Tuksook's Story, 35,000 BC

by Bonnye Matthews

  Tuksook realized that Wisdom either caused the eruption or knew it would take place when it did. Her first thought is that Wisdom caused it. She reasoned that it probably didn’t matter, but in her mind web, Wisdom certainly had the power to cause an eruption.

  Little bits of fine ash began to fall along with particles the size of her little fingernail. The ash and particles began to pile up on the ground like the snow did, but to the hunters it was not as welcome as snow. It was like small gritty pebbles—pebbles that could burn the skin from what heat remained or burn not from heat but rather something inside the pebbles that irritated skin. Finally, hunters decided that the People should go inside until the ash fell no longer. Tuksook had no alternative.

  Inside the house, those who had been involved with construction realized that the ash was coming into the house through the smoke holes. Heat rising from the hearth fires was keeping some of it out, but there was an entryway for the ash through the smoke holes that could not be denied. Gumui and the others talked at length of ways to prevent ash from entering the house, knowing from the stories that ash is not something People should breathe.

  The People ate the morning meal. They were interested to see what the volcano would bring but were not overly alarmed. Tuksook was curious, because Wisdom had told her to watch. She would diligently give her attention to anything related to the volcano’s eruption.

  Gumui brought his bowl and sat beside Tuksook. “You were out with Wisdom?”

  “Yes. It was good,” she replied.

  “Did anyone know where you were?” he asked, concerned.

  “Lurch went out when I did. Then, he returned.”

  “Tuksook, it concerns me when you go out alone. That is not the way. You are supposed to be protected at all times. When you wish to go out to be with Wisdom or for any other reason, tell me. Wake me if I sleep. Promise me.”

  “I promise, Gumui. I’m sorry I gave you reason for concern.”

  “You must reason before you act, Tuksook,” he said sternly.

  “I promised, Gumui. I will not forget.”

  “Good,” he said not certain he was relieved. “We are going to try to find a way to prevent ash in the future from entering the house when it falls.”

  “Like making a hat for the smoke holes?” she asked.

  “Yes, but the smoke still has to be able to go out.”

  “I see.”

  From the east part of the house a sweet melody on the flute began. This one was different. Tuksook wondered whether Oneg had created it or whether it was a new one Bit-n had taught her. The tune was pleasant and calming in the busy house. It was longer than the others she played.

  The dogs began to growl a low growl that they used to alert the People without making too much noise. That created concern. Hawk and Momeh decided to find out what was causing the disturbance. They put on their cold time protection quickly, took a couple of spears each, and left by the west entryway. The ash was falling more to the north, so they were able to travel across the meadow without being covered in ash. It was about half a man’s finger deep on the snow on the meadow. The dogs were bristled and focused on something on the river level. They went to the dogs and quieted them. They looked in the direction the dogs looked. To their amazement, there was a man in a boat on the river.

  They watched carefully. Surely, the man would have heard the dogs.

  “That can’t be Rimut, can it?” Momeh asked.

  “I don’t think so. The man isn’t dressed for the weather very well.”

  “It looks like he’s seen our boats,” Momeh observed.

  “He’s coming here. I’ll keep watch. Will you go back and call for five hunters?” Hawk asked.

  “Of course,” Momeh agreed and left at as much a run as he could on ash on snow over ice.

  He returned with spear-carrying hunters before the man made it to their boats. They all watched below as the man climbed out of his boat and tied his boat to a small tree. He looked about and in a brief time realized where the path upward was. He began to go up the path. He noticed a group of hunters at the top, but he continued to climb. When he reached the top, he was winded. The hunters began to question him. The man’s name was Wikroak. At first they thought they could not communicate at all. Little by little, they realized that there were many commonalities of language. The hunters escorted him to the bent tree house where they sat at the council area. The People, busy at their tasks, became very quiet so all could hear.

