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

  At the end of the examination, each of the six four year students who failed to advance had time to sing their farewell song. Most of the songs were songs of gratitude and a bit sad. One of the students added a little humor which caused the Masters to smile and the students to laugh, as he wove a rhyming experience into the lines. He sang seriously until the middle of his song where he inserted, “alertness and acuity taught by Master Alikuat helped me identify a predatory long-toothed cat—before it could spring to bite me.” Finally, a day later the Alitukit Masters sent two Kapotonoks from the second and first year groups back home. Otherwise, all remaining students advanced.

  Zamimolo and Ba had taken a long walk to the seashore. The day was hot and they enjoyed walking by the salt water. They walked hand-in-hand, occasionally embracing in the surf.

  “It has been twenty years since we joined, Ba. That’s a long time.”

  “It has been a long time. At first, I wondered whether we would last.”

  “Why? Did you not trust me?”

  Ba looked into his face framed by white hair on his head, face, and chest. She adored him as much, if not more, than when she fell in love with him, and it showed on her face. She had only once shared with him her insecurities regarding Olomaru-mia. She had just put them aside and tried hard to ignore them. “I trusted you not to run after anyone but Olomaru-mia. She’s always been like a ghost to me, Zami, someone just too beautiful, too perfect, too kind. I thought of myself as second best.”

  Zamimolo brushed the loose white hair from her face and put his hands on her shoulders. “Ba, from the time we joined, you’ve been the only woman I ever wanted. I knew Olomaru-mia had joined and was no longer available or even reachable. I have never thought of a competition between the two of you. You are you, and I adore you. No one could have been a better wife than you. How long have you had this idea of second best? I can’t believe you’ve been thinking that. How long, Ba? How long?”

  “It’s not a big thing, Zami,” she tried to assure him.

  “How long?”

  “Since we joined,” she said truthfully.

  He pulled her to his chest, his hands still on her shoulders. Then he pushed her back a small way so he could see her face. “Ba, I don’t know whether to weep or laugh. That is so incredible! Haven’t I shown you repeatedly how much I love you? Haven’t I said it enough?”

  “Zami, I know you love me. I just thought if you ever saw her, you’d love her more. I allowed myself to doubt. You never gave me a reason to doubt.”

  “It hurts me terribly to know that you were insecure. Will you please drop it now? Can’t you see what’s real?”

  “I’ll try, Zami. Because of the age of the thought, it makes it seem more real.”

  They resumed walking but much slower.

  “Do you carry other insecurities that I don’t know about?”

  “No,” she replied, “that’s the only one I have.”

  “You still have it?”

  “Okay, it’s the only one I had.” Ba hoped she could eliminate that old insecurity as her words voiced the idea. It wasn’t something she’d thought much about, but it had always been there. “You have never heard more about her?” she asked.

  “Oh, back when we helped the Kapotonok at war, there was the old man with the Southern Kapotonok, their Wise One, who told me to control myself in meeting her. I didn’t understand what he meant, and I still don’t understand. I realized I could probably have found out where she was by the drums, but I never pursued it. She and I don’t even know each other. What difference would it make?” He paused. Then he answered his own question, “None. None whatever.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Ba, it wasn’t important. I’d have shared it, if it had importance. I just didn’t think about it. We have a life here. I’ve been busy living it. You cannot truly live if you keep dragging things up from the past.”

  Ba wondered again, checked herself, and let it go. Zami had told her she had nothing to be insecure about, so she needed to live as if his words were true. She believed they were true words.

  “Let’s sit on that log and watch the sun on the water for a while,” he suggested.

  Using the root structure, they climbed up on the huge tree trunk that was resting on the sand. The tree had been a giant. They looked far out to sea.

  “Am I seeing something on the horizon, Zami, or are my eyes just getting old?”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Out there about three fingers from the shore.”

