The Shaman of New York

By David Chandler

Perhaps a young witch doctor is the least likely hero to save civilization. However, when a thief disturbs an ancient tribal burial ground, a young shaman must give chase into the heart of New York City.

Armed only with his closest friends, a curmudgeonly chameleon, and a few sparks of ancient magic, Togo is forced from the comfort of his youth and into adulthood, landing on page six in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365513015

David Chandler

David Chandler is Professor Emeritus of History at Monash University, Melbourne, Australia. His published works include A History of Cambodia (1991, 1996) and Brother Number One: A Political Biography of Pol Pot (1992). He currently lives in Washington, D.C.

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The Shaman of New York

The Shaman of New York

Copyright © 2015 by David M. Chandler

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2016

ISBN 978-0-692-61082-4

www.chandog.com

Dedicated to my husband, my family, and my friends.  Thank you for your support in the creation of this book...and for pestering until completed.  Special thanks to Kevin for remembering to help me with the edits.

…and to those who continue to further the advancement of the arts.

Vive l'art, dans l'espoir de se divertir et de provoquer

The Shaman of New York

By

David M. Chandler

Illustrations

By David M. Chandler

1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233

Contents

1.A Violet Beginning

2.Breakfast with Arthur

3.Into the Jungle

4.Playing with Mud

5.Tick Talk

6.Journey of the Beast

7.The Inner Tribe

8.The Offerings

9.Back to the Dig

10.Journey to the Sacred Valley

11.Return of the Evil Doctor

12.The Doctor Is In

13.Far Side of the Valley

14.Enter the Temple

15.Red, YELLOW, Blue

16.Ominous Visions

17.Ape Escape

18.The Tiny Discovery

19.The Finding Ceremony

20.Off to Save the World

21.Kinshasa Bound

22.Stash and Slash

23.Into the Great Known

24.Another Day, Another Tree

25.Another Breakfast with Arthur

26.A Visitor in the Market

27.Preparing for NYC

28.Disembarkation

29.A Growing Problem on the Plane

30.A Rough Landing

31.A Walk through Queens

32.The Occassa Cave

33.Back at the Tribe

34.Breakfast at Dante’s

35.A Guardian Angle

36.The Other Finding Ceremony

37.A Night on the Town

38.The Michelin Witch doctor

39.The Sleepover

40.Into the Museum

41.The Archives

42.Trouble at the Zoo

43.Prepare for Battle

44.The Great Bank Robbery

45.Into the Vault

46.The Jungle War

47.Race to the Memorial

48.Burying the Past

49.A Great Honor

50.Home is where the Hut Is

Appendix

1.                 A Violet Beginning

A bolt of violet thundered from the sky above and drove through the heart of a panther and the large branch upon which it lay.  The branch shattered and sent the panther hurdling lifeless against the rocks of the nearby waterfall.  But, seconds after the bolt faded and the splinters rained from the sky, the cat did open its eyes and in so doing, revealed a milky-white and vacant gaze.  With an agitated thrust, the beast sprang to its feet, sniffed the splintered fragments, and set course for the illuminated village a short distance away.

As the cat vanished, a green mist gathered about the shattered branch, swirling on a gentle breeze in the otherwise still night air.  The glow of the gathering gas radiated into the spectral form of a chameleon-headed warrior inspecting the shattered remains.  Raising its hands to the sky, the vision willed the wooden shards to merge back into the tree’s branch as if the bolt had never hit, keeping but a small chunk in the palm of his hand.  Clinching the chunk, the vision flowed toward the tracks laid by the possessed beast.

In the near distance, the village began to close for the night.  The tribesmen had watched as the sky thundered with lightning and the clouds began to open with large drops of rain.  The fires began to extinguish as one-by-one the tribe disappeared into their huts.  But, as the last of the members walked to their huts, the cat sprang its trap.  With a giant leap, the beast lunged down onto a villager, gipping him by the neck.  The scream of the act caused the huts to empty.  But before they could descend upon the panther with full force, two more large beasts emerged from the darkness.  Considerably smaller, but flanking their larger predator, they carved a path for the beast toward an opening in a rock wall at the edge of the village.

