In the village of the Aguacaté tribe, everyone is worried. Gossip has it that the old shaman wants to retire, and they're shocked. This is unprecedented in the history of the tribe. The people can't understand what could have happened, least of all the chief. He can't fathom what will become of them without the wise counsel of their shaman. Worse, it's now up to him to deal with the situation.

After checking the position of the sun, he gets up, brushes himself off, and heads to the shaman's tent, determined to convince him otherwise. When he arrives, he crouches down and enters without knocking.

"Morning, Shakiro," he greets with a bow.

The shaman is a small man dressed in white, with a Greenpeace badge pinned to his cloak.

"Chaka ooga, ooga, ooga!"

"What does that mean?"

"For heaven's sake! Didn't your mother teach you any manners, Man Mountain?"

"What? You want me to get on my knees?"

"Nooo, idiot! Don't you know you have to knock before you come in?"

"Yes, I do. Sorry, but the tent doesn't have a door, so..."

"Fine, but didn't you see that there's a doorbell?"

"A doorbell? Since when do tents have doorbells?"

"Since I got one on eBay. It was such a bargain!" the shaman says, letting out a giggle. "Now be a good boy and go outside and ring the bell."

"Now? Why? I'm already inside!"

"I know, but go anyway and ring the doorbell twice. Come on, go," he insists, shooing the chief away.

"All right, all right. As you wish, Your Majesty," he replies with a touch of sarcasm.

The chief reluctantly stands up and walks out of the tent while the shaman waits with a mischievous look on his face, anticipating the sound of the doorbell.

"Ramalama, ding dong."

"Ramalama, ding ding dong."

When the chief pokes his head in, the old man is cracking up.

"Happy now, you old fool? Very funny. May I come in now?"

"Ooh, yeah! Abso-freaking-lutely! Hahaha. But have a seat. I think you've had enough for one day. Let's just cut the banter for a while. Now you have the floor. What brings you here, Man Mountain?"

"Finally, I thought you'd never ask!"

After a few seconds, he begins to speak. His face becomes sad.

"Rumor has it that you're retiring. I understand that you're tired, but why now? And don't beat around the bush."

"As much as this disappoints you, Man Mountain... I feel tired... exhausted, and like I'm not long for this world."

"If you die, I'll kill you, you old bean."

"I appreciate you saying that, son, but my shaman license is also about to expire. I've had hundreds, if not thousands, of amazing experiences in my long life as a shaman, but there's still one thing left I'd like to do before I'm gone. Would you read my will out loud?"

"Rest assured I will. Where is it?"

The old shaman takes a papyrus out of his sleeve and rolls it out on the floor.

"God ... that's some will," Man Mountain says, without taking his eyes off the papyrus. "You really are a box of surprises..."

"It's a papyrus," the shaman says proudly. "It's been in my family for generations. It contains everything a shaman worth their salt should know."

(To be continued)

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