The Ritual

I was born and raised in the desert, in a small tribe, where the rituals of antiquity were still cherished. 

I still remember our so-called rite of passage that all children had to go through to become tribesmen and women. A reminiscence of the ritual can still be found in every corner of my memory. How can I forget it? After all, becoming a tribesman was the only thing that I wanted or rather knew.

The ritual, my dear reader, was about proving yourself, about earning your place, about overcoming oneself and purging the desire for companionship, which, upon completion, allowed our elders to bestow upon the participant the title of a khan which allowed the tribe members to honorably wear the rings left for them by their ancestors.

The significance of the ritual can easily be understood when we see the seven great tribes renouncing their hatreds and rivalry for three full moons.

During the festive event of the rituals, tigers were sacrificed in the names of our fallen warriors, and a great feast was held in the name of the almighty.

 

The grandness of the ritual was only matched by my fear of failure. My fear was the sort of cage that trickery and subtlety, which I had none, were needed to break from. Believe me when I tell you, my dear reader, that aboard that cage hope seemed lost and the future looked dim. I then knew that in order to become a tribe member a significant appliance of courage is needed, of which, again, I had none.

 

The drums and the hums of the elders were getting louder the higher the moon rose in the sky.

The louder the sounds rose the more scared I felt. The people feasted and danced, sang and drank, but their escalated ecstasy and mayhem only escalated my fears and insecurities, but the sudden halt followed that festive explosion announced the commencement of the ritual.

 

The Crow, our tribe leader, with carrot-colored skin, painted especially for this occasion, summoned the participants to him.

 

He said, “times are changing, and so is our tribe, and this filthy ritual is to be abolished”, and so it was.