CHAPTER 16
Abbot Francis had a few hours prior to the planned magical evening so he decided to visit the local museum. He found the building with ease, a feat which never ceased to surprise him. Brother Francis was pretty good with the inner landscape of people’s lives when they sought his help, but not so with the outer landscape.
His dear friend Father Ignatius often told him that he could not find his way out of a paper bag. As a confirmation of this, the monk had dozens of little maps in his files, often drawn on paper napkins over dinner with his Jesuit friend. Maybe he would need them again if he were to return to a place that he and his friend had visited, so he simply kept them.
He parked the embarrassingly large and new rental car and entered the museum. It was a moderately big two story building not far from the local municipal buildings for the island of Kauai. The light and airy architecture of the establishment immediately contrasted with the feeling the monk experienced as he entered. Large windows dominated just about every space in the building. Each room was filled with sunlight. In his soul, however, the Abbot felt something quite different.
Brother Francis was not comfortable in the place but forced himself to tour the museum anyway. He perused room after room of ancient Hawaiian artifacts. Everything from canoes to kettles was on display. Each display had an explanation of the origin and use for the various utensils, pieces of furniture, and the like. After about an hour he made his way to the gift shop. He wanted to purchase a book of obake stories. Since no Hawaiian ghosts had made their presence known in the apartment he stayed in when giving his workshop at Lily and Dominic’s retreat house, he thought that he could at least read about them.
The word “obake” is often translated simply as “ghost” but it means much more. The word is drawn from the Japanese language and actually suggests the phenomenon of shapeshifting. In this process a being can change into another person, an animal, or even an inanimate object. A sex change is nothing—no hormones or operations needed. These were interesting folktales, nothing more, for Brother Francis. This was a glimpse into Hawaiian and Japanese culture.
He picked up a small plastic bag of Hawaiian seasoning salt as well. It looked like just the thing to perk up some of his vegetarian dishes back home. The red finger-nailed woman at the cash register gave him a strange look when he handed her his purchases.
“You might be questioned at the airport if you pack this in your luggage. That is, if you are returning to the mainland soon.”
The monk was confused. “Yes, I’ll be heading back within the next two weeks. Do you mean that this book on ghosts will draw the attention of airport security?”
She tried to make light of the matter. “No, not the book, the seasoning salt will. You see, it can’t be x-rayed very well and they will probably ask you what’s in your suitcase or make you open it.”
“It’s worth the risk to help my bland cooking.”
She now appeared to get to the real reason for striking up the conversation. “Do you have an interest in obake? It’s an unusual topic and a little frightening.”
“I just thought that the book would be a little light reading for me, a form of entertainment. I certainly believe in the supernatural and the hereafter, but I’m not very convinced about shapeshifting. It’s just for fun.”
She smiled uncertainly. “From time to time I am forced to work here in the evening all alone. Bookkeeping, that sort of thing. Sometimes there’s quite a racket.”
“What do you mean by ‘racket?’”
She wasn’t sure that he would believe her but she continued anyway. “I saw your picture over at the open-air mall and know that you will be speaking at our Martin Luther King ecumenical day next week. Thus, I also know that you are a monk. By the way, your photo doesn’t do you justice.”
He couldn’t resist. “You’re just saying that because it’s true.”
She became more at ease and then laughed. “Well, sometimes at night I hear thumps, bangs, drums playing, rattling sounds, pots and pans clanging, and God knows what all. It scares me to no end.”
The monk’s pastoral skills started kicking in. “Why do you stay?”
“I need the job.”
He nodded knowingly.
“Actually, Brother Francis, I think the din emanates from the ancient artifacts that this place is filled with. I’ve learned to turn on the Christian radio station to stop it. A few bars of ‘Amazing Grace’ and things quiet down. I’m not sure if it’s a result of my change in attitude or the radio, but since I learned that, I’ve been fine.”
“I see by your nametag that your name is Marci, may I call you that?”
“By all means.”
“I’d rather call you Marci.”
She relaxed a little more.
“I felt a strange and foreboding feeling as soon as I entered this building today so I can believe your story very easily.”
“Brother, would you walk through the place and give it a mental blessing or something?”
“All that is good comes from God, Marci, not from me, but I would be happy to ask God to bless this establishment and you.”
“Here comes a customer. I’d better wait on her.”
“I’ll zip through the rooms again as I leave and pray a blessing.” He reached over and made a small Sign of the Cross on her forehead with his thumb. “Peace be with you Marci”
Brother Francis returned to the hotel in time to work out in the hotel gym and get in a brief nap and shower. All he needed was about fifteen minutes nap time and typically he was ready to go again. This was probably from years of seeing patients on week nights. After his morning and early afternoon patients, the monk often did some qigong, napped briefly, and did his afternoon meditation prior to gathering with the community for Evening Prayer, Vespers. After dinner he went back to work.
Mister Wu waited nervously in the lobby of the hotel. His face was awash with relief when Brother Francis entered the lobby, which was really not much more than a large open-air pavilion with a registration desk and some shops along two side walls.
“I hope that I didn’t keep you waiting Mister Wu.”
“Not at all, Brother. I’ve been enjoying the evening air. It’s much better for us than air conditioning, as you well know.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Much improved, much improved indeed.”
The doctor monk wasn’t sure if it was the medicine, the qigong, or the fact that the man now had someone to talk with and relate to that made the difference. Probably all three he reasoned, having observed over the thirty plus years of his practice that most illnesses and their resolutions are multi-factorial. He also thought that Mister Wu may have tried to arrange things so that he would have company for the show this evening.
“Can you tell me anything about David the Illusionist? I’ve only read snippets in the newspaper.”
Mister Wu’s eyes misted over. “Yes, he and my late wife alternated performances here for the last few years or so. They are, were, both big attractions here. My Effie is a Christian and believed that her ability to read the hearts and minds of others is a gift of the Holy Spirit. She takes no money for it during private consultations, and only takes a fee when working with a large audience in a place like a hotel. Even then, the readings she does from the stage are free to all who are in the room.”
“And David?”
“He’s a bit different. To be quite frank, and because I trust you Brother Francis, I must say that I never quite trusted him. There’s just something about him.”
“Sounds like your wife was not the only one with the gift of intuition.”
“Perhaps.”
The lights in the lobby area flickered off and on several times, which indicated that the entertainment was about to begin.
“Shall we go in Mister Wu? I’m happy to spend this time with you but if you are not comfortable with our plans I am also happy to change them.”
“Be it done unto me according to your word.”
The monk was confused on a human level by the scriptural reference, but gaining insight on a deeper level. They entered the auditorium not quite sure what would happen next.