by Nōnen Títi
Benjamar told the whole room how he’d ruled against holding the games. He could have prevented a lot of problems if he’d listened. The games had been what kept people sane. “I could have asked them to change the name of that one activity, which is what caused all the controversy – an activity very much like the controversial issue we’re trying to deal with today.”
Benjamar believed that the only reasonable explanation for what he called his own ignorance was that he had believed that it, being a physical need, was less important than the so-called higher facets of life. “I was wrong and I failed you. It was a mistake to let my pride stand in the way and I’m sorry for that. There is no honour in pride.”
He asked, as Aryan had, if this was a satisfactory answer to the counterchallenge.
Aryan stuck out his hand first this time. “I guess that makes us even.”
Benjamar called a short recess for drinks. Some people needed to take a walk. Aryan would have liked to go and talk to Kunag right now, but there wouldn’t be enough time. Kun was already nearing its halfway point.
It was chilly in Benjamar’s home despite the one and a half kor of people filling it. Only the kollen didn’t sit back down after the break.
“Leni, will you tell Jema what you’re asking of her?” he started.
Jema knew what was coming. She’d felt what Benjamar was trying to do from the start: pull the events of Habitat Three and the accepted values of the Society together. The key was to make this village into one community, no longer divided in their lifestyle. Ironically, that was what she’d strived for in her challenge to him. It was the only way to ensure the future of the kennin. Yet it was also quite clear who the bridge was to close the gap and how it would be constructed. She looked at Leni, aware of the burn of Rorag’s eyes.
“I want you to repent for me tonight,” Leni said. Her smile didn’t help, nor did her soft voice match the request. She could have been inviting Jema over for meals.
Inside Jema, the weight of Kaspi’s stone made the thought of a meal even more preposterous – Kaspi, who’d been so much like Leni. Jema couldn’t help looking at Nini for a moment. Did Nini see that this was what she’d meant last night? That they’d ask something she just couldn’t do? The images of Rorag’s penance and those of Frimon’s, years ago, insisted on coming back no matter how hard she tried to wipe them away. She couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t bring him back or help anybody else, but she had no idea how to tell Leni that.
Benjamar, thank Bue, answered in her place. “You see, Leni, this may be a bit much to ask. You people grew up with it. It helps you. It doesn’t quite work like that for Jema.”
Leni didn’t openly ignore Benjamar, but she responded to Jema. “I’m not asking you to pay for Frimon’s life. You’re not that big and a life cannot be repaid. Penance is a way to communicate, whether a guilt, a sorry, a loss, or a wrong. You don’t need to pray for it.”
Jema knew that. Leni had told her before. For a fleeting moment two parts of herself argued inside her. One asked if she couldn’t just say sorry. The other derisively questioned if that had been such a success in the past. In the meantime, Leni was still waiting for a response.
“Why do you want her to repent, Leni?” Nini asked. “Why can’t she apologize?”
“Because apologies are words initiated to get acquittal, but words are superficial; penance is communication at a deeper level.”
Once more, Jema had to force herself to look up, because she couldn’t just ignore Leni addressing her.
“I’m not angry, Jema. I do understand what set all this off. I do understand you were not alone in this. Bue knows Frimon was wrong in what he was doing, but we can’t leave it unspoken. That print was my life story. It wasn’t just a Sjusa. It had been handed over in my family for generations. It had their names in it; the only record of my ancestors. It was to go to Emi.”
“I didn’t know that.” How could she have known? It was Frimon who’d always carried the print around.
“That is what we’d discuss tonight, not now. You didn’t cause Frimon to step into that fire. He did that himself. What I’m saying is that the print was important enough to me and Emi to ask for a penance. As much as you discarded the emotional value of the piece by seeing it as just a print, so Frimon overvalued it. It was still only a print. It wasn’t worth his life. It just wasn’t worth it.”
While she spoke these last words Leni’s voice gave away the water in her eyes, which she neither tried to stop nor hide. How could anything make up for their loss? It wasn’t a question of whether Frimon’s death was Jema’s fault or not. He wasn’t just the Society leader to Leni and Rorag. To Emi… even Anoyak.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t–”
“I don’t want to hear that now. Only at a penance will I accept that,” Leni interrupted.
On the floor of Benjamar’s home were the footprints of all the people in the room. Silent shapes like silent tears, a reminder of what was gone; worse than angry words or a smack could have been. Maybe she should just say yes… but then those images came back and she couldn’t.
“I’d like to know what Rorag thinks,” Benjamar said.
There was no doubt what Rorag thought, but somebody had to start speaking.
“I assume this was not the first time you had to pay penance for your father?”
“No.”
“And you never before refused to?”
“No.”
“Did you ever feel resentment towards your father about it?”
“No.”
“What made you say no this time?”
Rorag’s attitude changed. “This had nothing to do with me. It was meant as a lesson to all those new people, to make a point of morality. Only I wasn’t going to be used.”
“What moral issue was your father trying to teach?”