  Zamimolo stared off into the distance. For a little while, he saw nothing. Then he thought he saw something. Then he was sure he saw something. “Your eyes are definitely not getting old,” he said. “There’s a boat out there. Is it time for a boat again? It seems early to me.”

  “Is it one of our boats?” she asked.

  “You mean the Kapotonok boats?” he asked.

  “No, no, no,” she said watching the little speck, “I mean the boats that come here from your People across the sea.”

  “I can’t see it well enough to know yet. Let’s head back so that we can see it from a better height.”

  The two got up and walked swiftly back north up the beach heading for home where they could see the boat easier from the top of the mountain. When they reached home, they realized it was time for the evening meal. Both were very hungry and ready for the good food they knew they’d enjoy from the savor that floated through the air.

  When the evening meal finished, Zamimolo, Ba, and a few others climbed to the top of the mountain to view the boat.

  “Sure looks like ours,” Golmid said.

  “It’s sailing, so it has to be ours,” Tokatumeta agreed.

  “Well, tomorrow, we’ll have guests,” Zamimolo added.

  The small group watched for a while and then returned to the cave.

  By morning it was clear that the boat was theirs, and it was almost at the offshore spot where they anchored. No longer could they use the mooring spot they used before the move to the newer cave. It was too far to the south. A few years ago, the men had built a large pile of rocks at the shore’s edge just above the high tide mark as a sign for the boatmen. Women scurried to be certain that there was plenty of food for the morning meal and adequate containers for all to eat at one time. They sent a few of the older girls to gather more fruit. A greeting party of men gathered and headed towards the anchorage to be there to meet the boat.

  A few men stayed on the boat but the rest of them swam to shore. They introduced the new members of the crew and then they headed for the cave. There were no new immigrants. Eagerly they ate the morning meal, fully enjoying the fruit of this land. Then the boatmen and the People met in council. A hush came over the cave as all wanted to hear the news.

  Macrumak, the leader of the boatmen, cleared his throat. “We were sent early. A cobra recently bit the Wise One, and he went to Wisdom. There was no one training as a Wise One replacement. The People ask whether you have a Wise One or someone being trained as a Wise One, who can come to fill this great emptiness and continue the stories. They are desolate in the absence of a Wise One.”

  Pikotek looked at Jalutui. Jalutui looked like a spooked camel—eyes wide open and fearful, staring straight ahead. She realized that it was likely she’d be chosen to leave her home, travel by boat to a people she didn’t know, and transplant herself to a land where it was very cold to become a Wise One. The very idea struck her with terror. Pikotek was their Wise One. He’d come from that land far away. She had to hope he’d wish to return.

  Rustumarin said, “We have a Wise One, Pikotek, who came from there. We have another, Jalutui, who is learning and is probably fully able to serve as Wise One. What will have to be determined is which one of these People will go. I suggest we take a time for thought. Let us gather again after the evening meal to determine who will go. Perhaps one will volunteer. We will not leave the People desolate when we have a person who can fill their need for a Wis
e One. Wisdom has provided us with two. They and we each need only one.”

  The meeting adjourned and the People were very quiet wondering whether one of the Wise Ones would volunteer to leave or whether it would come to having to make a choice between Jalutui and Pikotek.

  The Wise One and Hutapska, his wife, went for a walk by the sea. They talked for a long time. They still had young children. A voyage with small children could be very difficult. When People decided to come to this land, they were excluded if they had small children, because of the dangers of boat travel. Both were aware of that. They concluded that it only made sense for Jalutui to make the move.

  In the cave Jalutui was with her mother, Folifilo. Both of them were acutely aware that it only made sense for Jalutui to leave, but both grieved over the choice. Jalutui could not control the stream of tears that left her eyes as she held onto her mother.

  “Why does it have to be me? The Wise One came from there. He knows how to live there and he knows the People. I don’t know either.”

  “My daughter, you must control yourself. This is a Wisdom thing. Your life will not be a bad one. This is just something you will have to do. Look at Pikotek now. As Wise One he has come to find Hutapska and they have children. He has been a good Wise One for us. You don’t see him weeping and objecting.”