The tribe tried desperately to free their captured tribesman, lunging with objects, but could not get close for fear of massive claws and teeth.  It was over in moments, the large beast disappeared first into the crevasse followed by the two flanking panthers.  The villagers scurried about trying to think of how to pursue when a very small, but determined warrior stepped forth with his mongo spear and satchel.  Two slightly smaller warriors flanked him, and together they made their way toward the rock face.

Just feet away from the entrance, the small leader raised his fingers from his pouch and waved a faint light into existence.  However, to the shaman’s surprise, the light he saw was a bright green flicker from just beyond the village edge.  It was the chameleon-headed apparition moving quickly toward him.  There figure held out both hands.  In one was a carved figure of a cat, transformed from wood into a black stone; and, in the other three small fish-like birds swirled about in a glowing white aura. 

Before he could act, the shaman found himself taking the figure and nodding to the green presence.  As if telepathically, the shaman knew what he must do.  Turning to the entrance, he entered, two warriors in tow, and preceded by the bright glow of the birds.

Outside the cave, the rain began to poor as the thunder opened the skies.  To the shaman’s surprise, it too rained inside the cave.  Fanning out, the birds illuminated the vast cavern, exposing the wide opening to the sky above, and the three panthers near the back wall preparing to feast on their recently acquired meal.  Disrupted, the largest stood guarded, sounding a deafening roar that echoed from the walls of the cavern.  The other panthers too, stood and moved toward their three new meals.

But as the panthers descended, two glowing birds darted toward the beasts, flying in their faces and causing them to step back in confusion.  The shaman dropped his spear and began to chant loudly, clawing at the earth to dig a hole as fast as he could.  The largest of the panthers took sight of the shaman, and became visibly upset.  Beginning to shutter, it writhed and flicked, going into convulsions.  Semi-distracted, the shaman continued the chant, clawing at the ground.  The large panther began to split in two pieces as roots began to sprout from the large panther’s head and feet.

One of the smaller cats lunged for the glowing bird, sinking its fangs deep into the creature.  With a powerful gulp, the beast had swallowed it whole.  The other bird managed to flicker around the head of the second cat, confusing it into retreat.  The shaman’s warriors moved forward to the unchallenged panther to engage, when the loud scream of a woman cried from the area next to the massive panther.

The shaman looked up to see the craggy and wooden body of a woman finish its separation from her host.  She, and the massive cat, now towered above the fallen tribesman and were moments away from crushing his life.  The third bird darted for the largest of the cats as the shaman spoke the final word - plunging the idol into the ground and swooping a blanket of dirt over the offering. 

The creatures in the cave froze and began to stagger back, as the remaining birds dove into their feline hosts – joining its spirit.  As if the creatures had never existed, they faded into the darkness of the cave, defeated.

The chieftain, now on his knees, fell to the ground lifeless as the green chameleon-headed vision entered the cave.  The two bodyguards bowed before the green glow as it made its way to the rise, where the woman and the cat once stood.  Looking back to the lifeless shaman, the green vision placed his hands upon the punctured neck of the fallen cats’ fallen prey, healing the wounds and reviving the tribesman.

You are now the shaman, the vison spoke.  You will lead your people against the evil of Afriti.  She will come again, to take this place as her throne…and this world as her own.  The green vision began to fade toward the opening in the cavernous ceiling. 

You must retain the knowledge you have witnessed here today.  You must keep this world, and this place safe.  Move your tribe into this place.  To keep the idol safe, none must know this exists.

The vision faded completely from sight, leaving only a fading voice, I bestow upon you my guardian, Mwenembago…the god of the forest… and the light of the occassa berry.

As the voice faded, the flora within the cavern began to radiate with white with berries – fully illuminating the space and revealing a magnificent dwelling that would house the tribe for millennia.

