John’s Place – Chapter 9
Preview from Prince of Sumba, Husband to Many Wives
John led us to a structure on the hillside of his estate that was overlooking the road we’d just come up. He’d converted the deck of an old ship into a gazebo of sorts, retaining the masts, wheel, and navigational instruments. John, his family, and the others sat down to take in the view while I took the helm. Turning the wheel this way and that, I wondered if this ship had been at sea or if it was just a novelty where a man could dream; to fly from one jungle mountain peak to another; suspended on the wings of his own imagination. When I stopped turning the wheel, Asina shouted.
“Don’t stop, Ish, you’ve been fanning all of us with your day dreams. Dream on!”
Sam pointed to the fans above the seating.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Ish. John had me fanning his whole family for half an hour before I realized the wheel was attached to these fans. I sailed this ship to that mountain and back before I woke from my daydream. How far did you get?”
Distracted from my daydream, I protested.
“Hey, no visitors allowed. You interrupted a perfectly good daydream.”
“So what were you dreaming of?” Suni asked.
Asina couldn’t resist.
“He was dreaming of you, Suni! Just don’t forget you were only pretending to be his wife at the Bible study.”
The other girls lifted their voices yet again. “Uh.”
I wondered if Suni had noticed my leering as she sashayed about her Sari-Sari store on the day Tony picked us up at the airport in Cagayan de Oro. If so, she certainly had reason to believe that the crush was mutual. I was surprised that such a feminine charmer had not been seriously courted yet. Well, maybe she had. I hardly knew her. It was only yesterday that I’d attended my first after service coffee. It now seemed so distant. So much had happened in just one day. Their teasing was so childish, but what should they do, scream and cry about their situation? No, teasing was how they coped. I couldn’t scold them.
Suni was silent in response to the teasing. She knew protesting would just encourage more of the same. And Mary had told me that Suni’s crush on me was not only real but it wasn’t unusual, that she wouldn’t be the last Christian girl on Mindanao to have eyes for me. Pastors were the ultimate catch. And according to Mary, it was just one of the hazards of the job. But this was one hazard, the mission board hadn’t told me about.
John graciously interrupted the teasing.
“We’ll be eating within a few minutes and I’d like to give you a chance to see more of our place before lunch.”
He walked us up the steps to his palatial home and nodded in the direction of Lake Lanao.
“The city that you see in the distance is the Islamic City of Marawi, about ten miles as the crow flies. Those dots you see on the lake are fishing boats. We’ve got some binoculars around here somewhere and you can have a look after we eat. These trees you see growing on our mountains are redwoods. You know them as Philippine Mahogany. Probably not the jungle you’d imagined?”
“I couldn’t have imagined. It’s beautiful. How high are we?” I asked.
“About four thousand feet. Even so, the storms don’t touch us. They blow in from the other side of the mountain. We hope you folks will be able to stay for the night. It’ll give you a chance to see our mountain sunset.”
Sam answered for us, “Ish, Mary, this is the beginning of the adventure we promised. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Mary gushed in response to John’s invitation, “It’s wondrous. What a spectacular place you and your family have. Of course, we’ll stay.”
One of John’s daughters now spoke, or was it one of his wives?
“Thank you, Mary. Our home is your home. Please, ladies, come in.”
The girls went inside while John escorted me and Sam to his armory. There was an impressive array of knives and guns. I’d seen some like them at gun shows, far beyond my price range. Then he took us to a room at the center of the armory. I wondered if we’d find the contents of the boxes he’d brought up from the market. Instead, the door opened to reveal a huge library. His collection included an enviable assortment of rare books. He had many of the major works of the 16th, 17th, and 18th centuries, written in German, Italian, English, and Latin.
“They were a gift to me.” He said.
“Some gift! Do you mind?” I pointed to the books that were laid out on his table.
“Go right ahead.”
I gently opened the cover of one of them.
“You’ve got Bernardino Ochino’s Seven Dialogs with a 1539 print date?” I opened the cover of another book. “And John Milton’s History of Britain, printed in 1670? These are incredible. What’s this? A 1667 volume of Paradise Lost? These look like first printings, printed during the lifetimes of their authors!”
“I did well then,” John said. “Go ahead, page through them. They won’t break.”
