Ki'ti's Story, 75,000 BC

by Bonnye Matthews

  Mungum said, “They did not like the Gar. The Gar are man-like apes that eat bamboo.”

  “So the Mol have interacted with the Gar for a long time?”

  “Yes,” Gukmor said flatly. “The Gar usually are placid, but when they feel threatened, they can become quite fierce. That’s why we fled the area many, many generations ago. They felt threatened by us and the People, so they began to threaten back. We have wondered whether the Gar actually overthrew the ancients or whether our ancients just left for elsewhere. They could be anywhere, since they were so mobile, but I think they are gone. I’m thinking they were pretty much the same size as the Gar. We don’t know that part of our history.”

  “That is fascinating,” Manak-na admitted. His mind web was running fast. The ancient Mol built the path. The man-like apes were called Gar by the Mol.

  “Oh, and the Gar really stink!” Mungum said.

  Manak-na finally understood why the Mol laughed back at the cave about stinking. He was getting an education. So much to learn. The Mol had much information but it wasn’t organized and ready like the stories made the information of the People. It seemed that it just began to fall to the front of their mind webs when they talked about it. Manak-na could not understand what he thought of their disregard for their own knowledge. He had learned something of geography from their ramblings. To the north was a huge lake. He wondered whether that might not be a good destination.

  He looked up and said, “The huge lake you mentioned that is to the north. Does the pathway lead to the lake?”

  Ghoman looked surprised that Manak-na would want to know that, but he answered, “It goes there and then borders the east side of the lake—not at the lake’s edge but rather through the high lands. That’s as far as I’ve been on the path, so I don’t know more than that.”

  “And it is fresh water?” Manak-na asked.

  Ghoman laughed. “That’s what a lake is.”

  “Can you see across the lake?” Manak-na asked.

  Ghoman smiled. “In some places. It’s surrounded by mountains. Climb them to get a view. And I’ll tell you that if you were to walk the east side of the lake in a hunter party, it would take you longer than a moon.”

  Manak-na was shocked. Even Tongip was hit hard. He’d never heard that information.

  “Longer than a moon! How can that be, Ghoman. Are you teasing?” Tongip was amazed.

  “No, on my life. It is true. I did that when I was young and kept wondering when the lake would end.”

  “One more question, Ghoman,” Manak-na said, “How long would it take to trek from here to this lake?”

  Ghoman rested his head on his hand. He was silent for a while, his face reflecting thought. Finally, he said, “I think you are looking for a new land. The lake would be wonderful, Manak-na. But you need to know that for a large number of people to travel there with children and old people, it would take the better part of a set of seasons—maybe longer. Perhaps, if you took it in stages it would work. I don’t know. It is not an easy trek, but the path goes there, so you could find it. You also need to know that the further north you travel, the colder the seasons of cold days and the shorter the seasons of warm nights. It is colder now than it has been for a long time. Up there it could be bitterly cold.”

  Manak-na thanked Ghoman. He gazed into the sky and wondered at all he’d heard. Still, there was silence in the forest. He drifted in his mind web and considered the Mol. They had rules, but they didn’t know the basis for them. Their information was disorganized in their mind webs. It tumbled out when they spoke. But they were filled with information. Smoke from the fire was blowing into his eyes, so he got up and moved.

  During this time, Domur had shown the Mol how to use the nets and how to make them. They had fished enough to have some for an appetizer for one meal. The Mol were definitely ready to make fish part of their diet.

  While sitting in the sunshine working on nets, Domur asked, “Do you know the way to give a green color to skins?”

  “Have you ever seen a green skin?” Kamal, Putan’s wife, asked.

  “Yes, the Mol who was found at the caves. He had a green bag. It was still with him.”

  “That’s right. Mihalee told us about him and that you had moved his body to be with his family,” Yukich said. Yukich was the wife of Gnomuth, the Chief of the Mol.

  Domur was happy to hear her voice. It was sweet and melodious. It differed some way from the Mol speech, but Domur couldn’t understand what the difference was. It was a very slight difference. Domur smiled thinking about the green bag and then the man’s being moved to the cave.