2.     Breakfast with Arthur

Sazi threw back the curtains of the darkened room, flooding it with light and annoying a snuggly curled Arthur in bed just feet away.  She was a stout and fashionable woman of later years blessed with the perky heart of a teenager.  Just under four feet tall, she had to learn certain tricks to fit into a taller person’s world.  One of which was to flick her wrist just right to get both sides of the curtain to fling back fully.  You can’t run around getting a ladder for every task after all.  Besides, annoying Arthur was an art.

Get up you sleepyhead, Armand will be here in a few hours… if he can get up, so can you, she said, goading her husband.  You agreed to go with him to pick up Mr. T. …remember?

With the curtains tucked back, Sazi couldn’t resist the view out the French doors.  She forgot about Arthur, now huddled under the covers like a turtle in its shell.

The jungle is so beautiful today Arthur, she commented to her otherwise disinterested husband.

A muffled, Yes dear, arose from beneath the covers before he flopped over to avoid the insufferable light that still poked through the sheets. 

Sazi gave her husband a doting smirk before bringing out the big guns, I’m telling you Arthur… get out of bed, she said with a swift finger poke to his butt cheek.  He flopped like a fish from her unwelcome incursion, mumbling something about where Armand could go.  Sazi rolled her eyes and grimaced - If she wanted, Arthur would be out of bed faster than he knew it.  After all, fifty years of marriage is a long time to learn how the other person ticks.  She knew Arthur’s mumbles displayed his love for her, and deep down, Arthur knew Sazi was right.  Armand would come knocking soon and he needed to nurse his pounding head.

Sazi swiveled back around to face the doors.  There on the balcony sat a cast-iron table just opposite the glass, beckoning visitors to enjoy a coffee and the jungle view beyond it.  As she watched her tropical paradise, a large grey parrot sailed into view, spreading its wings in final descent before gracefully touching down on her balcony’s railing.

Oh, Arthur - She’s here!  She’s here!  Sazi exclaimed excitedly. 

However, Arthur could care less.  He pulled the cover over his head even further with mumbles of ‘Whoopee.’

Such a beauty, Sazi whispered excitedly, trying not to ruin the moment, Oddudua knows how to make her creatures, and Kiku is the most beautiful of them all.

Sazi was right.  Kiku was a magnificent parrot - probably the most beautiful African grey in the jungle.  Her smooth smoky coat was blemish free, and the tip of her tail flashed bright with a dash of vibrant red.  As soon as Kiku landed, she ruffled and fluffed her feathers, shaking off the flight.  Now at rest, Kiku cocked her head to the balcony table, sizing up Sazi who peeped through the door.

Arthur, Sazi whispered excitedly, Kiku has come to visit.  Come great our guest.  The stout woman stood admiring Kiku for a moment, She doesn’t seem to age at all, she whispered, Not one bit.

Now you must get up Arthur, she turned to her husband again with the threat of another finger, She is waiting for you. 

Yes dear, I’m up.  I’m up.  I’m up, he acquiesced. 

Sazi smiled, retracted her finger, and began picking up items of clothing from about the floor as if to tidy up for their new visitor, You know, Arthur, I never get tired of seeing her beautiful grey coat; and such a sassy red tail too. 

Sazi threw the clothes into the hamper and opened the doors wide, latching them into place and greeting Kiku, Good morning my dear.

Kiku hopped from the railing onto the back of the wicker chair, closer to the table, and eyed the woman for a moment before greeting her host.

Good morning Sazi, Kiku said as Arthur’s wife clasped her hands with joy.

Now, to some this may seem strange, but living in the jungles of Africa one does grow accustom to birds of all sorts – even ones that address you by name.

Arthur lazy again, Kiku inquired, as if conversing with a parrot was a daily occurrence.

Yes, lazy as an old goat, Sazi replied turning to her portly husband who peeked at them suspiciously from beneath the covers.

He and Armand had too much lotoko last night, Sazi gossiped shaking her head, That ambassador sure can drink…but Arthur? …not so much.  She and Kiku tried to stifle their snickers.

