A story for Christmas - part one

[Esther]

The Legend of Shaka
or
The Englishman,
the Boy
and the Tiger
Nature has a way of protecting her own. She is not invincible, but she is powerful.
She uses ways that we humans do not understand. But that does not mean that we
cannot try to understand, only that most of us haven't really bothered, so as a
species we still have much to learn. And if we don't learn, when nature really needs
our help we won't be able to give it.
When a man doesn't understand something, he either decides it is magic, or the work
of a God, or else he studies it until he does understand it and then calls it science.
And so it is with nature. Many men study it and call it science, others believe it to be
the work of God, or a God in itself, and others are content to believe it to be magic.
Of course, nature is none of these things, but if you believe in something enough, it
has a way of becoming true. And so some people study nature as a science and have
begun to unravel some of her secrets, other people simply believe in the magic of
nature and let her carry on as she wishes, and to some people the power of nature
has become deified and legends have been born of Gods who protect the environment
in which they live.
This is the story of one such protector, Shaka, lord of the wild jungle regions of
Western India.

Chapter One
Shaka had lived in the jungles of India for thousands of years, protecting his realm
from harm. He spent many years defending the creatures of the jungle from
poachers, and the people of the jungle from slavers, but now the people themselves
seemed to be turning against him. Of all the creatures of the forest, humans were
the most problematical. Other creatures had their disputes, but on the whole they
found their own ways to sort matters out. Not so the humans. At first white men
were the greatest problem, but now their greed and selfishness seemed to be
spreading to the people of the forest and more and more of the forest was being
taken by the farmers. Shaka roamed his jungle home wondering what was to be done.
He had tried talking to the people, but their hearts and minds were now closed to
him. When they saw him they did not recognize him as their protector, they saw only
a huge and powerful beast of the jungle and would either flee or, if armed, attempt
to shoot him. Even the children seemed too fearful to listen to him.
One day, as he was prowling and wondering, he suddenly came face to face with a
white man. Shaka stopped and stared. The man stared back, unafraid, and unarmed.
“My, you are beautiful!!!” said the white man.
Shaka was speechless for a moment. To the man, Shaka appeared as the most
enormous tiger, bigger and more powerful than any he had seen before. To Shaka,
the man appeared a little strange. He had no gun, no fear and, more importantly, an
open heart.
“Beautiful?” repeated Shaka, not sure that he had heard correctly.
“Well, yes, look at you!” the man replied. “I've never seen a tiger anything like you.”
The man and the tiger looked at each other for a while, neither of them sure whether
or not to believe what was happening, for the tiger was desperate to believe that he
had finally found a way of communicating with mankind, while the man was wondering
if had suddenly gone mad.
“What are you doing here?” asked the tiger.
“I'm a scientist,” answered the man, “I'm here to try to find out why the tigers have
started to take cattle from the villages. If I don't find out, the villagers are going
to end up shooting them all. And that must not be allowed to happen.”

“Indeed not.” replied Shaka. “I don't believe in science, but if you want to know why
the tigers are taking the cattle I can tell you. The villagers have become greedy.
They are using more and more land to graze their cattle on. The cattle are eating
more and more grass. The more grass they eat, the less there is left for the other
animals that used to share the grass. Without enough grass they are starting to die
out, and without them the tigers don't have enough to eat. So they take the cattle.
Surely that's obvious?”
“Well,” said the man, “now that you've told me, I suppose that it is obvious. I shall
have to go back and explain it to the villagers. But I don't know how I'm going to
persuade them to be less greedy.”
Shaka thought for a while. “Well, I suppose it's in their nature to be greedy, but if
they want to stop losing their cattle to us tigers, they must be sure to leave enough
grass for our prey. Can't they control their cattle a little? Can't they stop them
wandering everywhere and eating everything? Do they have to take it all?”
The man smiled. “I think I'll be able to sort it out. I shall study all the grasses and
find which are best for their cattle, and teach them how to build enclosures to stop
the cattle wandering everywhere. Then perhaps there will be enough wild grass left
for the other animals to eat, and then you tigers can go back to eating your natural
diet instead of eating the cattle and maybe the villagers will stop shooting you all.”
It was Shaka's turn to smile. “That sounds wonderful. It's been a real pleasure
talking to you. Thank you!”

