Ogi the Mountain

OGI THE MOUNTAIN

By Faye Duncan

“Once upon a time, there was a mountain dragon. His name was Ogi. He lived crouched in a deep crater along an Alpine mountain range. The crater was filled with the clearest ice water the color of turquoise. It fell fresh from the melted peaks on top of the wall which hugged the lake. During the day, Ogi curled his back into a roll so that his identity remained concealed.

“The existence of the Mountain Dragon was a secret which had been kept since day one, according to the Bartholomaean Calendar. There were only five of his kind.”

Stefan took a big sip from his stout. He put the pint-sized glass down on the heavy oak table and continued. Steve and the members of the Seehaeusler Band were all ears.

“The humans who went skiing down his slopes, built bridges across his prongs, rode in trains, and drove cars along his wrinkles did not realize that it was a living being they were settled on, not dead rock.

“When Ogi rose from his hiding place, he became so tall that he was able to hop from one continent to the next with no effort at all. But he avoided jumping at all cost since he did not want to cause another earthquake or even a Tsunami – a lesson which he had learned during the great earthquake of Lisbon in 1755. Yes, for all those history cracks among you: the big earthquake of Lisbon, which some experts have identified as an Ocean centered quake followed by a Tsunami wave, causing destruction throughout the city and permanently damaging many of its historic landmarks, was nothing but the vain attempt of Ogi to cross the Atlantic on his tiptoes. When he reached the Isles of Açores, he slipped. This is the bad news.”

Stevie and the rest of the band stared at Stefan in disbelief. Had he had one too many?

“The good news is that Ogi was not alone. His best friend lived in Asia. Keeping is body closely wrapped around the Himalaya, he rose when night fell and humanity was sleeping. Gyatsing was his name. He was just as tall as Ogi, a prong taller, maybe. He was the leader of the Mountain Dragons. The nightly conversations which he held with his friend Ogi were one of the highlights of his age -old dragon’s life.

“The dragons’ history dates back to an era way before the dinosaurs. As a matter of fact, it is not known exactly, who was there first: Mountain Dragons, Mother Earth, or Bartholomaeo. This most profound question of theological consequence is what the group of dragons assembles over at their gatherings each month under the moonlit skies.”

“What is it with this Bartholomaean Calendar you keep mentioning? Was he some type of inventor or something?” Stevie wanted to know.

“Yes, kind of. But more about that later,” Stefan answered. “Let me continue.”

Stevie gasped. “Sure!”

“Not that they’d ever found a common answer to their question, too different were all their opinions and their characters. But an attempt at finding one could at least be undertaken. What else were they going to assemble over anyway? They had given up long ago trying to change the humans’ ways. The increasing damage that was being done to Mother Earth and its environment made Ogi very sad. It hurt his eyes to watch through his special BB Eisenstein - an HD camera with a special lens to zoom in on details invented by who else but the grand Bartholomaeo --- people walk around on his skin and throwing their garbage into the cracks of his weakening prongs. He was going to have to handpick all the garbage out with his clumsy paw-nails. This usually did not work very well.

“Not rarely had he caused one low scaled earthquake or other, whereafter he was severely admonished by Gyatsing. Reacting to humans’ behavior was not allowed, no matter how bad it got. The risk of destroying the humans’ lives and the areas they lived in was unacceptable. The dragons, therefore, had to follow a strict policy if they did not want to lose their privilege to stretch out at night.

“Too dramatic had the effects of their accidental slips been in the past: see Japan! The snow had begun to melt down on Gyatsing’s tail causing him a constant tickle running down his back. When the summer came and a butterfly finally settled on his back, he waved his tail, not wanting to cause any harm at all! The effects of the loss of his composure shown on TV all around the world has become one of humanity’s most horrific nightmares. How did Gyatsing only manage to scare humans like that? He was otherwise the most peaceful soul. A little tickle had been enough to cause an entire Tsunami!!

“Lastly, it needs to be said that the dragons were just as clumsy and imperfect as the humans. They slipped, tripped, and caused waves all the time. But they were aware of their weaknesses which created so much harm. And their awareness made them responsible. Afterall, if the dragons died, then the humans probably would not live long. It was the dragons’ responsibility to make sure things ran smoothly.