Arthur, overhearing the exchange, let out a Humph and mushed a pillow broadly over his balding head.  However, as curiosity got the best of him, he poked his head out the side to observe the two gossiping at his expense.  His little white hair tufts sprung from the edges of the pillow giving him away.

He does work hard though, Sazi continued, smiling at her husband. 

Oh dear, you’re probably very hungry, Sazi said, recalling her manners, I’ll get you some breakfast.  As she turned to leave the room, Sazi flopped the local newspaper (‘Les Dépêches de Kinshasa’) on Arthur’s nightstand and gave her husband a kiss.

Charmed by the word ‘breakfast’, Arthur lowered the pillow slightly and perked up.  Struggling to open both eyes, he spoke.

Little sausages today dear, he asked in an angelic voice loud enough to carry through the house.  The thought of those little links put a grin on his face on an otherwise unpleasant morning.  He was still dreaming as he hopped from the bed and started his journey to the bathroom - little bites of sausage dancing in his head.  From the balcony, a soft chortle emanated as Kiku thought Arthur’s lip smacking routine was funny.

It was about halfway to the bathroom when Arthur glanced at the newspaper he nicked from the nightstand, discarding his pillow in the process.  There above the fold was Arthur, his good friend Armand (the Congolese Ambassador to the United States), and a tall man in a suit and tie.

The man seemed out-of-place, towering over the two considerably shorter men.  He was a sharply dressed executive with extensive celebrity connections, a trademark scowl, and a distinct toupee.  Much further down in the picture stood Arthur and Armand with ridiculously toothy grins from ear-to-ear.  Now, just feet from the bathroom, and considerably less toothy, Arthur remembered flashes of the night before. 

Sausages dear, he bellowed a gentle ask again to his wife.

A faint bark echoed back, No Arthur.  You know you can’t…, but Arthur stopped listening at ‘no’. 

He knew the rest; something about cholesterol, and blood pressure, blah, blah, blah.  He squinted unpleasantly to Kiku on the balcony as the bathroom door began to shut.  Kiku didn’t mind, she was resolved to watching Arthur’s quirky behavior.  Swiveling his little body into the bathroom, Arthur grabbed his robe and cinched it tight before closing the door in Kiku’s face. 

A few long moments later, he emerged a fresher and less irritable Arthur, and stepped onto the balcony to visit with Kiku.

Good morning… big mouth, he said with a scoff, flopping the paper on the table and taking a seat.

Kiku cocked her head until his comment registered.  She rocked on the chair before retorting.

Good morning Arthur…S-Q-U-A-W-K, she mockingly screeched. 

Arthur cringed and pulled the newspaper to his head as if to block her shrill sound waves.  Once Arthur’s head tucked neatly behind the paper, Kiku bounced with delight – score one for Kiku. 

Arthur lowered the paper and gave her a collegial grin, Touché, he said before gesturing for her to join him on his side of the table.

A few moments later, Sazi returned with breakfast to see Kiku on Arthur’s arm, absorbed in a pleasant neck stroking routine.  This had become customary over the 40 or so years Kiku had been coming to visit.  However, when Arthur caught sight of the café-au-lait, Kiku found herself back on the chair.

As he sipped his coffee, Arthur took note of a large plate of fruit, and a bowl of something that he was sure was glue.  With his first sip of coffee in him, Arthur picked a large chunk of papaya from the plate and tossed it in Kiku’s direction.  She snatched the prize with her talon and gave Arthur a grateful nod. 

Sazi visited for a bit before kissing her husband on his balding head, fluffing up his remaining white tufts, and walking back into the room to begin properly picking up from the night before - a shirt from here, a shoe from there, a tie slung over the back of a chair.  Kiku and Arthur watched her as she wandered about, humming to the Erick Cosaque song playing on the radio in the bedroom.

Arthur made sure Sazi was out of sight before pushing the bowl of glue away.  He glanced back at her one more time before reaching in his robe and withdrawing a candy bar from the night before.

He gave Kiku the Shhh quiet sign before conversing nonchalantly, Big day Kiku, Armand is coming, he said turning to Kiku and the candy bar, We’re headed to America. 

