They’re flying economy class and eating economy food, with their knees tucked under their chins in economy seats.

  Lola doesn’t mind. Knees-under-the-chin is a comfortable position for an ape, and it would have suited Aunt Candy, who as we speak is folded in half in her rum barrel. But Kitty isn’t a contortionist and she’s struggling to breathe. Let’s land before she expires and take the train to Katoomba, the home of Tuhab, the Elder.

  It’s late afternoon when Sam, Kitty and Lola arrive. Tired as they are, it’s impossible not to feel uplifted by the scenery. The Blue Mountains are veiled in a sapphire haze caused by the vapour from the gum trees. Even so, after half an hour, Kitty is starting to get impatient.

  “It’s all very bleautiful,” she grunts, “but I’m bored now. Where’s Tuhab?”

  The sadhu had said that Tuhab would be waiting for them in the shadow of the Three Sisters, which is the name of the giant rock formation in front of them. Sam studies the map again. “Maybe we’re standing in the wrong part of the shadow.”

  “Well, don’t expect me to wander round the bush looking for him.”

  Kitty’s very tetchy today and as much as Sam wants to keep the peace, she’s determined to find the mysterious Elder.

&n
bsp; “There are too many people about here, Kitty. Maybe he’s shy.”

  “But we don’t even know what he looks like.”

  “Yes, we do. There’s a portrait of him in this notebook. He has dark, curly hair…”

  But that description hardly distinguishes him from half the population of Australia.

  Kitty sits down and refuses to move, so Sam takes Lola by the hand and starts walking away. “And he has a spider tattoo, Kitty.”

  Sam marches off down the path. Kitty groans and gets to her feet.

  “Damn you, Yafer Tabuh. Sam? Lola! Wait for me, you nuisances.”

  They walk into the evening and see no one. Soon it’s hard to see anything, it’s got so dark. They have no idea where they are, but that’s not quite the same as being lost.

  “Yes it is,” mutters Kitty.

  Sam begs to differ. “No it isn’t. If we don’t know our true destination, we might be in exactly the right spot.”

  “If that’s the case,” says Kitty, “I’m going to stop here and go to sleep behind this rock. If your theory is correct, what’s the point in taking another step?”

  Sam can’t argue with that. She takes off her rucksack, props herself against the rock next to Kitty, and closes her eyes. The rock has absorbed the baking sun all day – its red warmth soothes their aching backs and they drift off to sleep. Nearby, Lola has made a nest in a gum tree, which she is sharing with a bright green gecko. It sits on her chest like a brooch.

  Around three in the morning, Sam is woken by flying foxes. There are so many bats, they blot out the moon. A wallaby bounces over Sam’s feet, kicking up a spray of dead leaves. She needs to stretch her legs. Her right foot has gone dead. She stamps it on the ground. Mid-stamp, she freezes, sensing that something, someone, is watching her.

  Tuhab slips out of the shadows, illuminated only by the starlight. He gazes at her, looking deeply concerned.

  “You should not be here,” he murmurs. “This is a sacred rock. You should not touch it.” He refuses to look Sam in the eye, and speaks so softly she can barely hear him. “Everywhere you walk, you leave echoes in the earth. This land, its rocks, its rivers, everything is shaped by the footprints of my ancestors.”

  Sam apologizes profusely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’d never intrude deliberately – do you want us to leave?”

  Tuhab nods his head slowly and points to Lola in her gum tree.

  “You want us to sit over there?”

  Again, he nods, but still he won’t look Sam in the eye. Is it shyness? She isn’t sure. How can an elder be shy and hold such a position of power? She nudges Kitty, who wakes with a start. She sees Tuhab and gives a muffled squeak.

  “Argh … am I dreaming?”

  Tuhab scoops up a handful of dust and lets it trickle through his fingers. “The history of this place is called the Dreaming. Dream time is here.”

  “Oh good. I’ll go back to sleep then,” mumbles Kitty.

  But Sam won’t let her. “We’re on sacred ground,” she explains. “We’re trespassing. We have to go and sit over there with Lola.”

  They follow Tuhab over to the gum tree. Kitty giggles as he tweaks the back of his shorts which have bunched themselves up into an uncomfortable wedge.

  “He’s not what I expected,” she whispers. “He doesn’t look very mystical, does he?”

  It is true that he doesn’t from the back. But maybe it is a double bluff. He gestures to the space under the gum tree and waits for them both to sit down. Kitty pats the earth next to her and, in a somewhat patronizing way, suggests that he sits next to her and makes himself comfortable. Tuhab remains standing and in the manner of an earnest schoolboy performing in assembly for his parents, he points to the triangle of darkly dominant boulders in the distance and began to relate the legend of the Three Sisters.

  “They were once three beautiful sisters. A witch doctor turned them into rocks.”

  “And…?” wonders Kitty.

  Tuhab refuses to expand on the story, despite Sam’s best efforts to get him to do so.

  “A witch doctor? What was his name, Mr Tuhab? He must have been very powerful.”

  Tuhab, who has been looking sideways at Kitty’s mask, quickly averts his gaze. “Not as powerful as me. I could turn three sisters into rocks…”

  “Sure you could,” laughs Kitty.

