KURU

It was a weird-sized casket, certainly not big enough for an adult but oversized for a child. An unusual flag was adorned over it, a tiny one. It was supported by four men in uniform, though it was difficult to tell for a certainty exactly what uniform it was, or even if the supporters were all men. Due to the small size of the casket, the usual number of carriers wasn't necessary. If so, it may have been pretty awkward to watch them stumble of the heels of the person in front of them. Everything seemed to be undersized. So the extra supporters were in the ranks of many others in uniform waiting beside the small open grave. The priest wore the usual coverture instead of a uniform and must have said something because amusing followed by a long silence, then a burst of laughter. I would have found this whole scenario strange, but I didn't. It gave me an inside view of what life must have been like for my friend.

Quicker than the next thought could enter my mind, roughly, I was in the arms of two men. Their statue was much like the pallbearers. Except they had much bigger guns as if 24 hours a day were spent at the gym. I was the only average-sized person at Neils service. The looks I received were not welcomed. They didn't want me here in their intimate environment. Although I was much larger than those rogue men, there was no way I could ever get mastery over them. I had come here to mourn the loss of a great friend and confidante. The place was hidden. When my life had not been easy, Neil had helped me find meaning again. Despite the things, he had to cover up. We were kindred spirits of sorts. My life resulted from everything in my control. Neils from something he had no control over. Now that was over. I was an unwanted outsider. The order was given to have me removed. In a flash, I was being tossed out apart from the service. And had been pulled far enough away from the site. I had hit my head on a gravestone.

Nearly semi-conscious but coherent, I looked up. What had just happened and why? I was angry. I sat there. Didn't move, being lost in thought. Not to mention the sorrow I felt for Neil. Neil had told me so many things. Things were going on behind the scenes. It was controversial; no one talks about it among them. Some of which had been shocking. I would not have believed it if he had not shown me. The truth is the laughter could not be helped. I had heard it before. Were they still practicing these sorts of things? Neil had warned me of its dangerous signs. I wish I could have saved him; it was too late. For me, he was there out of nowhere when I needed someone, anyone. Like an angel on a mission of mercy. In a place where likely no one would ever turn up. Deep in Connecticut, it's known for its forest cover. A place where one could easily hide. Toting two gasoline cans through the woods was a difficult task. The cigarette lighters were tucked securely in my pockets. That's when Neil entered my life. I was just about to end it.

This was an impulsive desire. Had I went through it that night, it would have been even sadder. After the break-up, I had become maudlin. Impulses of suicide had never occurred to me in life. Trish and I had been going through a rough patch. It was just a matter of time before the break-up. I was caught red-handed in a compromising position with another girl at the bar. She was the girl of my dreams. I could not face the fact it had ended with little chance of reconciliation. Everyone could see it coming. As I sat at the bar, I thought about the events leading up to my erratic behavior. It was our regular date night; I didn't want to be alone. I saw them the moment they entered the bar. He held the door and gently touched her face as she passed in front of him. She seemed happy. Happier than I've seen her lately. This was our spot. Green with envy and suddenly losing control, I approached them at the door. Grabbing her by the hair, "What do you think you're doing?" shouting in her face. I had been on a drinking binge for three days. The left hook came straight across my jaw.

I woke up in my car. Not aware of how I had got there. My jaw was swollen and sore. My tooth had become loose. I reached for the case of beer on the back seat and didn't find it. Someone had removed it. I was so angry. Retrieving the keys from my pocket and starting the ignition. I sped off to a fueling station. I stopped at my trunk before going into the station. Grabbing the two empty gas cans taking them into the station with me. All I can remember thinking is that this night will end in a way no one will ever forget. Paying for the two gasoline cans and getting another two cases of beer; and buying two cigarette lighters before speeding off down Highway 395. I was drinking the cans of beer as I drove wildly. The car reeked with the smell of gas. It was late and dark when the deer crossed in front of me. I was moving in slow motion when it struck. I missed it. But loudly whirling off the road and crashing into a small tree bringing the car to a sudden halt.

