Hog Tied

As a highly respected Doctor in the jungles, I have encountered a wide variety of strange situations.  One of which seers deep into my memory…It was a calm night, the damp South American air was forming beads of sweat on my forehead, as Cusavy, the pigmy Indian chief approached my tent. “Hail Cusavy.” I muttered, he ignored my greeting and proceeded to slop a wet heap of warthog down in front of me.  I didn’t catch everything he said, but apparently his son, Bondusy was riding his warthog through the frothy forest when a giant boa attacked them, Bondusy managed to free himself, but the warthog had been crushed before they could kill the snake. 

            The whole situation stunk of mischief and dead warthog. First of all, who rides a warthog through the jungle in the middle of the night, amongst thousands of poisonous creatures, and secondly, why bring it to me and expect some sort of miraculous healing.

I felt like cramming it in a box and shipping it up to U.S. customs for FDA approval for the meat loving kiddies back home.  Remembering the hog’s sentimental value to the chief, I shook myself free from all thoughts of giving up on this beast.  Grabbing the lifeless hoof I took its pulse. “Yep, just as I thought, DEAD!”  I quickly took my small kerosene lantern and emptied its contents onto the hog’s hairy body.  Smiling at the chief I began rubbing it around, while chanting repeatedly, “ITHIN  KHE'S AG ONER.” 

Everything was fine and it appeared that I was making an effort so they were satisfied, that is, until I lit a candle for more light, forgetting about the kerosene covering my hands.  Cusavy and Bondusy screamed in horror as the flames spread to the hog, I tried to explain in between screams of pain, that I was cleansing it with fire.  I ran out of the hut, found a fresh pile of water buffalo dung, and engulfed the flames eating at my hands. 

            Returning to the hut, I found what was left of the warthog and a sad but accepting Bondusy waiting along side an unhappy  chief.  I assured them that I had done all I could and walked them out.  The air stunk of dung as I patted them on the shoulders and they walked away.  I knew they were thankful for what I had done.