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night Hamlet kept watch with the three who had seen his dead father. The dead chief again appeared, and although the others were afraid, Hamlet followed his dead father off to one side. When they were alone, Hamlet's dead father spoke.” Omens can't talk! The old man was emphatic Hamlet's dead father wasnt an omen. Seeing him might have been an omen, but he was not. " My audience looked as confused as I sounded."It was Hamlet's dead father It was a thing we call a ghost. "I had to use the English word, for unlike many of the neighboring tribes, these people didn't believe in the survival after death of any individuating part of the personality What is a ghost? ' An omen? "No, a ghost is someone who is dead but who walks around and can talk and people can hear him and see him but not touch him. They objected.“ One can touch zombis.” No, no! It was not a dead body the witches had animated to sacrifice and eat. No one else made hamlet's dead father walk. He did it himself Dead men cant walk, protested my audience as one man I was quite willing to compromise a'ghost' is the dead mans shadow But again they objected. Dead men cast no shadows. They do in my country, I snapped The old man quelled the babble of disbelief that arose immediately and told me with that insincere, but courteous, agreement one extends to the fancies of the young, ignorant, and superstitious, " No doubt in your country the dead can also walk without being zombis. From the depths of his bag he produced a withered fragment of kola nut, bit off one end to show it wasnt poisoned, and handed me the rest as a peace offeringnight Hamlet kept watch with the three who had seen his dead father. The dead chief again appeared, and although the others were afraid, Hamlet followed his dead father off to one side. When they were alone, Hamlet’s dead father spoke.” “Omens can’t talk!” The old man was emphatic. “Hamlet’s dead father wasn’t an omen. Seeing him might have been an omen, but he was not.” My audience looked as confused as I sounded. “It was Hamlet’s dead father. It was a thing we call a ‘ghost.’” I had to use the English word, for unlike many of the neighboring tribes, these people didn’t believe in the survival after death of any individuating part of the personality. “What is a ‘ghost?’ An omen?” “No, a ‘ghost’ is someone who is dead but who walks around and can talk, and people can hear him and see him but not touch him.” They objected. “One can touch zombis.” “No, no! It was not a dead body the witches had animated to sacrifice and eat. No one else made Hamlet’s dead father walk. He did it himself.” “Dead men can’t walk,” protested my audience as one man. I was quite willing to compromise. “A ‘ghost’ is the dead man’s shadow.” But again they objected. “Dead men cast no shadows.” “They do in my country,” I snapped. The old man quelled the babble of disbelief that arose immediately and told me with that insincere, but courteous, agreement one extends to the fancies of the young, ignorant, and superstitious, “No doubt in your country the dead can also walk without being zombis.” From the depths of his bag he produced a withered fragment of kola nut, bit off one end to show it wasn’t poisoned, and handed me the rest as a peace offering
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