  The composure of his face changes for a split second, but it’s long enough to give Sam a terrifying glimpse into the real nature of this seemingly gentle soul. A shiver runs down her spine. She gives Kitty a warning dig in the ribs, but all subtlety is lost on her.

  “Ouch! What did you do that for, Sam?”

  He’s hiding it well, but Tuhab is painfuly aware that Kitty isn’t taking him seriously. Sam suspects this is a grave mistake. Lola, who has woken up and is dangling upside down from a branch can sense the ominous atmosphere and recoils quietly back into the leaves. In an attempt to smooth things over, Sam finds herself apologizing to Tuhab again.

  “You mustn’t mind Kitty. She’s not herself, you know.”

  Tuhab blinks slowly. “She is not. But who she is, you do not know. That is why she wears a mask.”

  Now it’s Kitty’s turn to feel uncomfortable. “What’s he on about?” she mutters. “Can we go now, Sam? I’m not sure this is the person we should be speaking to at all.”

  “Shh – he’s on the list,” whispers Sam. “He’s one of Grandpa’s Very Important People.”

  Tuhab’s expression remains fixed, but his ears are twitching and his eyes glitter with emotion. It’s hard to read if it is anger or sorrow. Perhaps it’s a bit of both.

  “People are sceptical,” he mouths to no one in particular. “Even my one and only son doesn’t believe in my magic.”

  “You sound just like my grandpa,” says Sam in what she hopes is a cheerful way.

  He stares solemnly at his feet. “Yafer Tabuh knows how I feel. In dream time he came to me. He also has a son who lost faith in his father. Your grandfather instructed me to work Big Magic on John Tabuh if he came my way…”

  “And did he?” asks Sam. “Did you meet my father?”

  Tuhab holds up his hand.

  “I met him on” – he counts on his fingers, as if to work out the date – “Friday.”

  Today is Sunday! Sam has almost caught up with her father. She can hardly contain herself. Was he well? Was he happy? How was her mother?

  Tuhab ignores all her questions. “No, it was Thursday.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I tried to help him, but he was sceptical.”

  “In what way?”

  “In every way.”

  It seemed that John had taken one look at Tuhab and, because he didn’t fit his strict template of how a magician should present himself, he made the foolish assumption that he was powerless.

  Tuhab produces a long, low growl in the back of his throat that makes the earth vibrate. Is it a growl of contempt? Disappointment? Or is he merely clearing his throat?

  “He was polite,” admits Tuhab. “But he only feigned respect. When I wouldn’t give him the answer to ‘What is magic?’ he assumed I was a fool and didn’t know.” He allows himself a brief chuckle. “I could have given him the answer on a plate, but that would have taught him nothing. So I performed my magic on his wife. It will be the making or breaking of him.”

  Kitty confronts him nervously now. “You haven’t hurt Christa, have you?”

  Tuhab’s eyes grow steely cold, making a mockery of his mellow features. “Why? Who is she to you?”

  Kitty stamps her foot. “She is this child’s mother!”

  Tuhab fixes her with a long stare. There is not a trace of malice in his gaze, which makes it all the more malignant. He is exuding the most calculated kind of calm, the most poisonous peace.

  Sam pleads with him. “Where is my mother? Please tell me. I know you know.”

  Christa is in the big brick hospital – St Vincent’s – but only one person can save her. Someone on
the witch doctor’s list – but which one?

  “Which one? The missing one, of course.” Tuhab flips back his head and laughs like a kookaburra.

  Sam and Kitty back away slowly. Lola fixes Tuhab with a wounded gaze and he speaks to her in a language Sam can’t understand; is it orang-utan-ese or is it his native language? She isn’t sure, but this is what she thinks she heard him say.

  “It has to be like this, Freya. We agreed.”

  There’s a mosquito in her ear; she might have misheard.

  HOW TO BREAK A CURSE

  You need: a black candle, water, a black bowl.

  1. Fix the candle upright in the black bowl using wax drippings.

  2. Fill the bowl to the rim with fresh water without wetting the wick.

  3. Breathe deeply and meditate until your mind is clear.

  4. Light the candle. Visualize the power of the curse cast against you living within the flame.

  5. As the candle burns, it will splutter and go out as it touches the water – the curse is broken.

  6. Dig a hole in the ground, pour the water in it and bury the candle.

  GONE WALKABOUT

  Sam, Kitty and Lola catch an early morning train back to Sydney. Nobody sleeps, they’re all too worried about Christa.

  “Why did Tuhab have to hurt my mother, Kitty?”

  “Maybe he didn’t.”

  But if not, why did she have to go to the hospital? When they arrive at St Vincent’s, there’s some confusion at reception. Kitty asks if they have a patient registered in the name of Christa Khaan, but she’s not on their books. Is this the wrong hospital, perhaps? They’re about to leave when Sam realizes her mother would have used her married name and marches back up to the desk.

  “Do you have a Mrs Tabuh?”

  “Ah … yes.”

  The receptionist puts her head to one side in the manner employed by medical staff who know something dreadful has happened but are not obliged to tell.

  “Are you a relative?”

  “I’m her daughter and this is Kitty, my friend.”