While I was going through John’s library, he and Sam were enjoying coffee and cookies and a leisurely conversation. I was too enlivened by my new discovery to take part. Just then I found something I could scarcely believe, another seven volumes of Paradise Lost with a 1667 print date, all in excellent condition.
“John!” I nearly shouted. “Do you realize that these eight books alone are worth well over a quarter of a million dollars?” I pointed to the eight identical issues of Paradise Lost.
“$327,672 the last time I priced them. You’ll find they’re in mint condition, printed by Simmons. My plan is to sell one every three years. I don’t want to flood the market and deflate their value.”
“Sorry John, I guess in my excitement, I forgot the obvious. What collector of rare books wouldn’t know the value?”
“Don’t feel bad, Ish, a jungle mountaintop isn’t exactly the place you’d expect to find such a collection of rare books, but here they are. Haven’t you noticed how dry the air is in my library?”
“The air does feel a bit dry.”
“I have the humidity controlled. Every one of these books is nearly immortal.”
“In more ways than one.” I said.
The smell of ancient paper and ink filled my nostrils. It was as if the books’ authors had invited me to sit with them for a while. I perused one of the books written by Bernardino Ochino1, the great evangelist of the 16th century whose no less than three exiles set him on a path to preach in more places than any of his peers. Then I opened Paradise Lost, written by John Milton in the 17th century, this epic Christian poem is still unequalled in Christian history. Now I turned my mind toward music, picking up the first Evangelical Hymnal published by Martin Madan. Its dedication page read, “This collection of Hymn and Psalm Tunes is presented, as a Benefaction to the Lock Hospital, that the Profits arising from the Sale of it, may be applied for the Benefit of the Charity.” Published in the Eighteenth Century by the founder of the Lock Hospital, the Reverend Martin Madan, (pronounced Madden) it contained nearly one hundred and forty hymns. Madan himself had composed nearly forty of them. With this work of love, he had indeed become the Father of the Evangelical Hymnal.2 It was primarily the songs from his hymnal that enlivened the great revivals of the 18th and 19th century with songs of praise for the Lord. I was then struck with a great sadness. Why had 21st century America produced more vain tares (weeds among believers) than real followers of God? How could America, the cradle of Evangelical thought, have become the cradle of depraved thought. How had so called Christian men become such idolaters that they would place those who play children’s games on pedestals? How could so called Christian men revere those Cains of the modern world, those men who would risk their own lives and the lives of their brothers in the blood sport of NASCAR racing? How could the women of my own nation have become such harlots that over ninety percent of them had sex outside of marriage by the time they were thirty?3 Oh, that the rest of this century could be different. Might that I could be blessed by the Lord to be his tool to open the path for a new awakening. There was my ego again, or was it the Lord’s destiny calling me. I silently prayed that whatever my destiny was, I would trust in the LORD with all my heart; and lean not unto my own understanding.4
“I’m sure lunch is ready.” John’s words brought me back to the present. He motioned to the door.
As we stepped outside, the extraordinary aroma from the kitchen easily won out, over the smell of old books, paper, and ink. My nostalgia was replaced by hunger. I could easily have found the food with my eyes shut.
John’s dining hall was opulently furnished. The top of the banquet table was made of a single cut of mahogany with ornate carvings on its edges. It was inlaid with mother of pearl and had a glasslike finish. I’d never seen such a magnificent table.
John and his entire family were now seated around the table with me, Sam, Sarisa, Mary, and the girls. My appetite by this time had grown, and not just for food. I wanted to hear what must be an incredible tale of adventure and faith. Few men had John’s riches, fewer still, a family such as his.
“Sam, will you lead us in prayer?” John asked.
Sam prayed: “Heavenly Father, I ask that You bless this food and this household. I ask that You bless Ish and Mary as well as the other guests. Guide our hearts as each new truth You reveal. I especially ask, Lord, that You will guide me and Ish and John as we are the heads of our wives. Guide our wives also as they submit to us in the Lord. In the precious Name of Our Lord and Savior Jesus, Who is Messiah, Amen.”
“Amen.” We all agreed.
Nearly forty of us now sat around John’s banquet table. His wives kept busy moving plates of food between us. Even a Hollywood set designer could not have produced a more inviting display. At one end of the table was a litson baka, a cow which has been rotisseried over aromatic coals while it is basted with vinegar sauce containing brown sugar and spices. The caramelizing of its skin must be timed with its overall cooking to insure a perfect outcome. There were at least two dozen native chickens; some basted with coconut milk and cloves, others with chopped tomato and onion sauce and of course all had just the right amount of garlic. There was Orange Chicken, Chinese style, and every type of vegetable dish you could imagine. The fruit was plentiful, much of which had names I couldn’t pronounce.
