jamesq | Journey to the 2nd World, Part 6

Wednesday was the day that I was inducted into their dark and blasphemous cult. Yes folks, I became an honorary Newfoundlander. The ceremony consisted of wearing garish woolen socks, a yellow fisherman's cap (like the guy on the Fisherman's Friend's package wears). Attempting to make sense of their primitive language and drinking some of the local beverage (Imported from the rock for just this occasion), known as Screech. This is traditionally followed by harsh language.

Screech is like Rum, but also not. I fear that the Newf natives may have been pulling a fast one on us. This so called "beverage" seems to have been created solely for inflicting suffering on outsiders. No doubt this cruelty is considered comedy gold on their remote North Atlantic island.

The ceremony also called for "singing" and "dancing" - both terms that need to be expanded greatly to accept the things we were made to do.

garething having married into their unholy brood, was the first to be initiated. As the old joke about the missionaries offered "Death or Bumba" as punishment went, so went we. G, being first, did not have the advantage of knowing what he was in for. Going second I did know and the horror was worse for that. Being entirely inhumane, they then inflicted their so-called ritual upon an innocent child (G's daughter K). The only glimmer of humanity they showed was that they did not subject her to their demon-liquor.

I'm happy to report that I took my Bumba far better then G, who broke down like a little girl. I, on the other-hand, took it like a man - a miserable broken soul-damaged man. Later the natives directed strange comments towards me like "he must have some newf blood in him" - Despite all reason, I fear these may have been compliments.

May all-merciful Allah forgive me.