Round Top Register - Texas Fun Travel Guide - The Courtjester

Children of the Sunrise Home Page

Chapter Twenty






After five letters, the Lioness was well on her way to becoming a national spokesman for the dispossessed children. Something in her letters seemed to strike a chord in the hearts of the kids and their allies. The first letter we had read in the New York Times had created a fury in the national media. Always ready to sell its soul for ratings, the electronic media recognized a good story and built her mystique to gigantic proportions. Amongst the children, the myth of the Lioness grew, until she became their symbol of freedom from oppression. She was the rebel who could not be caught. The angel of justice who was afraid of nothing and had come to bring down the tyranny of adult world.

The sixth and seventh letters were published in almost every news format periodical still hitting the newstands. They remained true to form; written in the same proud but chopped style, full of the moral rectitude of a fifteen-year-old, and simply powerful. They were vivisected and ridiculed, lauded and quoted, called infantile by some and visionary by others. To the kids, however, the whole controversy was so much "grump" nonsense. They loved her deeply and without reservation. Children would read her letters over and over in hushed tones. It was not unusual for a three-year-old to quote extensive passages from her letters by memory.

Children in demonstrations screamed her best phrases. "The Lioness Rules" became a common epigram in spray paint. Jesse said it was everywhere in Houston, especially on police cars and public buildings. The fourth letter meant a lot to me. Angel wrote a song about it. It started with a question...

Dear Mr. President:

What are we going to do about the African child? She is hungry. Her mother cries because we will not feed her. Her father thinks he is not a man. Her face is the shadow of us all. She is the African child but she lives in every land. How can you sit in your wealth and your power and not give her what she needs? Are you mad? How can you not see her hollow eyes and broken body? Are you blind? I know your heart is not that hard. Are you dead?

I read a report from the United Nations. It said 40,000 children die every day from hunger. It was not some disease we cannot cure they died from. It was measles, the common cold, diarrhea, malnutrition and other sicknesses that I know we can cure. I had the measles. I did not die. Why do I get to live and she does not? The report said we have enough food to feed everyone. Why do you let the African child die when there is enough food? Babies are dying all around. Can't you hear them crying? What will you do?

Now I know why you adults made up the lie about people not making a difference. You think you can hide behind it...hide from the crying of the African child...hide on the ground like a possum playing dead. Well, wake up! You're not fooling me.

Yesterday, one of the new kids brought me a candle. I lit the candle for the African child. That candle was just wax and it burned out, but I am another candle and I will burn and burn forever until you feed her. If you do not feed her, I will burn until all that you care about is ash. I will not stop burning until all the riches in the world are up in smoke, until all that is left of your life is coals buried in grey, because a world that does not care is not a world worth saving. It is a world worth burning.

Mr. President, I can see that you are trying to do the right thing. I can see that you are using your power to protect the children in America. It is not enough. I told you, your world is dying. It cannot be saved. Though you fight to do what is right, you also fight to save your old world. Give it up! You are like a camper in the rain, trying to save his fire by grabbing coals and stuffing them in his pockets. All you will get is burned hands and holes in your pants. The coals will still grow cold.

Your world is like your God. I was not sure about him, this big God that you believe in. You are not sure about him either. You don't know if he will be there when you die. You do not need to worry any more. He will not be there. I killed him. He was like my father. He wanted me to be small and needy. He wanted me to owe him my life. I killed him easily. It only took a thought. Maybe I will make a new God. Maybe I won't. All I need for a God is the magic. In the magic, I am a flame in the wind.

I owe no one for the flame on my candle. Perhaps you think my flame owes the wick its existence. Perhaps you think my flame owes it's brilliance to the oxygen in the air, or the wax, or the heat, or the wind that could blow it out.

I know this is not true. All these things came together to make a place for the flame. They would have no purpose without the flame. They would have no shape without the flame. The flame is the master of time itself. It calls the wax, and the wick, and the heat, and the air, and the time together; like the sun calls the world with each sunrise. The flame is the master.

I am like the flame. I am the master. Feed the African child. I give you no more chances. Feed the African child or I will burn you up.

Do as I say,

The Lioness


After that one, things started to burn. Children took her threat literally. Animal shelters, churches who preached against the friends, anything kids took as a symbol of adult rule was at risk of going up in flames. A cloud of impending anarchy hung over the nation.