[Esther]

Re: A story for Christmas - part two

“It was a real pleasure talking to you, too.” replied the man, “In fact, I think it's the
best Christmas present I've ever had.”
“The best what?” asked Shaka, looking confused.
“Christmas present. It's Christmas day!”
“Whatmas day?”
“Christmas. It's a special day when Santa sends presents to everyone in the world.
Well, all those that believe in him. Mostly children, I guess.”
Shaka raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“Santa?”
“Oh, well, he's magic. And he lives at the North Pole. Well, whatever you believe, it

was wonderful to talk with you, Christmas or not!” The man was feeling pretty
confused by now, not knowing what to believe.
Shaka nodded. “Ah, magic. Now that I can understand.”
The man smiled. “I never really believed in magic before.” he said.
“Well, I never believed in science. But perhaps it's the same thing.”
“Perhaps,” the man agreed. “Maybe it's called magic when we don't understand it,
and then when we do we re-name it science.”
It was Shaka's turn to smile. “Well, it exists just the same whether you understand
it or not. But I guess you humans can't use it until you do understand it. So go,
human. Study your science and work your magic.” And with that Shaka turned and
resumed his jungle wanderings.
The man returned to the village and, though he never told a living soul of his meeting
with the tiger as long as he lived, he was true to his word and he studied the grasses,
taught the people and saved many, many jungle creatures, for though it was the
tigers he set out to save, all the creatures of the jungle benefited from the
restriction of the cattle, even the cattle themselves!
Shaka was well pleased with the way his magic had worked that day, but as the years
passed other problems arose, ones which made those he had faced so far seem trivial.
He tried in vain to find solutions, but the problems seemed altogether too big and
complicated. It was as though a stronger magic than his own was at work. And once
again it seemed to be the work of man.
“Can't they see what they are doing?” Shaka asked himself. “Don't they realize that
if they keep on as they are they will destroy all of nature, and themselves with it?”
Shaka roamed his jungle home, what little was left of it, hoping to find another human
who would listen to him. But try as he might he could find none who would listen.
“What magic is it that the humans are using?” Shaka wondered to himself. “And what
sort of magic would make them so blind that they could not see the result of it's
action?” He thought and thought and tried all the ways he could think of to figure
out a solution. But as he thought, the problems just seemed to grow and grow until
Shaka thought that there would never be any way out. Then Shaka remembered the
meeting many many years ago with the white man. If only he could find another man
with an open heart. Then he remembered that the man was a scientist. What was it
that the man had said? “Maybe it's called magic when we don't understand it, and
then when we do we re-name it science.” Yes, that was it. That was the magic that

the men were using. But was there a magic strong enough to counteract it? And if
there was, where would he find it?
And then he remembered. He had met the white man on Christmas day. The man had
thought that meeting the tiger was the best Christmas present he had ever had. On
reflection, Shaka thought that meeting the man had been the best Christmas present
he had ever had. In fact, the only Christmas present. And, according to the man,
Santa only sent presents to those who believed in him. Perhaps it was time for Shaka
to start believing in Santa, for, as you know, if you believe in something enough it has
a habit of becoming true. The man had also said that this Santa was magic. And so
Shaka decided that he needed to find Santa and see if he had a stronger magic which
would help him in his quest to protect his realm and it's creatures. Now, what had
the man said? “He lives at the North Pole.” Hmm.
“I seem to have a choice,” thought Shaka. “ Wait until Christmas, and see if he sends
me another man, or set out now to find him.” It was not a difficult choice, as Shaka
took his role of protector very seriously and did not want to waste another moment.
He immediately turned and headed North.
The journey took several weeks. Shaka started the journey in the form of a tiger,
but as he traveled he took other forms, more appropriate to the terrain in which he
found himself. Sometimes he was a wolf, other times a polar bear, occasionally he
had to appear as a man in order to avoid being shot by hunters. Eventually he arrived
at the North Pole, and, as expected, there he met Santa, who was overjoyed to see
him as it had been some time since he had met a polar bear.
“How wonderful!” he exclaimed, “I thought you had all gone! My ice-cap has been
melting at such a rate that I thought all your kind had been wiped out a decade ago!”
Shaka's heart sank, for it was now obvious that it was not only his own jungle realm
that was under threat, but that the problems had extended to all parts of the Earth.
Not only that, Santa had obviously been unable to solve them, else his beloved Polar
Bears would not have disappeared.
“I'm so sorry to disappoint you, Santa,” Shaka apologized, “but I'm not really a Polar
Bear.” Shaka assumed his more usual form of a tiger. “I came to ask for your help to
find a human who can save my jungle realm, but I see that you have problems of your
own.”
Santa's face fell for a moment, then he brightened a little and forced a smile.
“Indeed I do. We both do. Everyone does.” he agreed, “But for goodness sake come
indoors – a tiger couldn't possibly tolerate this kind of cold, even if it is a little