  “I don’t see him volunteering.”

  “Jalutui, he has small children. You cannot be so mean spirited that you’d have him separate from either his children or his wife and children, so that you wouldn’t have to move?”

  “I understand that, Mother. It’s just that my belly rips apart thinking of having to leave.”

  “So does mine, but it would be a lot easier if you could bring yourself to volunteer rather than have to be pushed with all of us and the boatmen knowing that you objected so strenuously. What you do now is embarrassing. Think of how this looks when you think of Wisdom. Are you honoring Wisdom?”

  Jalutui sat straight up. Put that way, she could see clearly what she had to do. Did it please her? In no way. But she knew what Wisdom wanted her to do and she could refuse People, but not Wisdom. Her mother was right—this was a Wisdom thing. She berated herself. She should have seen that.

  Jalutui got up and walked to the top of the mountain. She had been born in this warm land. It was her home. She felt utterly alone with the single exception of Wisdom. She was about to leave for a place that got so cold People had to wear animal skins with fur left on them. She was about to leave for a place where she knew no one. The pain was overwhelming. And worse, she had to volunteer for it. She walked back to the cave. She saw Rustumarin and told him she was volunteering to go. Then she turned away from him abruptly, and ran to her sleeping skins and lost more tears. It felt as if she couldn’t bear it any longer, but she knew she could not let Wisdom down.

  At the council after the evening meal, Rustumarin announced that Jalutui would be leaving and that the boat would depart in the morning. After the meeting, Pikotek thanked her. She said, “Wise One, it is Wisdom I have to satisfy before myself. I do not want to do this, but when I think of what Wisdom would want, this is the only solution.”

  “Jalutui, you are ready to be Wise One. You’ll be a good one. I once stood in the place where you now stand. I was terrified at a crossing of the sea, of moving to a new place, of being with People I didn’t know. Remove your fear, Jalutui. When Wisdom asks something enormous of us, the reward is also enormous.”

  “Thank you, Wise One,” she replied automatically. “I will hold that hope in my belly to comfort me.”

  At the council meeting, Tokatumeta, Jalutui’s father, announced her volunteering to leave to serve as the People’s Wise One across the sea. He was torn between grief and pride over his daughter’s leaving. He knew there really had been no choice, but it was so much better for her to have volunteered. After the council adjourned, a few People brought something small as a remembrance to Jalutui. She placed each gift into a grass bag she’d take with her. Each came to say farewell.

  Quietly, the People settled down to sleep. The boatmen had returned to their boat, expecting Jalutui to join them in the early morning. They felt strange trying to sleep on land. Jalutui fell to sleep as tears escaped the boundaries of her eyes. She ached from the separation even before it occurred.

  When the sun began to rise Tokatumeta waked Jalutui. He gathered her few things. Jalutui went with Tokatumeta down the winding path that led to the salt water. There was just enough light to see. The walk seemed so much shorter on this morning. She swam to the boat and boarded, shivering from the cool water. The boatmen took her things and placed them in a small hut that they must have built just for her. They gave her a skin to dry the water from her shivering body. The small hut attached to a much bigger, longer hut behind the first sail. The hut was still showing traces of green from its construction. Jalutui stood on the deck and waved to her father. Then, she turned and faced west. She had to change her entire perspective and assumed the quicker she did it, the better. Her first effort would come from surviving a sea crossing for which nothing could prepare her.

  Tokatumeta saw her turn and realized what she was doing. He turned and began to walk the winding path up the mountain to their cave. He knew Jalutui would leave a great empty place in the bellies of many of the People. Her laughter and happy disposition would be sorely missed. He turned to look back at the boat before entering the wooded forest. The boat had already begun to sail to the west. He did not see Jalutui.

