by Paul Telegdi
Laars raised an eyebrow, unsure how he could contribute at this point, but had to trust that the shaman would find some acceptable solution to the formalities.
“We of Standing-Rock have grown very fond of Chandar and are very glad to have him at our hearths, sharing in his company. He is selfless and modest. He once saved one of our boys from a stampede and Sosa will now grow into a man because of Chandar. We owe him our thanks. Another time he dared the land of the enemy to rescue our beloved Lana. Her voice is a gift to all the clans that we can all enjoy because of Chandar’s brave heart. We find ourselves in his debt again.” He paused to let the gratitude sink in. Laars inclined his head graciously but with stiff formality. Something more would be required.
“In fact, we adopted Chandar into our clan, not to take from you, much more to add to us. Makar is his brother and we all claim kinship with him.” This was his most telling argument and he waited a little tensely to see how Laars would greet it.
“Such kinship we can recognize,” Laars said, again very circumspect, “as long as it does not pre-empt our precedence of claim.” The eyebrows rose.
“Not at all. We seek not to deprive the Lesser-Bear-Claws of this claim, nor to lessen Chandar’s stature, we wish only to add to them. We welcome all of you as brothers, remembering how you gave our clan shelter after the Great-Fire burnt our home and left us starving in the aftermath.”
Laars nodded wisely. “That leaves only the bride-gift to consider.”
Chaiko thought carefully. This point continued to be tricky. A bride gift should have been given, for without it, the whole transaction could be considered an abduction and thus null and void. “Chandar has many brothers and sisters among the Standing-Rock who provided the bride-gift in full. Each was glad to do so. Each was honored to do so.” Laars inclined his head at each telling point, but both knew it was not enough to satisfy the strict protocol. Chaiko continued daring to stretch the custom. “All things considered, it is we of Standing-Rock who remain indebted to you, for Chandar adds to us daily. It is thus we who owe you.”
“Surely that cannot be right!” Laars said almost horrified. It was so much easier to count first-spear, second-spear and third-spear, when sharing out the kill than such a balancing act that went with mating across clan boundaries.
“But it stands to reason,” Chaiko insisted; “Bogan said, let he who gains provide recompense from whence the gain arose. We owe you many gifts for Chandar then.”
Laars shook off an incipient headache. They both knew the saying by heart, but now they stumbled through it again in this novel context. Laars kept shaking his head, “You cannot out-gift me,” he said in an aggrieved tone; he had almost said outwit me.
But Chaiko insisted, for if he could prove his indebtedness, the unintended insult would be cancelled out. “How can you expect me to argue against Bogan?”
He could not of course and neither could Laars, who now had a pounding headache. Accordingly they agreed to cancel the debt on both sides, content that the protocol had been satisfied. Laars wondered how he was going to explain all this back home, but then decided to let them argue with Bogan if they could. He rose and left after the profusion of courtesies the formality demanded.
Chaiko looked after the departing leader and wondered about the power that they all ascribed to Bogan and how necessary at times it was. They needed the protocol too, but he had wished it were not so inflexible. So you could bend it to your will? he asked himself sardonically.
Again it had been a full day, with unexpected surprises wherever he turned. But he felt once more centered and in balance within himself. Silently he again thanked Dawn.
Chapter 14
The next morning the story got around to all the campfires that the boys were choosing one of their own to be a Head-Boy. There seemed to be an intense competition between a Makeye, a Pelican-Sands and a Black-Pearl. The Makeye was named Fogat, famous already for running down an antelope in an open field, jumping on its back and breaking its neck. He was fast by all accounts and in this race he had a clear lead. It was, however, rumored that Corrigan had his minions secretly gaining support for a Black-Pearl youth. Certainly the Head-Shaman coveted every honor and had reacted swiftly.
By midmorning, fresh news swept through the entire Gathering like wildfire. The girls were likewise electing a Head-Girl! Had anybody ever heard such nonsense!? Boys and girls electing each other as if they had equal rights with adults??! At this fresh news, the indulgence of the morning that had greeted the boys’ efforts was suddenly overwhelmed by an upsurge of indignation regarding both efforts, which were now seen as a mocking parody of the adults’ attempts. What was the world coming to?
