Butcher

There was once an anthropologist named Dave who frequently boasted that he had seen every native ritual of every tribe in the world. He had seen the death rituals of the Zulu, the birth rituals, of the Watusi, and every ritual in between. He had even, making strategic use of camera drones, recorder a coming-of-age ritual of the infamous North Sentinelese.

One day, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Dave was boasting of his many adventures over his favorite drink, when he noticed a teenage boy staring at him. "Hey, mister," said the boy. "I bet you never seen the Butcher Dance."

Dave was confused. He thought he knew every ritual created by humans, but he had never heard of the Butcher Dance. "What's the Butcher Dance?" he asked.

"I show you tomorrow, but it cost lotta money."

"Well, I've got five hundred U.S. dollars. Will that cover it?"

The boy grinned. "You got a deal, mister!"

The next morning, Dave and the boy set out on their journey. Into the rainforest, through a secret mountain pass, down a winding river, to a place Dave had never seen. Beautiful flowers blossomed there, flowers that existed nowhere else on earth. Dave was the most excited he had ever been in his life! As they dragged the raft onto the shore of the river, Dave saw a group of natives. "You wait here," said the boy. "I talk to the chief."

Dave waited by the raft as the boy talked to a large man wearing an elaborate headdress. The language seemed to consist of whistles, clicks, and small burping sounds. The boy returned to Dave, looking despondent. "Sorry, mister," he said. "They did the Butcher Dance last night. Won't do it again for five years."

"But I've come all this way," said Dave. "Can't they do it again?"

"Shhhh! You no let them hear you ask," said the boy. "Very bad juju to do the Butcher Dance twice in five years. Make the spirits angry!"

And so there was nothing for it. Despondent and miserable, Dave left with the boy and returned to town. Promising to return in five years' time, Dave went back to the States. He did the lecture circuit, telling eager young anthropologists of everything he had seen, but all he kept thinking about was the Butcher Dance. It consumed his every waking moment, but there was no information available anywhere about it. None of his colleagues had even heard of it.

Finally, five years almost to the day from the time he had first heard of the Butcher Dance, the time arrived. Dave gathered notebooks, cameras, and audio recorders in a waterproof backpack, and flew to the Congo. He found the bar, and sure enough, the boy, now a man, was waiting for him. "You ready to see the Butcher Dance?" he asked, grinning.

"I feel like I've been waiting my whole life," said Dave.

And so they set off. Into the rainforest, through the secret mountain pass, and down the winding river. As they dragged the raft to shore, the chief spoke to the young man. Dave waited patiently, his heart in his throat. Grinning from ear to ear, his young guide exclaimed, "We made it! They do the Butcher Dance tonight!"

Feeling like a little boy again, Dave excitedly got his equipment set up, and sat in the village to wait. One of the locals brought him a meal of berries and leaves he couldn't identify. Finally, sunset! Dave felt like he was going to burst from excitement. As the moon rose, all the villagers gathered around the fire pit, each holding one piece of firewood. They stacked it carefully, and the chief poured a strange liquid on it. Rubbing two sticks together, the chief created a spark, and the whole stack of wood was engulfed in flames. The villagers gathered around. Dave checked his cameras to make sure they were recording. Someone started playing a bongo drum, and all the villagers extended their left arms toward the fire as the chief began to sing, in perfect English:

"You Butcher left arm in, you Butcher left arm out..." #lamejoke