Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Assuming He Survives
To the Mother of a Boy About to be Initiated Into Manhood
Oh, don't worry, you'll get to see him coming up out of the woods all right: the triumphal return to the village. Hey, he's the star: this is his night, his party, after all.
We'll send a runner up to let you know when we're finished with the...doings. Then we'll bring him up—you'll hear us coming—and...let the party begin.
Oh, we'll need a bag with some clean clothes for him to wear coming back. New ones would be best. No symbolism there or anything.
By the way, if he has any friends from school or wherever that he'd like to ask to the party, by all means invite them. Let the cowans be jealous. See if I care.
Anyway, it'll be good. This ritual is a masterpiece, I tell you, a f*cking masterpiece. And talk about self-authenticating. Once you experience this stuff, you just know that this is exactly how we've always done it.
Which, of course, it is.
Well, all this is assuming that he actually survives, of course. (Grins.) But I wouldn't worry too much about that if I were you.
It's been ages since we actually lost one.
Above:
Don Tjungerai
Young Male Initiation Ceremony
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