Chapter One
Among themselves, the children called him Amora.The monkstumbled as he blindly reached out for the child that was taunting him. The children howled with laughter as the man playfully lumbered around in a circle chasing no one but himself. He always lost at blind man’s bluff, and the village broods loved him for it. Parents watched approvingly as the game went on. But, their fondness for the monk was recent. Not too long ago the townspeople were suspicious, very suspicious, of this gentle giant.
But, the kids had always loved him. Except when they played hide and seek. No matter where they played the game, they could never find him; he always won. Sometimes they thought he could turn invisible. He was so big, how did he do it? To them, he was a great mystery.
The monk appeared in the small village between the cities of Asebot and Mieso in northeastern Ethiopia several years ago. It was said he was a student who had come to the monastery in Asebot to study the ancient scriptures. He found God and, although he was a westerner, became a deacon of the Coptic Church. When he became a deacon, a local village priest requested help with his flock. The big monk was the monastery’s answer to his request.
The muscular man with haunted eyes frightened the church members, but the old priest assured them that he was a good man. He could do the labor of three men in one day. He was humble and soft-spoken showing deference to all who approached him. He helped all the villagers with whatever they asked of him. Most of all, he took special care of the children. The villagers noticed his watchful eyes. He rarely let them out of his sight. He was always kind to them, although they teased him constantly. He would just laugh and throw them treats. Sometimes, he would leave on one of his “walking trips” and come back with shoes, clothes, or toys enough for everyone. One day, he returned from his trip with a big-screen TV and a gas power generator for electricity. The biggest part of that treat was the Sesame Street puppets he had obtained along with a videotape of the show. He used them to teach reading and arithmetic. Despite the fact he was never overtly threatening, the parents were a little afraid for themselves sometimes. Parenting in their culture was tough, and children were treated roughly as a matter of course. But when the monk was around, even though he never interfered, his look was enough to make their admonishments a little gentler on the children. Still, the parents were skeptical of him, until the day they heard him sing.
To be a singer in the Coptic Christian Church is a great honor and even regarded as a clerical post. Singers have their own garb in the form of long yellow tunics and pillbox hats. One Sunday, the main cantor was ill and could not sing. As was his nature, the monk volunteered for the task. Although he couldn’t make any promises as to the quality of his voice, he assured the priest that he knew the songs well enough from his stay at the monastery.
Reluctantly the priest gave him permission to sing at mass that Sunday. At the designated time during mass he stood to sing. The congregation rolled their eyes and cringed as if they expected to hear the braying of a donkey. He began softly and then his voice built to a crescendo that soared and lifted their spirit. He had a magnificent voice and while he sang he was transformed from the haunted soul to a being of joy and spirit. His countenance shined from within. He was accepted as their own.
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Their part ofthe country was having problems with Islamic fundamentalists who were desecrating and looting tombs, shrines, and other holy sites. The monastery at Asebot had been set on fire several times. The monastery needed the monk’s strength and know-how to help rebuild. They sent for him. After he had been gone for several weeks, the kids were getting anxious, and the parents were missing their babysitter. But things were going to get a lot worse.
With the authorities busy elsewhere, a warlord from Somalia decided to make a raid on the village. They stole anything they could carry and kidnapped two young girls, who were the daughters of one of the more prosperous merchants. The girls were aged five and ten.
Slavery is big business worth about fifteen billion dollars a year. It is part of Islam’s underground economy, and another reason Western values are a threat to the culture of MENA (Middle East North Africa) and by proxy Islam. The warlord sent his ransom demand and of course, the price was exorbitant, way too much for the merchant. Word spread quickly that the girls were soon to be sold as slaves in Somalia unless the demands were met. There was no way the money could be raised. The priest announced that a special mass would be said for the girls in hopes for their safe return. But, everyone knew it was a funeral mass; out of respect they did not acknowledge it as one. A few days later, the villagers stood outside the church forming a procession line to enter for the mass. The priest opened the doors and led them in toward the altar. He suddenly fell to his knees at the communion rail and proclaimed thanks to God. There at the foot of the altar lay the two girls, wrapped in blankets, sleeping a sound sleep.
The parents tried to rouse them, but they had been drugged. The older girl was out like a light, but the younger girl was groggily awake. The parents asked her how they got back. Sleepily she mumbled, “Big bird.” They asked her again later after the drugs had worn off. She gave them the same answer, “I told you, big bird carried us away.” The parents shrugged and decided that was all they were going to get so why push it.
Later that week, reports came in that the remains of the warlord and his gang had been found. Apparently, it was a site of great carnage. They were shot and hacked to pieces. Many of their body parts had been hacked off, genitals in particular. One detail that was particularly gruesome was the impaled body of the warlord holding his own head with his genitals protruding from the mouth. A hand-painted sign was attached to the pole. It was a quote from the Quran: “And those who when afflicted with great wrong, become victorious.” 42:39. It was a warning.
After a few weeks, late at night, the monk returned. The next day was Sunday and he was looking forward to seeing his friends and singing at church again. He rose early and changed into his yellow tunic. He made his way into the church and found a seat in the back of the choir. Nobody noticed him as the church slowly filled up for mass. At the designated time, the monk rose to sing.
Much to the embarrassment of their parents, the two previously kidnapped girls broke away from their control and ran to the front of the church. They vaulted the communion rail, jumped into the choir, and landed in the monk’s arms. Then they began to hug and kiss him. The congregation was stunned into silence. The priest just waved to everybody signaling that it was all right. The parents rushed to the altar to retrieve their daughters. The little one was still in the monk’s arms with her finger tapping his chest with each syllable A-MOR-A. She did it again A-MOR-A. The monk laughed after he translated the Amharic into English: Amora means “big bird.” The priest began to chuckle too and he said, “He does look like a big bird come to think of it, especially in his tunic.”
After the commotion had died down, the priest finished the mass. The church cleared out, and the monk knelt before the altar. The kindly old priest approached him and said, “Well, Brother Amora (he wiggled his fingers in quotation marks), I imagine there is a confession you need to make.”
“It’s more like a long story, Father, a very long story.”