warmer than normal for this time of year.”
Shaka had to agree about the cold, but he did notice that Santa's reindeer were
happily grazing and their coats were remarkably smooth. They didn't seem to think it
was cold at all. He followed Santa indoors and they sat down to talk, Santa on a large
armchair and Shaka, as is natural for all cats, stretched out in front of the roaring
log fire.
“I thought I would never be warm again!” he purred loudly.
Santa brought in a huge bowl of reindeer milk.
“I'm sorry, but there's no meat here. But most cats like this – do try some!”
Shaka tasted a drop, found it to his liking and soon polished off the whole bowl.
“Now,” said Santa, “I think we have much to discuss.”
“Indeed we do!” agreed Shaka, and he told Santa all about the problems that his
jungle was facing, and about the meeting many many years ago with the white man
who had helped him.
“I was hoping,” finished Shaka, “that you could help me find another human with an
open heart who could find more magic to save our worlds. Can you do it?”
Santa sighed.
“I don't know. Quite honestly, it's going to be hard to find the right man. First, he
needs to be a scientist, because only a scientist will be able to learn to work the
magic. Then, he needs to have an open mind, because scientists, by definition, don't
believe in magic. Then he needs to have an open heart, else he won't believe in you.
And if he doesn't believe in you he's not going to help you. And then, worst of all,”
and at this Santa sighed deeply, “I think it's too late. I think the damage is already
done and it is only a matter of time before everything is gone.” A tear slowly formed
in the old man's eye and started to roll down his cheek.
Shaka leaped up angrily.
“It is never too late!" he roared, “Think, Santa, THINK! There must be something
we can do!”
“I'm sorry, Shaka.” said Santa, pulling himself together. “Of course there is
something we can do. First, we have to find the right person to help you, and then we

just have to send you to him. Or her.”
“Well, what sort of person is it likely to be?”
“It has to be a scientist, like I said. But there are no scientists who believe in magic.
By the time they've grown up and studied science, they've stopped believing in magic.
Or in me! And unless they believe in me, I can't send you to them.”
“Well,” thought Shaka, “you'll have to send me to a child so that I can be with him as
he grows up and help him learn what he needs to know before he stops believing.”
“Nonsense,” replied Santa, “how could I send a huge, ferocious-looking tiger like you
to any child?”
“We will find a way. You find me the child and I will find a way to be with him.” Shaka
roared.
Santa stared at Shaka thoughtfully.
“OK. I think I might have a way. But I must go and consult with my elves and go
through all my books to try to find you the right child. But even so, I should warn you
that I think it may be too late.”
“We have to try!”
“Of course.”
Santa spent an entire week with the elves, studying all the books, checking and
rechecking all the entries he had ever made on all the children in the world. Shaka
grew fat on reindeer milk and spent most of the week lounging in front of the fire.
But he did not rest. He thought and thought and planned and planned. But when
Santa returned, the news was not good.
“There is no child alive in the whole world who is suitable. By the time any of them
are even remotely interested in science, all the magic has been knocked out of them.
And without that belief that impossible things can be made to happen, they will not
be able to turn magic into science and make it come true.”
Shaka was angry. He had not come all this way to be told that there was no hope.
“It is you who does not believe!” he bellowed, “If there is no child alive today who can
help,we must go back to a time when there was such a child, when it wasn't too late,
and when there was time for me to help him learn everything he needs to save us all!”

“But Shaka,” Santa protested, “that is the most powerful magic of all!”
“No,” retorted Shaka, “not quite. But it is very powerful, and I am well aware of the
implications. Find me the child.”
Santa sighed deeply, and off he went with his elves to search through older and older
record books, trying to find if there had ever been a child with an open heart, an
open mind and that burning desire to understand which means that they may one day
become a great scientist. After weeks of searching, Santa returned. Shaka, who had
previously grown fat on reindeer milk, was now sleek and shining and packed with
muscle, as instead of lounging in front of the fire he had been pacing up and down,
worrying and wondering and planning and plotting. He swung round to face Santa as
soon as he heard him return.
“Well?”
“I have found one. A boy. Eleven years old. He seems perfect. I have his letter
here from Christmas 2006. He even asked for a tiger that year, but it seems he
never got one. You could change all that, if we could just get you back there. Are you
sure you want to do it?”
The tiger nodded.
“How am I going to get there?”
“Well, as it happens, that shouldn't be too much of a problem.” smiled Santa. “You
see that rug you've been sleeping on in front of the fire?”
“Well, what there is left of it, yes. It's seen better days!” Shaka cast an eye on the
ancient, moth eaten dust and tiger-hair encrusted sorry looking excuse for a rug that
lay in front of Santa's hearth. It wasn't even big enough to sleep on properly – more
the sort of size for a child's pet dog to curl up on, not a huge Bengal tiger.
“Well, it's a magic one. Doesn't look much now, but it dates back to the turn of the
millennium or thereabouts. It can get you pretty much anywhere, or any when, you
need to go.”
“Will it bring me back again?” asked the tiger.
“Well, only very slowly. No faster than sitting on any other sort of rug. Practically
speaking it's a one way ticket.”

