The Mol spoke their language poorly, but they did speak it. They learned from the People who had lived in the caves of the animal paintings very long ago. As they entered the home cave, the Mol had to bend down to go through the vestibule. Once in the cave they could stand with ease.
Nanichak-na noticed the addition of the three Others and pointed it out to Chamul-na. They did not approach the newcomers because they were occupied with three of their own. It was near time for the evening meal and most people had assembled already in the large gathering area where they normally ate. The newcomers were given mats for seating, and making themselves comfortable, they thanked the People.
Ki’ti and one of the Mol could not stop looking at each other. Ki’ti didn’t feel threatened, she felt a communication she couldn’t quite understand emanating from the Mol who stared at her. It was neither bad nor good but inquisitive, and felt kind at the same time. Somehow, she felt as if the young man knew a lot about her already. She lowered her eyes.
The men talked into the night while the women cleaned up from dinner and prepared the sleeping mats and covers. Some women gathered outside to gossip about the Mol. Ki’ti and Emaea had walked far down the rock walk.
“The Mol named Untuk kept staring at me. I was drawn to him also. Mother, what is the significance?” Ki’ti asked Emaea.
“I do not know. I realized the two of you were drawn to each other but I don’t understand why. You are so very different. He is much taller than you.”
“I almost feel that he knows me.”
“Chamul-na and Nanichak-na may have said something about our storytellers. That might be it.”
“Well is it bad manners to stare at someone else?”
“I don’t think this was bad manners, Little Girl, but rather another of your ways of knowing that I don’t understand. I think there is a drawing because there is some information the two of you need to share. Did you notice the bag around his neck? The other two don’t have them.”
“You are right. I didn’t notice but I can bring up the image in my mind web. Do you think there is a yellow owl in there?”
“I cannot know. There should not be another unless it is broken or unless he came from Wamumur’s People. He doesn’t look like Wamumur.”
“That’s true, and clearly he is not People. So I wonder what is in that bag.”
“I expect that you will find out.” Emaea looked at Ki’ti and wondered. There had been no one among the People for Ki’ti to join when she became woman. Ki’ti didn’t talk of it often but there was a yearning. She understood that well.
Emaea wondered why Chamul-na and Nanichak-na had brought the Mol to their cave. To her it made no sense. But she knew that the men were not thoughtless, they had no doubt reasoned every angle they could. She could not wait to whisper with Wamumur in bed. Ah! It would not be necessary to wait; she could see her husband approaching from the cave.
“Why did you leave?” he asked.
“The women were leaving and it appeared to be a conversation for men. We left to talk. Why are the Mol here?”
“In a word, wives,” Wamumur said.
“Not me!” Ki’ti said firmly.
“Then, with whom will you join?” he asked.
“Not them. They are too tall.”
“Well, you cannot join with Frakja and you’ll have to wait,” he flashed eight, “years for Trokug or Smig or Ekoy. What did you have in mind?”
“Wise One, I have no plan.”
“Then don’t be too rash in judging the Mol by height. Height is a small factor in the choice of joining.”
“But he wears funny clothes.”
Wamumur looked at her. He had noticed the staring between her and Untuk.
“Oh, so you’ve already chosen Untuk?”
“Wise One, I . . . .”
Wamumur interrupted, “I noticed the staring between the two of you. I heard that as soon as he heard of you from Chamul-na and Nanichak-na, he has wanted to meet you. He is not a Wise One, but I think there was a Wise One in his ancestry. There is some reason he really wants to meet you.”
“After the staring I feel uncomfortable.”
“That is not discomfort from the staring, I am persuaded, but rather your meeting someone about whom you know nothing. At times like that it’s always awkward. The best way to solve the awkwardness is to communicate. They will be here a while. They do understand if they join with a woman here they have to stay here. Returning to the Mol with one of our women is not something we will permit. Visiting briefly is acceptable for any other woman than you, but not living there.”
Ki’ti stood. She wondered where the Mol were. Emaea and Wamumur accompanied her back to the cave. The girl’s curiosity was going wild, but her actions were self protective. She wanted to know about the strangers, particularly the one who stared at her, but she hesitated to find out. She thought she might just be a novelty because she was a storyteller. She didn’t want to be a novelty.
It was dark and she headed to the privy. She remembered that she had no one with her so she turned back to the cave and ran headlong into Untuk.
“I’m sorry,” she said apologetically.
“I’m not. I would love to talk to you.”
“Well, right now I’m headed to the privy and I have to have accompaniment. I had forgotten for the moment so I have to get someone.”
“I would be glad to accompany you.”
Ki’ti looked at his eyes. She was totally unprepared for the offer but didn’t want to be rude. “Will you turn away while I use the privy?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said softly.
“Then that will be fine,” she said, having no idea at all how to avoid this encounter.
They walked to the privy in silence. She used it and then he did. They turned back to the cave.
“I have wanted to meet you for days,” Untuk said. “I heard about your storytelling. I heard about your taking the green bag to the dead man of the Mol and how you suffered for doing it. I heard about your travel to the place where giants played. I heard about your finding the animal images that I’ve never seen until we traveled here. We stopped to look at them. I heard about you over and over. I have been so eager to meet you.”
