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 first light, the People gathered checking to be sure they had all their supplies. They headed down to the seashore where they’d trek west until the shoreline turned to the north. They’d follow the shore until they arrived at the Southern Kapotonok village, from where they’d know the way home.

  Zamimolo thought he’d have lost his animosity toward Mechalu once he was dead, but he didn’t feel any real release. Instead he felt guilty for any unhappiness he might have caused Olomaru-mia, something Zamimolo hadn’t considered until the deed was done. He headed home with one enormous question that rested on his shoulders as a mighty burden: had he done the right thing? Way down deep Zamimolo had a sense that he should not have done what he did, but he kept pushing that suggestion away. He was confident that in time the burden would lift.

  Ahah and Ventumoko walked along having no idea that one of their members had committed murder that morning. All seemed lighthearted and adventurous as they walked hand-in-hand along the seashore. It was a beautiful day. Linpint carried a burden also. He had spied on his friend. That was acceptable but not often done. His burden was knowledge of what occurred. There was no one to tell. To talk to Zamimolo he reasoned would avail nothing. It wasn’t something that could be undone, and he knew Zamimolo well enough to feel certain that when he thought on what he’d done, it would bother him until he died. Linpint purposed to say nothing about his knowledge, because he could not see in any way revealing it would make anything better for anyone. He wished he hadn’t followed his friend. He grit his teeth realizing that it is not possible to unknow something.

  They made progress along the seashore. By the evening meal, all were feeling the effect of the sun on their faces and skin. Living in the mountains, they had sun, but there were plenty of trees that gave them shade, so they were not exposed all day. The older men had begun to tan since their migration, and both the younger ones had skin slightly darker than their People parents had. Nevertheless, the sun had done some damage. They decided to camp to make some protection for their skin before continuing on. Ventumoko decided to see whether he could find some crabs while Ahah made hats from long leafed plants that grew nearby. He carried the one grass bag he had in his backpack, and a stick he found in the treed area where they planned to camp. The stick would hold the crab until he could grab it at the back leg to avoid being pinched. Linpint discovered that he could wrap his bedding cover around his shoulders to keep the sun off. All he needed was to poke two holes in the covering so he could tie it with a piece of leather and not have to hold it with his hands. It would add no weight since he already carried it. The others chose to make their coverings serve both purposes also.

  Ventumoko returned to the camp later with a bag full of crabs. He had pulled off the pinchers, because they were hanging up in the grass basket. Ahah was delighted. She carried the boiling bag to a small fall of water at the base of a rock hill and filled it. Zamimolo had started a fire and she hung the bag on a tree branch. She took the bent wood tongs and lifted hot rocks to place in the boiling bag.

  They sat around the fire with their sun-protection problems solved and ate.

  “These crabs are delicious!” Ahah said holding one in her left hand while digging out meat with fingers on her right hand.

  “When we first ate them,” Linpint said, “I couldn’t believe we would eat such a hard, ugly thing. “They no longer look ugly to me. I really like them. Thanks, Ventumoko.”

  “You’re welcome, Father,” he replied with a grin.

  “What do you young people think of all this traveling?” Zamimolo asked.

  Ahah looked up. “I am so glad we’ve had the opportunities we’ve had. Traveling to see different parts of this land gives us such a bigger view of what this place is where we live. Being in the villages of other people makes me realize that people are very similar but there are some unexpected and signifi-cant differences. Seeing the terror bird and actually eating meat from one is an experience I’ll probably never have again. It’s been wonderful. And sharing it with Ventumoko is even better.” She smiled, leaning against him.

  “I’m glad you can see the value of some adventure,” Linpint said. “Some people don’t want to leave the comfort of home, and they miss a lot that way. I think it odd that the Nola Nola have their young men go off alone from one sea to the other with just a knife, to find their prize of valor. I would think some young men would be afraid to venture into the wilds of this place alone. I would think that some would fall victim to predators.”

