Oo-Ki scrutinized the waters of the stream, motionless… almost motionless. Well, as motionless as he could manage in this part of the Amazon jungle: there were a lot of gnats, mosquitoes and myriads of small flying bugs, buzzing, swirling, biting, stinging and doing all kinds of insect things from sunrise to sunset – and beyond. And Oo-Ki (it had to be someone) was the least motionless fisherman of his village. He was simply not good at stoically ignoring mosquitoes while stalking any type of prey. Shooting fish with a bow and arrow was obviously one of the many jobs he was not cut out for. In fact, in the five long years spent trying to catch fish, Oo-ki had only succeeded once in bringing back anything that could be considered as a real fish worthy of cooking for a human.
Nonetheless, Oo-Ki, despite his fishlessness, was still appreciated throughout the village for his ability to provoke laughter – voluntarily or not. Perhaps it was partly due to the weird plants the Origamis would ingest every once in a while – perhaps it wasn’t; but they were known far and wide for their sense of humor and their talented comics. They always enjoyed laughing after a hard day working with Nature, putting up with it, or fighting it; and so, Oo-Ki was greatly appreciated by everyone.
So far, Oo-Ki’s greatest side-splitter had been the day he had limped back into the village with one of his arrows firmly implanted in his bleeding foot. The thin string still dangling from the end of his arrow had been the crowning touch. The other village elders, rolling on the ground with laughter, had solemnly declared that no-one in the history of the Origamis, including the century-long list of clowns and village idiots, had ever shot himself in the foot with a bow and arrow. Bil-ee, the village shaman who had patched up Oo-Ki’s foot, had a hilarious version of the story that he would still tell to amuse the kids around the fire, adding on a bit with each new account. After two seasons, the five village part-time musicians had even come up with an accompaniment to Bil-ee’s enactment; and the youngsters were soon all doing the “Oo-Ki”. With time, the Origami chief and his elders had decided to add the “Oo-Ki” to the list of traditional dances, the list being sorely in need of new material. While he waited for his foot to heal, Oo-Ki had got a week’s free food, including fish, from the laughing villagers as a just reward for his merits as an entertainer.
For the moment, Oo-Ki was squatting on a large, moss-covered rock, thinking up new jokes, swatting mosquitoes and waiting for a fish to swim by. He had already checked his equipment to kill the time. Nothing much to check, really: The small cord of vine was firmly attached at one end to his short, thin arrow; and the other end to a nearby branch. Oo-Ki had learned the hard way that keeping the vine attached to his ankle – as did the other fishermen – was not a good idea for someone not good at tying knots. And having to borrow a villager’s knife (Oo-Ki had lost his) in order to cut himself loose had been funny albeit embarrassing.
“One of these days,” he daydreamed, “I’m bound to catch something, even if I just get lucky. That would be nice.” Suddenly his eye caught a large series of ripples on the water’s surface. Although they were at a good distance, the size of those ripples indicated that something very large was heading his way.
Slowly he armed his trembling bow, getting ready for a shot at whatever that big thing could be. The undulating ripples approached, then stopped at a safe distance. A large, brownish, snake-like head emerged, its eyes keenly fixing Oo-Ki’s amazed stare. It looked a lot like what the villagers traditionally described as Nonga, their Sacred Anaconda.
It wasn’t.
“I hope you’re not planning on shooting me with that little bow and arrow, Oo-Ki,” it said. “I know you’re not much good with that thing but it makes me nervous.”
Oo-Ki immediately threw down his bow and arrow. “Nonga!” he exclaimed as he respectfully and fearfully knelt down, hoping his life would be spared.
“Sorry, but I’m Yok, Nonga’s nephew,” clarified Yok. “Nonga’s the one who gets all the sacrifices and worship from you guys. So he just visits the important people of your village, every ten or so years to keep those offerings coming in. I figured you were more my speed, so I chose you for my first visit to the Origamis: it’s sort of my ‘coming out’.”
“Uhhh..... so what am I supposed to do?” stammered Oo-Ki. “What do you want from me?!”
“Nothing. Just spread the word around your village about me. I could go for some of those offerings myself.”
“Do I get a blessing or a wish or something?” tried Oo-Ki.