  Wikroak coughed off and on. He had breathed the ash, because he had no choice. What the hunters discovered is that Wikroak had become lost from his people in the fury of a storm. There had been others in the boat. Two were lost overboard in the storm. One became very ill and died. Wikroak lived far to the north, but he was unsure how to find his way home. He lived where the salt water froze. He lived where the sun failed to appear at the coldest time of the year. He lived in the land of great white bears. The People didn’t realize salt water could freeze. They were astounded at the idea of a white bear. Wikroak was about twenty-five. He had a wife and four children. He desperately wanted to return home.

  “Why did you come up our river?” Ottu asked him.

  “My land is far to the north. The sea is violent right now. I hoped to find a river that would take me as far north as possible, so I could avoid the violence of the stormy sea. This river seems to narrow down too fast to take me all the way to my far north land. It seems I have to face the violence of the sea if I am to return to my land.”

  “You are welcome to stay with us until the violence of the sea lets up,” Midgenemo offered.

  “You are very kind. I have to admit that my people would not be so quick to offer permission to a stranger to stay among them.”

  “We are taught that sharing our abundance with travelers is something that Wisdom requires,” Kew said.

  “What’s wisdom have to do with it?” Wikroak asked, confused.

  “Wisdom is God,” Kew explained and expanded, “Wisdom is the Creator. Wisdom made all things including us. Your eyes show you all that is here. Who made it? Who is the one who created it all? That is Wisdom.”

  Wikroak laughed heartily. “To my people, being wise means having wisdom, something you create by reasoning. Being wise means one is cleverly perceptive, especially when it comes to survival. Yet, you believe wisdom is a god? We don’t believe gods made us. We believe we are alive today as men. We make us when there is a new birth. When we die we may return as seals, walrus, whales, ravens, persons, or something else. All life is cyclic.”

  “Well,” Midgenemo asked, “Who decides what way you return?” Midgenemo wondered how they thought the first man and woman, the earth, the stars, the sun and moon came to be. He decided not to keep probing into what he perceived to be nonsense. Die and return to life as a seal? Ridiculous! The man was free, however, to reason in the way he chose.

  “I think it has something to do with what’s available and whether one lived well,” he replied.

  Wikroak kept looking around as if he expected aggression. Hunters noticed he seemed disturbed, but could see no reason for it.

  Midgenemo asked, “Wikroak, you seem ill at ease here. Are we doing something to cause you discomfort?”

  “I see your hunters with spears. I wonder when you will use them against me.”

  The People were dumbfounded. Quickly the hunters stored their spears.

  “We wouldn’t do that,” Togomoo tried to assure the man. “That is not Wisdom’s way.”

  “Back to Wisdom,” Wikroak said quietly, “What is Wisdom’s way?”

  “With strangers, it is required that we treat them as well as we treat ourselves. It is required that we provide food and lodging for the duration of the stranger’s stay. If the stranger is ill, we are required to try to heal him,” Togomoo said.

  “Our people are very different. Our people would likely be plotting your death in this length of time. They certainly wouldn’t be inviting you to sleep in t
heir lodging.”

  “Did your people have a bad time with strangers?” Mongo asked.

  “Well, we didn’t dream up being wary. Of course we have reason for wariness. We’ve had numbers of hunting parties find their way to us. They have stolen things from us. They have been rude. Some fought with us to try to take away our land. We have good reason to be wary.”

  “Well, you’re our first stranger, Wikroak. Have no fear of us. We largely outnumber you, but we are a peaceful people willing to share what we have with you. You may stay as long as you desire and share our food and lodging,” Midgenemo offered again.

  “If that is true, I would like to remain so I can gain some fat and let the storms abate somewhat. Right now, I don’t think I could make it home. I am too tired and too weak.”

  “Then, stay with us and relax with us. Fill your eating bowl as often as you like. When you are ready to leave, we will provide you with plenty of jerky to feed you on your way,” Ottu said.

  “There is a bench/sleeping place in the north part of this house,” Midgenemo said, pointing to the one Bit-n had used while Hapunta was ill. “We will supply some sleeping skins. While you are here, that will be your place. No one else will touch anything in your place.”

  Wikroak suspended his urge to flee and decided to stay with these people. Trying to flee at this time would result in certain death, of that he was sure.

  “I am desperately tired,” the man said. “May I have permission to lie upon that sleeping place to sleep now?”

