Zamimolo’s Story, 50,000 BC: Book Three of Winds of Change, a Prehistoric Fiction Series on the Peopling of the Americas (Winds of Change series 3)

by Bonnye Matthews

  “Who are you?” he asked them, in words close enough to theirs for them to understand.

  “I am Linpint. This is Zamimolo.”

  “I am Tomarghi of the Kapotonok. I ran from a big-tooth cat in the forest. I have injured my leg. The big-tooth cat left when I made it into the sea. I came for the turtle eggs. The turtles should arrive any night now.”

  The men were unsure what a big-tooth cat was but were more concerned with Tomarghi’s injury. Zamimolo bent down beside the young man, his concern obvious. “Let me look at that,” he said. “Tomarghi, your leg is broken. Between the two of us, we can get it put in place to restrict movement so it can heal, but it will be very painful. You have displaced the bones. Once we get it put in place and held there, we can help you return home.”

  “I would be grateful for help,” he said wincing. “I feared that the cat would return tonight and I’d have to remain in the water in the dark wondering whether the cat would overcome its fear of water or go away. I do not fear pain to fix my leg. I need my leg and am useless like this. I know how it is. I broke this same one when I was younger. I feared staying in water to avoid the cat today, because sometimes the pain causes me to sleep the sleep that is undesired.”

  Zamimolo knew well how to set a leg. He had done it numbers of times. He spoke little and went straight to work. Linpint had not been involved in bone setting so he simply followed the instructions of Zamimolo. He went to find straight sticks. The young man seemed to have many leather strips. Fortunately the bone had not broken through the skin. When they finished, they talked about how best to get him home. Linpint favored a leather strip fixed to two poles that would make a stretcher. Zamimolo finally agreed.

  “There is another way,” Tomarghi said quietly.

  “What’s that?” Zamimolo asked.

  “Find two straight sticks in there,” he said pointing to the trees. “Look for ones that have outstretched arms at the end of the stick. They should be as long as from my armpit to my ankle.”

  “Are you in your proper mind web?” Zamimolo asked.

  Tomarghi laughed. “Yes. We call these sticks crutches. With them we are slow but can walk without assistance when a leg breaks.”

  Zamimolo and Linpint looked at each other. They were interested, so they hurried to get a sense of the length of pole needed and went quickly to the forest. Zamimolo found one first. Then Linpint found one with a slightly longer arm on one side. They hurried back to the young man.

  Linpint said, “We can just break off this long arm from the crutch.”

  “It would be good to leave it. It might be useful to carry something,” the young man replied. “Do you have any furred skin?”

  “I have some,” Linpint offered, holding up a piece.

  “My father will replace it. Will you cut it in half?”

  Linpint cut the furred piece in half and handed it to the young man. He carefully lined the arms of the crutch and tied leather around the fur to keep it in place. With help he stood up and showed the men how to use the crutches. Zamimolo and Linpint were amazed. They had never thought of something like that. It made such good sense.

  “You will come to my home?” he asked.

  “Of course! After all this work, you don’t think we’d leave you to the bigtooth cat, do you?” Zamimolo teased.

  “Thank you,” he replied already with his backpack shrugged on and heading for home.

  They discovered that Tomarghi was a long way from home. As they walked, Linpint said that he thought they should stop for something to eat and drink. Tomarghi had no food with him. He had made a long run and intended to eat turtle eggs and then return with eggs for the people.

  At their rest stop Linpint said, “Hold your crutches just like you use them,” while he made marks on the wood. “There, that’s good.” He opened his backpack and took some leather strips. He wound the leather strips tightly around the pole just below where Tomarghi held onto it. What he tried to do was to give the young man’s hands a grip on the peeled wood to prevent his hands from slipping down, something he’d observed as they walked. The bottom part of the leather extended farther out from the pole to stop the hand from slipping down. Tomarghi tried the handgrips and was delighted. They sat and ate jerky and Zamimolo passed around the water skin.

