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

“Is everyone ready?” Ahma asked trying to return pleasantness to the berry picking.

  Everyone nodded.

  “Then let’s be off,” she said a little too loud.

  Olomaru-mia felt a bit odd wearing the hat and having been discussed as if she weren’t there, but the day was lovely, and berry picking was a way of fitting into the society in which she had to live. She didn’t want to appear self-centered. If this is what Wisdom had in mind for her, she wanted to fit in well.

  Tuna caught up to her and asked, “Why are you wearing the hat and the things on your feet?”

  Olomaru-mia smiled at her. “My skin is so pale that the sun burns it. I have to keep it covered so it won’t burn, blister, and peel off. The sun’s damage is painful.”

  “You look like a spirit with that pale skin. I’m glad mine doesn’t burn. I really like the color of your hair.”

  “Thank you, Tuna. That is kind of you to say.”

  “Are you going to cut it like we cut ours?”

  “No. Mechalu likes it just as it is. He told me not to cut it.”

  “You always do what he wants?”

  “Except for the abduction, we haven’t really disagreed on anything. He has been kind and I would like to please him. Do you know what I find appealing about you?”

  Tuna stopped walking, staring at Olomaru-mia’s face. “You find something appealing about me?” Her expression displayed her disbelief.

  “Yes. Your eyelashes are long and they frame beautiful brown eyes. And your white teeth shine like snow when the sun shines on it.”

  “What’s snow?” Tuna asked, walking again to keep up with the others.

  “In a very cold place, when rain falls, the rain turns white. It lands on the ground as a substance you can pick up with your hand. Snow doesn’t flow like water. It’s more like sand, but it weighs less than sand and holds together better. If you put snow in your mouth, the warmth of your mouth turns the snow to water, and you can swallow it. The cold makes rain turn to snow. A particle of snow is tiny, like a grain of white sand.”

  Tuna studied her carefully and then laughed aloud. “You fooled me! I almost believed you.”

  “Tuna, I don’t lie. What I’ve told you is true. We used to have to wear furs to protect our skin from the cold. We had tunics like this with fur covers for our legs, feet, arms, hands, and heads. We had furs to wrap around us after all that. Part of the year is cold and the other part of the year is warm. It is very different here. I understand that it’s always warm here. Where I lived the change is great.”

  “I thought you were teasing me. You must have looked like beasts!” Tuna laughed.

  “I have been taught that teasing is mean-spirited. My People don’t tease. And yes, dressed in all that fur we did look like beasts—warm beasts!” Olomaru-mia laughed lightly thinking of how they’d look to people who never felt the bite of cold weather.

  “You must have come from far away.”

  “I did. We had to cross the great sea to the west to get here. It took many, many days. Where I lived and this place are so different. I’m still trying to adjust.”

  “You came over here on a boat like our ancestors?” There was awe in Tuna’s voice.

  “Yes, Tuna, some of my People decided to move to a warmer place.”

  “Some are back there with the snow?”

  “Yes. But, the snow is only there when it gets cold. It melts when it’s warm, and rain is just rain the rest of the year. How do you measure a year?”

  “I don’t know. It happens in the village to the south of us. They send us notice of when the year changes in the middle of the hottest time. We have a great feast. Nobody really understands it at all in our village. It comes on the longest day of the year. On that day we add a year to our age. Then the days get shorter, but they all seem the same to me. Some of the boys go to the village to the south to learn to be men. They learn counting and things girls don’t know. Some of them learn to determine the longest day and the shortest day. That’s all I know about it.”

  “How interesting,” Olomaru-mia said. She was learning a lot about these people from someone she initially thought disliked her. Without seasons, she considered, there was little need to take much count of it other than to determine the age of a person. Olomaru-mia wondered if they did that. “Tuna, how many years have you lived?”

  “Three hands.”

  “We are near the same age. I have lived three hands and one year.”

  “So that means you were alive a year before I was born.”

  “Good, Tuna. That’s right.”