  “Chief Uvela told me that they lost about two young men every five years. That is an enormous sacrifice,” Zamimolo said. “I think it a very unwise practice.”

  “Well,” Ahah said, “That must have been what the abductor of Olomaru-mia was doing. Do you think he could have been Nola Nola?”

  “Very possibly,” Linpint answered quickly, uneasy at his intentional deception. “Or, there may be more people on the big land to the south who do the same thing. We’ll probably never know.”

  “I can’t wait to get home to drill out my claw. It’s a large object to wear around my neck, but I’ll manage,” Ventumoko said, smiling.

  “Now, don’t you go boasting, Son,” Linpint said.

  “I won’t, Father,” he promised, “I know that this claw is mine because someone died.”

  “That is Wisdom speaking,” Zamimolo said.

  “Is that a boat?” Ahah asked.

  “Where?” Zamimolo asked.

  “Out there far to the right.”

  “Oh, I see it,” Ventumoko said.

  “Cover the fire quickly,” Linpint said. “We have no idea who these people are. I’ve heard there are some people who capture people to sell as slaves for rowing. They live on the east side of the big land far to the south, beyond what they call the big river. We need to conceal this camp site and move up the hill to hide.”

  Before he finished, Ahah dumped cooking water on the hearth to quench the fire while Ventumoko buried crab shells and the evidence of a fire. Zamimolo swept footprints from the sand, and the People carefully gathered their things and slipped into the forest. They watched. The boat came nearer. It was a large boat made of two carved-out logs attached by crosspieces. It had a large red sail and on the sides there was white painting that meant nothing to the People. They watched as the boat seemed to be traveling the shoreline observing. By nightfall it was well past them. For the night they remained in the forest for safety.

  Olomaru-mia’s concern began to grow. Mechalu was gone before she arose, and it was late enough that women were preparing the evening meal. When he left on hunting trips he took his spear, backpack, and other items that remained in the hut. She rarely left the protection of the hut, because it was so important to Mechalu, but she got up and went to find the Chief.

  “Mechalu has been gone since before first light. His hunting tools remain untouched. Have you seen Chief Uvela?” she asked Ahma.

  “He’s over there with Dooderido and Bul. Are you worried, Mia?”

  “Yes, I am. This has never happened since we’ve been here. Thank you, Ahma,” she said and walked over to where the men were talking. She stood before them until the Chief looked up. He knew she was there, but he did not choose to acknowledge her presence quickly.

  “Yes, Olomaru-mia. What is it?”

  “Mechalu left this morning before first light as he often does. Usually he returns for the morning meal, but today he did not. I thought he might have gone hunting, but his spear and backpack have not been touched. As late as it is, I worry.”

  “Olomaru-mia, Mechalu is a competent man. He can take care of himself. If he hasn’t returned by council meeting, we’ll discuss hunting for him, but you can be sure he’ll be here.”

  She lowered her head to him and thanked him, not at all comfortable that Mechalu would be back by the council meeting. She turned and went back to her hut.

  At the council meeting the Chief noticed that Mechalu was not present. Even he became moderately a
larmed. He said to the council members, “Mechalu went out before first light without his hunting gear. He has not returned. Do any of you have information that would explain this?”

  The Nola Nola looked around at the faces of each other. This was indeed unusual.

  At length Quigmot, Tuna and Bul’s brother, said, “I have seen him outside before first light. I followed him once, as have some of the other people my age. He goes to the hill over there.” He pointed to the west. “He stands on a rock at the end of the path, holds his arms to the sky, and sings a song that has strange words. He dances. He does that with his eyes shut. It’s fascinating.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Kumonib added.

  “I have also seen him do that,” Too added.

  Older adults looked at the young people and then at each other. What was Mechalu doing up there? They wondered about him. Some mused that too often they thought they knew someone only to discover something unexpected that made them wonder if they knew the person at all.

