He climbed the next hill. Atop the hill was an odd standing rock arrangement. He’d have thought that trees would have grown to disguise this place, for it clearly had not been used for a long time. Instead, the ground showed no sign of vegetation under the white rain, and the rocks were arranged clearly by people of old. While in the past, such a find would have interested him, it made little impact except to cause him to wonder why trees hadn’t grown there. He touched a standing rock and noticed it had been carved, but he didn’t study it. Just as he was about to go down the far side of that hill, Manak-na realized that Wisdom was rapidly swallowing color from the land. He needed to return to the cave. They would be discussing the new approach to numbering at the men’s council. He had not reached a conclusion, but he had to return. He still had no knowledge that the red ochre had lost its shape and streaked the side of his face.
As quickly as he could, he retraced the path he’d left in the white rain. He arrived back at the home cave just as the evening meal was being served. He had little hunger. Tongip-na raised an eyebrow when their eyes met, but he said nothing. Manak-na sat next to Domur and her closeness pricked him in strange ways. He wondered whether she knew he was battling himself.
The men’s council began that evening with a shout from Song, who had been sitting quietly beside her closest friend, Minal. Song looked horrified at her outburst.
“Song, what is it?” Ki’ti asked.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrupt the meeting. I just got kicked from the inside and it was a surprise.”
“Are you injured?” Ki’ti asked.
Likichi interrupted, “She was kicked by the child she will have.”
Song let out another sound, much softer.
Likichi looked at Song, “It kicked again. Get used to it.”
Humko-na, who was sitting across the fire from Song, was looking at his wife. He was delighted to know that he and Song would have a baby. He could hardly suppress the smile of joy on his face. She noticed.
Ki’ti said, “I think we can begin.” She looked around and Tongip-na caught her attention. She nodded towards him.
“Several of us met today to plan a new way for all the People to use numbers. We now have one that is made from a combination of all the ways of counting, but forming an orderly approach created by Hahami-na. The new approach will incorporate the zero that Hahami-na uses. Zero just means nothing or lack of something. Numbers mean how much or how many, so it stands to reason that the place to start is zero, or nothing. It is too new to try to teach at this meeting. We will take small groups of the People this season of cold days to teach. Once we’ve taught all the People, we can start to use it.”
Ki’ti looked around. She waited for anyone to make eye contact for permission to speak. No one did.
Ki’ti said, “Because there are no other speakers, this meeting ends. We will have a story shortly.
People moved around, chatted briefly, and then reassembled.
Ki’ti began:
“This story is not old. It is something many of us knew about. For that reason names will not be used. There was a young man living among us who was Other. Another more proper name for Other is Minguat. He came with us when we left the cave in the ashfall and moved north. He talked to a young man who left the cave in the ashfall with the Minguat for the coast, where the Minguat were all killed except for four of them. The man who lived among us had a secret. His secret was he thought Minguat were better than People or Mol for that matter.”
“He had not reasoned well, and the young man he talked to tried to reason with him to no avail. The young men had no idea that above them on the rock walk beside a big tree the Wise One was hearing the conversation. The Wise One was horrified. He shared what he heard with older men who were related to the young men.”
“They decided to have some of the People disguise themselves and hide in the bushes by the lake. The men got themselves hidden and then the relatives of the young men took them to the lake. They had them sit on a log on the shore with their backs to the men.”
“They asked them about their conversation and found that what the Wise One had told them was true. There was one young man who was arrogant and thought the People were nothing compared to the Minguat. The men of the Minguat told the young men to stand and to look into the bushes behind them. They did. They saw nothing. Finally, three of the People stood. It startled the young men. They had not seen them. In fact, the older men hadn’t been able to see them either, for they were very well hidden.”
“The older Minguat asked the young men how superior they were, if they couldn’t see men on the hill behind them, whose spears could have ended their lives. The arrogant young man had no answer, except to repeat that he believed Minguat were superior.”
“The Wise One, then, made a statement that all who lived with them were People. It was what he genuinely believed—that changes on the exterior were just minor differences for all were essentially the same. There were no Minguat or Mol. All were People. And all People were equal, none better or worse than another. He said that anyone not wanting to be People must leave when Wisdom returned color to the land the next day.”
“Two of the Minguat left. They left in the dark. When Wisdom returned color to the land, one of the Minguat crawled back to the place where the People lived. A bear had attacked her and the arrogant man fought the bear and was killed. The woman died that day. They buried her but did not go for the young man’s body, because the bear was eating it.”
“The Wise One was right. All of us, whether we look alike or not, are one People. No one is better or worse than another. We have some differences, but they are nothing special. If I have black hair and yours is brown, it makes neither one of us better than the other. That is how we came to live as we do—all of us with our differences are one People. And with that came real blessings from Wisdom. For the Minguat and the Mol, they found Wisdom. For the People, we found that adding to us those who looked different added a better ability for us to have live births, and the children who were born were all delightfully beautiful.”
In the hearth light in the cave Minagle and Sum-na squeezed hands. Each had lost a spouse that night long ago. In time they came together. Their pain had been replaced with happiness.