  “We are grateful to the People for uniting the family of Mol,” Baway, Lifu’s wife, added. Her white hair shone in the sun. “That was a kind thing.”

  “For some reason our young Wise One seemed to know right where his family was. It was unusual for the knowledge of Wisdom to be shed like that,” Domur said.

  “You sound like wisdom is a person,” Yukich said. Yukich made it a point to try to stay informed and be able to avoid or reduce problems by knowing how the Mol were doing in much the same way as Totamu had in years gone by.

  “To us, yes, Wisdom is a person.” Domur felt she was on shaky ground.

  “To us wisdom is another word for smart.”

  “To us Wisdom is the Creator of all that is and ever will be. Wisdom leads us in all our life activities,” Domur continued.

  “You worship wisdom?” Baway asked.

  “You could say that,” Domur said quietly. “Our stories tell us of what Wisdom has taught us through the years.”

  “Was wisdom like our ancients, the giant ones of old?” Kamal was trying to understand.

  “I don’t know about your ancients,” Domur said.

  “Our ancients built the road. They ranged from the big lake to the north many, many seasons from here to the salt sea in the south and to the salt sea to the east. Nobody much lives to the west. Our ancients were giants, huge men that would have made us look very small. They were at least as large as the man-like apes that live north of the bridge.” Yukich looked to see whether Domur had understood what she said. They spoke the words of the People, but it was not their first words.

  “Wisdom was not one of us but rather lives somewhere that holds all that is. Wisdom is greater than one of our ancestors, because Wisdom created all that is.” Domur was choosing her words carefully. She had not been called on to speak of Wisdom and this was uncharted territory for her. Domur could see that the Mol were losing interest, so she said, “The coloring of the green bag? I still wonder how that color was achieved.”

  Belu looked up. She was Mungum’s wife, and did a lot of work with skins. “I would guess, since I’ve never seen the bag, that it was done with algae from a lake. We don’t color skins, so I have no real idea what was used, but that would be my guess. I learned that boiled algae will make a green color bath for skins. The longer you leave it in the color bath the darker it gets. Once it’s colored, you bathe it in salt water—I think.”

  “That’s interesting. Thank you,” Domur said.

  “I need your help here,” Elaha, Gukmor’s wife, said. “I think I lost what I was doing.”

  Domur sat beside her and took the knotted net and looked at it. “Here it is,” she remarked. “It needs to be undone to here and then redone. If you’ll undo it, I’ll be glad to start it again.”

  “Thank you, Domur. After tasting the fish the other night, believe me, I want more.”

  There was a smattering of light laughter. Everyone agreed that fish would be a welcome change.

  When the men north of the river awakened, they prepared to trek quickly and continued north.

  Manak-na caught the drift of something on the wind. It was an odor that he found unfamiliar. He noticed it was coming from the north. As they continued, the scent became stronger. It was not pleasant.

  Finally, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Manak-na asked, “What is that odor?”
/>   “We wondered when you’d ask. That’s Gar,” Ghoman said.

  They continued on. The odor became more and more pungent. Then they could see the caves.

  “There,” Gukmor pointed, “Those are the caves of the Gar. And there is no movement around here.” He was curious.

  As the men approached, they could tell that the caves seemed to have been abandoned. The odor of Gar was overwhelming. Manak-na agreed that they could not live there. The path did continue on and he knew that if they chose to move, they’d have to pass by these caves, which looked fairly good.

  “You wouldn’t want to live here,” Gukmor shouted.

  “What have you found?” Ghoman shouted back.

  “The walls of these caves have fractured. Look at this.” Gukmor showed the men the fractures and the crumbling rock all over the floor. “This may be why they left.”

  Manak-na noticed that the caves lacked hearths. “Did they not use fire?” he asked.

  “I don’t think they knew how,” Tongip answered. “They were really hairy and their coats of hair may have done a good job of protecting them. Look, over here there is a pile of leaves and grasses. That may have been their bedding.”