  “Certainly,” Midgenemo told him.

  Wikroak followed Midgenemo to the bench/sleeping place. He was amazed at the bent tree house and the bench/sleeping place. Both were things he’d never seen. He dragged himself to the place, pulled off his jacket and boots, and sat on the bench.

  “There are pegs where you can hang your jacket and anything else you want to hang,” Midgenemo pointed out. The man stood to hang his jacket.

  Those who could see the stranger were appalled at his thinness. Surely, they reasoned, he had been attempting to return home for a long time without much to eat. Sympathy flowed in the bent tree house. Wikroak laid himself on the sleeping place, finding it to be very comfortable. Item brought two sleeping skins. Wikroak reached for them, but Midgenemo took them from Item and said, “Be still, Wikroak, I’ll cover you.” He did.

  Quickly the man drifted into deep sleep. He was too tired to fear. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept without fear.

  Hunters went quickly down the hill to examine the boat the man was using. It was entirely different from anything they’d ever seen. The boat was made of pieces of wood for a frame, covered by a thick, soft skin over the sides of the boat. It reminded them of the way a person was made with a skeleton over which skin was stretched. There was a place for a sail, they thought, but the mast was broken and no sail lay in the boat. They wondered what the boat’s skin covering was. There was only one oar in the boat, and it appeared to be broken. The People did not touch the boat except to feel the skin once, but confined their examination to the use of their eyes. They knew not to take unoffered freedom to examine with their hands things others might not want touched.

  After examining how the boat was made, hunters who had worked on the bent tree house and others who were interested gathered in the west part of the house to discuss how to cover the smoke holes. They would make flaps to swing open with a propped pole from within. The pole could be lowered to close the smoke hole to whatever angle they decided. That way they would keep out ash and let out smoke. It was simple enough and the men began to work on it quickly.

  Wikroak slept in the bent tree house for three days. When he awakened, he was disoriented, seemingly having forgotten where he was. Little by little the memories returned and he sat up.

  Midgenemo went to Wikroak and asked, “Are you better?”

  “I am well rested. Thank you for your kindness. I appreciate it. I was so tired when I arrived. I hope I was not rude.” The man coughed roughly.

  “You were not rude at all. Come, I’ll show you to the privy and to the food preparation place where you can take something to eat.” The two went outside by the west entryway.

  For many days the man lived in their midst, sharing their way of life and telling about his.

  Wikroak told the People, “I was the youngest of all the men and had the least experience. I would have thought before our sea travel that if anyone died, I would be the first, because of my age and lack of experience.”

  “That’s not Wisdom’s way,” Hawk spoke up.

  “How’s that?” the man asked.

  “When you are born, Wisdom gives you a life line. The length of that line determines how long a life you have. Clearly, yours was longer than the lines of the others on your boat.”

  “We don’t have Wisdom to give us life lines,” he said.

  “You don’t have to know Wisdom for Wisdom to give you a life line. Every person born has a life line.”

  The confidence with which Hawk spoke caused Wikroak to question the assurance he held that Wisdom had nothing to do with him. “You sound convinced that Wisdom gave me a life line, even though I don’t know your god.”

  Hawk smiled indulgently. “Wisdom made all life. Every living thing has a life line. Wisdom doesn’t depend on your knowing him to be real. He made all. He is real, even if none of us acknowledges it. We depend on Wisdom, not the other way around.”

  The stranger was silenced for a while. These people used their thoughts in a way that differed from the way he used his. It didn’t mean they couldn’t communicate, it just meant that the basis on which their thoughts stood was very different. They had to recognize that difference each time there was a perspective disconnect between them.

  “Let me reason this well. According to what you believe, this god gave me a life line when I was born? He also gave one to the other people in the boat? They died because their life line ran out, not from the storm? This god, Wisdom, somehow knows me, even though I don’t know him?”

  Midgenemo said, “You understand very well, Wikroak.”

  “But why would Wisdom care about someone who doesn’t know him?”

  Midgenemo said, “Because he made you. When you make a tool with your hands, is that tool not more important or seen differently from the tools made by others?”

