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

  “Daughter, it’s time to go to the birth hut,” she said firmly.

  Olomaru-mia looked into Mechalu’s eyes not wanting to leave him. She got up with his help and followed Ahma. She was definitely ready to get this task finished. Mechalu followed them from a distance. He wanted to be certain there was no problem between his hut and the birth hut. He worried about his wife’s carrying twins. He wanted all to be well but especially for her to do well. He adored her. He had never been more proud.

  At the birth hut there were numbers of women, all of whom Olomaru-mia now knew. The old grandmother sat where Olomaru-mia was supposed to put her head. She was surprised that the old woman had a soft cushioned skin nestled in her crossed legs. That was for her head. Olomaru-mia complied with all the expectations. First, she removed her tunic and lay down with her head in the grandmother’s lap. Ahma put a soft skin over her so she didn’t chill. The pains were very uncomfortable now. After a while Ahma checked her again. She said nothing so Olomaru-mia wondered what the progress was. She continued to have pain after pain and it was hard to control not shouting out, or, worse, saying something awful that she knew she was not supposed to think, let alone say aloud, ever. How she wanted Mechalu!

  Quiet as a mouse, Tuna crawled over on her hands and knees. She took Olomaru-mia’s hand and held it. She whispered, “If it hurts really badly, let some of it go into my hand. I can take pain and would gladly share with you. Just squeeze my hand hard and it’ll take some of your pain away so I can share with you.” Tuna’s face was so endearing. Olomaru-mia had another severe contraction. She squeezed Tuna’s hand hardly aware of how strong a squeeze it was. The grandmother watched Tuna’s face. Tuna used a cloth and wiped the sweat from Olomaru-mia’s face. The two looked at each other sharing. If she couldn’t have Mechalu, Olomaru-mia was glad Tuna was there. She would tell her how much it meant after this ordeal was over.

  When Olomaru-mia saw that Wisdom had returned color to the land, she gave a loud shout, and the first boy was born. Ahma tied a strip of leather around his wrist. Shortly after that in quiet, the second boy was born. Both infants were perfect and healthy. Each had a small dark spot on the lower back. Olomaru-mia knew the spots would disappear after a short time. This mark that accompanied birth was common among the People. The Nola Nola had never seen it. Very quickly, the infants suckled. Olomaru-mia was glad she hadn’t had three of them.

  Albigrimpa, Alma’s sister, had made a basket to hold the two of them. It was lined with mosses and overlaid with a soft skin. The women wrapped the infants’ bottoms in soft skins stuffed with mosses and laid them to sleep.

  Ahma placed a soft skin over them. Kiahmuha cleaned Olomaru-mia and helped her move to a clean place to rest. Then she gathered all the remaining material from the births and put it into a fire, which burned outside. Quiet fell on the birth hut.

  Tuna crawled over to the basket and looked into the little faces of the infants whose births she’d just witnessed. They were tiny but perfectly formed. She lifted a tiny hand and examined the detail. Such perfect fingernails! Some of the women said they looked like someone; some, another. Tuna looked hard but could see no resemblance to anyone living or dead in either face. She was unsure whether they really looked like people. The boys did not look alike. They looked wrinkled and had skin that seemed to want to peel off.

  A shadow crossed the entryway. Mechalu had been permitted to see Olomaru-mia and the infants. He came in quietly. He stooped over Olomaru-mia who was asleep. He reached down and put his arms around her and she immediately awakened.

  “Have you seen them?” she asked.

  “I came to you, first,” he replied squeezing her.

  “Go look and tell me what you think.”

  Mechalu broke his hold on Olomaru-mia and went to the basket around the far side of which Tuna had curled herself. There, side-by-side lay two tiny people sleeping peacefully. Their faces were wrinkled and their hands were very small. “I will name the first boy, Pipto, and the second boy, Token.

