Chapter I - Birth
Barren shores splashed with tears, washed up-on this desert land.
Who else knows but the fathers of our fathers, and our long-forgotten sister brides.
Our Journey Begins:
Tens of Hundreds of years in our fair distant past, a young hunter from a long-extinct tribe toiled away to be accepted as an adult within his tribe. Working feverishly with his hands to create his own unique style of a boomerang which he felt would improve the tribes’ situation.
Once completed, then, as per tradition, went to his tribal Shaman for blessings upon his new style Boomerang.
Shamanic Law dictated that blessings are made only on clear, “full moon” lit nights.
The night of the full moon had arrived, and the young hunter was ready to take his unique Boomarang to the ceremony, along with many other youths of the tribe for blessings.
A blessing from the Shaman would grant youths the right to partake in the ceremony of adults, quickening the time to become a “real” member of the tribe.
Long lines would form as the Shaman stood in his ceremonial blessing costume; a tradition, handed down through the centuries from Shaman to Shaman. He would raise whatever was offered to him towards the bright moon, giving his blessing, and gain favour from the Gods, chanting a long lost tribal chant, passed down to those who inherit the Shamanic gifts.
Anything which the Shaman felt would displease the Gods would be rejected, and either be destroyed or cast out into the desert.
As the young hunter’s turn approached, he nervously examined his unique Boomarang for any flaws.
Noticing that all the other boomerang offerings were all the traditional style boomerangs, and was worried he may be rejected because of its unique design.
Young hunter looked skyward to asked the “Owl God” Kukumat to look kindly upon his creation. With no sign, he had a choice:
Walk away in shame or go forward, hoping the Shaman wouldn’t notice, or even if he did, it wasn’t so shameful, for, as a youth, there were still many errors to make and many more things to learn.
After all, before the ceremony, Shamans often drink the spiritual liquid of the Gods, passed down from Shaman to Shaman. Perhaps he would see the greatness of his new design, or reject Boomarang because it was not traditional.
To late! Once Young Hunter’s turn came, he knelt in front of the Shaman, passing Boomarang to him: ”Great Shaman of our great tribe, bless this, my boomerang carved of my own hands so that it will bring my family and our tribe good fortune and greater plenty in the hunt“.
The Shaman took Young Hunter’s Boomerang from his outstretched arms. Raised it towards the bright, fully lit moonlight, and began chanting a prayer of blessing to the Gods!
Whilst chanting, Shaman abruptly stopped, silently handing Boomarang back to Young Hunter, and signalled the young hunter to leave. saying nothing more.
Shamans only speak with tribe elders; not them, then, even in the ceremony.
Dejected, the young hunter, not wanting to shame his family and tribe, threw Boomarang way out into the desert ground.
Not having anything blessed, not as an adult, nor a wife he could have, the young hunter joined in the circle celebration, but was not allowed to join the blessing dance ceremony. He felt “vindicated”, a sense of relief ... no shame. ”My time will come“, the young hunter thought.
Tribal tradition dictated that after each full moon ceremonial dance celebration, they’d move on, no matter. It was a way of blessing the land, keeping it clean from overhunting and settlement debris.
Unaware, the actions of that night displeased the gods, doomed his tribe to extinction.
