Bakru on his car

Bakru and His Car

In the heart of Suriname, where the jungle whispers ancient secrets and the rivers hum songs of ancestors, there lived a spirit named Bakru. Unlike the other spirits who roamed the lands and skies, Bakru had a unique connection to the material world. He was both of the earth and beyond it, a keeper of wisdom and guardian of the mystical.

One day, Bakru wandered into the village, his wooden form carved with intricate patterns, beads, and feathers that shimmered in the sunlight. He had heard of the strange new metal contraption that had begun to appear along the roads: a car. It was said to move with speed, carrying people from one place to another, a marvel of the modern world.

Intrigued, Bakru set off in search of this “car.” He trekked through thick forests and across open fields, his mind filled with wonder. Finally, in a clearing near a small village, he saw it — a gleaming Porsche, polished and perfect, with its shiny surface reflecting the blue sky above. It was a thing of beauty, unlike anything Bakru had ever seen.

The car’s owner, a man named Roel, was just about to get into his car when he noticed Bakru standing nearby, his eyes wide with fascination. Roel chuckled, thinking the wooden doll was part of some village tradition. “You like my car?” he asked with a grin.

Bakru nodded, his wooden face full of curiosity. Roel, amused by the idea of a spirit being so intrigued by a car, offered him a ride. “Hop in,” Roel said. “I’ll show you how it works.”

With some hesitation, Bakru climbed into the car. He felt the rumble of the engine as Roel turned the key. The car leapt forward with surprising speed, and Bakru’s heart soared. The wind rushed past, and he marveled at how this new creation could carry him so swiftly, just as the rivers carried the boats, yet without the need for water.

As they sped along the winding roads, Bakru looked out at the passing landscape: the lush greenery of Suriname, the rivers cutting through the land like veins of life, and the distant mountains that seemed to guard the village. He understood that this car, though a marvel, was just another tool — a way to travel faster, to connect with people more easily. But Bakru also knew that some things, like the spirit of the land, could not be hurried.

When they reached the edge of the village, Bakru smiled and said, “Thank you for the ride, Roel. But I must return to the jungle. My journey is not finished.”

Roel nodded, a little puzzled but grateful for the company. As Bakru left the car, he felt a deep sense of peace, knowing that while the world changed around him, the spirit of the land remained timeless.

With a final glance at the shiny Porsche, Bakru wandered back into the jungle, the rumble of the engine still echoing in his heart. The car, like the jungle, had its own magic — a different kind, but still filled with wonder. And Bakru knew that in the world, there was room for both the old and the new.