Bantam

“What is a cult?” Fao-cun strutted behind his potato-colored desk, one hand in a vest pocket and the other tracing a black line across the chalk-caked blackboard. “Yes, Mr. Applegate.” A sporty, sweater-vested young man with his hand raised answered coolly from the fourth row. “A cult is a religious sect, small in number, usually considered extremist.” “A religious sect, you say,” Fao-cun reiterated. “Ms. Krauss, what is wrong with Mr. Applegate’s definition?” A studious woman sitting on the far right of the front row spoke. She had a tightly curled mane and a pencil wedged behind her ear. “Erik’s definition is too specific.” Applegate shifted in his seat. “Very good, Ms. Krauss. Would you mind supplying the class with a broader definition?” “Well, a cult is a group whose beliefs are unusual to the norm.” “Almost, Ms. Krauss. Let’s go broader. Have we any Latin scholars in the classroom?” A stiff, insectoid, neckless student projected an arm from the back of the room. “Ah, Mr. Alagoz; provide us with the Latin derivation of the word ‘cult,’ if you please.” The student’s voice was as rigid as his body. “I believe ‘cult’ derives from cultus which means something along the lines of adoration?” “Adoration. So, Mr. Alagoz, would you agree the meaning of ‘cult’ could include any group that cares deeply for something?” Alagoz hesitantly responded, “I guess so.” “Therefore, in America, baseball is a cult!” The classroom erupted in a collective giggle. “Let’s keep exploring. How many of you have heard of Jungle Tears?” All of the students raised their hands. “You may be interested to know that in Nigeria, ‘cult’ is the common term for a gang. Considering that Jungle Tears is a gang with roots in Nigeria, is it not appropriate to classify it as a cult?” Fao-cun’s lips twitched as he awaited a reaction from his students. “It began in Nigeria?” one asked, voicing the entire class’s question. “Ah! Yes, yes. It did—kind of. You see, about twenty years ago, four brothers of the Igbo tribe—the Agus—immigrated to America as children, presumably orphans, ending up in Detroit. Growing up there, they were immersed in criminal influences. Within five or six years, the Agu brothers became prominent Detroit gangsters. At that point, in the mid-sixties, they decided to go into business for themselves. And thus Jungle Tears was born,” Fao-cun proclaimed with a grand gesture. Then touching his head, “They were smart about it, too.” Fao-cun drew a large circle on the chalkboard. Adding a second circle inside the first, he said, “They began hiring thugs—white and black alike—bouncers, bikers, tough guys starved for authority, to do their dirty work: petty drug deals and such. They provided the men with black market weapons, instilling a sense of power over normal citizens. Those men then hired thugs of their own, who, in turn, hired more, and it continued in this manner,” the professor taught, drawing smaller and smaller concentric circles. “The Agu brothers essentially set up a feudal system, in which they were the kings. Needless to say, Jungle Tears quickly spread outside of Detroit.” He slapped the chalk down. “With each new employee, their spoils increase. Money is always pumped back upriver to the Agu brothers.” Again, Ms. Krauss spoke up. “How did they become so successful in a time when Negroes were so persecuted?” “I’ve often wondered the same thing. It’s a good question. Perhaps their white subordinates were either sympathetic to the Negro cause, or else they didn’t realize who they were working for. If you ask me, the fact that the Agu brothers are both Negro and big-time crime lords was their own little contribution to the American civil rights movement. It was their personal cattle-prod poke in the side of white supremacists.” “I see what you’re saying, Dr. Bonfois,” chimed Applegate, “but you have to admit it’s kind of silly. Today’s connotation of the word, ‘cult,’ strictly affiliates it with religion. Do you disagree?” “Erik, I’m a theologian. It’s my job to agree with that,” replied the professor, garnering a few laughs. “Dr. Bonfois is just trying to bring our minds to the limits of the English language,” the studious girl retorted. “No, no. It’s okay, Ms. Krauss. Mr. Applegate is right. This isn’t an English class. We’re learning theology.” Fao-cun strode to the blackboard again, grabbed a piece of chalk and began writing in large capital letters, speaking as he wrote. “A cult is a small sect typically founded in,” flashing a glance at Applegate, “but not restricted to, religion.” The sentence filled the length of the blackboard. “That is the necessary definition for this class.”