Ki’ti had finished. She looked around. Clearly, this story still moved People, especially those who were involved in the story. People quietly got up and went to their sleeping places. Those who lived through the story felt that the story had great merit and stayed as a constant reminder that Wisdom saw all as equal. Yomuk had heard the story all his life, but it had never made as significant an impact as it did this evening. His desire to be better than others was blasphemous. He was horrified.
When Wisdom with chill returned color to the land and glowing peachy color to the clouds, edged by the color of yellow metal, many of the People watched from the home cave entrance the change in color finding a type of nourishment in the beauty of it. Ahna and Elemaea sat at the morning meal chatting.
“What do you mean ‘fitting in?’” Ahna asked, twirling her finger in a front piece of her hair.
“Every one of the People has something that is unique to them that they do. Some make garments; some hunt; some cook; some get water from the lower part of the home cave. There are many things People do. I talked to Mother because I couldn’t fit in. She told me what to do. I ended up making spear points and knives.”
“I need to find a place to fit in, then?”
“Yes. You are the right age for that search.”
“What do I do?”
“Talk to Mother about it. That’s the best thing I can suggest.”
After all the morning meal had been cleared away, Ahna found Ki’ti and went to where she sat on her rolled up sleeping skins.
“What is it?” Ki’ti asked.
“I need to fit in. Elemaea said to talk to you.”
Ki’ti sighed. Now was the time, she thought, but if this were not her replace
ment, it would make her sad. She said, “Sit here beside me, Ahna.”
Ahna sat, wondering what would be her guidance to fitting in.
Ki’ti said, “Ahna, tell me the story I told about Tikarumusa.”
Ahna was startled. She sat there thinking, and then she began.
“This is a new story. It is one that the Wise One chose for the People from the travel of Manak-na and Yomuk. It tells of something they learned in Aikot, the land where I came from, far, far away, where the sun rises first from the land to the sea.”
“There was an old man called Tikarumusa who was severely disabled with the stiffness disease. He was an old man who lived on a hill up from the sea. One day his people became very excited. They saw the tide going out. The tide is a change in the level where the water touches the shore. They lived where they have very little change in tides. This tide went out fast enough that it stranded fish on the wet sand. Fish were flopping all over the sand.”
“His people got very excited and all of them, regardless of age, ran down to the sand to gather the gifts from their god of the underwater. Fish were everywhere and the people expected to feast. From his place on the hill, Tikarumusa stood to look out. He saw the people gathering fish. Far out to sea he could see a huge wave forming. He called and called to his people to warn them. He could not run to them, and they could not hear him. Tikarumusa hurt in his belly as he watched the huge wave come to cover all his people and to take them off to sea, not sparing a single one. He was left alone.”
“Tikarumusa lay on his sleeping skins. He wept for his people and himself. He thought he would die there. Instead, Wisdom brought the boat that Manak-na and Yomuk had traveled on for their adventure. Men from the boat found the old man. They took the old man to the boat where he was later exchanged for me, so he could remain with his people and be cared for.”
“What’s important to put in your mind web for this story is that if you ever are at the sea shore and observe the sea rushing out, no matter what you see on the sand, run the opposite way so that a monster wave will not take you to drown in the sea.”
Ki’ti was so excited that she could hardly contain herself, but years of self-discipline had taught her self control. Not only had Ahna remembered the story, but she had done it perfectly. She smiled for a moment thinking how Wamumur felt when he asked her to do the same thing—and she did.
Ki’ti said, “Now tell me the story about Kukuk-na and Timkut-na.”
Again, Ahna spent a time in thought. Then she began. Again she told the story perfectly.
Ki’ti was silent for a long time. She looked at Ahna whose eyes looked directly into hers.
“My Dear,” Ki’ti said. “You have a hard path to fitting in. Wisdom has selected you to be our next Wise One. You will have to learn what I know, so you can serve the People for Wisdom and do it wisely.”
“I what?” Ahna said timidly. Surely, she didn’t hear Ki’ti correctly.
Ki’ti looked with compassion on the little child who had just joined the People and wanted to fit in. “The truth, Ahna, is that Wisdom knew I needed a replacement. Wisdom searched and found you. That is why you came here. But it will not make your life easy. You will have to follow me and learn how to be Wise One. You’ve never had much time to play. Well, you don’t have any time for play beginning now. Someday, when I know that it’s time, you’ll become the next Wise One. I thought when I was young like you, that I had a choice in this matter. Try to understand right now—you have no choice. When Wisdom decides something in our lives, we cannot change it.”
“Wise One, I am not worthy.”
“Don’t start that. You don’t decide whether you are worthy. Wisdom has chosen you. That’s the end of it. Today I shall adopt you as my daughter. You will call me Mother. You will no longer roam as you choose. All day every day you will stay by my side, unless I give you freedom. Do you understand?”
“You really mean this, don’t you?” Ahna had extreme difficulty trying to take in the words of the Wise One.