Kiku relinquished her visual lock on the candy to inspect Arthur.  She knew many words, but not ‘America’.  It didn’t matter though; she finished her papaya and was looking to the candy bar.  Arthur made an overture toward his bowl of ‘glue’ as if to offer it, but Kiku pulled her head back with a dirty look.

I thought so, he said as he pulled a large chunk of banana from the plate and tossed it her way.  She snatched the fruit effortlessly again, but she would have much preferred a piece of Arthur’s candy.

I’ve been to America many times, he said with a mouth full of Caramello, but Armand insists I attend.  So, I’m going…again.

The chocolate dramatically improved Arthur’s mood and clearly put him in a happy state, We’re presenting a special gift to the people of New York City.

Kiku, recognized ‘gift’ and looked up from her breakfast, What kind of gift, she asked with curiosity. 

Ha! I thought you would like that, Arthur chuckled.  Some local items from our home here in the Congo… to be included in a time capsule to be buried at a memorial… a symbol of friendship and solidarity, he said in a regal and speech-like tone.

Kiku cocked her head in total confusion. 

I know, I know, big words, he said, pinching another piece of the candy.  Ok, it is like when you find something shiny and you hide it in a tree to give to a very special person later….  Arthur caught a hint of her distain and quickly corrected himself, …or bird, he added. For us, it’s a box that we put it in the ground to be opened in a hundred, or a thousand years.

Kiku nodded in comprehension and eyed the fruit, this time helping herself to a piece of mango.

It helps people remember things that should never be forgotten, Arthur continued, now reflecting on the distant jungle waking up. In this case it will be placed at a memorial in New York City.  …a special place, he added for Kiku’s understanding.

She was losing interest, fixated on the juicy orange morsel squishing about in her beak and still eyeing Arthur’s candy.  Arthur too was a bit distracted.  He had just caught sight of the monkeys across the river.  They had been very active over the past two days, and had now come out to play again.  There must be something in the air, Arthur said aloud, They aren’t normally this excited…, but they sure are fun to watch.

Catching himself drifting, he continued, They’re all over the world, these time capsules.  In New York, there are probably hundreds, or thousands.  Arthur tugged another chunk of Caramello from the bar, I even helped bury one once, now that I think of it, and I believe it was in New York too.  He scratched his little white tufts, The Museum of Natural… natural… something or other.  Oh well, not important.  Arthur looked back to Kiku with a bit more interest, But, it was quite the event, I tell you.

In the distance, the monkeys began to play more noisily with a tire caught in a vine by the river’s edge.  Arthur enjoyed watching the monkeys – even though they stole his prized Zippo lighter a while back.  Somehow, a monkey traversed the river, climbed his balcony, and snatched it from the table – he was sure of it.  Kiku didn’t know what Arthur had faded off to, but sensing his distraction, she looked over to the troop as well. 

What am I to light my cigars with Kiku, he asked, half-expecting her to answer, Hmm?  You tell me?

No cigars Arthur, a woman’s voice bellowed from the bedroom.

Arthur let out a Humph and turned back to Kiku, You should have seen it Kiku.  You would have liked my lighter.  A gift from the Ambassador… beautiful polished silver and black …with my initials etched on the very side …shiny too.  With a concerned look on his face, Arthur hoped the monkeys would never figure out how to light it. 

Well, Arthur said, headache in the past and regrouping his thoughts, it is a good day today!  A good day….  The two sat, snacking on their breakfasts and enjoying the morning jungle.

A few candy bars and café au laits later, Arthur was feeling much better.  Kiku had wrangled her way onto Arthur’s lap for more long stretches of neck scratching, and she even managed to get a nip or two of the candy.

Enjoy this while you have it Kiku, time passes fast, he added, getting her to strain her head almost upside down from a good scratching, Sazi and I leave in a week or so for the Big Apple.

Kiku perked up – she ate an apple once – very tasty. 

