MY NEIGHBOR, FRANCIS THE PATRIARCH

My only neighbors were a small group of natives not too far away on the opposite side of the little road. This group was actually a family community, perhaps two or three dozen men, women and children, all sons, daughters, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren of one extraordinary man whose name was Francis. Francis, in his late seventies but with the strength of a much younger man, governed his family community like a patriarch of the old Testament, and was apparently respected as the Wise Man of that little region. He was very tall, at least six feet six inches, and always carried himself very erect. We immediately became good friends and he soon made himself indispensable to me. if there was any work to be done, any small improvements to make lifr more comfortable, it was Francis who did them. Sometimes he worked alone, sometimes he reached into his plentiful supply of children or grandchildren to help him. When I would ask him to do something, his reply was invariably an enthusiastic, "Voy a buscar mi burro!" (I will look for my donkey!), because Francis spoke perfect Spanish! At my initial surprise, he explained that in his youth he had worked several years on the Panama Canal when it was being built, and the Spanish he learned there he never forgot. He was very proud of his linguistic accomplishment, and whenever we were speaking together in Spanish in the company of a few of his community he seemed to be very pleased at how much he impressed them with his knowledge of such a wonderful foreign language.

So several times a week he looked for his burro and went off, returning with excellent fruits, vegetables and other edibles I needed. Then he began to come over even when there was nothing he could do for me, and particularly later when different groups of followers of the Essene teachings from the United States began to appear on the island to visit me to discuss health, philosophy and practical matters concerning the organization of the movement in the eastern part of that country. On those occasions Francis was always somewhere close in the background, apparently doing little things as a pretext to listen to our conversations.

THE BLACK ESSENES OF JAMAICA

Then one Sunday morning, Francis came over dressed in his most valuable possession, a black suit, which he wore with great dignity. He said he wanted to speak seriously with me, and asked my permission to start a little church so he could teach those wonderful ideas he had heard me discussing to his sons and daughters and grandchildren, in other words, to his whole community. I was deeply moved by his sincerity and of course gave my wholehearted benediction.

We had a few talks about it so I could give him some advice, and it was amazing to see how much knowledge he had picked up just by listening to me talk with other people. He had an instinctive love for the Essene way and an intuitive talent for communicating the simple, powerful message of the Essenes to his followers.

And he soon had a great number of followers! I watched and listened when they gathered together and Francis always spoke to his congregation with wisdom and authority. And how they were singing! That is the part I will always remember - the very moving songs they sang practically the whole of every Sunday. I don't know what they were singing about, because I couldn't understand a word, but the melodies were very beautiful and unique. They resembled not at all the American Negro spirituals I was familiar with. There were perhaps a dozen different songs, and I soon found myself humming along with those melodies which came so much from the heart.

And so Francis, whom I will never forget riding his beloved donkey-his feet trailing the ground because of his great height, but his back straight like a ramrod - Francis became an Essene minister.