  “Did you know Mechalu is four hands?”

  “No, I don’t think we ever discussed it.”

  “The Nola Nola sent him to the south and he studied there. He can count and knows things we don’t know. He also went to the Alitukit to learn more. It took a long time. Then, he had his trial of valor. He was gone a very long time for that. He is a good man.”

  “Thanks for sharing that, Tuna. There is so much about the Nola Nola I don’t understand. You’ve taught me a lot today. Is this the place where the berries are?”

  “Yes. The best ones are over there near the rock pile, but you must look carefully to be sure there are no snakes. Stay with me and I’ll look out for you.”

  Olomaru-mia noticed that the other women were at a location nearby, busily picking berries. She smiled at Tuna. “Thank you, Tuna. You’re a good friend.”

  “I didn’t want you to be here at first. I wanted you to go away. I wanted Mechalu, but he never was interested in me. I like you Olomaru-mia. You tell me about things that interest me a lot. Like snow. You will be my friend?”

  “I’d be glad to be your friend, Tuna. And you’ll be my friend?”

  “Yes!” Tuna beamed showing her beautiful white teeth, which fit together perfectly. Her smile was lovely when she used it.

  Not until Olomaru-mia filled her bag with berries did she stop picking. She chose a rock for sitting, after checking carefully that no snake was lurking under the overhang. It was very hot and she had to shade the rock before she could sit there. The women picked berries up a slight rise by a creek that exited the mountains from where they lived. From there they had a great view of the sea. The berries were at their peak. Olomaru-mia had to take care not to squeeze the berry bag. Sweat rolled down her back and between her breasts. It formed under her hat on her scalp, soaking her hair anywhere it came close to her skin. She found sweat to be a common body function in this land, and she didn’t care for it. She yearned for the cool forests she had known. Forests in this land were cooler but they were far from hospitable to Olomaru-mia. She felt the need to bathe frequently and the only close source of water was the sea and a secluded lake some distance up the hill in the forest, where Mechalu had forbidden her to go unless he accompanied her. Salt water was not good for bathing in Olomaru-mia’s opinion. She longed for a lake nearby.

  Women began to gather to head back to the village. Berries almost overflowed the containers. The evening meal would be delicious, and there would be enough food to last for another day at the least. Tuna joined Olomaru-mia when she finished gathering berries. She really was fascinated with Olomaru-mia. She had never seen anyone with pale skin, green eyes, and gold hair. To be considered her friend made Tuna feel proud of herself. She wanted to learn the difference in the world she inhabited and the one Olomaru-mia had left. Olomaru-mia had so much she could teach her, Tuna felt. Of all the Nola Nola, Tuna craved to learn anything new to her. Often she wished she’d been born male so she could have gone to the place of learning in the south.

  “Wise One,” Chief Paaku said quietly, “We have not discussed the need to establish peace between us. This land has many good people, but some make war. They live to the northeast. They are called the Alitukit, and they want to be sure that no one comes near what they consider their land. At times when they think we have trespassed, they will come to make war. We have tried to make a peace agreement with them, but they refuse.
They seem to distrust everyone. None of us understands why. We have an agreement with all the other peoples along this part of the narrow land between the two big lands. We keep guards at the places they could approach us. If the Alitukit come to make war, we send the word by the drums and people gather to help us fight them—before they arrive. It is a very effective way we have to keep them from doing us harm. They take no captives. At least not yet. They kill their victims and cut off hair from the very top of their heads, hair with the skin attached.”

  “Why cut off someone’s hair?” the Wise One asked. “That’s a desecration.”

  “I think that’s why they do it. It turns the belly of those who see it. It instills fear. They take it with them when they leave.”

  The Wise One cackled. “They wouldn’t get much from my head!” He paused and then continued, “Taking skin with the hair is even more revolting.”

