Get Well Soon

It's like this. You are lying in bed, fighting off a suffocating cold or influenza. The pillows are soft, the duvet warm, the windows shaded. Suddenly, from out of the depths, you hear the stomping footsteps of someone approaching, the sound of rhythmic music. Ah, a friend or relative arriving with the ubiquitous bunch of grapes - or even someone playing an episode of the Archers. Wish they'd be quieter, and all of that, you think. Your door pushes inward and instead of anticipated friend/relative, you see a person dressed in animal skins and vertabrae jewellery, face painted in glowing white, dancing and beating a drum of skin stretched over a frame. For a few moments, you wonder what was in the cough medicine and then, realise you are witnessing a shaman performing a ritual "get well" dance. Yes, I too would prefer the grapes and chocolates, but let's not be dismissive. Often called a "witch doctor" the shaman occupied quite a notable place in his (or her) tribe.  Friend, be not fooled by the simplicity of the job. The shaman had to be something of a politician, convincing folks that he (or she) was the right man for the job. Then, there was the matter of being in commune with the spirit world. Without Whatsapp, I am not sure how that worked. In addition, there was the singing, music playing and  dancing (degree in performing arts, perhaps) oh, and a hot line to whoever could supply the necessary animal skins and face painting. So, quite a load to the CV. To be fair, with the advent of modernity, numerous persons still cross continents and cultures to visit the Shaman, often with reported, successful results. Maybe there is something in it? Me, I prefer a warm bed, comforting drinks and the Archers playing. And access to the NHS, if all that fails. Whichever you prefer, get well soon.