The women tried to pin the girls down without much success. Then they tried to change the format to be more like their own, to elect a Council of Girls, or a Triumvirate, but unbelievably the girls held out and refused to accommodate their mothers. So it came about that covering their faces, the girls ran through the camp chanting, “Girl, girl, girl, Head-Girl!”
Not surprisingly boys were likewise soon running about yelling, “Boys to the fore!” The stables were soon in full pursuit of them but the boys were quick and melted into the crowd, making a saucy game of it.
“What are they yelling?” an irate father asked his son.
“Boys to the fore!” his son promptly replied; the authority in the voice should have told the father something.
“Boys to the what?” the father queried, still peeved by the obvious flaunting of authority. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” the son admitted sheepishly, but it was a great rallying cry.
“What is this world coming to?” The father sadly shook his head.
By the lake at their usual haunt, the commotion was the loudest and even very young boys came to join in the continuous protest. “Boys to the fore! Boys to the fore!”
Twice the stables invaded the place, their staves swinging but had to retreat ignobly under a deluge of smelly lake-bottom mud slung at them. Some clumps were embedded with leeches who did not waste such an opportunity. Slimy wads of algae proved to be equally effective at holding off a further incursion of the stables. It was the most exhilarating time the boys had ever experienced.
“Boys! Boys!” the mass of them chanted in the face of their antagonists, fuming at a safe distance. At times a line of girls appeared on the ridgeline, their faces covered, waving reeds and chanting their battle cry, “Girls! Girls!” The young people were in perfect agreement in this, and demonstrated solidarity with each others’ efforts. Mares, a stable, could not stand the constant taunting and made an ill fated charge toward the girls to discipline them. This riled up the boys and they swarmed the stables driving them from the field. The victors held the high ground in triumph. “Boys! Boys! Girls! Girls!” echoed all around the camp hill.
This commotion set the whole camp in a fresh uproar. All events for that day were in disarray as people hurriedly packed their stuff securely. Families huddled close together in the safety of their camp, afraid to range abroad. What was happening? Rumors flew that the stables were variously massacred or that some of the boys were badly beaten and bleeding. In a few cases, there was some truth in this hearsay. An odd boy was trapped on a wrong spot and beaten but never badly and the stables were repeatedly repelled wherever they made an effort to reassert their control.
By midday the disturbance subsided as people rejoined their families to eat. Parents warned their children to desist and on the whole they were obeyed. But it had been exciting even for the adults, who had a glimpse of chaos so close to the surface, so easily provoked.
All morning, Chaiko had been holding his breath. Through Ruba he had instigated the turbulence of the morning, but found to his dismay that his ruse worked too well. All he had intended was to have the boys and girls demonstrate to their elders how childish the grownups were in their constant posturing. Chaiko wanted to defuse a situation that was escalating again between the
men and the women. “Don’t fight fire with fire,” he admonished himself. He was surprised how enthusiastically the young people had gone on the rampage.
By late afternoon calm had returned with no further incidents reported. The more thoughtful began to draw similarities between the young and the grownups, often not to the adults’ credit. After considerable internal discussion that got quite heated at times, the men issued a proclamation that the women had every right to their council and the boys and girls were free to choose their own. The women likewise issued a similar announcement that respected the right of all to choose.
Both of these concessions resulted in an impromptu celebration by the young as they paraded through camp, girls and boys freely mixed. There was much laughter in the relaxed atmosphere. Still the old just shook their heads in disapproval. They had never been part of a Gathering like this!
All in all, Chaiko had succeeded, though in retrospect the risks were unacceptable. But all sides were talking respectfully with one another. Only Corrigan again felt deprived; he was unsure how, but it did not reflect favorably upon him that for a time he had lost control and the camp was at the whim of unruly elements. He set his hounds sniffing all over camp to find the main culprits, vaguely suspecting that upstart Chaiko again. Rubbing his hands in glee, he hoped fervently to be proven right. He would gladly crush the miserable miscreant.