“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Sam opened the conversation, “It looks like John’s wives took that route. Wouldn’t you agree, Ish?”
“A well-worn path indeed!” I couldn’t believe what I’d just said but everyone laughed, especially John.
Now that the ice was broken, the members of John’s family went straight to making conversation with whoever sat nearest them. They were wonderfully hospitable and the food was bountiful.
The beautiful young woman who’d earlier told us their home was our home came over to me.
“I’m sorry, Pastor Ish, I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Ruth, John’s eldest daughter.”
“Nice to meet you, Ruth. Please, call me Ish. This is a wonderful lunch you all have prepared for us.”
“Thank you, Ish. I brought a tray that has everything we’ve cooked so that you can decide what you like best.”
“That was kind of you.” I said.
I thought she was simply going to put the tray on the table between me and Mary but instead she pulled up a chair, placed it between the two of us and sat down. Before I had a chance to consider what she was doing, she lifted a piece of something to my mouth, feeding me.
“Snow peas and bamboo shoots in tamarind sauce. You like it?” My mouth was full so I just nodded. It was tart and tangy without a hint of hot. The bamboo shoots and pea pods crunched lightly in the creamy sauce. Maybe if I’d had this as a boy I would have been able to finish my vegetables.
As if reading my mind, Ruth said.
“The children love it. It’s not too spicy.”
She was about to stuff my mouth again so I covered it and asked:
“So how many children are there?”
I let down my guard long enough for Ruth to scoop in another mouthful as she replied.
“Stuffing made of ground beef, eggs, lemon, green peppers, crumbs from our native bread and a portion of love.”
I could taste the love.
“My father has twenty-eight children.” She said, “I’m the only daughter of marriageable age.”
Suni, who’d been sitting on the other side of me, now picked up something from the platter, and much less delicately than Ruth, shoved a piece in my mouth.
“Our native fruit, langka, sweet to the taste and soft to the touch with a double portion of love.”
Suni recited what I now realized was a local proverb, making sure I knew she could pamper me every bit as much as Ruth could.
I placed my hand on Suni’s to convey that I understood. That was all she needed. She went back to the conversation she’d been having with another of John’s family as if Ruth and I didn’t exist.
Mary was quietly shaking her head in disbelief over my encounter with Ruth, peering at me sideways. Then she smiled and nodded, as if to signal that she understood that she dared not interfere with anything that might be local custom. Then she returned to her conversation with one of John’s wives. Ah, local custom, sometimes a pain, but today, a one-of-a-kind experience! Well, not to leave Suni out — a two of a kind experience.
Ruth continued feeding me, telling me about each dish they’d prepared, and making sure that I knew which of them was her own contribution.
In the middle of the table was a huge kettle of kalabaw stew, Filipino for water buffalo. I hadn’t cared much for this when I’d tried it in the city but Ruth assured me that I’d like it.
“This one was made from a young and fat kalabaw, fed only on rice.” She spoon fed me again.
“Mmm.” I hummed.
I recognized only a few of the fruits that Ruth had adorning her platter. Some had simply been peeled. Others were in a sweet sauce that accentuated the taste.
“We call this the forbidden fruit.” Ruth said. “You must not eat too much of it.”
She held it to my lips first, teasing, then placed it in my mouth. It reminded me of the flavor of a candy I’d had as a child.
“So why shouldn’t I eat too much of it, Ruth?”
“A single lady with honor cannot discuss such things. Have Mary ask Sarisa about it later. I’m sure she knows.”
I wondered what it could be, a love potion? And it was being fed to me by John’s beautiful, young, and in her words, marriageable daughter? What could be next?
I could see now that Ruth was doing all she could to keep from laughing out loud.
“Silly,” she said. “It’s an apple.”
She batted her eyes as if imitating Eve, then elbowed me.
“You’re a character, Ish. I bet you weren’t this easy to tease when you were a college boy.”
