Hate Mentality Comes in a Backpack

The scene is an idyllic island in the Meditteranean. The family is very well off, keeping up to three thousand head of sheep and goats. Because of their herds, they are forced to build chalets in the mountain to house their paid shepherds who tend to the needs and wants of their animals. And, since many, many of these shepherds become necessary, they are forced to put in well, and small tarns to water their flocks.

The family is large, at one time twelve children kept the lady of the house up at night knitting to make vests and sweaters to keep them warm at night, comforters. The man of the house is used to fine dining and has developed a raging case of the gout. His doctor recommends the mountain air, and the man agrees.

He chooses one of his better built chalets, far from any monastery or other structure. It is a fine home with well, and terraces of natural stone. He lives there for many years with his wife until she too gets sick and passes away.

Because of her passing, he decides to visit the village that he had left many years ago. And, as he was approaching the town, he wondered to himself why he had never come back even for a visit. He thinks to himself that it was because of his illness and then regrettfully shakes his head covered in masses of thick white hair.

At the entrance to the village, he hears the church bells, the bells of the cathedral and his heart is full of remorse for his long absence. He turns the corner and enters the black gates that lead into a pebble inlaid mosaic that surrounds the cathedral. At the door of the church stands a man who remembers him. At the altar, he sees a priest. The women look like his dear wife, but what is wrong with him!

The man turns and runs. He catches himself running and smiles ruefully. What ever happened to that gout, he thinks. After a long trot and walk, trot and walk, he returns to his mountain retreat. In one of the rooms leading up to the second floor where he sleeps, he keeps a fine backpack. He takes it down and straps it around his back. He takes a drink of cold water from his refrigerator whose electricity is generated by his own generator and starts back retracing his steps. He is again in the village.

It is as if time has stood still.

The people are now exiting the church and sitting outside waiting to be served by the churches council members wives. He too sits down. They look at him aghast. How dare you! a fat woman with fine black dress and immaculate combed hair yells.

A mob of people circle the bewildered man.

What have I done, he asks?

You desecrate our church by coming in here with that backpack fit only for the back of donkeys, they yell.

The man out of confusion and fear says, almost mutely, But you are all wearing the same packs. I just wanted to look like all of you.

They start to pull out their hair and bang their heads against the ancient walls of the cathedral.

Then one of the men picks smites the man from the mountain as they were beginning to call him.

The man falls to the ground, the church mob circles him and kicks and kicks and bloodies the man until he is dead.

They picked up his limp body and hid it in the tower crematory that is behind the cathedral.