In the dark, opening the door, I stumbled out to survey the damage. Squinting from the headlights that remained on and the smoke that emanated from the car. And disillusioned from the alcohol. I managed to reach the back door and remove the gasoline cans. Leaving everything as it was, I staggered off-kilter toward the deep woods of the forest. Stumbling with both cans at my sides as they spewed over onto the ground underneath me. I was feeling extremely fatigued. After a while of trekking, I stopped and sat the cans down in front of a tree trunk. Self-hating, I fell to my knees weeping shamefully before blacking out.

I jumped as I woke up in fright. I visioned I was being eaten by the things that crawl in the night. Immediately jumping to my feet. I looked around, up at the bluest sky. It was so peaceful and serene. This was the last place I wanted to be. My head remained a spinning top; it seemed to match the poisonous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had come here to do a deed, and I had to get it done. My mindset has not changed. I didn't want to live. I continued dusting myself off and picking up the two cans, now only nearly half full from the overspills; I continued on. This place was isolated from the rest of the world. No one would find me here. Surprised, I came across a large open, near water, a manmade lake. Too big to cross, and I didn't know how deep it was. Feeling frustrated, I stopped and sat the gas cans on the ground. Solemnly I stood for a moment. Never realizing my unstable condition, I picked up a can and began to douse myself with gasoline. I was wholly doused with one can. As I picked up the other can to continue, someone said: STOP! Do you really want to go that far?

At first, I thought I heard things. There was no one out here but me. This place was desolate. But I heard it again;" Wait, let's talk about it!" Then he began to laugh. I turned to look around. There he was. He had a look of desperation. I wasn't sure who for. He was unusual looking. Small in stature for a man but too big for a child. Somewhere in the middle. I didn't feel threatened by him, but fear did overcome me for a moment. I thought I was hallucinating. Slowly, I sat the other can down. He laughed when I did. I didn't understand his laughter. The timing of it made it weird. But even something much more sincere, genuine like. It made me stop. "Neil is my name." Then in a tender voice, he asked mine. Somewhat panicked, I was unresponsive. Slowly he moved closer to me. I just stared. He talked soothingly as he approached me. When he got close enough to reach the gas can, he picked it up and tossed it in the nearby lake. Now feeling somewhat incapacitated as my adrenaline seemed out of control. My knees buckled. I started to fall.

Instantly, he grabbed me and deliberately lowered me to the ground. I couldn't help but noticed his unusual strength. Then He began to remove the gas-soaked clothing. I was embarrassed but powerless, with no power or energy was present within me. This was real and not imagined. For a moment, he walked away. My eyes followed him till he became obscure. Shortly he returned with a blanket and a thermos. Covering me first and opening the thermos for me to drink. I welcomed the strong hot coffee. I tried to smile to thank my guardian angel. But neither of us spoke or moved for a time. The alcohol poisoning had me too weak to even walk on my own. What was he doing here? Had he come with reasons like mine? Why did he stop me if so? We sat quietly; only his laughter from time to time broke the silence. Suddenly a hyena appeared hungrily, revealing its teeth. It began to move stealthily around us. I still was unable to move.

Quick thinking Neil grabbed the cigarette lighter and a piece of gasoline-soaked clothing. Then lit it ablaze. Flinging it around in circles and towards the hyena till he took flight off into the woods. This strange and brave little man had done more for me in this short time than anyone else I could remember. He didn't appear to want anything in return. Yet I was puzzled; why was he here? Whatever the reason was, he lost it upon finding me in a time of need. I became his subject, and that was all that mattered. As I reeked of alcohol, I had never seen such human compassion displayed before. Non-judgmentally, he cared for me. Although only a few words had been spoken, I had never had more respect instantly for another person. His manner was unselfish, heartfelt. True blue blood. A king of sorts. He helped me up and moved me to his campsite. From the looks of the site, he had been here for a while. Perhaps thinking things over or simply just needing to be alone. Now I had come alone to ruin that. But he didn't seem agitated. Over the next few days, we opened up to each other. Time would tell Neil's load was even heavier to bear than my own.