  The Wise One began to speak to the adults quietly but with a small sense of urgency. He wanted to know whether any of them or their children knew the stories. What he sought was a new Wise One. When he discovered that no People currently knew any of the stories, he asked that they watch the young ones to see who might develop into a Wise One. He knew that the younger they found the new Wise One, the easier it was to train them. All the People would be watching for signs of knowledge of the stories in the young children.

  A loud scream went up from the lower area to the east. From the lookout point, Linpint could see a spiked-tail armadillo attacking his son, Ventumoko. His friend, Gnaha, Zamimolo’s son, was trying to distract the beast. It kept pushing Ventumoko with its head. Ventumoko had lost his spear and was trying to run, but it was clear that his right leg gave him difficulty. Linpint didn’t wait but turned to run to his son as fast as he could. He stubbed his toe on a rock, but that didn’t slow him down. Several other hunters were already nearing the attack area.

  Gnaha had speared the beast in the front leg several times and the wounds gushed blood, but the beast didn’t seem to notice. It was as if one huge animal was totally obsessed with Ventumoko, and nothing else existed. It moved so much faster than most People thought it could. Ventumoko had come very close to the ravine where they had already had some accidents. Gnaha realized that Ventumoko was purposely leading the animal to the ravine. Ventumoko ran as fast as his right leg would allow and leaped off the edge of the ravine to a small ledge that stood out from a crack in the ravine wall. He threw himself into the crack. The spiked-tail armadillo had gained too much speed to stop and it fell into the ravine bellowing as it went over the ledge where it landed upside down in the ravine, incapable of righting itself.

  Gnaha raced to Ventumoko, forgetting the armadillo. Ventumoko had a nasty gash on his leg. It was deep. Gnaha pulled his friend to his feet and helped him stand on the ledge. He asked one of the hunters to bring rope to haul him up to the level ground. The hunter brought the rope and two men came quickly with a stretcher. Hunters hauled Ventumoko up the edge of the ravine and eased him onto the stretcher. Linpint gazed at him with concern. The wound looked awful. Other hunters took the life of the armadillo and butchering would soon occur.

  Back in the cave, a few women set to work cleaning Ventumoko’s leg. They knew how important it was to get the wound as clean as possible, so they were vigorous in their efforts regardless of Ventumoko’s protestations. After pouring cooled water that th
ey’d boiled over the wound, they filled the gash with the salve that the Alitukit men had taught them to use to heal the snakebite and added a generous amount of honey to the wound and surrounding area before wrapping it with soft skins. Fortunately, they thought, the bone was intact.

  Men set up roasting spits and there was some festivity associated with the kill. It had been a long time since they’d had a meal of armadillo.

  Kih, Zamimolo’s older brother, walked down to the path that led from the flat upper level to the far lower level where the men went to hunt. The armadillos when they came to this upper level used that path, because they wouldn’t fit between the trees. Kih stood looking down the path. There had to be, he reasoned, a way to prevent armadillos from coming through that pathway. He spent a large part of the day pondering various ways to prevent their access. Finally, he had reached some potential solutions, and he decided to hold them until the council meeting. He entered the woods to gather some mushrooms to add to the night’s feast.

  The men built a smoker to smoke the meat they couldn’t eat. They constructed it from tree trunks overlaid with vegetation. They hung meat on horizontal branches tied to the inside of the tree trunks. They would store it as long as possible in a dry part of the cave. Jerky made from armadillo wasn’t their first choice, but it was acceptable food. Having spent time living through long winters, the older People were acutely aware of the need for some stored food.

  The young boys and girls who were practicing with slingshots under the watchful supervision of Tukyatuk were attracted by the delightful fragrance coming from the smoker. They had to concentrate with extra effort not to become distracted.

  In the shade of a great oak tree, several young women sat weaving mats. Ba had taught them how to make things from the leaves of some of the local plants, leaves known for having lasting ability. They made mats for sitting and for placing under their bedding skins to give longer life to the skins. They made sleeping mats thicker, to provide extra comfort on the ground.