  Wikroak looked straight into Midgenemo’s eyes. Wikroak was an expert at carving ivory fishing hooks. He understood Midgenemo’s comparison of his making a tool to Wisdom’s making people.

  “I understand that. My people believe that when my wife and I come together, we make a baby. Wisdom isn’t doing that. We are.”

  “You and your wife could come together all day, every day, but if that seed you plant in her isn’t given life by Wisdom, it doesn’t live. That’s how dead babies come—Wisdom hasn’t given them the spark to start life.” Kew tried to help the man to understand the simple fact of Wisdom’s role in life. It seemed so clear and easy to him.

  Wikroak began another coughing spell. “That ash is tough on lungs,” he said.

  “I’m just glad it’s over,” Taman said. “While you slept we made covers to try to keep future ash from entering the smoke holes.”

  “We don’t have volcanoes like you do. I’m glad.”

  “Is it much colder where you live?” Mongo asked.

  “It is probably very much colder, but as you’ve discovered here, once you’re dressed for the cold weather, you don’t notice it.”

  The hunters who had gathered to talk quietly laughed a knowing laugh of agreement. The man’s words were so true.

  “Do you men have any ivory?” Wikroak asked.

  “What’s ivory?” several asked at the same time.

  “It’s the long tooth from the mastodon or mammoth.”

  “They live here? We haven’t seen any since our arrival,” Hawk said.

  “Have you gathered no bones that might be ivory?”

  “We’ve gathered many bones. Y
ou are free to look whenever you like. I can show you where we keep them,” Hawk offered.

  “That would be good. If I can find any ivory or good bone, I can carve some fish hooks for you before I return to my home. Then, I will make some replacement oars.”

  “Did you have a sail?” Unmo asked.

  “I lost it in the storm when the men fell overboard. The mast broke in half. The sail was in the way, so I had to toss it overboard.”

  “What do you use to make your sail?” Unmo asked wondering whether it might be helpful for them to know what was used in this land.

  “Oiled caribou skins. I realize now that I should have folded it and tried to keep it.”

  “Young man, you have had quite a journey.”

  “I have, and it’s not finished yet.”

  “Come,” Hawk offered, “Would you like to see the bone pile?”

  “I would like to see it very much,” he replied. “I need to be able to carve.”

  The man went to dress for going outside. His clothing was terribly battered by the storm experiences. He dressed and readied himself.

  Hawk gave a look at him and called to Item. Item came to them wondering why Hawk had called her.

  “Item, Wikroak’s cold time protection is in bad condition. Can you women fix it for him?”

  “Wikroak, when you return from your time outside, I will have a tunic for you on the hook by your bench/sleeping place. Put the tunic on and bring me all of your cold time protection. We will see what we can do to help you.”

  By this time, Wikroak had learned that it was appropriate to lower his head, so he lowered his head to Item. She smiled.

  The two men went to the bone pile. They had to brush off snow and ice. They moved bones around. There were many, some very large. Some looked like bones but were hard as stone and looked like stone.

  “Hawk,” Wikroak called out, “This is what I seek. This should be enough right here.” He carried a piece of bone that he called ivory in his right arm. It was about the length of his forearm, tubular in shape, heavy.

  They returned to the bent tree house and Wikroak found the tunic on the peg by his bench/sleeping place just as Item said it would be. He found these People interesting. What happened to him in this place would never happen to anyone in his home. By now they’d have killed a stranger and taken the body to the sea to drop it to the sea floor. He learned that what he saw of the People is what the People were. There was no pretense, no sense of cleverness, no deception. Wikroak admitted to himself that, if he had no wife or children, he’d have been happy to remain with these People to share their peaceful, interdependent difference. Where his people were tough in one way; these People were tough in a different way. He preferred this way but lived the other. The People worked together, he reasoned, as a flight of birds in migration. They would twist and turn and each knew when to do what to keep from causing another to fall from the sky. Only in the rarest of cases did anyone tell another what to do. They just knew, even the children. Wikroak felt certain that if he told others at his home of these People, his people would laugh and accuse him of lying.