For a moment Shaka's courage failed him. He became full of doubts. Would he be
able to communicate with the boy? Would the boy believe in him? Would he be too
frightened to listen? Would he have the ability to follow his dreams? How could he
teach the boy things that he didn't know himself?
But even as he doubted, he leaped onto the rug and prepared himself for the journey
into the unknown.
He turned his head towards Santa and began to ask,
“Santa,” he started...
“I know,” interrupted Santa, “I think you'll find this will help. Open it on the way and
read it on the journey. In the circumstances I don't think you need to wait till
Christmas.”
Santa held out a small parcel wrapped in shiny paper with “To Shaka with love from
Santa” written on the label.
“These might come in useful, too.” he added, loading up the rug with a selection of
similarly brightly wrapped parcels. “They should help if you have difficulty getting
your message across. See that the boy gets them on Christmas morning. Now GO!!!”
Shaka noticed that the rug now seemed be growing beneath him, or else he was
shrinking to fit it. It rose up gently beneath him and Santa and the room he was in
seemed to melt away from view as though they were being swallowed by fog.
Strangely coloured lights illuminated the air as mist swirled around him eerily.
“The mists of time!” thought Shaka, “I really am going back in time!”
Shaka had no idea how long the journey would take, and although time itself had
taken on a decidedly new meaning, he was quite sure that he still had none left to
lose, so he tore at the wrapper on the parcel that Santa had given him. Considering
that it was wrapped in soft, shiny paper, Shaka was surprised how difficult it was to
open. His claws seemed to have become soft, like cotton, so he used his teeth, which
seemed little better. The paper was soon torn open however, and inside lay a book
entitled “The Legend of Shaka”. On the front cover was a painting of the Earth
showing many of the animals that Shaka was most concerned about – tigers, polar
bears, and many others that he did not recognize. Flying above the Earth was a magic
carpet bearing a fierce but friendly looking toy tiger surrounded by parcels.
Nervously, Shaka opened the book and began to read. The first chapter seemed to
be all about him and his story so far. The book went on to tell of his adventures with

his boy and how they worked together to discover solutions to the Earth's problems.
It wasn't all easy going and many times Shaka thought that his boy would fail in his
quest, but they always seemed to pull through in the end, though there were many
twists and turns on the way. Shaka was so glad that Santa had given him the book.
It seemed to have all the answers in it. But as he read he noticed that the book was
slowly getting thinner. The pages were disappearing, one by one, from the back.
“Of course,” thought Shaka, “as we're going back in time, so the book is disappearing.
And I am only half-way through reading it!”
Shaka began to read desperately. He needed to know what was going to happen, what
he had to do to make sure that his quest would succeed. But of course no-one can
ever know that, so Shaka had to be content with the belief that if the book had once
existed, then he must be able to make it worth writing. All he had to do was live the
life that the book was destined to be about. Soon Shaka could read no further as the
page he was reading disappeared from in front of his eyes. One by one the remaining
pages went, too. Shaka tried to hang on to the rapidly diminishing text, but soon
there was only the first chapter left between the covers. Then the covers
disappeared. Shaka was worried now. Without the book it was going to be difficult
to explain to his boy what his mission was to be, but he needn't have worried. Out of
the mist rose a chimney and the rug hovered gently above it. Shaka, who despite his
time spent at the North Pole knew very little about Christmas, did not understand
the significance of the chimney and was a little disgruntled to discover himself
magically stretching and squeezing and swooshing right down the chimney and landing
with a bump on the kitchen floor in front a gently smoldering log fire.
So this was where Shaka was destined to live for the next few years. It was the
middle of the night and no-one seemed to be about, so Shaka stretched out on his
rug, which now seemed rather shiny and new and not at all like that old moth-eaten
thing that he had climbed onto at the North Pole only a few hours ago. He noticed a
plate of small spicy cakes and a glass of something next to the hearth so he helped
himself. The cakes were rather nice, but the stuff in glass was decidedly strange.
He drank it anyway, and immediately felt rather sleepy so he rested his chin on his
paws and slept until morning.
And so it was that an eleven year old boy woke up one Christmas morning to discover
not only his tiger, but also a special mission. And also, more mysteriously, the first
chapter of a book, unbound and lying on a sheet of torn wrapping paper with “To
Shaka with love from Santa” written on it.

[Jacksuncle]

Re: A story for Christmas - part one

I dont know whether to be grateful for you writing all that or mad for making me read all of it! Thank you