  “Or their garbage heap,” Ghoman chuckled and was met with laughter from the others.

  Tongip said, “I need to get out of here or I may vomit. The odor is really revolting.”

  “We need to start the trip home,” Ghoman said. “This has been a great diversion as trips like these always are, but it is time to return home. Manak-na, have you found what you wanted to know?”

  “I have. If we need to relocate, this path may take us where we need to go, and it’s safe. The caves are out of the question, though.”

  Everyone laughed heartily and began to move away from the caves and the odor.

  When at last all had returned to the Mol caves, there was a great feast while the hunters told of their findings. When Wisdom returned color to the land, the People left to return to their home accompanied by the two Mol hunters, Gukmor and Alme, who would examine the bamboo rafts.

  The trip was uneventful until they reached the grassy land below the cave of the man with the green bag. Gukmor stopped them and ascended the path that was so well concealed from below. He knelt out of sight and spent quite some time there.

  “Tongip, what is he doing?” Aryna asked softly.

  With his arm around the shoulders of his wife, Tongip explained, “He is checking to see if what I suspected is right. I think the man with the green bag is descended from Torkiz and Ilea. Domur asked about the green bag. Torkiz had a green bag. Nobody has found it since he died. His last son left the Mol and went to search out Torkiz. Since Torkiz is our hero, if this is his son, we want to know. If he is, Gukmor will want to know. Gukmor is descended from Torkiz and Ilea. The man with the green bag would be a relative.”

  “So that’s why people seemed so interested when I asked about the green bag? You do know that he had a yellow owl?” Domur added quietly.

  “Where is it?” Alme inquired.

  “Our Wise One has it. Wamumur has one and so does our Wise One. The man named Torkiz came from the group of people where Wamumur was born. They are of the same Band of the Owl that lived far west from here.”

  “Does this Wamumur also draw?” Alme asked.

  “No. He has seen the work of Torkiz at the cave that collapsed in the last big earthquake,” Tongip said and added, “He knows Torkiz was of his original ancestors.”

  “How does he know that?” Gukmor asked, hearing the discussion after descending the path to the cave.

  “Our Wise One told him. The owl sang the message,” Tongip replied, knowing the response that would bring from the Mol.

  Gukmor laughed out loud.

  “Do not laugh, my dearest uncle. It is true. When you meet our Wise One, you will see a tiny female who has more knowledge and wisdom in her than anyone I have ever known. She sees what we cannot. She knows a lie the moment it is concocted. She can see and hear through time. I’ve never known anyone like her.”

  Gukmor and Alme looked at Tongip, then at each other, then at Tongip, then at the People. They did not know what to believe from Tongip’s words. “Have you been bewitched?” Gukmor asked quite seriously.

  “Wait until you meet her and judge for yourself. You are in for a surprise. What are you doing with the green bag?” Tongip asked.

  “I brought the green bag to carry home to show the Chief that it is the green bag that we’ve had described to us through the years. He may wish to move the bodies to our burial ground where we can revere the place where they are without having to make such a trek.”

  “I ask you, Gukmor, to put the bag back and pick it up on your return. I think it would be good to keep it away from our Wise One.” Manak-na hoped he didn’t need to explain further.

  Gukmor looked hard at Manak-na. “The bag could not hurt anyone,” he said flatly.

  Manak-na looked hard back at Gukmor. He respected the man’s skepticism, but he also knew that bag should stay where it was at least until the Mol left.

  “Gukmor,” Manak-na said not quite testily, “That bag speaks to our Wise One. It was she who went against our prior Wise One, Wamumur, her father, and took the bag to the cave. She knew that was the mission of the Mol who died in the cave here. For that she was severely punished. But she was off in a mind web of very, very, very long ago. Until then she’d had no experience with mind webs of long ago.”

  Gukmor turned the bag over and over. “See here, this is the mark of Torkiz.” The green bag did, in fact, bear a black squiggle. “If you looked at the drawings in the cave, each one had this mark on it.”

