Unconventional Healing

Prompt: Set your story during-or just before-a storm

Unconventional Healing

“Rain, rain go away. Come back some other day,” I murmured to myself. I recited the childhood rhyme using it as an amulet that would ward off the threatening clouds hovering above me.  The ominous black skies evoked a warning inside me as I whispered “red in the morning, sailors take warning.” Today would be a day filled with tumultuous weather. The plump clouds had just begun to dribble their wetness upon me. Without warning more dark clouds raced above me unleashing their fury of deafening booms and hellish lightening. This display of horrendous weather was only the beginning for me. The real storm would really begin once I arrived at my destination.

The cabin was an outlier home of a small coastal village in the northern woods situated in the dense forests along the Strait of Georgia, western British Columbia.  The family living there rarely had contact with anyone, possibly because they did not speak the main dialect and honored only traditional customs. A very recent rumor from the village made me concerned for this family. Apparently, two of the three children had become seriously ill early this morning. I felt I had to act quickly before the illness became worse. As I understood the rumor, the parents called upon a spiritual advisor from one of the First Nation bands. He happened to be one of the chiefs.

It was not his practice of spiritual medicine that concerned me. The Chief knew that medicine from a European doctor could be quite helpful. He knew that I was the resident “white medicine man,” assisting the people in the village for the last two years. Many of them were second and third generation First Nation people who I would provide care. My problem was that the Chief often missed the sense of urgency in his spiritual treatments.  Only then when he saw the futility of the spirits lacking in the healing powers (which often meant days of treatment) would he allow me to use my “white medicine.”

Unfortunately, today was no different, or so I initially thought. It was late in the afternoon when I finally arrived at the cabin with my medicine bag. The rain continued to deluge the area. The older child opened the door to let me into the three-room cabin. In the sleeping area, the twin boys were holding their stomachs expressing great discomfort. The Chief was annoyed that I had not consulted with him prior to my arrival.  His fluent, curt English left no doubt that he was distressed. “Why do you not tell me of your visit? I did not ask for you,” he said abruptly. With conviction I said, “I only learned about their sickness this morning. I believed it to be an emergency, not wanting to waste time. I had no way of knowing you would be here. I actually hoped you were here so your healing could be started.”

In response, the Chief softened his tone and was surprised by my response. He added, “The parents are first generation people. They do not trust the European ways nor their medicine. In the past, Europeans stole their land, their possessions, their independence, and their pride. They have refused to join with the community in the village because their mistrust is deep even of their own people. They only speak in the tongue of their ancestors. It is what their children only understand now.” The older boy intently watched the Chief and I as we discussed the matter like he understood what was being said.

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled to buy some time in my thoughts. “Chief, what have the parents told you about the children’s sickness? How long have they suffered? What foods and liquids have they had?” The Chief raised his hand to slow up my questioning. He then proceeded to interrogate the parents with my questions.

Hesitantly, the parents told the Chief both boys were given a plant medicine. They administered Asasaweminagaawanzh (or simply called chokecherry) very early this morning because of their coughing and bronchitis symptoms.   But later the boys became dizzy, nauseous, with diarrhea and abdominal pain. The Chief then looked at me saying, “the parents gave them more of the chokecherry to ward off evil spirits, but the evil spirits are strong, agitating the boys with great pain.”

Suddenly, the older boy spoke but not in the language of the ancestors. He addressed the Chief and I in distinct English. We both were surprised to hear the boy speak in English. His parents were also shocked but said nothing to the Chief. The boy said to us, “I speak now to you because my brothers are hurting much worse. I see their suffering so I gave them another plant medicine called Indian poke (false hellebore) because it is stronger than chokecherry. I think it made them even sicker. You must help them white medicine man. Give them white medicine to drive away the evil spirits.” Immediately, I knew that the boys were unintentionally poisoned by the Indian poke which is a plant alkaloid toxic to the body at higher doses.  Hoping that the alkaloid was mostly in the digestive tracts of the twins I knew I had a remedy to minimize the poisoning effects. I always carried emergency vials of activated charcoal to absorb poisons. 

I asked the Chief, “I want you to give me a small amount of the medicine I brought in my bag. Put it on my tongue and I will swallow it.  After I take it, they will see it does no harm to me. Then, I will give it to the boys. I want you to interpret these words to the parents: The boys will start to feel better soon. They will need to take more of the medicine later in the night. No more chokecherry and certainly no more Indian poke for their congestion and spiritual wellness. I will give them something else for that.” I looked at the Chief and he agreed to my request. I added, “Chief, call on your spirits to help them. I will also call on my Spirit as well.  As I do speak, please interpret my words for them.”

Before the Chief and I proceeded with our invocations, I asked the boy how he had come to learn English. He said he learned from another much older white medicine man before he passed into the spirit world. That man was my predecessor, and actually my father. My father often used the indigenous plants of the area to help his patients as well.

The Chief began his animated ritual highlighted with demonstrative chanting prayers, and singing.  When he was finished, he looked at me to proceed with my prayers ready to translate for the boys and the parents.

“O Lord my God, I cried to You for help, and You healed me.” (1)

“Praise the Lord, O my soul. And all that is within me, praise His holy name. Praise the Lord, O my soul. And forget none of His acts of kindness. He forgives all my sins. He heals all my diseases.  He saves my life from the grave. He crowns me with loving-kindness and pity.  He fills my years with good things and I am made young again like the eagle.” (2)

“I ask this in the name of Jesus, my Lord, and my God.”

The rain had stopped when I left the cabin. I looked to the horizon and the sun had dipped below it out of sight.  Its fiery yellow ball was not visible but a glowing red was left behind. “Red at night is a sailor’s delight,” I whispered as I headed home.

-END-

NLV=New Life Version 1. (Psalm 30 :2, NLV) 2. (Psalm 103: 1-5, NLV)

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedys.com prompts