  He turned to Olomaru-mia. “That gift is almost as great as your giving me your love.” He lay beside her, slipping his arm beneath her neck. He knew the moment he saw her from the mountain viewpoint she’d be his. It all came true. And, she’d finally told him she loved him. He was a new father of twins! He wanted to shout and shout and shout. Instead, he rolled over on his side, kissed her, advised her to sleep when she could, and he left. It was time to tell his father, Chief Uvela.

  As days passed, Olomaru-mia had many children arrive to see the twins. She began to tell the children stories. She longed to hear the stories, and she remembered many of them well enough to tell. She told ones that were designed for children. Occasionally, she’d tell one that the Wise One told at council meetings. She was certain she didn’t have all the words right, but she did the best she could. There was something comforting to her to hear them, even if they were not perfectly delivered. She found it interesting that others, older children and adults, would come to hear the stories when she started to tell them. Sometimes someone would ask her to restart at the beginning. Older Nola Nola discovered quickly that the stories were not for entertainment but for living. They were fascinated. The stories seemed endless.

  Olomaru-mia realized one sunny afternoon, while she told stories to children and some adults as she suckled her little ones, that her life was good. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been happy. She had. She just recognized that her life was good. Certainly, she missed the People from the past. She never expected to see them again, but she had a good life. She lived among good people. Wisdom had blessed her even as had been the case in Ki’ti’s time when they had to move to avoid the huge volcano. They had been blessed with a solution to their dwindling numbers by joining with Mol and Minguat. It was happening again. She could apply the story to herself. She was finding completeness with these strangers, learning a different way of living, and she contributed to their completeness in return. Finally, Olomaru-mia’s questions dissolved. She had faced the winds of change. Wisdom had indeed set her among a strange people for a reason. She looked at her infants. Somehow, she knew that there was destiny awaiting them. She did not fathom what—only that.

  The Chief came to Olomaru-mia in the afternoon. He stood before her tall and straight. His muscles bulged. He was strong at his age. Olomaru-mia stood up.

  “No, no, Daughter, you need not rise,” he said as she stood before him.

  She wasn’t about to sit back down, so she stood there relaxed but wondering why he was there.

  “Tonight we praise Mechalu as father of two healthy sons, since it has been a moon since they were born. For the Nola Nola, it is a large celebration. There is a celebration for any father of a moon’s age infant, but this is larger, since there are twins. You will attend the celebration with the twins. We start when the sun sinks behind the mountain to our west. That one,” he pointed. “You must be there at your place when the sun sets. The twins must be with you. Please feed them before arriving so they will be more likely to be quiet if filled.”

  For some reason Olomaru-mia couldn’t identify, she wanted to laugh aloud at the Chief, but she didn’t dare. He’d have had Mechalu beat her, she thought. Because she was untouchable as a prize of valor, the Chief couldn’t have done it even if she laughed at him, but he could order it done. Nevertheless, the drive to laugh was hard to keep down. She didn’t know what was so humorous, but the need to laugh permeated her whole being. She wished mightily that he’d leave. She stared at the ground to make sure her facial expressions didn’t give away her thoughts.

  “It will be so,” she finally managed to say with a strong voice.

  “Thank you, Daughter,” he said and left.

  Olomaru-mia almost shouted as she felt a tapping on her shoulder. She was unaware anyone was near. It was Tuna.

  “I saw that,” Tuna grinned with glee.

  “Saw what?” Olomaru-mia said shocked.

  “For some reason you wanted to laugh and you
did a really great job of covering it.”

  Olomaru-mia looked at her wordlessly.

  “My friend, you know your secret is safe with me. What did you find that made you want to laugh?”

  “I honestly don’t have any idea,” Olomaru-mia admitted. “I just don’t know. I feared that he’d make Mechalu beat me if I laughed.”

  “You have learned the Nola Nola well!”

  “But why? I don’t understand that way at all. It keeps people from being themselves. It fosters pride.”

  “If you don’t learn anything else, Olomaru-mia, learn that pride is very important to the Nola Nola.”

  “But pride goes against everything I was taught. My People view pride as something that goes counter to the way of success. Pride and success are as far apart from each other as day is from night.”

