“I’m sick,” moaned the queen. “And it is all because of that tree.” She pointed to a majestic, ancient tree towering above the palace. Falling to the floor and whining pitifully, she grasped her stomach in agony. “If you don’t cut it down, I will soon die! That tree hates me. I am cursed by its presence!”

The king listened solemnly. How could he cut down this tree? This was the tree under which his great ancestor, Porumay had been born. Porumay was the greatest king in the history of the Great River People. He had made their nation powerful. Porumay had conquered and subdued all of their enemies, and now the Great River People had a large and prosperous dominion, all because of the tree.

Porumay was born to a widowed poverty-stricken mother. She didn’t even have a house, so she took shelter under this powerful, wise tree when she gave birth. As Porumay grew, people took notice of his amazing skills. At seven years of age, he could ride a running water buffalo while standing up. Everyone was afraid of him because he had been born under the wise tree. Experts took him under their wings and gave him all their knowledge and all the best training in the arts of war. Ever since Porumay’s reign, the Great River People had prospered, and it was all because of the revered tree.

The queen moaned loudly again, “Cut it down quickly, or I will die!”

The king’s heart quickened. His charming, beautiful queen! His precious, forbidden queen! In his heart of hearts, he knew he should never have taken her, the daughter of his arch enemy, to be his queen. But something about her made her irresistible to him, and his heart had melted the moment he first saw her. And now this!

Suddenly, the king’s mind was made up. “Cut down that tree!” he commanded the royal guards. But they refused. Even if it meant their own lives, they could not cut down this sacred tree. So the foolish king hired others to cut down the tree, but some mysterious power kept them from doing so.

The queen now lay listless in bed, neither eating nor drinking. In sheer desperation, the young king grasped his own ax and began to chop at the tree. As he cut, human blood spurted from the trunk. But, determined to save the queen, the king persisted. At last the tree lay on the ground in a pool of blood.

As soon as the tree was cut down, the traitorous queen, who had been pretending the whole time, was perfectly fine. Everyone in the kingdom was enraged at the king. Now how would they win their battles? Now their enemies would not be afraid anymore.

In the very next battle, the Great River People were defeated. The king’s head was cut off and placed on a pole. Little by little, the enemy took the kingdom until there was nothing left. The Great River People became a hated minority group, refugees without a country. And all because of a tree.

This is the ancient story, beginning more than a thousand years ago, that we heard from the mouths of the king’s own descendents.

Philip and I have been on a quest for stories of our people as we seek to understand them. Most of our people don’t know these old stories from the past. They have completely embraced Islam and have thrown away all of their ancient Hindu past. But they told us about a certain province where there were people who remembered all of the old stories. So we set out on an adventure in search of this place. With our language teacher’s help, we found a little village that proudly proclaims they are the actual seed of the ancient kings and they have kept their bloodline pure down through the ages. They were more than happy to tell us stories of the ancestors they hold sacred. Just one more piece of the puzzle as we seek to understand our people’s history so we may understand the way they think and function now.

Someday we hope to gather around the Tree of Life with our precious brothers and sisters. This tree cannot be cut down, and the enemy will never again conquer.

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