Neil had no intention of leaving the campsite soon. He would leave early morning and return with food and supplies. Never once asking for anything, always giving. Kind natured, pure, I would do anything for him had he asked. He had a quick laugh at odd times. When I asked about it, that's when I saw the sadness. For the first time, I could see there was something that bought on anguish. Something more than he wanted to share at present. I was getting stronger and feeling at peace. And had come down off the alcohol enough to feel embarrassed. We would play chess, checkers, cards to pass the time. I was not ready to face the humiliation that awaited me back at civilization. What a crazy impulse. But I had acquired a new friend. Oddly different. Somehow who was going to make my life different going forward. I could feel it. I felt if I had not taken this path, our roads would have never intertwined. I would learn a lot from him.

For the first time in my life, I didn't mind feeling being dependent on someone. I was at peace with myself, Him. Out here with nature was calming, serene. I was hiding and didn't want to come out. I was an independent contractor, and no job was expecting me. We became like two buddies on a planned camping trip. We hiked in the park around us. How we had met a few days earlier didn't seem real or meaningful anymore. Or even liked it really happened. Neil could tell a mesmerizing story and captivate an audience. He would make me laugh. He would laugh but then suddenly stop as if at this appropriate time it was a crime. That's one thing I'm gonna miss that about my good friend. On the fourth day at the campsite, I was inside the tent.

Neil had gone for food. He said he wanted to go alone. I didn't take it personally. I had left the site with him once before. He was a regular guy, just one with a secret sadness looming over him. That much I could tell. I fell asleep. I woke to the sound of indistinct laughter in the near distance. It was uncontrollable. Weird. It scared me at first. I didn't go out of the tent. I felt like it would be an invasion of privacy. Did he have a dark side that had not been revealed yet? Was I out here in the middle of nowhere with a psychopath?

Everything I had seen about Neil was so telling. Kind and genuine, I found Neil to be. I was safe with him. I unzipped a portion of the tent. Just enough to get any kind of vision of what was happening outside. I couldn't see anything. When the laughter had stopped, I started to move or make sounds inside the tent. It wasn't long after that before Neil entered. "Scottie, Are you gonna just lie here and sleep the day away?" he asked teasingly. Neil was ruddy in color with dark wavy hair. Straight white teeth. He had just the warmest smile. His voice was soothing, easy to listen to. He had lots of tattoos that covered him, even one on his face. He and his family had migrated from New Zealand when he was a teen. He loved Rugby. I could tell he was loved and respected by his people. Neil had been born with a type of Dwarfism. He was taller than most, but it was apparent. He displayed all the other physical characteristics. Living life as a little person could not have been easy. It comes with insidious cruelty. This wasn't Neil's secret; because Neil was strong, confident, and comfortable with himself.

We spent the rest of the day fishing, cooking playing Rugby. I sucked at it. It made me realize how out of shape I actually was. Neil was the kind of person who never met strangers. No one would have guessed we had just met about a week ago. And the circumstances surrounding our meeting. It was this night Neil opened up about him, his life, and how he got here. He gave me a book that night titled "The Tale Of The Mangoroa," A legend his father read to him. I sat near the fire, reading the book. Neil came and sat down, "How are you enjoying the book ?" "Interesting, I replied." "It's yours to keep, he said." I looked up, grateful for his generosity. Tonight he seemed pensive for the first time. "You want to talk about it? I inquired. There are some things in life, just worse. Who would have ever thought that laughter could be one of them?

"Don't you want to know why I laugh? He started off. I really was more than curious and was beginning to be preoccupied with it. But instead, I just shrugged my shoulders like it was nothing. The burning truth was I needed to know. Maybe it would help to know how I could do something for him in return. I wanted him to know I respected him much more than finding out. One thing I did learn from Neil about life is to never judge a book by its cover. Neil started his story back in New Zealand, going to flesh markets with his old grandma; Neil: As far back as I can remember, my Tupuna (grandmama) and Koroua(grandpa) would take me with them to the flesh markets in New Zealand. I was a young boy of four or five. They had been going to these markets all their lives, and now they had grown old. I'd run around playing with the other children while they shopped. When they were done shopping, they would call for me, "Rawiri!" which meant adored one. I would cry as I hated to leave the market. My Tupuna and Koroua would laugh as we walked home.