  The Chief was aware that there was a dropoff on the hill to the west. That’s why children were warned carefully of the dangers and told until they reached the age of thirteen, they were not allowed to go there. He said, “After the morning meal, I will meet with those of you who wish to search for Mechalu. It is not clear that he has met with harm. There are other reasons he might be missing. We will search after the morning meal.” With a sense of dread and contrary to the assurance he tried to project, the Chief had an uneasiness that Mechalu breathed no longer. He ached deep in his bones that he’d lost one son and had just lost another.

  Olomaru-mia was heartbroken. She had come to love Mechalu with a deep and abiding love. If anything had happened to him, she would be devastated. She wondered if he were dead how she could continue to live. He was her life. The news of his dancing and singing with his eyes shut by a dangerous dropoff startled her. Why do such a dangerous thing? It wasn’t like him. Before the meeting ended she picked up Lah, took Kenu by the hand, and returned to her hut. She hugged the children and put them into their sleeping places. Somehow, deep down inside, she felt an emptiness, a virtual certainty that Mechalu would not return alive. She had felt it all day. Mechalu was predictable. This was extremely far from his normal behavior. She wept silently in the hut, alone.

  Her other children came bursting into the hut. Once inside they went to their sleeping places. Mohu, her fifteen-year-old, came to her, knelt beside her, and whispered, “Is Father dead?”

  Olomaru-mia put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and whispered back truthfully, “Son, I don’t know.”

  “Do I have your permission to search for him?” he asked.

  “That is up to your grandfather, Mohu. Ask the Chief.”

  Mohu crawled over to his sleeping place and lay there wondering. His older brothers were gone on their trial of valor. He was the oldest son at home. He felt much responsibility. There were eight children presently in the hut. He wondered if he had the ability, if his father had died, to take care of all those children. It was overwhelming. He had already begun to prepare for his trial of valor. He fell asleep with worry in his thoughts.

  Olomaru-mia lay down. She could see the form of Mohu. She knew he understood fully the possibility that his father was gone. She knew he recognized his responsibility in such a case to the family, while his plans were to leave soon for his trial of valor. Her heart ached for him. She prepared herself for the winds of change. She could feel the breeze blowing. She knew that before the end of the next day change would sweep upon them and all would have to adjust. She fell into a fitful sleep.

  After the morning meal, the Chief assembled all who were willing to search. He accepted Mohu, as Olomaru-mia was sure he would. He sent Mohu with a group of men who went southwest. He sent a larger search group to the land below the dropoff. He decided to wait to see what the searchers would report before sending others in different directions. He told all groups to return by high sun. Coshiga climbed the hill to the west. He found the trail that was little used. He followed it to the promontory where Mechalu went in the mornings before the sun rose. He stood on the rock and looked down. He could see the body of Mechalu. It lay on the rocks below. There was no movement.

  Coshiga wondered why anyone would stand on that rock to sing and dance with his eyes shut. It seemed as if he asked for a fall. Mechalu seemed to have better sense than that. He shook his head. Coshiga saw some of the searchers and called to them. They looked up.

  “On the rocks directly below me,” he called and pointed down.

  It took some time for the men to get there, but they found the body. They examined it. He lay on his back. The back of his head, neck, and his back were badly damaged from the impact with the rocks.

  “He died fast,” one man muttered.

  It was not easy, but the men took Mechalu’s body by the arms and legs and carried him to more level ground away from the rocks. Instead of going for a stretcher, the largest of the men, Rur, picked up the body and carried it across his shoulders. They headed back to the village.

  Grieving began when the men approached the village. Very quickly a group of men began to dig. One ran to the southwest to call in the searchers.

  Chief Uvela looked at Rur who had just laid the body near the Chief’s hut. “Will you do it?” he asked.

  Rur looked back, remembering. “You get the children out of the way.”

  “Ahma,” the Chief said, “Bring his children here, all of them.”