Arthur looked into the distance and mumbled, That’s not much time to get things ready… so much to do.  He reached into his robe pocket to withdraw an object as Kiku hopped to the table, Here my friend, go enjoy your day.  Arthur chucked a shockingly unbroken-cookie high over the balcony - Kiku’s traditional going away present.

With lightning reflexes, Kiku thrust up from the table and down over the edge of the balcony in a great grey blur.

One for the road, Arthur shouted. 

As Arthur walked back into the house, Kiku swooped up from below and squawked a thank you, gripping the treat tight in her beak. 

Take care my little winged friend, he shouted as Kiku flew off.  In a quieter tone he added, You truly are a magnificent specimen.

Turning back to the room Arthur looked down, Sazi, Where are my pants?

3.     Into the Jungle

Kiku had traveled great distances over the past few weeks - most recently returning from paying a visit to her sister Mika in Ghana - Digya Park to be precise.  Mika had met her soulmate a couple decades back and moved north for a drier climate and her insatiable love of Taami berries.  She was Kiku’s favorite sister, and although they came from a large family, Kiku often made extra time to visit her in Ghana.

Besides Ghana, Kiku also flew east to Mabira Forest in Uganda to visit Vicky, a fellow grey and childhood friend.  She and Vicky spent their adolescence together in the jungle’s Sacred Valley, deep in the heart of the Congolese rain forest, and the two continued to cavort for decades.  Vicky was a quirky bird who received her name from John Speke while under the commission of Queen Victoria.  He named her Victoria (Vicky) on the account of her incessant squawking orders at him.

Vicky recalled to Kiku once the following exchange with Captain Speke, You sound much like my bossy queen young bird…‘Explore here, explore there’…she was never satisfied either.  ‘Oh look, a big lake, I want to know how big it is… go circumnavigate it!  Ooh, look over there, a big river… find where it begins!’  I’d rather shoot myself, thank you very much.  Mika mocked a spit to the ground, Yep, she said in a gruff voice, definitely naming you Vicky!

Mika’s ability to emulate human voices was impressive; it was as if Captain Speke were still alive today.

The two birds were forever causing mischief and often found themselves in trouble.  Most notably about 140 years ago while directing one ‘Mr. Stanly’ to search in circles for someone named ‘Livingston’ in Tanzania.  They had so much fun harassing the poor fellow that they followed him again down the Congo River a few years later.  It was easy for the two to prank on Stanly, as they didn’t care for him much on account he could be a bit rude, and very bossy.

At every possible turn, they taunted Stanly from afar - squawking, Make a left at the fork and No!  Go the other way…the other way!  They managed to keep that poor man circling around the jungle for years.

Now that her troubled past was all but behind her, Kiku still felt like a spry fowl, even at the ripe old age of 165.  Not a common age for an African grey parrot to live, but Kiku, now more than twice the average age of the oldest grey, chalked her longevity up to the botanicals and mineral-rich waters of the Sacred Valley. 

Besides, she thought, that’s probably what gives Lugo his lightning-fast ‘high definition’ detail.  He may be an old curmudgeon of a lizard, but he was her annoying younger half-brother as far as she was concerned.  He too enjoyed the abundance of super-food sustenance that is the cornucopia of the Sacred Valley.

Swooping low over the waters of the river, Kiku recalled Vicky visiting her in the valley every year, with Kiku’s extended family in tow.  Though Kiku’s brother, Jaja, sadly stopped visiting around 1910.  She never did discover why, but assumed he must be long passed by now – having been away so long.

With Arthur’s house now fading into the distance, Kiku set her sights on the deeper jungle.  She spread her wings wide and glided low past the monkeys that she and Arthur had watched for the past few hours.  The monkeys were still playing with the old tire in the vines; taking turns spinning on it. 

One of the monkeys, who had a particularly good spin, flew out of the tire and right onto his head just as Kiku flew by.  She circled back as the monkey staggered to his feet, before falling again from the dizziness – his troop howling with delight.  Not one to miss the opportunity for fun, Kiku dove down, and right through the middle of the still spinning tire, watching as the barrel of monkeys roared again!  She could still hear them slapping their hands and shrieking with amusement as she swooped under a branch and into the forest beyond.