Rorag took his time looking from Benjamar to Jema. “I don’t know. He never got that far because I wasn’t doing it and we only talk after consent, you see?”
He was almost mocking Benjamar – hurting. Of course he was!
Benjamar must realize that too. He ignored the intonation. “So do you feel it’s right for Jema to be asked this?”
“Yes.”
“Jema?”
Of course, now he had to ask her. What was she to say? Sure I’ll do that, no problem? “I can’t tell you that,” she answered.
He’d have pinned her down on that had not Yako come to her rescue. “Can we just get back to reality here for a minute? Leni and Rorag ask for penance. To the Society penance is a means of asking forgiveness, am I right? This is then done as a combination of praying out loud and a physical lashing?”
Leni confirmed his words with a nod.
“Okay, so now we’re talking about removing the prayers; then we’re left with one thing only. If that’s what you’re asking can we at least name it for what it is? As much as we weren’t saying it earlier, you’re now talking corporal punishment – no more, no less.”
Having, as always, the right words to point out the essence of what was being discussed, Yako wasn’t helping here. Now everybody could just imagine that with her in the picture.
“So the question is not if Jema should pay penance, but are we going to allow corporal punishment as payback, if not for Frimon’s death then at least for the print,” Yako concluded just so as to emphasize this embarrassing proposal.
Leni smiled as she always did when somebody was missing the point. “I see what you’re saying, but I don’t agree. Penance is different even without the prayers. It is not punishment – it is much more, if it’s done right.”
Benjamar took Yako’s side: what Frimon had done to Rorag was no more than corporal punishment for his refusal and that obviously could not be allowed.
But it wasn’t easy to throw Leni off, apparently not even for Benjamar. “That’s why I said if it’s done right. I agree that lately the whole concept has gone lost in a display focusing on submission or teaching, but it isn�
��t that simple.”
Yako jumped in, quoting the statements from the trial in town in which Frimon had argued that the asking forgiveness was the key difference. “The issue was that penance was not abuse. I think we established that, but there was never a question about whether penance was different from corporal punishment,” he said.
“I said it is not just corporal punishment. I said it is more. Yes, you can say the asking forgiveness makes the difference, but it isn’t praying to Bue that is foremost in a penance. It is talking to people, asking their forgiveness. That used to be done through Bue, but it doesn’t need to be like that. We can change the words without changing the meaning.”
“Nevertheless, the act remains the same,” Yako said.
“I guess the mob can’t wait for another penance, right Leni?” Maike asked, her voice, like her body language, making an accusation that wasn’t deserved. Leni didn’t like the crowd any more than Maike did.
Benjamar stepped in, saying that he didn’t want to discuss the right or wrong of the request yet, though he believed that needed to be addressed. He wanted to focus on the aim of the request itself. What did Rorag and Leni expect to get out of it?
But Yako interrupted him. “The first question should be whether we have the right to allow it,” he said.
“That’s a decision we’ll have to make as a council,” Benjamar replied, a little impatient.
“Then we have to also ask who will do it, how much, and where.”
Had Yako thought about all this already? Bue!
“What are the Society rules on that?” Benjamar asked Leni.
“It used to be a family matter between those most closely involved and the guides. Kor is still the magic number unless it’s a child, and it used to be a private affair in somebody’s home. We would decide our focus depending on the person and the situation.” Leni talked as if she was deciding who would be invited to dinner and what she’d serve for dessert: Bread or pudding?
“I still don’t see what the difference is between what Maike did and what Leni is proposing,” Nini said.
“The difference is consent,” Yako replied. Then he stopped and looked at Leni. “As far as I understand it, that is. The Society members consent to using this form of physical payment while Maike enforced hers.”
“I had no choice.”
“Nobody’s accusing you, Maike. Just getting the facts right.”
Leni believed there were more differences. What Maike did to Thalo was different from what Leyon’s father did. Neither were consented. “The difference lies in intent, control, regularity, the tool used, and, most importantly, the emotion behind it.”
All that was left to discuss was whether to use a fork or a spoon and whether to shove it in or ask her to open her mouth first. Jema felt sick by now and she wasn’t the only one. Wilam never stated things. He asked, and this time it was almost a cry. “How can you all talk about this? I don’t understand how you can talk about consent when it’s punishment?”
“That brings us to making a decision about something without dealing with the rights and wrongs first. I want more talk. This is not a simple matter of yes or no. I want more opinions, more details,” Benjamar said to Leni, maybe not even aware of Wilam’s existence and contradicting his earlier remark about discussing it.
A new debate emerged, this time between Leni and Benjamar about how people’s first reaction to something new was to cast it aside, as the Society rituals were by Benjamar.
“All we’ve seen is Frimon enforcing it,” Benjamar snapped.
“I admit, right now, that it was wrong of all of us to let him get that much influence. I need to say that to Jema first because she saw that a long time ago and tried to warn me, but I wasn’t listening. So I am also to blame and I will address that tonight as well if she decides to go ahead with this.”
The smile that had come all by itself for Leni at that recognition disappeared as fast at her last words. As if Jema could make such a decision.
