Days later a shout rang out from the east facing lookout point. It was high sun and at the edge of the forest the lookout had seen two men. Zamimolo ran to the lookout point and was certain it was the return of Linpint and Golmid from their time at learning the drum communication. He almost ran into Jup, Golmid’s son, as they both raced to descend the mountain so they could greet the returning men. Zamimolo thought in all his life he’d never run so fast. Sure enough, Linpint and Golmid had returned.
The men arrived at the mountaintop, laid down their burdens, and went to find their wives. After warm greetings, Lomah led Linpint to where their son slept.
“What’s his name?” Linpint asked, curious, his breath touching the side of her face. His belly caught at the sight of the infant. He and Linpint had new life. It was precious. He had so much to teach this little one. He wondered whether he was up to it. He wanted desperately to be a father the People would approve. He wanted to be a father that his son would approve. He touched the little hand and it grasped his finger. The infant opened his eyes and smiled.
“His name is Ventumoko,” she said quietly.
“I like it very much,” he said as he pulled her to his arms again.
“I didn’t name him,” Lomah admitted. “The Kapotonok men name their babies, so Ba and I didn’t know how. We asked Zamimolo to name them. He went to his mother for help and then he came up with the names.”
Linpint hugged her tighter. “The name is a good one! Next time, we’ll both think together, and maybe we can do as well.” She squeezed him tightly. How she had missed him! She hoped he was home for a long time now.
Although no council had been called, everyone came to the gathering place and seated themselves wherever they could find space. Golmid and Linpint were eager to share.
Golmid began to tell about the Alitukit, very dark skinned people to the northeast of them. “The drummers are Alitukit. They are banned from ever returning to their home. They helped set up the drums all along the land.”
“Why?” the Wise One asked.
“You just don’t ask that question,” Linpint replied. “They are very private about what they will tell and what they won’t discuss. With them you have to be very careful.”
“They are people of incomparable knowledge. They made me feel like a child learning to walk while they were white haired adults,” Golmid said.
“What do you mean?” the Wise One asked.
“They know when events in the heavens will take place. One day one of them told us that we would see meteors that night. We thought that was an interesting thing to say, but we didn’t really believe him. That evening we saw meteors, numbers and numbers of them. It was a real show in the heavens. Those men knew we were about to see something spectacular—before it happened. I don’t know how they knew.” Golmid was clearly awed.
“I think we saw the same event, but nobody here expected it,” Tokatumeta laughed.
“The men also play music. They have instruments that we’ve never seen. The music they play is unlike anything we’ve ever heard. It sounds like life growing and slowing and growing. I don’t know how to explain it, except to say it’s like hearing life.” Linpint was still feeling the same emotions he felt when he first heard the music. It reached his emotions deeply, without entering his mind web for any analysis.
“I can’t make sense of the music any clearer than Linpint did. It was very emotional. It can make your spirits soar or set you to weeping.” Golmid looked around. The blank faces made it clear that the People didn’t understand any better than they had.
“Might we visit them to hear their music?” Tukyatuk asked, curious.
Linpint explained, “That’s the part I find frustrating. They tell us that they are there to teach us how to use the drums. Once we learn, we need not return. Between the two of us, we can train our People to build and use the drum. We have no more need of them. They see people who need them until that need no longer exists. They are not looking for friends.”
“Now, here’s something astonishing. I fell when I leapt to avoid a snake,” Golmid said, “and in the fall I hit my head on a rock. It caused me to sleep an unwanted sleep. See this scar? They cut a hole in my head and removed remains of bleeding in the skin under the skull. It had caused pressure inside the bones of my head. They sewed it back. Shortly after that, I waked up. Once I was awake and recovered, they showed me what they removed. Now, I’m fine. I don’t know how they knew what the problem was or where it was. We cannot see into a head.”