  “To my people pride is the deserved result of success.”

  “I think I will never understand that, my friend, Tuna.”

  “Well at least get the idea in what you call your mind web. Put it there firmly. It is fundamental to our way of being and cannot be taken lightly. Be careful never to destroy someone’s pride.”

  Olomaru-mia walked over to Tuna and hugged her.

  “I must tell you my secret.”

  “What is it, Tuna?”

  “You know Coshiga, the traveler who has been here a few days?”

  “I have seen him.”

  “We have spent much time together. He has asked me to travel with him to his people high in the mountains on the west side of the great land to the south. I have told him that I want to do that, but that I will desire to return here, for this is my home.”

  “Are you thinking of joining him?” Olomaru-mia asked, feeling she should be surprised, but she wasn’t in the least.

  “Yes.”

  “What will you do if he chooses to remain with his people?”

  “I will be stuck. But I believe him when he says we can return here within the measure of a year.”

  “Oh, Tuna, I will miss you so much!”

  “I will miss you also, my friend, but if anyone here understands me, it is you. I think you know why I do this.”

  “Yes, I do, lovely Tuna. It will give you an opportunity to see part of the world.”

  “That’s exactly it, and, Coshiga is wonderful to me.”

  “Will you join before you leave?”

  “Yes. After the Chief initiates the celebration for Mechalu, our joining will be announced. I go through what you experienced, cape, dots, and all.”

  “Tuna, as happy as you are, I am happy for you. I wish you’d known him longer, but I’ll have to admit, I am happy, and I had no time to get to know Mechalu. He told me right away how things would be, and they were. You could think all the time we trekked, I had time to get to know him, but I knew him as a cruel abductor, not one to love. Occasionally he struck me and I feared him much. Later he explained that he did that so I’d obey him, not give us away, and keep us safe as we made our way to the Nola Nola. My life is good here. I couldn’t be happier. I think part of the secret of happiness is to make it a purpose to love the one you join, every day, all day, for the rest of your life. It’s not about him and not about you, it’s about the two of you together, and you have to work all the time to keep it good. If you do that, it will be wonderful.”

  Tuna came over and hugged Olomaru-mia. “I will share that with Coshiga. I would like us to have that purpose. I need to do some things, Olomaru-mia. I can hear one of your little ones fussing.”

  So could Olomaru-mia. She touched Tuna on the shoulder lightly and walked quickly to her hut. She could see a storm forming behind the mountains. Clouds were about to pass over the sun, hiding it from view. How, Olomaru-mia wondered, would she know when the sun sank, if clouds covered it? Her thoughts drifted off as she lifted Pipto first, and then Token to her lap. She untied her tunic and lifted first one and then the other to feed at the same time. Both were very hungry. They were growing but their growth seemed very slow to her.

  Ahma entered her hut. “Daughter, when you have finished come to the council. We do this evening’s events now, because a great storm brews in the mountains.”

  “I just began. It will take some time.”

  “I know. Come when you have finished.”

  Olomaru-mia rested while the babes filled their bellies. It was another happy time for her. It was a wonder of Wisdom, she thought, that the body of a mother could feed her offspring. It was a special bonding, a giving of herself. Strength and vitality flowed from her into her offspring to cause them to grow and thrive. It was in some ways a great mystery. When the infants finished, she cleaned their wrappings and laid them in the basket. She hurried to the council seating. The meeting had already begun, so she quietly and unobtrusively took her place behind Mechalu. Ahma smiled at her.

  Chief Uvela smiled broadly at the Nola Nola. “We now honor Mechalu, potent father of two lusty sons who have lived a moon. Mechalu, will you now, before us all, name your sons?” It sounded like a question, but it was a command.

  Mechalu rose. “Yes, my father, Chief of the Nola Nola, I will name my sons.” He lifted Pipto from the basket and held him above his head. Looking at the sky, he said in a loud voice, “Creator of All, this is my first son. His name is Pipto. Please watch over him all his days. May he serve you and his people with pride.”