“Bartholomaeo himself has stated that most of the disasters caused by the dragons in history of earth and humankind have been unintentional. Oh, by the way, the full name of this --- savvy little evil dwarf --- was Bartholomaeo Bertolucci-Eisenstein. He lived year-round under a self-invented supra-insultation tank shell on the top of a mountain to protect himself from any exterior disturbances such as natural disasters, landslides, earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, etc. He has been dwelling underneath the tank shell since day one on the Bartholmaean Calendar. What happened before that, was unclear.

“Usually, when a Dragon got upset, it would cause a small reaction of negligeable extent. Maybe an earthquake of a magnitude of four or less on the Richter scale. Or for example last year when an avalanche came down in the French Alps because Ogi had to sneeze. Nobody got hurt.

“Yet, it was highly recommended that humanity did not take the dragons’ patience to the test. For you never knew which prong may itch! Gyatsing was ashamed of himself and remained silent for an entire year after the catastrophe of Japan. He still does not like to be reminded of it, especially since he is to take the blame for Indonesia, too, having plopped on his belly too hard one long and strenuous night where discussions over who came first: the dragons or Bartholomaeo, had become heated. When he returned to his nest on the foot of the Himalaya, exhausted, he forgot himself. As with Japan, the disaster created a painful scar in humanity’s memory.”

“Where is Ogi hiding when humanity is awake?” Asked Stevie.

“According to the myth,” Stefan Waldherr answered with a heavy Swiss accent, “Ogi’s tail is hidden in the icy lake right below this mountain cliff.”

Stefan pointed out the window from the old city house which now functioned as a bar for their weekly band reunion. The owner of the Helveticum allowed them to practice for free in his basement as long as they bought some drinks afterwards. The perfect deal for the Seehaeusler Band.

“In reality,” Stefan continued, “it is nothing but a prong carefully rolled in- somewhere in the midst of the Churfirsten.

Steven Smith, who was visiting from the San Gabriel Valley in California, had noticed the green color of the lake which he had seen at daytime. It contrasted wondrously against the white peaks topping the panorama like a drop of icing. It was summer, and refreshing waterfalls transported the melting snow directly into the lake.

Stefan Waldherr took another deep sip from his Lager beer and continued. Steve carefully copied him, all though he was not quite sure his mother would allow him. Back home, alcohol was forbidden for him. He was only sixteen. Luckily, she had not accompanied him here. Uncle Alfred was his official guardian while he was in Switzerland, and he was super relaxed with rules. “As long as you can remember what you did the night before, it’s okay with me,” the old carpenter had told him when he asked for permission to drink beer with his new friends. “You are in Switzerland, and beer is allowed here.” Stevie, who was still getting used to the popular drink, decided that he was going to follow the local customs and drink with his friends. All though he did not really like the flavor.

“Apparently, it makes Ogi terribly sad when he compares the snowy peaks from today with the ones his prongs were covered with hundreds of years ago,” said Stefan who had meanwhile finished his glass.

“The amounts of ice which remain on the glaciers today are simply ridiculous! Of course, there is no doubt: part of it is due to Ogi’s skin, which is in the process of aging over the many years and centuries it has lived through. But if his skin is drying out already on its own behalf, it is only all the more worrisome how humans are accelerating the process.”

*

“Ogi shivered when he thought about all the dirt that came in through his porosities which had been exposed to the carbon-dioxide that the humans were producing with their cars and heated houses. The only way Ogi could cleanse himself was through a natural rain shower. However, humans had even succeeded in messing that up. It was atrocious what they were doing to Mother Earth. Who was going to stop them? The dragons? They couldn’t. It was the law of the Mountain Dragon to let the humans do whatever they did until they came to their senses. Pollution would go on.

“Sometimes, when he had a bad day, Ogi wished that the humans could all be wiped out at once. To put matters in perspective, that gloomy day had already occurred. All life on earth would have been entirely erased had it not been for little Bartholomeo Bertolucci-Eisenstein, who saved an example of everything, including a random bunch of thoughtless humans underneath his supra-insulating-tank shell, which he had created for named purpose. Think Noah’s Arc in the high-tech era.

The craters which are now filled with beautiful waters all around the world, one of which is Ogi’s hiding place in Switzerland - were nothing but the cicatrices of that traumatic incident, which occurred on day zero of the Bartholomaean calendar.”

“Oh, I see!” interrupted Stevie. “So the dragons have their own account of world history which they call the Bartholomaean Calendar.”

“Exactly,” confirmed Stefan. “But let me continue the story.