I stumble through thick jungle and undergrowth, lost, alone,
afraid. I am separated from my
expedition, a group in search of primitive native tribes in the deep
Amazon. There is light up ahead and
hopes rise. It is flickering. It is a fire.
I hack my way to the edge of a clearing wherein stand a
group of about 50 people. They stand
around a large fire. Juxtaposed is a
monolithic stone slab set in the earth horizontally so that it could serve as a
table. On the stone table is a young
girl of about 15 or 16, lying on her back, restrained by leather straps. She is struggling and crying. A man and woman stand nearby, crying and
attempting to console each other. I
assume these are the parents of the girl, but have no clue what is going on.
Soon a chief or high priest or some figure of authority
enters the firelight. He is dressed in
blue robes with a red scarf and on his head sits a golden crown made of human
hair. He carries a long, curved knife. He steps into the center of the circle and
the group grows silent.
“We worship the god Plutus,” he says. “The god of wealth and money and abundant
crops and good hunting. Plutus demands
that we sacrifice a young girl each year to maintain our prosperity. We gather tonight to serve Plutus and conduct
the ritual sacrifice. Some must die so
that others may prosper.”
He steps to the table, places his left hand over the girl’s
eyes and raises the knife. She screams
and struggles furiously, but the group remains silent and watchful.
I can stand it no longer and burst from the edge of the
jungle into the fire-lit circle.
“Stop, you fools!” I
scream. “There is no Plutus, there is no
god of wealth that demands human sacrifice.
You are choosing to murder a child for the sake of your pursuit of wealth. Killing her means nothing except that it is
murder!”
Four, young strong men step forward. “Who are you to question our beliefs? We believe our chief. We will suffer unless she dies, so she must
die. We cannot survive poverty.”
“And what if there is no god? What if your Chief lies? What if the girl on the table was your
daughter, your sister, your wife, your mother?
Would you be as eager a believer then?
Or do you believe because you think this ritual will pass you and yours
leaving you untouched? Or do you simply
believe because your own wealth means more than even one life?”
Not swayed by my logic, they pull their knives and begin to
approach me. Reason and logic have no
place at this fire. Those who support
such will be sacrificed as well because the belief system is so brittle that to
question it will result in punishment, not thought. I now know there will be two deaths tonight.
I awake in a sweat to the news my President and Governor
eagerly seek the re-opening of our economy even though some will die. Shall I step into the firelight and scream, “Stop,
you fools!"?