“You must be kidding: you’re lucky I didn’t sneak up on you and swallow you.”
He had a point there, and Oo-Ki was increasingly convinced that following Yok’s wish and getting away as fast as possible was a wise move. He slowly got up from his knees, grabbed his four arrows and his... his bow was no longer there. It was gently floating out of sight.
“Looks like you dropped your bow in the water. That should get a few laughs around the campfire,” smiled Yok before swimming away.
Hours later Oo-Ki stumbled back into his village, exhausted. He tried to tell the villagers about Yok, but the immediate questions concerned his missing bow. If there was anything the village bow-maker didn’t need, it was extra work. Finally, the small gathering of Origamis calmed down and waited for Oo-Ki’s story. It would probably be a good one, and a couple of the villagers were already starting to laugh with anticipation.
By the time Oo-Ki had come to the part about Yok, the village chief and the two elders had integrated the crowd. They exchanged brief glances, thoughtful nods and several hushed comments between themselves. They weren’t laughing at all and, except for some of the very young children, the other Origamis thought best to follow their elders’ example. At the end of Oo-Ki’s account, the chief gestured emphatically to him before heading back to his hut, followed by the elders and a slightly worried Oo-Ki. There was no doubt about it; this was a serious matter – yet another thing Oo-Ki was not very good at.
At the entrance to the chief’s hut, a familiar head popped through. It was one of the two village builders. “Sorry, chief”, he half-apologized, half-announced. “The hut’s not finished yet. We figure another hour or two of thatching before we and Bil-ee can redo the decoration.”
The chief pondered the situation briefly. This was an important meeting: an extra sacred snake would mean more offerings – and maybe a sacrifice! And it seemed the small village would have a tough time keeping up with two sacred snakes. The matter could not wait. “OK, let’s hold this meeting at Bil-ee’s hut. There’s enough room and I hear he just finished another batch of Arg.”
The elders both agreed. After all, Bil-ee, being the Origami’s medicine-shaman placed him well up there with the elders and the chief. And Bil-ee’s Arg, an Origami recipe for beer, was not something to be missed.
Inside Bil-ee’s hut there was a small fire going over which Bil-ee stood, stirring something up in a small cauldron. The notables entered, followed timidly by Oo-Ki.
“Hey guys, welcome to my hut,” smiled Bil-ee with bright red eyes.”How’s it going, Oo-Ki? What’s up? Would you care for a ladle of Arg? Fresh batch.”
There wasn’t much doubt among the visitors: Bil-ee was, once again, stoned out. The elders silently looked at each other through the acrid smoke, at first a bit annoyed but gradually feeling mellower. “We have something pretty big here,” announced the chief. “We couldn’t use my hut; it’s not finished being fixed up... and by the way, you should go check out the builders about the decoration when this important meeting is over. This definitely calls for a few scoops of Arg.”
There was a brief moment of silence as Bil-ee shuffled around, serving out the Arg. Silence somehow felt in order concerning the matter at hand and the fumes from Bil-ee’s smoky little fire seemed to impart a need for ceremonial. The Origamis were not, by nature, traditionally very good at ceremonial procedures, so they usually sort of faked it by remaining silent and not moving too much. One elder toyed with his loincloth while the other elder stared, intensively blank,
at the ochre walls of the hut from which hung all types of weird things: feathers tied together, roots, small bushes of firewood, dried fish, several skulls, etc. Oo-Ki closed his eyes, trying to focus on getting his story right.
The chief finally finished his bowl of Arg and spoke up: “Oo-Ki has just arrived with some very important news. While he was out fishing...”
“Or trying to catch a fish...” interjected an elder, with a chuckle.
“Yes. Anyway, while he was out by the river, he met one of those giant, talking snakes! It claims to be Nonga’s nephew, Yok. And it was mentioning offerings – right, Oo-Ki?”
Oo-Ki nodded his head emphatically.
The chief continued: “So we’re gathered to see what we should do next.”
“Hmmm,” asked Bil-ee, turning to Oo-Ki. “What is he asking for? I can whip up another batch of Arg for him, and I can come up with a new ritual dance number. But we don’t have that many fish to spare this month.”
Oo-Ki shrugged his shoulders. “He didn’t really say, but he’s very big and it might take more than an armful of fish to fill him up. He just told me to spread the word.”