Things were heating up in more ways than one. A new horror was stalking the land. A team of doctors at a St. Louis medical center had announced the discovery of a new "extremely virulent immune disorder impacting the neuro- muscular system." They claimed it was hitting epidemic proportions.

The President was embattled. With every new fire, he lost more prestige and control. With every new death from the plague, his political position weakened. Congress wanted something done. The military wanted something done. The church wanted something done. Everyone wanted something done and he was supposed to do it. His association with the Lioness and his generally positive position regarding the children did little to shore up his popularity.

By the forth week after the Awakening, the house began impeachment hearings. Irate senators read the Lioness' letters into the congressional record. She had become a focal point, a fulcrum, her letters an axis around which the changing world of the awakening spun.

Every time I read one for the first time, I ended up feeling like my bones were being bleached. I would become wonderfully excited and terrified at the same time. It was like she was drawing a line down the middle of my soul to separate the old me from the new. At the same time, she was drawing a line down the middle of the country and the planet. Some stepped over the line into her "whole, big world". Some did not. The entire thing was as much fun as a vivisection.

We in the cave felt a special kinship with the girl because of our magical night together on Enchanted Rock. We followed every reference to her carefully. She was drawing a lot of attention from the crazies. Every time James brought a bundle of photocopies of the periodicals and dailies Jesse or other covert sympathizers had clipped for us, I expected to read about her incarceration or death. But as the days wore on, and she and her little band continued to evade the authorities, we began to hope.

Somehow, we all knew that our destiny was tied up with hers. We had a sense that we were preparing for a decisive confrontation of some sort, a final struggle for the world to come. The Lioness called to us, and we were coming. We just didn't know when.

We were all powerfully effected by her letters, but of the adults, Sister Willa most of all. No one had been more transformed by the passage through the tunnel of death than the good sister. She had forsaken her habit and dressed like the rest of us except for the large wooden crucifix that adorned her neck. Somehow, though she was always her cheerful and steadfast self, I sensed that she was deeply troubled.

She was assigned to special duty under Na Na along with Joey, Nam, the little healer and I. The little Kiowa Apache "chief" named Sky Bear, who was not a chief at all but a medicine man from around the middle of the eighteened century, often joined our group. The little Apache boy who hosted him was named Jimmy Juh. He, Nam and Joey became constant companions. He explained his bond with Sky Bear at one of our meetings. Out of respect, he always addressed Na Na as "grandfather".

"He comes because I let him, grandfather." He pushed a strand of his long dark hair out of his eyes. "I can let him have my body if I want. It's kind of like holding my breath. I stand on the side and he walks around with me." He smiled. Jimmy is much less severe than old Sky Bear. "I kind of like it. He's a grump but he's not too mean and when he has my body we can do lots of things."

Na Na asked him if he could send the old Kiowa away.

"Yes grandfather, it is my life. He doesn't fight me for it. All he knows are the old ways. He can only speak the old language and he knows nothing of the white world."

I was unsettling to watch the boy's face shift when he surrendered to Sky Bear. He would close his eyes for a second, his shoulders would stiffen, and when they opened, his eyes would be those of an old man. His body would take on a vaguely military stance. James said the language he spoke was Athapascan, similar to the dialect the Mescalero's used, but not similar enough for easy communication. He still relied on Jimmy to do his talking. Sky Bear was not a true Kiowa according to Na Na, but a Kiowa Apache. They, like the Navaho, were close cousins to the N'de.

As the "medicine people" of the white eyes, we were to study the N'de path of wisdom. With Willa in the group, our meetings also became studies of comparative religion.

The third day after our arrival, we gathered around a fire in one of the remote caverns of the keep and were joined by old Na Na's star pupil. When the youth walked up, clad in the ritual garb of the N'de medicine man, I didn't recognize him, but after he joined us in the circle, I noticed Radio, Ricky Esquivel and a small group of the older children. They were hiding in the shadows near the entrance to cave, whispering excitedly and pointing at the new arrival. He looked embarrassed.

His grandfather acted as though the young man was beneath notice and said. "Angeles, you must take care of your public or we will get nothing done. Go say hello to the children, then ask them to leave."

