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Date sent: Sun, 26 Mar 2000 22:22:30 -0800
Subject: [RRGold] [RR] Bible Book Search
From: Harold Burke <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
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from harold's file . . .
HIDDEN IN THE FOLLOWING STORY ARE 43 BOOKS OF THE BIBLE . . .
CAN YOU FIND THEM?
While traveling down a back road to the village called O�Dusky, I saw an
old friend of mine, Chief Mejud, gesturing for me to stop. He looked sad
and depressed. His fez, raiment, and features were dull and pale. To tell
the truth, I never saw so dismal a chief as he was that day. Someone had
stolen his tobacco. Being a missionary and Peace Corps volunteer, it was
my job to keep the chief and tribe at peace. To the Chief�s expression of
sorrow over his tobacco loss, I answered, "It would only have gone up in
smoke anyway." Needless to say, that didn�t go over too well.
It was that time of the year when the tribe began their three day autumn
festival in celebration of a good harvest. The festival will start out on
Market Street, downtown, when Chief Mejud dumps alms in a collection
basket for the less fortunate of his tribe -- a most common practice.
This collection will be passed out at the end of the third day of the
festival.
Back at the village, the chief�s daughter was sitting on a hump of a
stuffed camel, dressed in her native costume and whos ears were drooping
with ornimates. She was wearing as comic a headdress as I have ever seen.
"Excuse me for speaking so, but what is that headdress for?", I asked.
Such an ignorant question, I knew I was in a jam, especially when the
chief�s face and body became stiff and numb. Erst-while, it was forbidden
to question a chief and that it usually met the death of the violator.
Fortunately for me, that custom is no longer practiced.
During the social gatherings at the festival, the old adult males would
tell the young boys how they used to revel at ionian dances (primitive
native dances) many years ago. Of course, most of the stories were
exaggerated by the time they finished drinking the brew steaming from the
community cooking pot. One old glassy-eyed native looked up eternally
toward the sky remembering back when this dance would attract several
young warriors from all over the land. Looking towards the sky where the
old native was staring, I noticed a rudely carved "J" on a high cliff
behind the village. Curiously, I asked the age of the "J". "O, eleven
centuries or so", was his reply. There seemed to be something familiar
about that "J". Oh, now I remember, it had something to do with an
ancient city called "Ai" (pronounced A-Ya). But was this "Ai" a holy
place or just a passing of a primitive civilization? Chief Mejud edged
closer to me and stated that I am at the weakest point of O�Dusky�s
defense. "Three centuries ago, the city of "Ai" attacked my ancestors to
try to annex O�Dusky by force. His ancestors, the best he remembers,
fought a brave but costly and fruitless battle. Too bad, I a historian
major do not have any of the documented chronicles about this place.
Maybe I can write my brother, Timothy, as he travels quite a lot and is
somewhat of a tramp (rover), B.S., from Harvard. Maybe he can do a little
research for me. My other brother, Eugene, sister Mary, and cousin Joshua
were planning to visit me this summer but an epidemic of flu kept them
from coming this year.
Towards the end of the festival, a toothless old hag gained access to the
tribe�s temple where they keep their harvest god called "Sudan". It
caused quite a turmoil among the tribesmen. The chief asked, "Where is
the old gal at?" I answered, I don�t know." Trying to see over the heads
of the crowd to get a glimps of the idol �Sudan, I elevated myself on a
box. I hope someday soon to convince them that it is only a statue and
not a god.
Their favorite harvest fruit, know to them as the "Fijiphi" lemon, will
be used every way in food dishes and beverages as can be imagined. The
tribesmen will also take these lemons to town to sell them at the
Micro-Mansion Hotel -- a small local hotel/restaurant that caters mostly
to tourists during the winter months.
Now that the festival is coming to a close for this year, Chief Mejud�s
daughter will sing a song of solo. Money and alms collected from the
first day will be distributed accordingly. And so it goes, as in the
past, this festival of season will just be another memory to the O�Dusky
tribe. As for me and my two assistants, Samuel and Jeremiah, we will
continue to do our best to help bring the Word of Jesus Christ to this
land of forgotten people.
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