One of the elders scratched his chin before suggesting: “I think we should send out Oo-Ki to try to negotiate the offerings. Maybe this Yok likes bananas; we have plenty of those...”
The others shook their heads in doubt. But sending Oo-Ki on the mission seemed like the best, the safest and the only idea for the moment.
The chief nodded his head in approbation: “Alright, Oo-Ki. Tomorrow morning, you’ll set out and try to establish contact with Yok. See what he wants - or what he’ll settle for.”
Oo-Ki spent the next three weeks sitting on his rock, nervously awaiting Yok’s return. Finally, the aspiring sacred snake showed its head.
The fisherman risked showing a tinge of impatience: “I’ve been waiting for three weeks for you to show up. Where have you been?”
“Hey there, calm down, Oo-Ki. I’ve been busy digesting a young tapir. Even magic snakes have to eat once a month. I see you’ve come empty-handed; you’re lucky I’m not hungry. So, what did the elders have to say?”
“They were asking about what kind of offerings you were expecting. We’re pretty low on fish but we do have some bananas,” he tried.
“You must be kidding!” hissed Yok. “When was the last time you met a vegetarian anaconda? This is an insult! If I mention this to my Uncle Nonga, you guys are in big trouble. And just for that, I want at least a chicken or a monkey and TWO basketfuls of fish... and some kind of ceremonial. Every month – or else! Now get out of here before I squeeze you to death.”
Oo-Ki sped off as fast as he could and returned to his village an hour later, gasping for breath. He was quickly met by the chief and the elders.
The chief and the elders had been hanging around together all afternoon, doing things in accordance with their rank and position in the village – in other words not much besides looking important – when they immediately perceived the urgency in Oo-Ki’s arrival.
“I saw him again!” he exclaimed.
“Yok?”
“Yes, it was Yok. And he’s demanding a lot of stuff! Chickens, monkeys and fish... and a ceremonial. Every month!”
“Oh, great!” sighed the chief. “Didn’t you explain about the fish shortage? Couldn’t you negotiate?”
Oo-Ki shook his head. “Nope. He’s a pretty tough snake. He even threatened to tell Nonga, his uncle, about it.”
The mention of Nonga, the village’s Sacred Snake, hit the chief and the elders pretty hard. They started huddling and mumbling amongst themselves, scratching their heads a bit more than the rest of their mosquito-bitten bodies. As they shuffled off toward Bil-ee’s hut, Oo-Ki concluded that the matter was now in their hands and that his presence was no longer warranted. A peremptory nod from the chief made it clear.
Hours later, the chief and the elders stumbled out of Bil-ee’s hut looking fairly worn out after the long session of Arg-laden discussions. At some point, they had finally come up with an idea. Oo-Ki was summoned to join them around the small, smoky fire outside.
“We have a plan,” announced the chief, “and you, Oo-Ki, will be sent on this delicate mission. We’re sending you out to the Gaspachos, tomorrow morning.”
Oo-Ki gasped in silence, not daring to interrupt the chief. The Gaspachos were a neighboring tribe on the other side of the river. They were good hunters, fair fishermen but not considered very bright by Origami standards. Occasionally marriages between them and the Origamis were arranged in order to limit inbreeding in both tribes. Oo-Ki was hoping that this was not part of the chief’s great idea.
“The word’s out that the Gaspachos recently lost Rinaldo, their sacred jaguar, two months ago. And it seems that Rinaldo was the last of this region’s talking jaguars. So your mission is to convince them that there’s an extra sacred snake up for grabs; and we can help them out – seeing as you have already established contact – with getting a new sacred animal for their tribe. They might have to repaint their huts with new symbols and all that, but if you can arrange a meeting between their chief and us, I think we can swing the deal and get this Yok out of our face.”
Oo-Ki was not very enthused about venturing too far from his village, (he had already got lost in the jungle several times), but he was forced to admit that the chief and the elders had come up with a good plan.
“Don’t worry about getting lost,” smiled an elder. “We’ll send you out with Juan and Tou; they know their way around those parts.”
“You can bring a couple of fish and a gourd of Arg to sweeten them up,” added the other elder. The chief nodded with approval.
And so it was decided.
