Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
The White, the Red, and the Black: An Indo-European Tale, ca. 4000 BCE
There were once two brothers who had a falling-out.
If the stories once told why, they no longer do. Perhaps it was over a woman.
(Probably it was over a woman. Why else do brothers fall out?)
The end of it was, that one brother killed the other. This was the first kin-slaying that ever there was in the world.
Well, but hear what came of it.
From his head he made the priest-kind: those that remember, and counsel, and guide. Their gods are gods of Sky, and their color is white, the white of snow, and purity.
From his torso and arms, he made the warriors: those that lead, and fight, and protect. Their gods are gods of War, and their color is red, the true warrior scarlet.
From his hips and legs, his buttocks and loins, he made the peasants: those that raise, and grow, and make. Our gods are gods of Earth, and magic, and our color is black: the deep, rich black of good, tilled loam.
The priests and their temples have gone; so too the warriors and their chariots.
But we, the yeomanry, the makers, we are still here.
Then they called us the *weik-. Now they call us witches.
6000-some years on, we still wear black.
For more on the Indo-European Third-Function roots of *Weika, see:
Nigel Aldcroft Jackson (1994), Call of the Horned Piper. Capall Bann.
For KMZ
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