“I watched what they did,” Linpint said. “I feared for Golmid’s life, but he was sleeping a sleep that could not be stopped. This worked. I never saw people more careful about what they did. They were so careful to be clean. I asked them how they knew what to do. Their response surprised me. They asked me, ‘Don’t your people analyze your animal kills, the injuries of your people, and the conditions of the internal parts of bodies when people die unexpectedly? We know because we examine life intensely.’”
“Oh,” Golmid exclaimed, “one night we heard the drums from the south tell of the return of someone named Coshiga. He brought his new wife to visit his people in the southern tall mountains. Her name is Tuka or Tuna, something like that. They drummed out that it snowed in the mountains. Someone from the north wanted to know if Coshiga had seen the golden girl. I think that person from the north was one of the Alitukit. They are part of the drums, even though they don’t want anyone to come on their lands. That’s where the drums originated. I think they thought Tuka or Tuna was a golden girl, whatever that is. Coshiga said he’d seen her.”
Suddenly the Wise One understood who the golden girl was. It had to be Olomaru-mia. Where Tuka or Tuna lived must be where Olomaru-mia was living, he reasoned. The Wise One determined not to ask questions or appear interested, because he did not want to incite Zamimolo again, and apparently, Zamimolo had thought nothing of this drum talk, or maybe he wasn’t even listening. Even Linpint appeared to have seen no connection. Even her father, Golmid, hadn’t seen the connection. The Wise One couldn’t believe that the others hadn’t seen the connection of the golden girl with Olomaru-mia, but he was quick to seize the opportunity to ask, “Where did these Alitukit originate?” Shifting to another subject could help to reduce the importance of the golden girl subject.
Golmid was surprised at the change in subject but said, “The best I can make of it is that they came from a large land, equal in size to the land below this narrow stretch of land, but on the far side of the ocean to the east.”
“That’s what I got of it, too,” Linpint said. “They told us there are people all over the earth. Once, before time, land was of one piece, they say. Then, it broke apart according to their stories. They would like to return to their land someday, but they fear the massive separating waters. That’s why the Alitukit are still here. They fear death at sea if they tried to go back. They have been here—using their word—forever. Their ancestors were traveling along the west coast of their big land and a storm blew them here. Their hope is that the land will move back to one piece. They aren’t sea boatmen, so they don’t know how to return to their land. They will sail near the shore, but never far out enough that they couldn’t swim to shore. They have great fear of the sea.”
“If they returned to their home across the sea, it wouldn’t be what they hope for. All their people are gone. Their land has made great changes.” The Wise One seemed far away.
“They don’t seem to have any shipbuilding going on except for the little boats Zami and I saw in the eastern sea.” Linpint said.
Zamimolo looked up, “Those things couldn’t cross the sea!” He felt comparatively like a trained mariner to make the comparison.
The talking continued on and on, the People never tiring. Finally, women brought out food for the evening meal. Linpint was slow to respond as he held his infant, and it clutched his finger. He looked dreamily at Lomah. How delighted he was to be a father. Lomah stood up and went to get food for
Linpint. The infant slept, and she went back to get food for herself.
Suddenly a shout came from the northern observation point. The older men raced to the place to see what caused the alarm. Far to the north, there was a boat at sea. Only those with the best far vision could see it. Zamimolo and Rustumarin agreed to assist on the night watch. They hoped it was a boat from their People.
Day brought the assurance that their People were arriving on one of the routine trips they made to assure the People who migrated were faring well. For safety, only a certain number of People were permitted to meet the boat. The People would escort the boatmen to their mountaintop home for a feast. Some hunters had gone out as soon as there was light enough to see to provide plenty of meat for the occasion. There was much bustling about and excitement.
Rustumarin, Tukyatuk, Tokatumeta, and Kih went to meet the boatmen. They stood waiting where the boatmen could see them as they approached through the waterway. Men who knew each other waved in greeting. A few boatmen secured the boat while the others and a single passenger went ashore.
“Who is this?” Rustumarin asked regarding the young boy.