  While they ate, they discussed the big-tooth cat. Linpint described their cave lion from where they had lived. From the descriptions, they realized both talked about very big cats, but the cats were not the same. Zamimolo was amazed that just because water separated these two lands, the animals were so very, very different. He and Linpint made the crossing and there were people here, recognizable people. Why, he wondered, were the animals so different?

  They continued up the beach and by evening were within sight of Tomarghi’s home on a hillside above the water. Birds were singing their evening songs and the night bugs were beginning to make their noises. In the distance a shriek resounded, then disappeared in the noise of insects and frogs.

  Armed village hunters hurried to greet the men, since there was no expectation that three men might approach. They recognized Tomarghi quickly and realized that the two men had helped him. That brought great pleasure and welcome from the hunters, one of whom relieved Tomarghi of his backpack. They would celebrate with dancing and a feast for the travelers. The people had already eaten.

  The hunters led them to the fire circle. They leaned their weapons against the Chief’s hut, and told the strangers to do the same. Weapons were placed on one side of the entry to the hut. The men showed the strangers where to rest their backpacks against the other side of the entry to the hut.

  Zamimolo and Linpint studied the dwellings used by these people. Instead of all living together, there were numbers of small huts formed from tree trunks leaned into one another. Huts were built on a mound of earth packed tightly. Linpint correctly assumed the raised level was to prevent rain from entering the hut’s living area. Leafed limbs covered the tree trunks and gray moss, which hung from some trees, was stuffed into the matrix of the leafy limbs. Large, stiff leaves radiating in a part circle from a single stem covered the structure for waterproofing against the rains. They overlapped each other at the sides and the one above hung over the ones below. Smoke from a tiny hearth could exit through a hole in the top of the structure where the trunks came together. Linpint and Zamimolo found them interesting, but too dark and confining.

  Two hunters showed Zamimolo and Linpint to a place at the fire circle the most distant from the Chief’s house, where they sat beside each other with a hunter to either side of them. People began to gather at the circle taking places that seemed assigned, while talking occurred but was subdued as the people observed the strangers. As with the fire seating of the People, the men sat forming the innermost circle and the women and children gathered outside the inner circle, usually behind husbands or fathers.

  When all were seated quiet among the people came quickly. Tomarghi’s father came from his hut and took his seat. He had a hat on his head that was band-shaped, not covering the top of his head. Somehow, the headband of the hat supported feathers of incredible colors. The feathers stuck straight up from the headband. Some were long and thin, others long and wide and some at the edge of the headband were soft and fluffy. Zamimolo and Linpint were fascinated almost to forgetting to listen. They had never seen anything like it. Around the Chief’s neck was a short cape also made of feathers. The color of it all was vibrant and eye-catching. The Chief squatted at his place and sat down cross-legged.

  He looked at the strangers. “We welcome you to our humble village,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You have helped Tomarghi and we are obligated to you.”

  Zamimolo started to speak, to say there was no obligation but Linpint’s silent hunter pressure against him communicated to him not to move or reply.

  “We are Kapotonok, the turtle people. My name is Hirmit. I am Chief. The old man to my right is our spiritual leader, Yok. Tomarghi is my son. These are our
people.” The Chief began to name each person around the circle. At the sound of their name, each person nodded to the strangers.

  “You are?” Chief Hirmit asked.

  Linpint said, “I am Linpint of the People from beyond the western sea. This is Zamimolo. We just traveled here from our cold land across the sea to find a warmer place to live. We found a place here up a wide inlet where we set up our temporary camp. One of our women was stolen. Zamimolo and I search for her.”

  “She is not here or Tomarghi would have told you. We do not steal women, but we do like to meet other people to secure women for our young men and men for our young women. In our tradition, young women go to live where the man lives. We have several young women here who need husbands.”

  Linpint pressed Zamimolo hard to hold his silence.