  “We never noticed,” Manak-na said. “Then the body is likely the son of Torkiz, since he has the green bag with the mark of Torkiz on it. That is all the more reason to keep the bag away from our Wise One.”

  “I will put it back. But on our way home, we will pick it up.”

  “Of course,” Manak-na said. He would be glad to be rid of the green bag and the bodies. Every time they passed that place there were memories that he saw as not good.

  They arrived at the caves and the People flowed out in greeting. A feast was prepared and the hunters who had been to the south side of the bridge were very eager to share their experiences with those who had been to the north side.

  When Ki’ti saw Gukmor, she walked directly to him, followed by Untuk.

  Tongip said, “Gukmor, this is . . . .”

  Untuk was with her, but when he saw Gukmor, he threw his arms around the man in childish delight and he threw his arms around Gukmor. “How good to see you again!”

  Since Tongip had begun the introduction, Untuk stood back.

  Tongip continued, “Gukmor, this is our Wise One.”

  Ki’ti came forward and offered her hand to the older man.

  Gukmor placed one knee on the ground and bent the other to come to eye level of this tiny person. “I have heard much about you. Can it be true?”

  Ki’ti spoke almost in a whisper. “I see that you have some disquieted feelings about what you have heard. Gukmor of the Mol, I am just a simple person who is used by Wisdom. To quiet your concerns, I will tell you that I know that you are descended of Torkiz, that the man with the green bag is his son, that you will move the bodies to your caves that overlook the river. My father and you are very distant relatives because of Torkiz. Therefore, there must be peace among us and we welcome you to our caves. We will talk more at the men’s council tonight. It is good to meet you. Where is the other Mol?” she asked.

  Tongip put his hand on Alme’s back and introduced the younger Mol. Gukmor was dumbfounded. This tiny person knew things that she could not have known. What he’d been told might just be true. If Wisdom was their God, why did he pick such a tiny and unassuming person to be his speaker? he wondered. And Untuk and she were joined. This was a shock to him, but he handled it as well as he could with an open mind and yet skepticism too.

 
Ki’ti said to Untuk, “Please, show the visitors to the places we have prepared for them and make them comfortable. The food is almost ready. Please, show them where the privy and bathing areas are. Thank you, Dear One.”

  While showing the visitors the bathing area, Gukmor asked Untuk, “Is she really as unique as I hear? She looks like someone you’d never see in a crowd. I expected height or beauty. She has neither.”

  “Gukmor, true beauty comes from within. You know that. Being a Wise One is not a popularity issue. It is a choice made by Wisdom. The person chosen doesn’t get the opportunity to decline. It is a heavy role and few could accept it. We of the Mol had nothing like this. Only the People do. The Others certainly don’t! By choosing someone who isn’t very tall or beautiful, Wisdom shows who Wisdom is.”

  “Untuk, you have grown in understanding yourself. Perhaps, this is good. I will wait to see.”

  Meanwhile, Domur sought out Ekuktu-na and asked him to make Aryna a comb. He gave her one for Aryna from the small stash he kept in case of need. Domur took it directly to Aryna and cautioned her to keep it safeguarded because it took a long time to make them. Aryna understood.

  They all gathered in the largest cave for eating. The Mol were offered food first, then the -na hunters and Wise One, and then the women and children. Along with the main meat, there was smoked fish of three kinds so the Mol could enjoy that as well. There were greens and tubers and fruit. The People had prepared a feast.

  Finally, they moved to the end of the cave for the men’s council.

  “I call the men’s council together,” Ki’ti said. “We recognize Gukmor and Alme as guests and welcome them. We have much to discuss. I have invited Wamumur and Emaea to join us. First, we will hear from Nanichak-na, Chamul-na, Lamul-na, and Kai-na about their travel to the south of the bridge. Then, we will hear from Tongip, Manak-na, and Gukmor about their travel to the north of the bridge. Then we will hear from our guests and learn if we can help them and how. So that we keep order, I will nod to the next speaker. When that speaker has finished, he will look around. Make eye contact with him if you wish to speak, and if he nods to you then you are free to speak.”