Two gift fish were carefully wrapped in a giant leaf from a nearby tree and Bil-ee faked some sort of ceremonial sign on it that he figured would make a good impression on the Gaspachos’ chief. Oo-Ki was entrusted with the gourd of Arg, and the trio set out with the rising sun.
Two hours later, they were carefully crossing the large stream, hoping that Yok was not around lest they arouse the snake’s suspicion. After another hour they paused to rest, halfway up the steep hill that led to the Gaspachos’ territory. ‘So far, so good,’ thought Oo-Ki, swatting away at the various flies and mosquitoes that he seemed to attract. The jungle was starting to heat up and, unlike Juan and Tou, Oo-Ki was beginning to feel very thirsty. The heavy gourd of Arg was becoming increasingly tempting but he resisted the temptation as best he could.
Resisting temptation was not one of Oo-Ki’s strong points. And as his other two companions were getting ready to continue the journey, he started thinking: ‘This gourd is very heavy and if I get too tired lugging it up this hill, I’ll only slow them down... and the Gaspachos’ chief won’t notice if there’s a bit missing.’ He snuck a quick sip... and another, longer one.
By the time the trio had reached the summit of the steep hill, the gourd of Arg was almost half empty and Oo-Ki was feeling pretty mellow albeit somewhat tired. A thin wisp of smoke indicated the Gaspachos’ village, far off in the distance.
“We should be there by mid-afternoon,” estimated Juan. “It’s all downhill from here.”
Even Oo-Ki knew that walking downhill was even more tiresome; and with half a gourd of Arg in his tank, the descent could be tricky. But the village was in sight and he could rest once they arrived. It didn’t take long, though, before he caught his foot on a vine, toppling down the steep slope a good forty feet before coming to a halt. Juan and Tou were soon by his side.
“Are you alright?” laughed Tou. “Nothing broken? How about the gourd?”
Oo-Ki and the gourd were unbroken. “No, I’m alright. The gourd is fine too, although a bit might have spilled out,” he lied.
“They won’t notice,” observed Juan. “Let’s move on, then.”
Oo-Ki started to get up and felt a sharp pain in his ankle. “Ow!” he yelled. “I think I sprained my ankle.”
Juan and Tou
, smiled, then looked at each other, sighing in consternation. Helping Oo-Ki limp down the hill was not going to make the journey any easier. Juan took the initiative: “OK, Tou; you take the fish, the gourd, the bows and arrows and all the other crap, and I’ll help Oo-Ki along. We can switch once we reach the bottom of the hill.”
The tactic worked as best it could and the three Origamis finally entered the Gaspacho village before sunset. Some of the children recognized Oo-Ki, the Origami Clown as they called him, and were already laughing as he limped into the village, half drunk, heavily propped on Juan and Tou’s shoulders. The chief, flanked by two guards carrying spears, cautiously stepped up to greet them.
“Origami. What brings you here?” he asked, his gaze focused on Oo-Ki. “You are Oo-Ki, no? What happened to you?” he snickered, noticing Oo-Ki’s swollen ankle.
The trio made a sort of bow and Oo-Ki made a slight, manly grimace of pain before answering: “It’s nothing, chief; just one of those vines laying around on the hill. Yes, I’m Oo-Ki and this is Juan and Tou. We have come with an important message from our chief, and a few humble offerings.” Juan ceremoniously handed the chief the fish and the gourd of Arg.
The fish were taken by one of the chief’s wives who barely concealed a shrug concerning the measly gift. The village medicine man noticed with approbation, on passing, the ceremonial marks on the leaves. The chief grabbed the gourd of Arg. He gave it a suspicious shake but didn’t comment on it’s not being full; after all, half a gourd of Arg was still a welcome gift since the Gaspachos were far from mastering Bil-ee’s renowned skills at brewing.
The chief took a long gulp. “So what brings you here, Origami?”
“A very serious, important matter. Our chief would like to discuss it with you and your elders in person. It concerns a new sacred animal I encountered while fishing.”
The medicine man’s and the chief’s eyes lit up. “Come with me,” ordered the chief, indicating the way to the chief’s hut.