  “I agree. One of the things I’d like to do, if you decide to join in peace with us, is to train your hunters to fight in war so they’d be prepared. In some ways hunters are always prepared, but with the forest there are ways to appear almost invisible. There are other things that differ in war from hunting. We’ve had to learn. Having little forest where the Alitukit live, they are not wise to the forest. It helps us. It is obvious that your men are unfamiliar with the forests that we have here. They are not alert to the dangers. We can also teach them what they need to learn to be safe here. We would be glad to do that while we remain here.”

  The Wise One let himself sit on a log. “You are very kind, Chief. We need to take up the peace agreement at council, but I am sure we will agree. We would, I am certain, look with great favor on your offer to train our hunters.”

  Below them Lomah and Linpint sat side-by-side on a log at the edge of a small fall of water. His arm was around her shoulders and she was smiling at him. Further down by the creek, Kumoha and Numing shared shy glances while they spoke of little things. Kumoha was definitely attracted to Numing, but was having difficulty feeling comfortable in letting him know it. She had promised to join a man of the Kapotonok whom she adored, but he had died on a hunt and left her broken hearted. For a long time she had no desire to join with anyone. She felt awkward. Numing realized she was having some difficulty, so he asked her to discuss it with him. Kumoha found a great release in sharing her old pain, and from the sharing, she grew greater respect for Numing.

  Dop from the southern Kapotonok was smitten with Kada. She was equally interested in him. They had found a place to hide in the grass at the bottom of the mountain to explore pleasure they might have in the future. Not far away, Mix, a rower, and Mimiputash were sharing the same activity in a small area where brushy trees grew.

  Ba and Zamimolo walked along the beach sand towards the north where they were gathering seaweed in grass baskets.

  “It’s just so soon. I had my heart so set on Olomaru-mia. Changing, something I have to do, is just so hard. I don’t know if my belly is receptive.”

  Ba laughed gently, placing her arm around his back, her fingers gentle on his skin. “Your belly might not be receptive, but another part of you is not so hard to please.”

  Zamimolo turned to her and held her in his arms tightly. He kissed her. “If anyone can take my mind from Olomaru-mia, it’s you, Ba. I’m sorry I’m such a poor lover. I have been told that time changes these things. I wish it would move faster.”

  “Are you suggesting I find someone else?” she asked, running her fingers through the hair on his chest.

  “I don’t know. You are so sweet and kind. I would probably hate myself if I suggested you find another. I still feel sharp pain where Olomaru-mia is concerned. Two Wise Ones now have told me that she has joined another, and we won’t see each other until our hair is white. My Wise One told me that I have to accept that this is the winds of change—a disruption in life caused by Wisdom to which I must adjust. I don’t want to adjust. I actually want to throw myself to the ground, weep, and beat the ground with my fists as a small child, but it wouldn’t help me anymore than it helps a small child.”

  “Zamimolo,” Ba laughed her lighthearted laugh again, “what would Olomaru-mia think? Hasn’t she already had to adjust to the winds of change?”

  “Of course, you’re right, Ba. It hasn’t been easy for her. At least my People surround me. You are here, beautiful and sweet as that fruit we had this morning, causing me to face truth and stop feeling sorry for myself. You have been good to me, Ba.”

  “Zamimolo....”

  “Call me Zami,” he said. He let out a sob and surrounded her with a very tight hug. “I will be a good husband, Ba. Will you join with me?”

  “I will,” she said and they lost themselves in each other.

  In the next few days the People and the Kapotonok spent days in war rior training, having agreed to peace and mutual support in war. Golmid and Linpint both agreed to learn the drums, and they prepared to go with the Chief when he left to learn what they must know to do it well. Both wives were invited to accompany them, but after much discussion, both decided to remain at their mountain home. The men would stay with the virtual hermits near the camp of the Northern Kapotonok until they learned. Eventually, the People would build a drum on their mountain.

  The young ones who chose to join with the People all agreed to remain with the People, because the numbers of the People were so small and they knew so little of their environment. To their amazement the young women who joined with a man of the People were asked to wear a tunic to cover themselves more fully.