  “Your People and the Kapotonok are one people from the beginning, people from the western sea. The mariners who travel the western sea are the reason we can understand each other. They are like the land travelers of old, who shared the differences from place to place, so all understood the world a little better. That has been their job since life began. They kept our original language alive. There are some people living here who came from the eastern sea who are very difficult to understand when they speak. We can understand them but it’s difficult until you get used to the way they use their words. We have been separated from them by great distance since just after the Maker formed people. It is as though they are different people, but that is not true. We all have our differences, but we are all people. You’ll discover this for yourself.”

  The Chief rose while all the others remained seated. “You must be tired from your search. We will feed you. We will have music while you eat. Stay where you are and enjoy your time with us.”

  The Chief entered his hut and returned shortly afterward without the hat and cape. A few women rose and brought turtle shells filled with seafood, seaweed, and fruits. The color was somewhat like the Chief’s feathers. A huge shell was placed before Zamimolo and Linpint and a smaller one before Tomarghi.

  The sea turtle was the symbol of Tomarghi’s people. They centered their lives around it. Shells were useful for making many things including combs, digging tools, bowls, containers. Many of the young women wore necklaces of turtle nails or seashells, while men wore cat or condor nails or camel teeth. One man with scars on his left side wore a huge tooth on a strip of leather around his neck. Tomarghi told Linpint it was the tooth of a big-tooth cat that the man had killed when it attacked him. The big-tooth cat had two of these teeth among its upper teeth and it used them to stab. Most people didn’t survive attacks by the big-tooth cat. Linpint couldn’t imagine a cat with a tooth that large. He wondered how it closed its mouth.

  “You must stay for the turtle feast,” Chief Hirmit told the men. “We only take five turtles a year from a beach, because we want them to return. We only take them after they have laid their eggs. We take eggs from that many nests. Many beaches are sacred to the turtles. They visit them each year to lay their eggs. It is something to see! Go with our hunters tomorrow to the beach where you found Tomarghi and bring back turtles and eggs. We will have a great feast from the sea when you return. You will see what has happened on that beach since the beginning of time.”

  They sat watching the dancing and listened to the music. The music, it struck Zamimolo, sounded much in rhythm with waves, rising and falling. If he shut his eyes, he could see himself back on the boat. It almost seemed that the insects were in harmony with the music of the drum and shell instruments. Zamimolo felt that was just his mind web playing tricks. In the distance he heard monkeys sounding aggravated over something, but the sound quieted as quickly as it began.

  Across the circle Linpint noticed an old man looking at Tomarghi’s leg. He felt the leg carefully nodding from time to time. He examined the wrapping and the way Zamimolo had tied the splints. He looked at the handgrips on the crutches. He rose from where he sat and found his way to Zamimolo, while Linpint watched one of the young girls dance to the drum. She was smiling at him, leaning back seemingly with invitation. Linpint found her extremely attractive.

  “Tomarghi tells me you are responsible for preparing his leg to heal.”

  Zamimolo nodded.

  “You have done good work. Very good work. I like the handgrips on the crutch.”

  “Thank you,” Zamimolo said. “Linpint is responsible for the handgrips.”

  “You do good work, too.” The old man looked at Linpint and put his hand on his shoulder. His hand felt like a weak bird’s foot, but it was surprisingly warm.

  “Both of you have suffered loss,” the old man muttered.

  Zamimolo was alert. Where’d he get that information? he wondered. He assumed the man was like their Wise One.

  “Do you want to choose a woman from among ours? We have some who need husbands.” The old man searched their faces.

  “I am looking for the woman who was promised to me. We came by boat recently and she was abducted. I want to find her,” Zamimolo responded rudely.

  The old man turned from Linpint and put his warm weak hand on Zamimolo’s shoulder. “You will not find her until you are both too old. You will both be very different people then. Best you find another young woman. The Maker makes it clear. You need to turn loose of her. You grasp at air, not your former love.” The old man had a fleeting vision of a very dark-skinned man with a pale-skinned girl with golden red hair. He knew the approximate place where the man lived.