  “What about Olomaru-mia?”

  “Tell her someone will come for her and to wait in her hut.”

  Ahma left to do his bidding.

  After the children gathered, Rur went to Mechalu’s hut. He entered.

  Olomaru-mia was startled. “What is it Rur?”

  Rur looked at her and shut his thoughts to what he had to do. He said, “Mechalu’s body has been found. You are a prize of valor. You must be buried with him. We don’t bury people alive.” With those words, he put his large hands around her throat and strangled her. She did not defend herself. Rur then lifted her body in his arms and carried her to the Chief’s hut and laid her beside Mechalu. The Nola Nola were aghast. No one, certainly not the women, dared to say anything that showed disapproval. It was almost too much for Ahma. She loved Olomaru-mia dearly and had just experienced the death of her son. She was overcome at what the Nola Nola had done to Mia.

  She was certain they could have let her live. They could have found a way. She was very careful, however, not to let her thoughts show. Olomaru-mia and Mechalu’s children were stunned at the sight of both their parents lying dead before them. They suspended emotion from lack of comprehension and understanding. It was too much to grasp the meaning of such an event.

  Some of the people headed for the hillside to the east. There were some flowers blooming and for some people, flowers would be added to the grave before it was filled in. Others without a word realized they could express something by adding flowers to the grave, so they quickly joined the gathering. They would return one by one with arms full of colorful flowers. Even Ahma participated.

  Tuna knew that Lah, Kenu, and the youngest twin boys were walking about unsupervised, so she took on the responsibility of watching them. She dried her eyes and looked after the youngest children as an honor to Olomaru-mia. She’d weep later.

  Mohu returned from the search to find not one but both his parents’ bodies ready for burial. He was horrified.

  “Who did this evil deed?” he demanded.

  The Chief grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into his hut.

  “Silence. You do not sit in judgment here. Olomaru-mia was Mechalu’s prize of valor. The prize of valor is buried with the man who owns it. We don’t bury people alive, Mohu. You are about to leave for your trial. Be careful what you choose.”

  Mohu was stunned. He stared at his grandfather with his mouth partly opened. He knew the prize of valor was buried with the dead man, but those things were not living, breathing pe
ople loved by their children. What manner of people were the Nola Nola, he wondered. He was born to them but didn’t feel part of them at that moment. He felt utterly foreign.

  “I will take care of the children to see that each has a suitable home. It is not your responsibility. You will leave in seven days for your trial. Prepare for that.”

  They walked solemnly to the burial ground. A deep grave was dug. Mechalu’s body was laid in the ground first with his head to the west and his feet to the east. Olomaru-mia’s body was next to his. Someone had circled Mechalu’s arms around her and put her hand on his side. As people arrived, they tossed their flowers down onto the two who lay there together. There was palpable grief, but unlike the typical burial, no one permitted their crying to raise a noise. Women had a legitimate reason, fearing if anyone thought they wept for Olomaru-mia or felt it unfair that she had been killed, they might be beaten.

  Chief Uvela stood before the open grave looking at the flowers that completely covered the bodies of Mechalu and Olomaru-mia. He looked up to the sky. “Creator of All,” he said, “This is the second son I’ve buried. If I’ve done something wrong, show me, so I can stop these unnatural deaths from occurring. Keep us safe. From this day no young man on his trial of valor is permitted to abduct any other person.” He could say no more. He loved Olomaru-mia and to see her and Mechalu gone together was tearing him apart.

  After the ceremony, the Chief went from family to family until he had divided up the children, all except for Mohu, who would remain at Mechalu’s hut until he left for his trial.

  The little group returning from the wife/husband search finally reached the village of the Southern Kapotonok. Ti had already returned with a wife, Qi. They arrived in time for the evening meal. This brought good laughter to the group as if Linpint and Zamimolo liked Kapotonok food so well they always arrived in time for dinner. It wasn’t far from the truth.