“I also admit,” Leni continued, “that things have gotten out of hand because of a misplaced drive to prove certain moral values, but–”
“So you see how easy it gets abused?” Benjamar interrupted, sounding more than irritated.
“–but just because one person abused the practice does not make it by definition wrong and something to be abandoned,” Leni finished her original sentence. She admitted that regulation to protect against abuse may be needed, but you did that by discussing it, not by avoiding the subject, to which Benjamar said that was exactly what he was trying to do.
Jema followed the interactions as if attending an official dinner party, trying to forget that she was the main course. But while at first the guests were merely polite to their host, during the conversation at least one declared that he was hungry. Yako said that he didn’t have a problem with the basic idea of penance. He believed that a lot of hurt could have been prevented on DJar if people didn’t have life or livelihood taken from them, confirming Leni’s earlier words. Honest retaliation would have saved them or their families from a ruined life, provided that the practice was regulated to prevent permanent physical damage. If nothing else, it would make a person humble.
Jema looked at Nini to see what she thought about that, but Nini just looked thoughtful. To the protests – mostly from Aryan and Maike – Yako said that they were still sticking with old ideas. The goal of Kun DJar justice was peace. If this achieved that, it would serve its purpose. The problem on DJar was that nobody was required to face their victims. With Leni’s system people were required to pay back to those who had been hurt, not some third party or the state. This way the whole community was made aware of and responsible for prevention. “And if being humble and a bit of physical pain are needed to repent for the hurt of another, I’d much rather pay that,” he finished.
“The difference is whether you use it for spite or for healing, which is exactly what the difference between corporal punishment and penance is,” Leni summarized the lengthily speech.
Maike repeated that she couldn’t see the difference. “You say it is different, but you can’t even describe it.”
“Exactly. It goes beyond words; that’s why it works,” Leni answered.
Wilam was also confused. If somebody was given the choice to say yes or no it would not be punishment and he couldn’t conceive of a society where a wrongdoing wasn’t punished.
The party became even more unsettling when Nini indicated that she also liked the ‘food’. She mentioned the self-destructive cycles people get stuck in when, in order to avoid guilt or fear, they become dependent on the remedy itself. She referred to the drinking and abuse mentioned earlier and then, addressing Jema directly, the children in Closed House and their need for self-infliction. “Those cycles need to be broken. Life coaches fail them because they only use words and cannot get to the real issues.”
“What kind of cycles, apart from drinking, could normal people possibly use?” Maike asked her.
“It may not be easy to say this here, without people feeling hurt,” Nini cautioned.
“Well, I doubt if any of us are getting out of this room without hurt feelings today, so explain it to me,” Benjamar told her.
Nini had a whole list of them. On DJar, apart from wine and medications, people had used sex and endless sessions with life coaches, which were no more than a bid for attention. On Kun DJar she’d seen physical and verbal aggression, wine once again, endless love affairs and people repeatedly getting into trouble with authority.
“Right, and most penal systems, representing that authority, perpetuate the cycles,” Yako agreed.
“The way you describe it has this room alone full of people in need of a lashing of some sort,” Maike said to Nini. “How many more outside?”
“I never said ‘a lashing’. It depends on the person and the cycle; whatever is needed to bring reality back. For emotional hurt that may well be a physical means, since otherwise people may use that hurt to hu
rt others, like when parents abuse their children.”
Beside Nini, Wilam suddenly fell apart. He had struggled through the earlier discussion but now he could no longer contain his emotions. The whole story about Kristag and the sand came falling out along with his fear of being a failure as a father. “I didn’t mean to hurt him! I didn’t even know what I was doing!” he cried.
It took Nini minutes to console him.
“I’m sure that you’re a good father, Wilam,” Benjamar said then. “Everybody makes mistakes. I just wonder if it is fair to make people feel guilty for losing their temper, Jema? I think you owe Wilam an apology.”
Wow! Did he ever miss anything?
“Right now.”
Yes, she was sorry, but how to explain that? Wilam might be more surprised than she was right now. He sat playing with the buttons on his shirt, Nini’s hand still on his leg. “I never accused you of doing anything wrong. You did that yourself, I just–”
“I said ‘apology’.”
“I’m getting to that!”
The look she got for that too-harshly-spoken reply was enough to bring yesterday’s feelings right back. Benjamar would have her crawling on the floor if she didn’t constrain herself. She lowered her eyes for a moment to let him know. He accepted it. “…All I had to do was look at you, Wilam. You blamed yourself over and over. I knew that, but I never said it.”
“Why?” Wilam gasped.
Why? How could she answer that? “You didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t you. You just assumed–”
“He asked you why,” Benjamar interrupted.
Jema nodded. She didn’t have much to lose at any rate. “You know, anybody could kill over a piece of bread if hungry enough. There are some basic needs. If people don’t get them satisfied they start doing things – wrong things. It was never you, it was me. You had the one thing I couldn’t have and you were too nice a person so it was easy for me to hurt you. Too easy. I’m sorry.”