  “How do you know this?” Zamimolo asked.

  “It’s written in the wind. Can you not hear the wind? It tells all to those who learn to listen.”

  “I cannot hear it, but the Wise One of our People can hear it. He said the same thing you said.”

  “And you will ruin the life you were given by refusing to heed our words. You have no wisdom! You’ll find her when she has white hair, if you keep searching. If you continue to search and find her, you’ll be the undoing of her good life. Sight of you will kill her. You need to go home. To continue your search will avail you nothing. She will join and love another. Return to your people. Live and have a good life. This land provides very well for those who live. Both of you are like dead men.”

  “If you were me, would you give up?”

  “Yes, because I hear and heed the winds. I have the wisdom of the wind. You are going against the winds and that is a task with no reward, like fishing all day and catching nothing or going to pick fruit only to find the monkeys have taken all that’s fit to eat. Were you not taught to respect your elders and to listen carefully to your Wise One?”

  “Of course, I was taught that. I yearn for Olomaru-mia. We have loved since early childhood. She is my all.”

  “No more. She is now someone else’s all. She will join soon and will love the man with the dark skin, darker than mine. He already loves her. They will have many children and their life will be very good.”

  “Where do the people with the dark skin live?”

  “Because you will not hear the words of the wind, I will not give you that information precisely. All I will tell you is to go north. Follow the edge of the sea, if you must continue this wrongdoing. You will need to follow the edge of the sea for four seasons.” The old man knew he must get the word to his people to tell the men the same thing if asked. Only he and the Chief would know they were sending the men in the wrong direction. The Kapotonok knew of the dark people to the north who came from the rising sun. Only he and the Chief were old enough to remember the dark men of the south who came from the setting sun. He would send two runners to the nearest villages related to his, villages to the north. He would tell those to the north of this quest and what to tell the young men. The young men didn’t seem to understand that their continued search could set off a war. If they went north and reached the Alitukit, those warriors would scare them off, if not kill them outright. Better to sacrifice these two than start a war, he thought.

  Linpint had wander
ed down to the water’s edge. He heard the music and realized there was dancing at the fire. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. The smiling girl had arrived so silently he hadn’t heard her. Linpint turned and put his hands on her shoulders. She smiled at him looking directly into his eyes.

  She beckoned to him, saying nothing. She did not need to say anything. She had already shown where her interest lay. He followed her into some tall grasses by the water and there they spent much time in pleasure. Had he been asked, Linpint would have sworn he wasn’t ready for this, but his body said otherwise. They enjoyed each other until they both were satiated, and they returned to the fire and their huts.

  The next day, Zamimolo was eager to head north, so he and Linpint told the Chief that they appreciated the offer to remain for the turtle feast, but that they needed to be on their way. The Chief gave them food that would last for a long time to carry with them. He gave them his best wishes for a good trip telling them that they’d have to cross rivers, but bridges frequently crossed those rivers. The widest, hardest to cross rivers had bridges. They’d have to walk upriver quite a distance to find the bridge.

  The next morning the sun rose in a cloudless sky. The men ate with the people and then left heading north, never giving thought that they might have been tricked. Tricks were not part of the way they ordered their mind webs. Zamimolo pondered the words of the old man about the wind’s telling him things and wondered whether that was the same as the winds of change he knew. It disturbed him a lot that the Wise One and the old man both told him the same thing. Zamimolo did not understand how seeing him could kill Olomaru-mia. The Wise One of the People had not told him that.

  “Linpint, what did the old man mean when he said sight of me would kill Olomaru-mia. Did he mean literally that she would die?”

  “I don’t know what he meant, but it disturbs me that two people who understand Wisdom have told you not to do what you’re doing, because it will not serve to meet your goals. Now, we hear it could result in Olomarumia’s death. I think you should reconsider.”