“This is Pikotek, the People sent him as a student to learn from your Wise One. Someday you may need him. They say he knows the stories well. He has lived for thirteen years.”
“Welcome, Pikotek,” Rustumarin said in a loud voice. “We do need you!”
“Thank you,” the young man replied, clearly not knowing what to do with himself.
“Let’s head for home,” Tukyatuk shouted.
After a brief interchange, two boatmen decided to remain with the boat.
The morning meal the women provided was huge. It was a feast! The boatmen who ascended the mountain were delighted, and Numing and Grakumashi packed up more than two portions and carried the food to the two boatmen who remained behind to guard the ship. After leaving the food with the grateful men, the People ran back to their mountain home. It was a beautiful clear sky day with a very gentle breeze. The morning’s hunt had been exceedingly successful. Their drum learners had returned. They had a replacement for their Wise One. All seemed wonderful. Large birds soared overhead. There were many grazers in the valley. The bugs were definitely not quiet.
“Pikotek,” the Wise One said, “I will want to test you. You understand that?”
“Of course. I will do my best, Wise One.” He was frightened from the sea voyage and meeting all these People he knew when he was much younger. The new country was like nothing he ever saw. He hoped he still had a mind web that functioned. He picked at the food rather than fill himself. He was anxious about doing well when tested.
“No time is better than now,” the Wise One said, and showed the young man to a place that had been carved out of the hill to provide a curved room for quiet within. After both were seated, the Wise One said, “Start with the story for burials.”
The young man began and did not miss a word. The Wise One had him telling stories all day. Never did he miss a word or fail to recount correctly the meaning of the stories.
When the evening meal was announced, they left the little room. The Wise One said in a very loud voice. “I have tested Pikotek all day. He has missed nothing. People, you will have a Wise One when I leave this life to be with Wisdom. Guard him well. For the first time since his arrival, Pikotek smiled.
Hutapska walked over to Pikotek. “Welcome to our new land, Pikotek. Come with me,” she said, “I’ll show you how to serve yourself for the evening meal.”
He followed, surprised at their shared traits. Both had thick, straight, black hair and deep blue eyes. They were not related.
“Take a bowl here. It doesn’t matter which one if you choose one of these. Those are for the old people. They want a bowl of their own.”
Pikotek smiled and chose a bowl from the general set of bowls.
“To stay healthy you are expected to eat meat, fruit, and greens. Sometimes we have nuts and food from the sea that is meat or greens. Adults will check when you’re not looking to make sure you eat of all the groups of food. Be sure that you eat properly.”
“Thank you,” he looked at her not knowing her name.
“I’m so sorry, Pikotek, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Hutapska.”
“Thank you, Hutapska,” he said and smiled.
“You’ll have to work with the Wise One day after day. It’s pretty hard to become a Wise One, I’d think,” she said as she placed some camel meat in her bowl. He did the same. “This is camel meat. It tastes better than that meat over there, which came off a strange looking animal. It’s called a spiked-tail armadillo and it looks like a turtle from someone’s worst nightmare.”
Pikotek looked at her to assure himself that she was serious. He put in his mind web his desire to see one of the spiked-tailed armadillos.
They moved to the greens. There was a large variety mixed with other vegetation they’d learned was good to eat. Pikotek chose a small amount of the different choices so he’d know what he preferred for the future. The fruit astonished him. There was every color of fruit one could imagine. He chose a wide variety to teach himself what he favored.
“Come sit with me, if you like, Pikotek. I want to get to know you,” Hutapska offered.
“Thank you, Hutapska,” he replied following her. She was making him feel comfortable and at home. He was grateful.
“What did you think of the sea crossing?” she asked.
“I was terribly sick at first from the rolling boat. I didn’t want to leave all I knew, and it had been so long since I saw any of you. I knew, however, that the Wise One here is advanced in years and that I had to be available if he needed a replacement. That was, according to my Wise One, why I was born. Without option, I came. I must be obedient to Wisdom.”