He looked at the ground and answered. "Yes grandfather."
That was my introduction to Angel Colorado. He sure didn't act like Mick Jagger. He got up quietly and we continued our conversation. Willa had been holding forth about the sexual stereotypes in ritual and mythology of both the historical and surviving nature-based religions. Na Na was interested so he let her lecture.

"...so you see, the primitive man related to the mystery of the natural world through the myth of the earth mother. He suckled at her breast. She was the common source of his relationship with the other living things in his world. Hunter/gatherer man deified the animal that was his prey. He called upon the basically feminine bond they shared through the earth mother, to bring the animal within striking distance, even asked the animal's permission to kill it so that its life could feed the tribe. It was much like Dusty's form of hunting except that they relied on less direct communication. It was in this way that the hunter and the prey become one. It is this process of killing to live, life living on life, this constant consuming of one aspect of the earth mother by another, that the Hindus later called `agni' or the everburning fire. Later disciplines created burnt offerings, sacrifices to feed the gods, symbolizing this mystic cycle..."

"Yeah, sort of like they did with Joan of Ark in later years." I interjected. I was the resident agnostic in our early conversations. It was a dirty job, but...

"The church has always been big on consumption, whether it's barbecue saint on a stick, or Heretic a-la-Inquisition, Christians have always eaten well." Willa glared at me but I went on. "Must be all that cannabalistic devouring of the body of Christ. It's tough for prophets on this planet. First they nail you to a cross, then they have you for Sunday dinner for two thousand years." Na Na chuckled. Willa did not.

"Partaking in the body of our Lord is a symbol, as Thomas so adroitly points out. It symbolizes partaking of the experience of Jesus's sacrifice and also his salvation. It symbolizes the bread of life, the truth that he brought to mankind."

Angel rejoined us. Na Na smiled, winked at him and spoke quietly to the little healer who was only half listening. "This Christian god is kind of cheap is he not, little one, only gives you a little piece of bread and a sip of wine. Hard to grow up strong off that. Got a whole world full of food and the cheap bastard wants you to live off crumbs." Angel and I both laughed. Willa seemed to find it less humorous.

"Na Na, you know very well that communion is only a symbolic ritual." She glared at us both. "Stop filling the children's heads with nonsense." Willa was the only one who could talk to him like that. I think he was getting sweet on her. "As I was saying, primitive man's relationship to game was one primary aspect of his mysticism, another was the mystery of reproduction. The most common prehistoric mystical artifact, a stone figurine of an exagerated female figure, has been found in archeological digs throughout Europe, Asia Minor and even into Asia proper. It is a fertility goddess, representing the mystery of childbirth, of the mother's nurturing breast, clearly a powerful religious inspiration in these primitive societies.

"As man progressed and developed agriculture, this female diety became even more important as the cycle of the moon, the cycle of menstration, the cycle of the seasons and the harvest, all became related under the aegis of the female diety. Birth, death, and spiritual growth were related to the transformation that a seed undergoes as it grows into a plant...coming from death or the underworld, to be born anew, then to die, and begin the cycle again. Burials became a matter of religious practice, as these early cultures sewed their dead like seeds in the ground for later rebirth, mimicking the daily demise and rebirth of the sun and the moon.

"As in the mysticism of the N'de, all things were considered to have spirits. This animistic view of the world, much like the deep, magical sense of mystery that the Lioness points to as missing in modern life, imbued primitive cultures with a deep respect for all aspects of nature. As man progressed in his understanding of the world, so did his mysticism." Na Na had a sour look on his face.

"You speak of these things as though they can be captured by words." His disdain was clear. "True power is not a thing of words, but of spirit."

"Yes Na Na," She appeased the old man. "I know that. I do not mean any disrespect towards such power." She smiled gently. "You, yourself have regreted the mistakes of the past. By studying it, I hope to create a better understanding of the present, perhaps we can even impact the future." The medicine man was placated and she continued.