She was back in her element and soaring among the vine-covered trees that dotted the many small rivers.  Far from the city now, Kiku was home.  She swooped through vines and under logs, clinching her gift from Arthur.  She was a master of flight.

Up ahead Kiku spotted the large pool overflowing its banks with hippos basking in the afternoon sun.  They enjoyed their water by day, but always left by night to head inland where they would snore… loud, unrelenting, obnoxious snores throughout the night.  This caused Kiku’s eye to twitch a little, as she recalled losing more than a year of her life to their incessant snores.  She would have smothered the bloat in their sleep if the protection goddess had let her.  Yet, they are the favorites of Njambi and they were the secret divine protectors of the forest - so it was best to let them be. 

Hippos could be highly effective protectors Kiku remembered, having watched a heard travel hundreds of miles to confront a jungle intruder once. 

No matter how formidable the hippos may be, they were still very spirited and cute in the water, and Kiku could not stay mad at them for too long.  Kiku began to watch two baby hippos face off with their mouths widely spread – one clearly outstretching the other.  Calling to mind her own wisdom (that hippos are rude in the water); she snapped to and flew a bit higher.  Especially if they’re ill, she thought to herself.

Who could blame them for their bluntness, they shared their pools with crocodiles – not the neighbors you want loitering.  To the far end of this particular pool sat a precarious bunch of crocodiles; though they seemed more skittish than diabolical, and a little saddened over their invaded pool.  The scaly vermin huddled in a little grouping on the muddy shore of the not-so-distant bank… as far from the hippos as they could get – and still be in the water.  Kiku didn’t feel sorry for the reptiles, she knew better.  With beady eyes and scaly skins, crocodiles were always mischievous, diabolical, and usually up to no good.

Kiku recognized this bloat – it was Chunghwa’s family.  Chunghwa, a docile alpha male by hippo standards, often let Kiku sit on his shoulders; but was touchy and prone to bite while swimming.  He snacked on something peculiar and chewy.  It must have been something he found lying about, she thought, because he had a funny face and seemed to chew in a most uncomfortable way.  Kiku bit into taffy a few years back and never recovered from the unpleasant experience.  Chunghwa must have found taffy, she supposed as she flew away.

The more she thought about it the more tickled she became, picturing Chunghwa’s contorted face as he chewed.  Kiku began snickering so hard she almost flew right into a baobab tree.  If that happened, the tribe would never let her hear the end of it.  How could she fly right into a tree as wide as the four family huts and ten times taller?  Kiku collected herself, gripped her cookie tight, and thought it a bit safer to fly a little higher.  She mustered the strength and powered up over the canopy where she enjoyed the day.  At least as long as it took to get Chunghwa’s face out of her head.

Several hours passed before she descended again into an opening between small puffy clouds.  It would have been sooner, had she not played with the cirrus clouds so much.

Below her, a light pink valley spread out, giving way to finer detail as she flew closer.  There, on the floor below, rested a field of pink and white flowers as far as her eye could see.

Now just feet from the ground, she grazed the flower tops with a heavenly sense of euphoria, happy and lightheaded, crop-dusting for an up-close look.  She could almost lull into a nice slumber from the relaxation she was feeling.  Such soothing and intoxicating fragrances…but…but…how could she forget!  This was not soothing or relaxing; these were Belladonna and Pancratium Trianthum (try saying that if you’re a parrot).

For decades, she flew this route and every time the field tricked her – drawing her in with the heavenly scents.  They were truly beautiful flowers, but they made for crazy visions if inhaled too long.  Catching her senses, she looked down to the scattered carcasses that poked from the tiny flower’s canopy.  Without further hesitation, she lifted much higher away from the field.  Perhaps flying just out of reach of the pollen would be best. 

At the far-end of the field rose the mighty plunge waterfall – she was nearly home.  As its waters fed the flowering valley, keeping it full and