Ki’ti was totally embarrassed that Chamul-na and Nanichak-na had been so liberal in spreading her story. Some of it she would gladly have forgotten, but could not. She would gladly have dropped through a hole in the earth but she was confronting a stranger who knew of her.
“In some ways I see you as a hero,” he said.
“Well, believe me, I am no hero. My former impulsive behavior has been curbed, because I took that bag to the cave in strict disobedience to my father.”
“You did and I understand you suffered greatly. You gave my people a gift. You brought them together. I passed by them today and knew their joy.”
“We believe that when you die and are buried Wisdom brings you to himself through the ground to the place where we were made. You aren’t where you are buried.”
“You did notice that my people are not buried.”
“Oh,” was all that Ki’ti could say. She wondered whether the man with the green bag could communicate with her because he wasn’t buried. She knew Wamumur thought that rather than the man himself, it could be evil spirits that lurked around the bodies that communicated rather than the dead themselves. She found it confusing.
“Will you sit with me?” he asked.
She agreed and the two sat a little way down the rock walk. They looked at the starry sky as Ahriku hobbled over to sit by Ki’ti. “Poor Ahriku,” she said.
Untuk got to his feet quickly looking at the wolf. He hadn’t seen the dogs but heard them when they arrived. They had been hushed so quickly that he had forgotten.
“You can sit. Ahriku is my special dog, and he will not hurt you. He is very old.”
Untuk sat back down eyeing the dog which really looked like a wolf to him. He put his arm around Ki’ti’s shoulders. S
he seemed as special to him as he thought she might. He loved her big blue eyes and long eyelashes. Her fine brown hair blew in the wind and he watched it curve around her face. When he put his arm around her shoulders, she stiffened and then relaxed. Ki’ti’s People’s custom was that the gesture meant something between a man and a woman. In his customs she realized the gesture might mean nothing.
“What do you have in the bag at your neck?” she asked.
He was surprised but said, “It is a little yellow owl that was broken. It belonged to my ancestor from long ago when my people lived near here. They had to run from here and when they did this little owl broke. I still keep it as a token of my family from long ago.”
“Look what I have in my bag,” she offered.
His eyes dilated when he saw the intact owl.
“It was owned by someone named Ilea who loved a stone worker named Torkiz. It was left in the cave of the animals. Torkiz made the images you saw.”
Untuk was shocked. He could not retain the words but let them tumble out. “Ilea was Mol. Torkiz was People. They did not join but they copulated in his cave for years. They were in love and joined as well as any people ever joined, but not in a pronouncement as his People required. When they fled from the man-like apes and the Others, Ilea and Torkiz were separated for the rest of their lives. My father came from that union down the ancestry line. Their son had the owl when it broke. My family has handed it to the eldest boy ever since. It has been uncountable generations.”
“Why didn’t they throw away a broken owl?”
“Because it was a symbol for the broken union of two lovers.”
“I see,” Ki’ti said wistfully.
“How did you know the names Ilea and Torkiz?”
She looked at him expecting him to laugh scornfully. “The owl sang the story to me.”
“What?” he said. What did she mean? he wondered.
“I had the owl that belonged to Torkiz. The one I found in the cave belonged to Ilea. The owl sang the names to me. Somehow Wamumur’s and mine got mixed up in the beginning. Maybe it was when the pouch was made for mine. I was supposed to have Ilea’s owl. I discovered when I’d prepare to sleep that Torkiz’s owl would sing. Wamumur cannot hear it. All he hears is buzzing. Wamumur made me give him the owl that belonged to Torkiz and he gave me the one that belonged to Ilea. Hers doesn’t sing. At least not yet.”
Without asking, Untuk pulled her to his lap and leaned down and kissed her. She was shocked and tried to push him—then discovered to her surprise that she didn’t wish to push him away, embracing him with warmth. Slowly he touched her in ways no one had ever touched her, and she felt like her belly had turned to water. She felt that this should not happen, but she didn’t want it to stop. She responded to his every advance. She wondered whether this was love. Untuk was definitely in love. He had waited so long for the right woman and when he heard her story, he knew he’d found her, even though he had not seen her. He could not resist her when he met her, and she was responsive.
Wamumur came to the cave entrance to find her. He noticed what was happening, smiled, and called again. The two separated and Untuk helped her up to go to Wamumur. They looked at each other again as she went to the Wise One. He escorted her into the cave to their sleeping mats. She dutifully went to kiss and hug Emaea and then repeated the gestures with Wamumur. “He isn’t so bad, is he?” Wamumur asked.
“No, he is very special,” she admitted.
“That is good,” Emaea said.
“The Winds of Change are blowing,” Ki’ti said, feeling overwhelmed.
Emaea smiled. She reached out a hand and took Ki’ti’s. Her smile brought one from Ki’ti.
The next day dawned bright and cloudless. Ki’ti asked Wamumur if she could take Untuk to the lake. He said that he would gather several people to take the three visitors to the lake. It might look a bit ungracious if only two went to the lake. Some of the women planned to fish and it would be good to share their manner of fishing.