"The first `high' civilizations developed along the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, in the Indus river valley and at the Nile delta. These new, organized societies spawned an advanced mysticism. Aided by the development of astronomy, writing and other such advances, the cycle of nature was aggrandized on a whole new scale. Entire courts were buried along with the great kings, including wives, guards and cadres of chariots. Women dieties still played a dominant part in the religious life of these people. These complex mythic landscapes were in fact formalized nature religions, just more sophisticated versions of the practice of the early animists, except now they had developed a very advanced mythology which related to the passage of the soul through the steps of enlightenment. Some of these revelations were startling. The Vedas, the first holy books, of the Hindu religion, actually psalms, uncover a sophistication in metaphysics that didn't hit the western philosophical tradition until Kant, Hume and Bishop Berkley came along 2,700 years later."

Na Na piped in..."White men kind of slow about some things, huh Willa." The old medicine man was enjoying his jibes.

"Actually, you smart alec old goat, the point I was making was that men, all men, are kind of slow. What I'm trying to say, is that for the vast majority of the time since mankind has been asking these questions, the primary diety was a woman." She looked triumphant. "Even today, after two thousand years of persecution, she still shows up personified as Mother Nature, or Mary, the Immaculate Virgin and mother of Christ. The Catholic church is still known as the `mother' church.

"God is a girl?" The little healer looked interested for the first time. "A mom?"

"Yes my child," Willa stuck her tongue out at the old medicine man. "She is, a fine strong woman too, gentle and loving, not arrogant and rough like a man." She stuck her chin out and waited for one of us to cross her. Nobody said a thing, not even Na Na.

"Now as man's understanding of his universe expanded, particularly with the predictable nature of the heaven's coming to light, a mysticism began to develop that called for an ordered, mechanical universe. God began to be seen as more remote, less concerned about the affairs of the individual. The nature traditions had valued coming to balance with the earth, being one with it. Now, first with Zoroaster and then with Yahweh, the Hebrew God, the emphasis splits with the Eastern tradition and God asserts man's dominion over all living things. Good and evil come into play in a new form. In Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism and the other Eastern philophies, good and evil are two sides of the same coin, yin and yang. Zoroaster, however, says the enlightened man strives to reach goodness and move away from evil behavior. Yahweh appropriates the idea when Moses brings the ten commandments down from the mount. It was a fundamental shift that still separates our cultures."

"What is goodness if not honoring the earth." Angel spoke for the first time. "One of the ten commandments is honor thy mother and thy father. Who is our mother if not the earth? If a man is not balanced with the natural world, he cannot know God. We are all part of one spirit."

"That is a good point Mr. Colorado, one that I have begun to see lately myself. If you'll be patient, I do intend to get to that issue in a moment. I think this background information will be useful if you will allow me to continue." The young man nodded and she went on. "You see, up to this time, the basic pantheon of dieties was interchangable when you went from one culture to another. When Alexander the Great conquered his way into India, he recognized the Indian gods within his own mythology, Krishna was Heracles and so on. When Julius Ceaser conquered Gaul, he talks about the Celtic dieties so interchangably with his own, that often we can't even tell which Celtic god he is talking about. Same thing with the Egyptian pantheon. Local dieties sometimes fight for turf but these are secondary figures, not primary aspects of the Godhead. Now all of sudden, a god comes out of the desert with a new claim. Yahweh says he is `the' God, the only God, and that all of the other dieties are devils. His followers are `good', all others are evil and idolaters."

"Sounds like the white man's god to me." smirked Na Na.

"He is also the source of creation." Willa ignored him. "For the first time, a man is in charge of the harvest, of the weather, of when and if a heir is born, of love, of all aspects of life and death, many parts of spiritual life which were up to this point the domain of female dieties." She paused. "...and this is the thing that I have realized lately, with that new god, my God until of late, came all of the traits, both good and bad, that come with the male.

"He is arrogant, violent and self righteous. He thrives on domination and power. As you pointed out Mr. Colorado, he offers no sense of balance, little sensitivity to the earth or to other forms of life. The world exists to do his will and to serve him. It is his dominion to be conquered and brought into order. This type of God was useful as man sought to deal with the new social and spiritual order that large cities and other complex social organizations required. As mankind marched to total dominion over the planet, Jews, Moslems and Christians tried to share this diety, but due to the exclusivity built into the god of Abraham and Moses, they could not agree. As a result, we have experienced over two thousand years of brutal religious warfare."

Na Na looked tired. "My people also could not see past their own gods. Each clan of the N'de clung to it's own beliefs, even when the survival of our children was at stake. So it was with all the Indian peoples. We could not break down the tribal barriers, even to save ourselves from the white man. The medicine of our past was too strong."

