7. MEDICATION

It looks as though the wealthy cavemen don't like the idea of free medicine

OWONGO AND A PRINCE

7. MEDICATION

It was too early next morning for Owongo to be anything but asleep when there was the sound of what sounded like a dog barking so close to his cave that for a moment Owongo thought there might be an animal actually in his home. But there wasn’t. Instead, it was the witchdoctor Peri Winkle making all the noise, standing in the entrance to the Owongo and Mirumda residence and yelping. He meant no harm, but in his mind there was a direct connection between creatures of the wild and waking up.

Owongo yawned and climbed from under the pile of skins that served to keep him warm on even the coldest of nights (and last night hadn’t been one of those, but he loved comfort when he slept, and so did Mirumda)

“What is?” he asked, curiously when he had wiped the remnants of sleep out of his eyes.

“You stirred things up good and proper,” chastised Peri, swinging the symbol of his trade, which was a plaited length of stripped and fashioned leather suspended in an interesting way from his penis.

“You swing well, Peri,” yawned Owongo, “so what is it that troubles you?”

“You know that many of our friends and neighbours will do whatever the rogue Prince Dickory asks them to do?” asked the witchdoctor.

“”They do. Anything for a quiet life, and the Prince can create quite a lot of noise,” agreed Owongo. “Even I…” he added vaguely.

“Man mine would never kowtow to that rogue!” shouted Mirumda from the back of the cave, “but do come in and swing in here, Peri Winkle,” she added warmly.

The witchdoctor smiled at her outline at the back of the cave. She was still in bed, and the sight of her made the swinging symbol twitch.

“It is cosy in here,” commented Peri, “and it is easy to see that you are good folk. Not like the Prince, if I may say so! He is a wretched creature, only out for himself, and he has done something reprehensible. You know that I offer a service to any man or woman or even child in need of healing? Well, he has insisted that I pay him a charge for every spell that I cast. I mean, it is vastly wrong! A woman might come to me with a sore bosom because she is feeding a greedy little one, and I will give her a salve which will help, and then cast a spell to help is, and that spell is a free service. I never charge for spells though I do ask for a small contribution to help me with the expenses in making the salve or what other medication I offer. Now the Prince is demanding that I pay him five nuts from the trees in the orchard for every spell I cast with the assurance it would be painful for me if I refuse or even cheat! I will have to add that to the cost of the medicine, and the whole thing offends me. But what can I do? And to think I voted in favour of him at your election!”

“You did?” sighed Owongo, “my friend Peri Winkle, the Prince is only looking out for himself! He knows that we all need your spells from time to time or else we will fade away and pass to the land of out ancestors before our time is up. And I should imagine that when we next look at the election, for he has ruined the recent one with lies and contempt and even physically disrupting the voting evidence, and because he knows that the people love and trust my good lady, Mirumda, that there will be another tempt at encouraging a vote. And then he will promise to make it illegal for spells to be, what was the word he used? Taxed, I suppose. And he believes everyone will cheer him and thus vote for him. It means I will have lost unless I come up with a spanking good idea.”

“You must, Owongo, please,” demanded Mirumda, “for I will be begging dear Peri here for a spell when my next monthly trouble starts, for I will require a spell that will give us a baby, or maybe two or even three!” Mirumda, of course, had no idea that there was a word for months, but she expressed herself in such a way that everyone knew what she meant.

“And if I do it will cost me dearly, so I will have to pass the expense onto you, dear Mirumda,” sighed Peri Winkle.

“Or me,” growled Owongo then he smiled. “I think we can use this information to our advantage,” he said cheerfully, “I will call a big meeting by the stream and announce that should I be successful in what I will call the re-election, then our one important policy will be to make sure that all medical treatment must be free at the time of need and that there should be no charge for consultation or spells.”

“I heard that, Wongo!” barked the familiar voice of Prince Dickory, “and you are planning to impoverish me until I am scraping a meagre existence like yourself! My tax on spells is what has been called for in a dozen lifetimes, or back to the beginning of time, whichever is longest ago!”

“Have there been a dozen lifetimes since the beginning?” asked Peri, grinning to himself, “and there is no right for anyone not even yourself to place a you charge for spells, for you don’t cast them or know the least bit about magic! And as a spell-master, or witchdoctor if you prefer, I will never charge the sick and needy for my few words to the gods!”

“Then” said Owongo to Prince Dickory, grimly but with a twinkle in both eyes, “I invite you to address my big meeting this very afternoon and explain to your friends and neighbours why it is you that must be enriched when my good friend Peri Winkle here casts a few words of magic in order to heal the sick. I am serious when I say it: all assistance given to the sick and needy must be free at the point, shall we say, of delivery! And may it always be so!”

“It won’t,” muttered Prince Dickory, “me and my friends will see to that! We need as much income as we can get!”

“Like all men and all women,” murmured Mirumda, “and my good man will make sure of what he says!”

© Peter Rogerson 08.11.23

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