  Olomaru-mia had not known in advance what he would say. She was horrified at his prayer for pride. She held her arms out to receive Pipto. Mechalu gathered up Token.

  Mechalu returned to the place of honor and lifted Token to the sky. He began, “Creator of All, this is my second son. His name it Token.” At that moment, Token let out a very loud shout, unlike common baby noises. He raised his hand skyward as if reaching for the Creator of All. A huge hissing noise rose from the sky hushing the Nola Nola to silence. No one moved. A great light appeared. To the view of the onlookers, the brilliant light arched over Token and landed somewhere behind the mountain with an explosive noise.

  The Chief walked over to Mechalu and said firmly, “The Creator of All is well pleased. He has selected a son of yours, or maybe both, for greatness. You must not spoil these children but rather make them know all they must know. You will send both of them to the School in the South even as you and Oscola were sent. Then, they must go to the Alitukit. I expect great things from them. I have for you something special as a reminder of this auspicious event.” The Chief went into his hut and after a while he emerged with a treasure, his special necklace, made from teeth drilled and hanging from a thin but strong strip of leather, a single knot between each tooth. The teeth were from the largest peccary boar the Nola Nola had ever found. The Chief put the necklace around Mechalu’s neck and embraced him briefly around the baby that lay in his arms silent now, after his great outburst. Mechalu took Token to the basket wondering what would become of this son who seemingly called a meteor. He felt convinced that the Creator of All had special things in mind for his sons.

  Oscola was seething. His brother had the best valor prize and now the greatest honor, the peccary tooth necklace! Even the Creator of All seemed to participate. At least Oscola reminded himself, he was the oldest male and would become the next Chief. Nothing would change that. In addition, the Chief, his father, had said to send his son, Ghumotu, to the School of the South and to the Alitukit School. There was no real difference, he reasoned, except for the meteor. Even he, he admitted, couldn’t change that.

  Winds blew stronger and the rain began to fall. Quickly Tuna in the feathered cape was ushered to the council. Olomaru-mia smiled wistfully as she could finally observe this ritual as a spectator. She hoped Tuna’s night would be as wonderful as hers had been. Mechalu offered Olomaru-mia a hand to help her stand up. He carried the basket to their hut and they got inside just before the greatest amount of rain began to fall.

  Once inside, Olomaru-mia looked at her children. At least Token had been spared the prayer for pride. She would try
to teach her children her ways as well as the ways of the Nola Nola. Both her children needed Wisdom. She’d tell the stories and hope that they understood. She would tell the stories as if their lives depended on it. She felt safe telling the stories. The Nola Nola felt it was good entertainment for the children. She would do nothing to change their understanding. What she understood at this point is that if the Nola Nola truly understood the purpose of the stories, she’d be forbidden to tell them and she’d probably be beaten with a nola nola stick for having told them. The Nola Nola would have to listen carefully to many stories, but beneath it all was the strong teaching against pride, a quality upon which their governing status was built. She’d have been seen as teaching sedition. She would be very careful and very determined. She had learned to love Mechalu now and bore him no ill will; she adored her children; she still, however, resented having been abducted. This would be the expression of her revenge. Oddly, she felt that Wisdom would not view this as revenge, but rather as something mysteriously connected with the winds of change. Something acceptable, because it was Wisdom’s way.

  Ba and Lomah were lounging in the gathering place while they nursed their infants. Ba and Lomah expected the men to name infants, and the People relied on women for that. Finally, both asked Zamimolo to name their sons, since Linpint was still away learning the drums. Zamimolo had no experience naming infants, so he asked his mother, Meninqua, for assistance. Infants needed names. Often infants didn’t survive. To die before being named was unthinkable. Meninqua thought for quite some time. Finally, she suggested several names for males: Ekuktu and Pah, solid old names, and Gnaha, which meant man of the salt sea, and Ventumoko, which meant steady and sure, and some others. Zamimolo chose Gnaha for his son and Ventumoko for Linpint’s son. The mothers accepted the names without question, looking at their named infants’ faces and repeating their names.