Willa reached out and touched his hand. "Perhaps we are not so different." There eyes met momentarily. The kids giggled. Willa sparkled and feigned embarrassment as she continued. "On the other hand, this exclusive god had positive aspects. He brought a new sense of social responsibility, best demonstrated by the teachings of Jesus Christ. Jesus reveals him as a God of love, the caring father..."

The little healer perked up again. "God is a dad?" She looked so earnest, we stifled our giggles. "God is a mother and a dad?" It was poignant to hear the parentless child so interested.

Willa, still in midthought, nodded a cursory assent and went on. "A new type of personal god emerges, an end all, be all god, that fits every occasion." She hesitated, looking somewhat pained. "This is the god to whom I got married. I have loved him deeply and served him for twenty years. It is difficult to admit but now I am beginning to awaken to the fact that he may not be the best symbol for modern human experience." She stopped for a second and took a breath. "God is, after all, a symbol name. The true god is as Na Na says, beyond words, beyond understanding. We have made up this particular mask for the infinite in order to relate ourselves to a much greater and more mysterious force in the universe. I fear we are entering a time when the old symbols, the old myths will not suffice."

We all felt the inevitability of her logic. Though we would each have expressed it differently, we were beset by the same devils. A dying of the old gods, a vacuum of the inner being. The awakening had left us hollow and confused, with nowhere to turn for explanations that did not uncover a greater mystery. I could see it on the faces of everyone around the fire. The little healer jumped to her feet. Her eyes burned with excitement. "God will be my mommy and my daddy." All eyes turned towards her. "...an I will be the baby god... Mommy will hold the baby god in her arms. Daddy will sing me songs about the stars every night. I will be their little girl and I will grow bigger and bigger and then I will be god."

It was like her words set off spontaneous combustion in Joey's eyes. Nam and Jimmy Juh sat up straight, their faces afire. All four of them seemed imbued with light, somehow transfigured, their faces glowing with a brighter radiance than seemed possible from the reflection of the dying embers of our campfire. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes to throw off the hallucination.

Joey spoke. "My friend says the whole world is a baby, just growing up. It's God's baby!"

"And the world is the mother!" Nam chimed in, jumping up in excitement. "When it rains, she is washing us and when we sleep she puts her arms around us so we don't fly off into the sky..."

"an she gives us our food and our air and everything. She always takes care of us and..." Joey looked over at me, his eyes ablaze with excitment. "...the dad makes the rules. He teaches the baby lessons. He protects the baby from getting hurt."

Jimmy Juh joined in. "The father makes the baby strong, and shows him what is right. He gives him power!"

"All the kids can have a good mom and and good dad to take care of them." Nam cried with an electric sparkle. Their eyes wide enough for a first trip to the circus, they goggled at each other and then, turning to the little healer, they seemed to take a collective deep breath.

"I AM the baby!" she crowed. "...an now I have a fambly. My mommy and my daddy will be in love, an be married, an they will take very good care of me, cause they love me, love me, love me." She jumped up, put her arms in the air and spun around shouting. "I will be the baby in the whole world, growing, growing, growing." She sprung onto Joey and kissed him. He was so excited, he didn't even care. "You can be my brother, okay Joey?" She looked around at the rest of us. "You can all be my brothers an my sisters!" Her voice sounded like a fanfare. "Everybody can be the little baby God and we will live happily ever after!"

Angel and I sat with our mouths open. I was shocked back to that cold day behind the Houston zoo, a squalid shed, the dying words of a little girl...

"...It will he happily ever after...happily ever after."

Na Na sat crosslegged with his arms upraised and his eyes closed. He started chanting and rocking back and forth. Willa stared at the little healer in shock, her face contorted beyond recognition. Then, as though the life had drained out of her, she collapsed on the dirt floor of cave, sobbing. As the four children danced around the fire laughing and shouting, she cried; cried wild and uncontrolled like a grieving mother, her head on the floor as though her sorrow made it too heavy to carry...but as the tears fell, alluvial alms for her fractured soul, she kept saying over and over..."Thank you lord, oh thank you lord."


Copyright 1996 - Christopher K. Travis




Return to Children of the Sunrise

Go to the Round Top Register