She was right. In college I was an egotistical toad. Most college boys were. It didn’t make any difference that I was a Christian. Any woman who sought my attention had to be flawless. A small defect could easily disqualify her; being too nice, being too mean, being too flirtatious, not being flirtatious enough. If I couldn’t find an imperfection at first sight, I’d find one soon enough. That is, until I met Mary, who turned me from a toad into a prince, at least in her eyes. I was glad my conversation with Ruth had reminded me of Mary, the great love of my life.
Ruth now laid before of me a mix of marinated beef and lamb.
“Beef and lamb in caramelized watermelon rind, cardamom, coriander and native spices. It’s our customary dish for a groom on his wedding night. And this time I’m not kidding, Ish.”
I might have guessed. Four of the ingredients were high in zinc, an important fertility booster. And watermelon contains the amino acid, l-citrulline, a natural Viagra. Why was Ruth feeding me as if it were my wedding night? Did she have plans for me, or was it simply their custom to feed male visitors by the hand of their eldest daughter?
Ruth raised the spoon again to my lips. It was exquisite. I could taste each ingredient, yet they combined as a first taste of something new, one of a kind, like a first kiss. There went my imagination again. I let Ruth feed me till I’d finished all of it. Then she put her delicate fingers into the sauce at the bottom of the bowl to pull out a pearl. Wiping it with a cloth, she handed it to me.
“This is for you, Ish, to remember this day.”
“Thank you, Ruth, I will.”
I wondered if there were some hidden meaning behind Ruth’s gesture with the pearl. Nonetheless, I would remember this day. I couldn’t help but think Ruth’s lavishing such attention on me was a gift from John.
After Ruth had fed me a sample of everything on the platter, she asked:
“Which of these would you like me to bring to you?”
“They all tasted fantastic Ruth, especially what you prepared, but I’m stuffed. You fed me so much. Thank you.”
I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything more. I wanted to tell her that it had been one of the most sensual experiences I’d ever had. Just the same, I’m sure she read it in my eyes.
“Thanks for letting me serve you, Ish.”
Ruth left to clean up after the feast. My eyes followed her, feasting once again. Just before going through the kitchen doors, she turned, as if knowing our eyes would meet. They did. Her eyes were warm and full of love. I hadn’t seen such eyes in many years. Did she know my hunger better than I? Was this simple desire the beginning of a series of steps that would lead to sin, or had I already sinned by desiring her?
I knew John would have been pleased to see me marry his daughter, and Suni was no longer hiding her own desire for me. I suddenly realized that I’d been studying how to witness to polygamous5 peoples for so long that I was lost in confusion. I could no longer distinguish between the rules that applied to them, and those that I must follow. I was even beginning to question how those two sets of rules could be different. I took a deep breath then let it out. Then I assured myself that once Mary and I were far from this place, my desire would be for her only. I remembered the verse that Mary so loved reading to me, Philippians 4:8:
“Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
My breathing grew shallow again as my chest tightened. Why did Mary’s favorite verse have to come to mind right at this moment? Ruth fit the description in this verse precisely! Was the Lord speaking to me through Mary’s favorite verse? Was I to think on Ruth or was I simply an over imaginative husband whose wife had forgotten the words my grandfather spoke at our wedding:
The wife whose words no longer praise
A mistress fair, shall soon replace.
Chapter 9 Footnotes
1. Bernardino Ochino’s Dialogi Sette is but one of his many writings for which he became famous.
2. Madan’s Hymnal is regarded as the first Evangelical hymnbook. The Lock Hospital Chapel and its Music by Nicholas Temperley – Page 62
3. Trends in Premarital Sex in the United States, 1954-–2003 Lawrence B. Finer, PhD
4. Proverbs 3:5 Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
5. Polygamous, polygamist, polygamy – the correct word for a marriage where one man has more than one wife is polygamy. Poly (many) gamy (marriages). Polygyny refers to a man who has many women whether they be his wives or whether he is a pimp. Polyandry is not a form of polygamy for once a woman has one husband, to take another man is not marriage, it is adultery. Marriage is a man drawing a woman or more to him with the understanding that she may not leave without a Bill of Divorcement supplied by him. Harlotry is when a woman draws many men to her. Many of today’s marriages resemble harlotry more than Biblical marriage since the wives do not put themselves under the authority of their husbands. But expect him first to propose to her on bended knee.
Continue reading FREE Preview by clicking here
Next Up: Chapter 10 – A Hard Teaching
OR