“What do you think of our food?” she asked.
“It is all delicious. I’ve never tasted food so good. The fruit is wonderful!”
“Fruit grows here all the time,” she assured him. “This is a dangerous place,” she added. “The first night we were here an abductor stole Olomaru-mia.”
“I remember her. She had that reddish, golden hair. She was stolen?”
“Yes. That’s before we knew when bugs and frogs get quiet, that’s an alarm. We didn’t notice. Here you have to learn to listen carefully to the bugs, frogs, birds, monkeys, and other things. There is more danger here than back home. It’s also warmer and has better food. Meat doesn’t dry well. Bugs get into it. But meat is available all the time, instead of just in some seasons, so we don’t have to keep as much dried meat.”
Pikotek tried to add all the new information to his mind web. Then he said, “Olomaru-mia was going to join with Zamimolo. What happened to him?”
“He got really mad. He followed as far as he could but lost the trail. He never found her. Our Wise One said they’d meet again when they have white hair. He told Zamimolo that she has a good life. Zamimolo was very angry. He tried to find her to bring her home. I think he wanted to kill the abductor.”
“I can understand that, but it’s wrong. Very wrong. The winds of change are operating in this. It’s obvious. Wisdom expects us to bend with the winds of change. Is he still looking for her?”
“He joined Ba of the Northern Kapotonok. They live here. They just had a baby. I think he’s making the best of a bad thing, but I think he’d still like to kill the abductor. I’m no Wise One, though, so what do I know?”
“I think, Hutapska, my little friend, you know much way beyond your years.”
“I am not young,” she said indignantly, “I’m short.”
At that, he laughed for the first time since he left on the sea voyage. “My dear Hutapska, pardon my laughter, but you delight me. How many years have you lived on this earth?” he asked.
“Twelve,” she replied. “And you?” she asked.
“Thirteen,” he said.
“You have been so kind to me, Hutapska, is there anything I can do for you?”
&n
bsp; She looked into his eyes, deep down to his soul. It startled him and then he found it pleasant. Still fixing him with her gaze, she said, “If you ever decide you’d like to join please consider me first, for I find your soul pulling on mine with a great strength.”
Suddenly, Pikotek had no desire to laugh. Still caught gazing into her eyes, he replied, “I will do that, Hutapska, for I feel the same pulling—like a fish being pulled on a hook.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Would you like to walk down below?”
“That would be wonderful,” he replied. They took their bowls to rinse out, left them to dry, and walked down the mountain path.
“Wait a moment,” Kih called out. “If you two want to walk, that’s all right, but one of us must accompany you for safety. I can follow and will not intrude. Pikotek is our future Wise One. Our future Wise One is a treasure of the People and must be protected in the same way the Wise One is protected.” Neither Pikotek nor Hutapska knew the rule, since neither was old enough to have seen a Wise One being taught. Kih and Latamala, his wife, both followed the two as they walked in the salty breeze on the tallest dune. Youthful, hand-in-hand the two walked, talking of the new land, the sea crossing, whatever passed their mind webs. They felt a kinship closer than family ties. They did not understand the feeling, but they felt bound together.
The sun had sunk below the mountains to the west. Children and some adults had gathered to listen to Olomaru-mia tell stories from her old land. Even the small children seemed fascinated by the stories, though they could not understand them well. Olomaru-mia liked to think it was the way the stories were told that held their interest, almost as if the stories were sung. She began.
“This is a very, very old story. It is the story of Kukuk-na and Timkut-na. Timkut-na and Kukuk-na were hunters. They had trekked far looking for meat to feed the People. It was a time of little rainfall and meat was not easy to find.”
“The men went where they had known deer to gather. There were none. They went to places where trees grew in groves providing shade from the sun for animals. There were no animals there. They went to the highlands where they’d found grazers. There were none in the highlands. They went to the lowlands and found nothing. Hunger was everywhere, but they were determined that they would not let their People starve.”
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) Page 14