  Olomaru-mia walked about arching her back, her belly protruding hugely. Ahma had already told her she carried twins. It was not unusual among the Nola Nola to have twins. It conferred a special potency upon the father. If both infants lived a moon there would be great celebration. The rippling along her spine was visible and Ahma walked over to her.

  “Your time has come, Daughter.”

  “I thought that must be what was happening, Mother,” Olomaru-mia replied. “This is a hot day.”

  “Well, my dear, it’s made worse by the garment you wear.”

  Mechalu had brought her the softest skins his friends and he could make. She had sewed them together making loose sleeves and a yoked neckpiece that could be untied to her belly to free her breasts so her infants could suckle. The garment fell between her knees and ankles. It covered her well and did protect her skin. With the growing size of the twins, it was clear that she needed either to give birth or make a larger garment soon.

  “It would be good for you to walk, but stay close. The birth hut will be ready by the time you are prepared to give birth. Tell Mechalu, so he’ll be among the first to know.”

  “Do you know where he is?” she asked realizing she had no idea where her husband was.

  “I saw him with Oscola and two friends walking towards the sea. There they are by the shore, if I see well. Look how lovely green the hills are, my Daughter. We have had good rain.”

  “That’s a long way to walk in my condition, isn’t it?”

  Ahma looked at her in silence. Then she smiled a wistful smile. “Daughter, the first one can take much time. Walking will be good for you and the infants. Let me give you food and water to carry with you. The infants may not arrive until tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Don’t forget your hat and foot coverings, my dear.”

  “I will remember.”

  A short time later Mechalu saw Olomaru-mia walking down the hillside. He told the others he’d return. He sprinted up the hill to her.

  Mechalu was slightly irritated. He had told Olomaru-mia to stay in the village in his instructions to her at the very beginning. He had no plan for her to disobey him.

  He arrived just slightly winded. “What are you doing outside the village, my Wife?”

  “At the advice from your Mother I have come to tell you that it’s time.” She knew he was unhappy with her, but it didn’t matter.

  “Time for what
?” he asked without thinking.

  “For the infants to arrive.”

  Mechalu felt as if all his blood dropped to his ankles. “Then, what in the name of the Creator of All are you doing down here?”

  “Mother said a good walk would be beneficial, and that you should know the time has come.”

  Mechalu was beside himself. He was prepared to be angry but not for this moment, though he knew it was approaching. It was hard to contain anger and joy in the same body.

  “We’ve got to get you back to the village,” he said, reaching for her.

  She backed away from his hand, “Mechalu, she said it would probably be tomorrow. I was wondering whether there are any crabs down here.”

  “You are hungry for crabs—now?” His thoughts went from anger to joy to crabs. He was certain he’d never understand the thinking of a woman.

  “I could eat an entire boiling bag of crabs!”

  He looked at her in shock. She’d been eating a lot more recently, but that was far too many crabs for one person to eat. He thought she was exaggerating, but he walked with her back to the beach. There were always crabs at the beach.

  “Oscola, Vilminit, Mintopointin,” he shouted as they neared the others. “I am about to become a father and my wife hungers for crabs.”

  The men laughed heartily. Oscola, Mechalu’s older brother, rolled his eyes. Oscola had already experienced fatherhood. Mintopointin’s wife had several moons to go before their first would be born. Vilminit had no wife or children. Eagerly the men set about finding crabs. Vilminit started a fire and Olomaru-mia carefully handed him the boiling bag using extreme caution to keep her distance. She went to search for hand-sized rocks to place beside the fire. She remembered the seaweed and gathered some of that.

  It was dusk when they returned to the village. Ahma watched Olomaru-mia carefully. She was obviously progressing in the work of getting the infants out. She didn’t seem very hungry at the evening meal. Ahma had to laugh when she heard why.

  As night fell, Olomaru-mia and Mechalu went to their hut. They undressed and cuddled as well as they could. Olomaru-mia felt greatly comforted by his presence. Finally, Ahma came into their hut to see how birth was progressing. She looked at the birth opening and it was getting some significant size.