Three days later, Oo-Ki’s ankle was sufficiently healed and he, Juan and Tou came back to the Origami village accompanied by the Gaspacho chief, one of his elders, the Gaspachos’ medicine man and four guards wearing brightly colored feathers – an indication that the Gaspachos had come in peace and were ready to party. They were soon escorted to Bil-ee’s hut: the chief explained that his own hut was still being redecorated and that, anyway, Bil-ee’s hut was more appropriate for such matters.
The Gaspacho guards were left free to roam around the village, munching on manioc and banana cakes and trying their luck at impressing the available women with their spectacular attires and smooth talking. Juan and Tou observed them from a polite distance, keeping an eye on their own wives – just in case.
The big meeting lasted the rest of the afternoon and the notables eventually stumbled or crawled out of Bil-ee’s hut in what appeared to be fine spirits. It was soon announced that a mass ceremonial encounter was to be scheduled with Yok as soon as the snake would be available. Two villagers were sent out to gather some more plants for a quick new batch of Arg, accommodations were arranged for lodging the Gaspachos. (One of the guards had already found a promising spot with a young Origami miss.) Oo-Ki would be sent out the next day with the Gaspacho medicine man to see if they could establish contact with the aspiring sacred snake.
The large, central campfire burned brightly that night. The Origamis weren’t particularly great musicians but their percussions and flutes maintained a decent festive mood that everyone could dance to. And, of course, Bil-ee came out again with his amusing tales of Oo-Ki’s misadventures while the youngsters did the “Oo-Ki”. All in all, it was a welcome break from the mosquitoes, the venomous creatures and plants, the thorns, the vines and the general hassles of everyday life in the jungle.
Oo-Ki and Rik, the medicine man, set off, not too early, the next day. Rik was still a bit hung over but he followed Oo-Ki’s pace without much effort. Oo-Ki was now sporting a new bow to replace the one he had lost – a fair reward for his contribution. Perhaps Yok was aware that something important for his career was at hand, or maybe it was just dumb luck; but the pair weren’t settled down very long at Oo-Ki’s fishing spot before Yok’s huge brown head suddenly appeared.
Yok’s tongue darted in and out, checking the scent of the newcomer. “I see you brought a friend, Oo-Ki,” he hissed. “And empty-handed at that. Would you, perchance, be Rik, the Gaspacho medicine man? What brings you here?”
There was no doubt in Rik’s mind: this was the real deal, an authentic talking snake and probably, as he claimed, Nonga’s genuine nephew. “Yes, I am Rik, the Gaspacho medicine man. And I come in peace.”
“So what?” answered Yok. “You certainly didn’t come here with any offerings. Don’t tell me the Gaspachos are just as cheap as the Origamis. Well, at least you didn’t show up with a bunch of bananas.”
Oo-Ki was slightly flustered at the semi-insult but he remained silent.
“Certainly not,” smiled Rik. “We have a fair amount of various fish, monkeys, chickens and other things you might like. And, if you want, we’d be honored to have you as our sacred snake.” Here, Rik bowed his head: “We recently lost Rinaldo, our sacred jaguar, and we could really use a fitting replacement.”
Yok seemed to smile. “Oh, Rinaldo. I ate him a while back – pretty tasty with all the offerings you guys were heaping on him. So the Gaspachos are looking for a new sacred animal?”
“Yes, we are.”
“You’re aware that sacred animals are pretty scarce? And I suppose that you’ve been filled out on what I would expect from you if I accept the job?”
“Yes, our chief is sure we can meet your requirements. He would, though, appreciate if you left the Origamis alone – no hard feelings and all that.”
Yok pondered the proposal. “Hmmm, I suppose I could leave them alone… How about young virgins? Do you have any young virgins available… just to make it official?”
Yok drove a hard bargain and young virgins, aside from very young virgins, were somewhat scarce among the Gaspachos. However there was one, with a hair lip, that could be deemed dispensable. Getting a new, sorely needed sacred animal was a rare opportunity, and with proper make-up the young virgin with the hair lip could clinch the deal.
“That’s a pretty big demand, Yok. But, yes we do have one that we can spare, if that’s what it takes. So, can we shake on it?”