Ki’ti prepared for the lake. She was careful to pick her teeth and comb her hair which now was below shoulder length. It waved slightly and curved around her face. Where the sun hit it for days at the lake, there were streaks of gold highlights running down the hair. In the sunlight it shone gold streaks like Liho’s hair did all over. She took good care of it and bathed daily to avoid lice. She didn’t want her hair cut again.
Ki’ti asked Emaea whether she shouldn’t have a longer tunic.
“Whatever for?” came the reply.
How, she wondered, could Ki’ti tell her that she felt virtually naked in front of Untuk, so she said just that, despite her awkward feeling.
Emaea laughed quietly, holding Ki’ti’s hands. “It wouldn’t matter if the tunic came to the ground, Little Girl,” she said, “men can see what’s underneath.”
“What do you mean?”
Emaea smiled directly at her with her mouth and eyes, “Haven’t you already discovered the answer to that?”
“Oh, Emaea, am I so transparent?”
“My Dear One, you are woman and so am I.”
“I see,” Ki’ti said, but didn’t really.
The fishing group headed for the lake. Ki’ti and Untuk walked together. Ahriku trotted behind dutifully. It appeared that there was no limit to what they could devise for conversation. He found it extremely hard to keep his hands off her. She did not seem to have the same trouble. She was happy just holding hands.
When they reached the lake shore, Pechki called to Ki’ti and Untuk. She asked Untuk whether he could swim. He replied he could swim some, but didn’t consider himself a swimmer. She explained he must take lessons starting that day, but to board the raft for now and sit in the middle with Ki’ti. He was delighted. Pechki took them out onto the lake and showed them fish in the crystal clear water below and let them enjoy time on the water. Then she noticed the two other Mol visitors were finishing with their swim lessons, so she returned the raft to shore and informed Kai and Guy-na, the swim instructors of the day, that they had another student. The men already discovered that Mihalee and Tongip needed lessons.
Ki’ti went to the place where Emaea had put down an aurochs skin and together they watched the young men learn to swim. It would take days and days and days. The star of the swim lessons was Untuk. He wanted to get this requirement behind him as quickly as possible.
When Untuk emerged from the water before Mihalee and Tongip, Wamumur walked to meet him. “Come walk with me,” he requested.
Untuk went with him with a quick glance at Ki’ti, who looked as mystified as he.
“You find Ki’ti attractive?” Wamumur asked.
“That is putting it mildly,” Untuk replied.
“Are you thinking to join with her?” Wamumur persisted.
“If that were possible it would fill my largest dreams.”
“What do you find appealing about her?”
“First, the way she looks. No one among the Mol keeps themselves clean and groomed like she does. She even smells good. And her eyes. I get lost in them. She is very bright. And there is something between us. A spark. Some kind of feeling draws us together.”
“Those things come and go. You do know that she is our storyteller. She will become the Wise One of the People when Emaea and I are gone to Wisdom. Do you understand what that means?”
“Not fully, Wise One,” the young man said truthfully.
“If you join with her, it means this: she doesn’t belong to you, she belongs to the People. She must be protected at all costs. It is her primary job to tell the stories we have heard for years during the cold season confinement. It is our security. After she tells them, she will be exhausted, because Wisdom speaks through her and each word must not vary from what was from the beginning of time, and then you must make her sleep. She won’t want to sleep. When she lets Wisdom speak through her, it saps energy like a long run. But it makes her feel as if she could run forever. When she uses alternate ways of knowing
, a kind of knowing that you and sometimes I don’t understand, she has the same need for sleep. And she won’t want it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Wise One.”
“You must keep her from evil spirits. Do you understand that?”
“I have no idea what that means. I can protect her from assaults from Others and that involves evil spirits sometimes, but other than that, I don’t know.”
“Then, if you join, I will have to teach you.”
“If we can join, you would find me an eager and obedient learner. I already love and cherish her. I would do whatever is necessary to protect and care for her. I have no preconceived ideas what a Wise One is or should be. I will be obedient to you and to Emaea.”
“Now here’s your greatest challenge,” Wamumur said. “She is wiser and smarter than you’ll ever be. Don’t think you can outsmart her. It won’t work. What you need to do is to look after her needs. Not her wants. Her needs. You don’t want her to tire significantly—ever. That is the worst thing that can happen to her because it puts her off balance. She makes poor judgments when she is fatigued.”
“How do you know when she’s tired?”
“Her shoulders will droop. She will become slow in movement. She will stare off into space without batting her eyes for a long time. She will not respond appropriately when you talk to her. You have to understand she uses energy differently from you. She uses spiritual energy and that takes more out of you than physical energy does. That seems strange but it’s true.”
“So while she watches over the People, it would be my job to watch over her.”
“Yes. Then this is also challenging. You have to make her obey you. You are not as smart or knowledgeable, but you have to make her obey you. Do you understand?”
“That could be difficult.”
“Are you man enough for the responsibility?”
“Wise One, all I can say is that I long for it. I will need to learn from you. When you see me do something wrong, I would need you to correct me. I will be obedient as I’ve said before.”
Ki'ti's Story, 75,000 BC Page 30