stories told by his father and the elders, as it is only held when Caksusa, the village wiseman, has seen the time is right.[1] His father had passed his futampaf many years ago and would be very proud when Jayvyn passed his. It was important he be ready.
Birds flitted about the dense jungle flora, colorful plumage striking a vivid contrast against the dark green foliage. Avian cries resonated sharply against the morning calm. Other small creatures scuttled quickly through the undergrowth as Jayvyn ran quietly along his chosen path.
The complex forest aroma was intoxicating. Jayvyn breathed it fully into his lungs—a fragrant mix of aromatic flowers blended with sweet fruits and earthy tannins.
He relished being the only human in the forest at this enchanted hour; however, he was far from the only primate. Monkeys scampered among the high branches, wild barks from baboons occasionally broke the dawn air. The forest was alive in the morning, conferring on Jayvyn a profound sense of oneness with his world.
He awoke before anyone else, often just as dawn’s first light surrendered the silhouettes of trees against the deep indigo sky. Snores emanated from the mud and grass huts as he quietly stole into the dark wall of the surrounding jungle. It was a magical time. He always looked forward to returning, refreshed and alive, to join his parents and little sister, Ifetayo, for breakfast.
Today is going to be a great day! He looked forward to helping tend the paddy to make sure this year’s would be a good harvest. Jayvyn loved
[1] The ritual futampaf is only held every fifteen or thirty years, the time being decided by the elders
Peter D Brown, Author 