Yok hissed. “Does it look like I can shake on anything, you idiot?! Boy, you Gaspachos really are as dumb as they say. But you can tell your chief it’s a deal. I’ll be waiting around here in, let’s say, a week, and I’ll be expecting a proper ceremony, some fancy offerings and that young virgin; no need to dress her up in pearls and feathers: they don’t agree with me. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going for a swim. See you next week.” Without further ado, Yok was on his way downstream.
The sun was still high in the sky when they returned with the good news, except for the part about the young virgin to be sacrificed. Both chiefs shook their sticks in the air three times in solemn agreement. The Gaspachos would now be handling Yok and everything that went with having a sacred animal. The announcement was met with cheers, whoops and dancing around, especially from the Origami virgins.
The Gaspachos eventually decided it was time to head back to their village: there were a lot of upcoming preparations to be made. As they soon disappeared into the jungle, with several gourds of fresh Arg for the journey, the Origamis all sighed with relief and Oo-Ki was declared hero of the month. And considering the rather uneventful lives the Origamis led, there was a good chance that his status would be prolonged into the forthcoming months.
Very pleased at being recognized for a positive action, Oo-Ki was out the next day, poised on his rock, his new bow strung, ready and and waiting for a fish to happen by. Filled with new confidence, he had the feeling that, at last, he might be coming back with something to eat. Even the gnats and mosquitoes didn’t faze him. Sure enough, some
thing was swimming his way. He pulled back with all his might and let his arrow fly. Direct hit!
Whatever he had shot, it was big! It writhed in momentary agony before floating to the surface… Not the catch Oo-Ki had been hoping for.
“Uh oh!” gasped Oo-Ki in a stupor. Yok was now hopelessly floating, lifeless before his eyes with Oo-Ki’s little arrow planted neatly through his huge skull! He waited a long while, making sure the sacred snake to be was really dead, and trying to figure out what to do next. The only thing he could come up with was getting rid of the enormous body before word got to the Gaspachos – or worse, Yok’s uncle, Nonga.
He jumped knee-deep into the stream and started tugging as hard as he could, trying to haul the giant reptile onto the shore where it wouldn’t float away to be soon discovered. Panic and adrenaline proved to be insufficient for the job. All that Oo-Ki managed to do, after an hour’s struggling, was to drag half of Yok’s lifeless carcass close to a nearby awarra where he finally managed to wrap his vine around Yok’s neck – or what he thought was probably his neck – and anchor the scaly beast firmly to the tree’s trunk. No doubt, he would need help with this dilemma and he sped off to the village.
The chief was sitting in his newly finished hut, still celebrating with an elder when Oo-Ki burst in. Chiefs’ huts were not places where people were expected to burst in uninvited. It was obvious to the chief that something big had occurred. “What’s up, Oo-Ki? This better be important.”
“Yok is dead! I thought he was a fish… and I shot him… right through the head!”
“Oh shit!” exclaimed the chief. Such language was usually not in keeping with Origami tradition, but it did sum up the situation. “Did anyone see you?”
“No, I was alone.”
“And what did you do with… the body?” asked the elder, his bulging eyes riveted on Oo-Ki’s.
“I tied it to a tree where it wouldn’t float away; that’s all I could do by myself. So I came back for help.”
A snap decision was in order. “Ok,” ordered the chief. “Take five or six men back there with you. Haul that snake away as far as you can, dig a long trench and bury it fast and deep. Real deep. With a little luck, no one will know. We’ll just have to sweat it out and hope for the best. I’ll get a few men making extra arrows. If the Gaspachos ever find out about this, we’ll have to be prepared to deal with them.”
The plan went well and the men were back at sunset, mission accomplished.
A week later, all the Gaspachos showed up in their best attire at the appointed spot, waiting for Yok’s arrival. They waited three days in vain, wondering what had happened, feeling disappointed and increasingly insulted before returning home with a great many basketfuls of fish, three monkeys, a half-dozen chickens and a very relieved virgin wearing heavy make-up. The Origamis were never suspected and, with time, Oo-Ki’s exploit even became the funniest story in Origami history although it remained taboo to share it around a campfire with strangers.
Nonga died of old age, or indigestion, never knowing what had become of his presumptuous nephew. And so, sacred animals henceforth entered the domain of simple legends in that part of the Amazon. Tales that would later be told around smoky campfires by other narrators wearing baseball caps and torn T-shirts as they swatted mosquitoes.