It was early evening before Chaiko went to get his teaching for the day as he had promised himself. He found Tomakon untouched by the uproar of the day. He readily told a story: “There was once a man who so enjoyed the feel of the sun on his face that he constantly turned toward it like the flowers in the fields. He loved the tender caress of its warm touch so soft on his skin and he admired the blazing beauty of the sun. Was there anything more glorious? Surely not! The trouble was that after admiring so much perfection the rest of the world seemed cold and drab. So all the more the man sought out the sun to admire the beauty of its glow. Little by little the man lost sight of the real world and he became blind to its charms, believing there was but one truth and that was hidden in the sun. His reverence had eventually blinded him, and in his memory even the sun lost its lustre. The rest of his life was dark and cheerless.”
Chaiko hurried over to Lefay to see what teaching he would receive. Lefay obliged him readily. “There was an eagle who was enticed by the wide freedom of the sky and it flew ever higher. Above the clouds it flew into regions even above the wind and still the eagle flew nearer and nearer the sun. The warmth increased on his expanded wings until it grew too warm. Only then the eagle sought to turn away, but was blinded by the great brightness surrounding it. Confused, it did not know up from down anymore, and thinking itself flying away from the sun, instead flew straight into it and was burned up in its fire.” Lefay then added quietly, “So it is with great fame, it blinds those too near it, and burns those who seek it too closely.”
Chaiko blinked trying to decide whether he had heard the same story twice again. There were certain amazing similarities. “And this Bogan taught you?”
“Yes. Just as you heard it from me, so he told me,” Lefay attested.
“Then why do you not teach it to everyone?” Chaiko probed.
“Bogan said teach only those who beseech you to be taught. Otherwise it is like pouring water onto sand, it can’t hold it but straightaway loses it.” Lefay shrugged. “Instead I tell them, ‘An eye closed can’t see, an ear not listening will not hear and a mind not thinking will not be enlightened.’ Such is the wisdom we teach the rest. Such sayings we chew into their mouths that they can quote them to one another, so that Bogan will be remembered.” Lefay turned his palm the other way. “But I speak to those who have ears, let them think, as my teacher taught me. Teach yourself.”
“Teach myself? Be my own teacher?”
“Exactly. And that was the essence of all of Bogan’s teachings. Look, see, think and in time the answers will come to you.” Chaiko shook his head; he was too often full of doubt to be sure of anything. Lefay smiled sympathetically. “My young friend, you don’t have to see all the trees to know that you are in the forest.” After that cryptic statement he said no more and Chaiko had to leave, again unsatisfied. Did that mean that a person didn’t have to know everything all at once... or ever?
Back at camp, Ushi looked at Chaiko intently and wagged a finger at him in reproach. His co-conspirator, Ruba, smiled a half-suppressed smile of triumph, his eyes much-knowing. The rest seemed oblivious to his involvement in the events of the last days and Chaiko had no intention of enlightening them.
Near evening, Ruba came to Chaiko. In spite of the elation of the day the young man was unusually downcast. The excitement had stirred up all his emotions, good and bad, even those dark fears that had been haunting him. Perhaps he also feared some retribution for his guilty participation. For some time now, he had been feeling the loss of both parents; his father had drowned, and his mother Nebu was still lost in her grief for him. His younger brother Ork had become a stranger, still pursuing childish things. Ruba poured out to the shaman. “I have grown smaller instead of larger. I am less than a beetle crawling in the grass wondering about the horizon. I am like a fish that finds water irritating. I am like a bird without feathers. Like a fox stripped of his cunning...”
Chaiko listened to the young man sympathetically. Chaiko had also lost his parents early, having to grow up without them, but then he had had an older brother to shelter him. Finally, Ruba ran out of complaints and lapsed into an expectant silence. Sure, waiting for me to be wise and fix things, Chaiko thought a little sourly to himself, yet aware of how much he wanted to help Ruba.
