on, Bintang noticed a change in Dr. Adam himself. In one way he was like the Ulu in his love for his child. With the young son and Terrence Campbell traveling with him, the doctor seemed much more kind. And on the second trip, Dr. Adam brought his wife, who also knew much of medicine and did much to take away the shyness of many of the women.
On the fourth and final trip to the Ulus before the monsoon, Dr. Adam’s boat turned the bend to Bintang’s long house and tied ashore just before nightfall. Something seemed strange. For the first time there was an absence of the greeting of gongs and a gathering of the villagers. Mudich, the translator, alone awaited him.
“Quick, Dr. Adam. Bintang’s little son very sick. Crocodile bite.”
They raced the path to the long house, climbed the notched steps, and as they reached the veranda he could hear low, rhythmic chanting. Adam shoved his way through the crowd to where the child lay groaning on the floor. The leg wound was covered with wet herbs and sacred healing stones. Pirak had chanted himself into a trance waving a pole topped with beads and feathers over the child.
Adam knelt and abruptly uncovered the wound. Fortunately he had been bitten in the fleshy part of the thigh. Some of the flesh had been torn away, the teeth marks went deep. Pulse, weak but steady. He flashed a light into the child’s eyes. No serious hemorrhaging but the wound was dirty and debridement and drainage were needed along with surgery on a severed muscle. Temperature ...very hot, a hundred and four degrees.
“How long has he been lying there?”
Mudich could not answer properly because the Ulus had no sense of hourly time. Adam fished through his bag and prepared a penicillin shot “Have him removed to my hut, immediately.”
Suddenly Pirak emerged from his communion with the spirits. As Dr. Adam gave the boy an injection he screamed in anger.
“Get him the hell out of here,” Adam snapped.
“He say you are breaking the magic spell.”
“I hope so. He’s twice as sick as he need be.”
The Manang Bali picked up his bag of magic potions, magic stones, tusks, roots, herbs, ginger, pepper and he rattled it over the child yelling that he was not finished with his treatment
Adam snatched the bag and flung it over the veranda.
Pirak, who had been already disgraced by the cholera epidemic and with his power in the village slipping, realized he had to make a bold stand. He grabbed Adam’s bag off the floor and flung it away.
Everyone backed away as Adam came to his feet and hovered over the old fakir. He controlled the impulse to strangle Pirak. “Tell Bintang,” he said in an uneven voice, “the boy is becoming very sick. Bintang has already lost two of his sons. This child will not live unless he is given to me immediately.”
Pirak jumped up and down and screamed. “He is breaking my spell. He will bring back evil spirits!”
“Tell Bintang that Pirak is a fraud. Tell him that now. I want him ordered away from this child.”
“I cannot tell that,” Mudich said. “The chief cannot throw out his own magician.”
“This child’s life is in the balance.”
Pirak argued with Bintang heatedly. The chief looked from one to the other in confusion. Centuries of his society and culture weighed on him, and he was afraid of either decision. The Turahs would never understand such a thing as casting out his Manang. But the child. He will die, Dr. Adam say. Ulus have uncommon love for their children. When his own two sons died of the fever he adopted two little Chinese girls as his own for the Chinamen often gave away the unwanted females.
“Bintang say, Manang must heal son in the way of our people.”
Pirak thrust out his chest arrogantly and beat it with his fist and strutted as someone returned his bag of sticks and stones to him.
Adam Kelno turned and walked off.
Adam sat in naked futility under the waterfall below the river. He could hear the gongs and chanting from the
On the fourth and final trip to the Ulus before the monsoon, Dr. Adam’s boat turned the bend to Bintang’s long house and tied ashore just before nightfall. Something seemed strange. For the first time there was an absence of the greeting of gongs and a gathering of the villagers. Mudich, the translator, alone awaited him.
“Quick, Dr. Adam. Bintang’s little son very sick. Crocodile bite.”
They raced the path to the long house, climbed the notched steps, and as they reached the veranda he could hear low, rhythmic chanting. Adam shoved his way through the crowd to where the child lay groaning on the floor. The leg wound was covered with wet herbs and sacred healing stones. Pirak had chanted himself into a trance waving a pole topped with beads and feathers over the child.
Adam knelt and abruptly uncovered the wound. Fortunately he had been bitten in the fleshy part of the thigh. Some of the flesh had been torn away, the teeth marks went deep. Pulse, weak but steady. He flashed a light into the child’s eyes. No serious hemorrhaging but the wound was dirty and debridement and drainage were needed along with surgery on a severed muscle. Temperature ...very hot, a hundred and four degrees.
“How long has he been lying there?”
Mudich could not answer properly because the Ulus had no sense of hourly time. Adam fished through his bag and prepared a penicillin shot “Have him removed to my hut, immediately.”
Suddenly Pirak emerged from his communion with the spirits. As Dr. Adam gave the boy an injection he screamed in anger.
“Get him the hell out of here,” Adam snapped.
“He say you are breaking the magic spell.”
“I hope so. He’s twice as sick as he need be.”
The Manang Bali picked up his bag of magic potions, magic stones, tusks, roots, herbs, ginger, pepper and he rattled it over the child yelling that he was not finished with his treatment
Adam snatched the bag and flung it over the veranda.
Pirak, who had been already disgraced by the cholera epidemic and with his power in the village slipping, realized he had to make a bold stand. He grabbed Adam’s bag off the floor and flung it away.
Everyone backed away as Adam came to his feet and hovered over the old fakir. He controlled the impulse to strangle Pirak. “Tell Bintang,” he said in an uneven voice, “the boy is becoming very sick. Bintang has already lost two of his sons. This child will not live unless he is given to me immediately.”
Pirak jumped up and down and screamed. “He is breaking my spell. He will bring back evil spirits!”
“Tell Bintang that Pirak is a fraud. Tell him that now. I want him ordered away from this child.”
“I cannot tell that,” Mudich said. “The chief cannot throw out his own magician.”
“This child’s life is in the balance.”
Pirak argued with Bintang heatedly. The chief looked from one to the other in confusion. Centuries of his society and culture weighed on him, and he was afraid of either decision. The Turahs would never understand such a thing as casting out his Manang. But the child. He will die, Dr. Adam say. Ulus have uncommon love for their children. When his own two sons died of the fever he adopted two little Chinese girls as his own for the Chinamen often gave away the unwanted females.
“Bintang say, Manang must heal son in the way of our people.”
Pirak thrust out his chest arrogantly and beat it with his fist and strutted as someone returned his bag of sticks and stones to him.
Adam Kelno turned and walked off.
Adam sat in naked futility under the waterfall below the river. He could hear the gongs and chanting from the
Similar Books
