The Black Jaguar

Manhattan, 1988

The black jaguar had always sat on her right side, although she didn’t know it until she was 42 and ready to face her demons.

Annika sat outside the old building in The Village, looking up with expectation and fear. She’d scoured the info magazines advertising for ‘spiritual’ happenings since the web was almost nonexistent back then, and here she was. About to enter a medicine circle. She took a deep breath, trying not to turn up her nose at the mixture of smells of sweat and food and what she thought was tears and pain, then decided it was now or never.

“If I can’t reach the Native guides I’ve seen in London here, it will be nowhere,” she said to herself.

The streets were getting dark on this still warm November evening, but she suddenly shivered, turning around for the last look before disappearing into the dark tunnel at the entrance.

Her heart pounded, and she half expected to be attacked and robbed in the thick smelly darkness, but the door opened at the top of the stairs, and a voice called, “Come up!”

Grabbing the handrail now that she could see, Annika dragged herself up the steep rickety stairs, encouraged by the sounds of normal chit-chat and even laughter ahead of her. To her surprise, no painted Indians greeted her in feathers – instead normal looking people in normal looking clothes beamed at her, asking her to come in.

“Nobody ever welcomes me, nobody beams at me, what’s going on?” she thought.

Annika’s mind span around, and she tried to keep her cool. Being on guard had become a habit at the stuffy London mores, and she tried not to show emotion. Stiff as a rod, her glance swept over the room, and that’s when Michael caught her in his radar, and headed over.

“I heard your accent, are you visiting here?”

He stood broad and tall in front of her, an average looking middle-aged man, with whiter than white skin and a front tooth missing. He wore a tattered ex-military jacket of faded green, and chewed something in his cheek. Annika tried to hide her distaste. Who is this man?

She turned her icy blue gaze at the man who said his name was Michael.

“Yes. From London,” in her best, cool accent she had learned since living among the manner-obsessed Brits for two decades.

That didn’t deter Michael from putting his smelly arm around her and leading her to the circle that was starting to form in the center of the large room to the right. People were settling down to cushions, and talking and exchanging gifts, so near Christmas time.

“Hey, everyone! We have a visitor!”

Michel lead Annika to the center, and everyone turned to look. She’d expected appraising looks and being shut out as usual, but they took turns to welcome her to the circle, smiling and nodding.

When Michael let go, pointing to one of the last remaining cushions at the far side of the circle, and then took his own, Annika realized he was the leader of the circle. A medicine man, called Wildcat.

And then the ceremony started, and no one paid attention to Annika any longer. Michael – Wildcat’s – voice started to sound far away. He was gently hitting his drum, telling everyone to follow the beat, follow the beat, to surrender and to let go…

Annika was running through the woods, her eyes fixed on the only thing that could save her, the tall tree at the edge of the muddy river leading to the open sea from where she could sail away to the nearby islands to hide. She was sweating profusely, although wearing only the flimsiest skin loin cloth and a flap covering her upper body for protection against the bushes and thorns. Above her, flashes of red and bright blue mingled with the jungle greens, and she wished for once the parrots just left her alone, they were giving her location away to whatever was chasing her.

She was about the jump into the green river, not giving thought to the alligators she knew could also get her, when she heard the growl and knew there was no escape. Black Jaguar had caught up with her.

Michael’s voice snapped her back to the Lower East side Manhattan. He’d stopped drumming and cast a wary eye over the people in the circle. Some were still sitting with their eyes closed in their dream, and some were eyeing up each other, eager to tell about their experiences. But the newcomer? Michael looked deep into her direction, sensing something had happened to this woman, who now slowly opened her eyes, looking both fearful and relaxed at the same time.

“Everyone, come back to the room, follow my voice. Open your eyes, take a deep breath. Come back.”

His voice had both command and gentleness, but Annika was still shaking from her spirit journey.

When one by one people eagerly told about their experiences, she sat quietly, shaking her head, looking down.

She didn’t want to share her vision. Nobody needed to know what had stalked her in the deep, hot jungle.

Besides, the black jaguar had followed her to the room, and was sitting on her right side, scaring the life out of her.

It took her 10 years to ever speak of it to anyone, but from then on she knew. The Black Jaguar had always been there by her side, always. And that was what scared others so much about her. They sensed her jaguar and the power she brought to her. The jaguar had caught her not to harm her, but to make herself known to Annika again, as her spirit power and protector.

She never left Annika’s side from then on.

 

London, 1996.

Annika stood in the middle of the road, trying to feel her way back into where she was supposed to be. It was just before Christmas again, and for a moment she almost gave up and sat down in the middle of the still busy traffic on King Street that ran all the way to Ealing Hospital where Joe was recovering from collapsing once again after a gym workout. They’d been dating for about two years, on and off, and while he’d felt familiar from the start, there was no spark, and now they were constantly fighting.

Why am I even trying to get to his side? After all the bs he’s given me for months now?

She’d been trying to catch a taxi for at least 30 minutes, and from the message on her phone, it sounded Joe might be in a bad shape. Palpitations, irregular heart. What if he died before she got there? She’d never be able to forgive herself, regardless her hesitations about the relationship.

Then jaguar appeared, right in front of her, her green eyes like flashlights in the now empty street, because all of a sudden all the cars disappeared, leaving the street dark and somehow menacing.

Jaguar kept looking at her, and then she knew what to do. While she crouched, she climbed on her back, and she took off at warp speed.

Annika held on for her life. While she’d seen the jaguar for a few times, and knew she was always at her side, this was the first time since Manhattan since she came to her like this.

She was flying, looking down at London that was fast fading, together with memories of Joe. Stars circled around her, and far below, earth was a ball speeding across the universe, lights flashing from cities and other population centers, seemingly on fire. She couldn’t shake a feeling of dread, but jaguar kept flying higher and higher.

“Hey, are you okay?” Annika came to when a passer-by shook her by the shoulder. She was still on King Street, but standing next to a building where the passer-by, a tall man with a grey, curling moustache and a kindly smile had steered her. He was studying her face intently, then gently shook her.

“A journey? Did you go to you dream right here in the street?” he asked.

Annika’s head was already reeling from her flight, but now the man’s words jolted her up out of fright.

“I don’t know what you mean…” she stammered, but he just nodded and smiled.

“You’re one of us.” He pointed to the sky where the faintest glimmer of stars broke through the lights of London. “People who know. Shaman power. Jaguar power.”

Annika cringed. Jaguar Power?

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t deny it. We’ll meet again.”

He turned around and walked fast toward the traffic. When Annika had the strength to look, he’d disappeared totally. She shook her head.

I’m going mad. That man was out of order… but he pulled me out of traffic so…

A cab pulled up out of nowhere, and the taxi driver even jumped out of it and opened the door for Annika.

“Ealing Hospital, was it?” he beamed.

Annika didn’t have the energy to ask how he knew. Instead, she dragged herself to the back of the cab, and buried her throbbing head in her arms. Chicswick’s Christmas traffic receded when the taxidriver hit the pedal and seemed to fly toward Ealing.