“Have you noticed,” the shaman said, “how a wounded fruit tries to ripen earlier than the rest, to ensure maturity of its seed before spoiling? You were wounded too, and had to grow up fast on your own, but take heart, you are hardier for your loss, stronger, for you must now lead yourself. as there is no one to lead you. I know you feel like a shadow that has lost its object and you feel ... exposed, but you are no less for it. The things that happened to you, you did not have a hand in...” After the shaman gave these reassuring words, Ruba left in a lighter mood, relieved of his brooding, much like Chaiko had been just a few days before.
Chaiko was left pondering about Ruba. He thought of Bogan. How would he have handled the situation? Probably by teaching some riddle to distract Ruba! Unfair, he admonished himself. Bogan would have first listened as Chaiko had done. Then he would have taken each of Ruba’s complaints and would have turned them, one by one, into an advantage. What had the boy said? A fox stripped of its cunning? A fox lives by his wits, making use of every opportunity. Being stripped of cunning would teach the fox sincerity, for doesn’t some pretence underlie cunning? And hides the self in deception? But would he want a more sincere Ruba? Was not Ruba sincere enough already? Safer perhaps to do what he had done; talk about misfortune and how misfortune makes one stronger... forcing the unfortunate to grow up hardier, because of being... unprotected. Chaiko’s mind flashed lightning fast to the teaching of the great tree protecting the young tree. Was that about Ruba? Could not be, for Chaiko was sure that Ruba would survive. Still it put into a new context that an overprotected person was not taught to survive but to become dependent. It was such dependence that Chaiko himself had fought all his life, even though he, the cripple, had every excuse for it. He chewed and chewed on this. More it seemed to him that the teaching fit him more than Ruba. Later he told Dawn about the teaching of the trees, and his thoughts about it.
After listening and considering, Dawn said, “We women tell ourselves not to hold our children too tight, for one day they will have to grow up to be persons of their own. We all want to protect our children and shield them from any harm. The temptation we have to resist is to overprotect them. Bogan was trying to teach you that.”
Exactly! Chaiko thought in a sudden flash of realisation. The feeling he had in studying Bogan’s teachings was that Bogan was trying to
teach him, Chaiko, the shaman of the Standing-Rock Clan, something of value hidden in something common. It was as if Bogan was trying to reach out to him across time. But that is impossible! Chaiko thought, shivers flashing up and down his spine. Quite impossible! Yet the more he went over the teachings the more he felt that they applied to him personally. But he could find no proof, just feelings. He clutched Bogan’s tellmark, his mind in a turmoil. You can’t trust feelings, he reprimanded himself, and tried to throw the feelings away... at least, shut them out of his mind.
It took him a while to find a more satisfactory explanation. To have any value at all, all teaching ought to evoke the feeling that it was meant personally... or else, why teach at all? The learner must lead all teaching back to himself, if for no other reason than to test its validity. Slogans and pithy sayings, although valuable as anchors of knowledge and moral reminders were not enough by themselves, though people often used them as if they were. How often was Bogan quoted without understanding? Only to gain an advantage? The sayings were a reminder of an underlying principle, not edicts onto themselves.
Soon Chaiko found himself brooding again. He felt the weight of the morning fully on him. He had acted covertly, manipulating events, directing them at his will. Just what gave you the right to do that? he asked himself over and over again. Was he sincerely trying to defuse a charged-up situation? Look how nearly it turned into chaos. Was sincerity alone enough to justify what he did? Then what was the difference between himself and Corrigan? Was not Corrigan in his younger days sincere too? He, most certainly, did not want to turn into another Corrigan!
“Do even in darkness what you would in light, so that you will not be ashamed, but walk in the lightness of a clear conscience,” he murmured another of Bogan’s maxims. He resolved that in as much as he could, he would act in a straightforward manner, not be duplicitous, not hide from his left hand what his right hand was doing. Do not obscure the truth!