I was not following Neil. I had never heard of the flesh market before. Then he explained it to me. The Maori people were from a tribe of people who ate conspecifics or the same species. The news was shocking as I was not aware that cannibalism was even existent in our age. Not only that, it is still common; we live in a human-eat human world. It was as if we were sitting around the campfire sharing horror stories. I cant imagine the look on my face and what he must have thought of it. But Neil never let on. He continued with his story: When we returned from the market, my Tupuna would prepare the food she bought and give it to me and my Koroua. I remember it being delicious. Then a few years later, my Koroua got ill. Then he died. On the day of his funeral, my Tupuna prepared the same dish we had bought at the flesh market many times before. The difference about it this time was that we had not been to the flesh market. The following year, my Tupuna became ill as well. Losing her bought severe sadness for me. What I remember most about both their illnesses is how they laughed till the end. I was just happy knowing my grandparents died happily. On the day of my Tupuna funeral, my mother prepared this same dish. It was a dish that was served at every funeral I attended until we immigrated here. And we could no longer get this native dish from home. For reasons, I didn't know or understand at the time. So now, when I hear laughter, it brings on a sadness I only now understand all too well.

Again I was puzzled. What was Neil getting to? Telling this story changed his demeanor. It had a different meaning today. It had hit even closer to home. Neil continued straight away to what I needed to hear to understand all of this: Cannibalism is shared among the Maori people as a ritual when death is present. Those meals we were having were the brains of our dead loved ones. I stopped this practice when I learned what it was after arriving here. It was here that I lost both my parents from this same illness. He was interrupted by an abrupt burst of laughter. Neil: Most people laugh because they are amused. You see, the laughter that you hear is a sickness. A laughing disease that kills due to a diet I had no control over. I have been afflicted with it. It's called KURU.

A laughing sickness was common in the last century. Kuru is a disease of the nervous system. From a protein found in contaminated human brain tissue. One of the symptoms being a sudden burst of laughter. For generations now, it had been passed down. He had heard this among his dearest loved ones. It was also called Swiss cheesing of the brain because it would put holes in the brain. Caused by people eating their family members after death. A ritual. Now I had experienced this laughter I would never forget. Neil taught me that everyone has a unique story to tell. I was paralyzed with newfound grief. There was nothing I could do for my new friend to save him. It was a matter of time. He was alone in the world. My first instinct was to reach out to him. I did and held him like a brother for a long time. After that, he was quiet. Finally, Neil felt understood. It was like giving him air. It seemed I had helped him after all.

Neil and I had bonded. We became brothers. He moved into my bunkhouse outback I had been renting out. Neil had been living among the little Maori people who were an unfriendly bunch. They were not very hospitable didn't take kindly to any outsiders. Not once had I never been invited in. One had to be invited into their circles to be accepted. He made me promise to inform them when his time had come. Our friendship was short-lived. He lived only ninety days after that fateful day in the woods. He had lost almost everyone. I was with him. No one ever knew how the two of us met. I had never been invited in. This was the reason I had been tossed out. These strange people in these peculiar uniforms. Not a standard military but rather some type of secret society of Littles or Dwarfs.

I sat there in the background, thinking and waiting. I tried to recapture every moment we had spent together. Those last days seemed like a lifetime. Neil was happy. It made me reflect on the seriousness of life and how it can change instantly. Or you can be dealt a hand you can't change in a lifetime. Life isn't about you but about other people. Family values we may not understand but accept. Neil clearly understood that. He knew what was coming, and it didn't frighten him. Always Neil gave to others.

In the end, not having to do it alone, Neil got something back. His family's position had been in place for a considerable time. He was the end of its rule. I know our paths were meant to cross. I followed his request. When the service was over, I didn't intrude but stayed obscure.

The burial spot wasn't ready until sunset, so the entire event was rushed and unorganized except for the very last part. The sepulcher, a vast affair, more a collapse than a grave. It took until after sunset to roll the casket down to the underpart. If any invocations were said, they couldn't be heard over the faint thudding of rain falling down on the coffin beneath. It was a weird-sized casket, too big for a man, too small for a dream, but just right for a dynasty.