“Yes, Ahna, from the bottom of my belly. I mean this. I also know what it is to have your childhood cut short, but it doesn’t sound like you ever had one.”
“I am ready to do what you have me do. I have found Wisdom here, and I am Wisdom’s servant. I will obey to the best of my ability.” Her sincerity was cutting into Ki’ti’s belly. She looked up and silently thanked Wisdom.
“After Wisdom sucks color from the land, I intend to notify the People during the men’s council that we have another Wise One. Realize from that point your every move will be watched. You will not be permitted to go to the privy alone, but must have a hunter accompany you. The reason is that you are now a treasure to the People. You must be protected.”
“I am comfortable being Wisdom’s servant. Being a treasure of any kind is something I am not comfortable with.” Ahna was trying to get Ki’ti to understand.
“Ahna, Wisdom doesn’t care whether you are comfortable. You have been chosen. Do you want to know how I know?”
“Yes,” Ahna replied almost in a whisper.
“I heard your prayer to Wisdom when you were newly arrived here, and I realized you have a belly for Wisdom. So I wondered whether you would be my replacement. There is one other element that qualifies you for my replacement. It is your memory in your mind web that enables your retelling the stories perfectly. You cannot do that unless Wisdom puts the memory in your mind web. I just tested you. You told the stories perfectly. You are my replacement.”
“Won’t your children want to be your replacement?” Ahna remained dumbfounded.
“My Dear, I don’t think anyone wants to be Wise One. It is a job with little freedom. They will not envy you.”
“What does freedom mean?” Ahna asked.
“It means being able to do what you want to do, when you want to do it. It comes with many conditions for normal people, but for Wise Ones, there is no freedom. You are available to the People any time they have a need.”
“I guess I’ll not miss what I’ve never had.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ki’ti said smiling. She thought about her days at the same age learning the stories. There was no time to play, and she missed it. Maybe Ahna’s words were correct. Maybe if you never played, you wouldn’t miss it.
Chapter 7
Wind breezed through the entryway blowing ice crystals from the trees, as Wisdom restored vivid blue, gold, orange, and yellow colors to the land. The season of cold days was brutal, colder than any the People remembered. They were convinced that Manak-na was right about the farther north they went the colder it would become. Several of them had qualms about going to the big lake if it was much farther north. There was plenty of food available in this place—dried meat and plants from warmer days fed them well, as their storage attested—but while hunting fresh meat was certainly possible because wildlife abounded, it was becoming very difficult, if not impossible, as a result of the depth of the white rain on the ground. Never had they lived where snow lay for long times at a depth over the knees of the People.
Nanichak-na struggled to sit up. The light from Wisdom’s return of color to the land caused him to waken. He was dizzy. A wet spot on his tunic made him realize he’d drooled profusely in his sleep. He lay there, not sure whether he sickened. The old man tried to rise again and the same dizziness overpowered him. He got tough with himself and tried to force himself to rise, but he found his left arm was not cooperating. With all his might, Nanichak-na pushed himself up with the other arm. He tried to stand and fell to the ground with a moan, calling attention to his difficulty. He was always reluctant to call attention to himself—it was not manly. The old man wanted to handle his problem himself. It was all so confusing. His dizziness turned to darkness followed by a pinpoint of light that seemed to grow and grow.
Likichi hurried to his side. One look at Nanichak-na’s face told her what she didn’t want to know. He had died! There had been no warning, no signs. One moment he was with the
m, aged but doing very well, and the next he was gone to Wisdom. She sat beside him and cradled his wrinkled face in her lap. Gently she closed his eyes. Blanagah, teary eyed, brought her a damp cloth, and Likichi washed his face. Nanichak-na gone? She couldn’t believe it! He’d been like Wamumur, one who was always there, a permanent person, functioning well right to the end. What would life be without him? Blanagah brought a large bowl filled with water for the cleaning of the body. Hahami-na knelt at his father’s side and lifted his lifeless, gnarled hand to his own face. His grief was silent; his heart, broken. No one ever had a better father, he thought.
Slamika-na, Ermi-na, Sum-na, and Guy-na volunteered to dig the grave. Slamika-na went to Hahami-na and asked whether he’d chosen a place. He was having trouble speaking from the emotion he felt in the loss of his grandfather.
“I hadn’t even thought about it. I trust you will find a good place. Thank you for your help. I haven’t the strength I used to have.”
“We’re glad to help,” he said. “Izumu,” using the special word for grandfather or male elder, “was a very special person, a treasure to us all.” Slamika-na managed to get the words out of his clenched throat.
The men dressed warmly and left with a few spears for safety, brooms to sweep the white rain away, and several bone and stone tools for digging carried in a couple of bags. Each would truly miss Nanichak-na. When they reached the bottom of the hill, they began to search the flat land for a place to put the body of Nanichak-na. They did not want it near the place where the evil man had been buried across the small valley. They decided on a place where a few ginkgo trees grew together at the base of the hill. Ginkgo trees were relatively rare in these hills. They began to sweep the white rain. It was mid-thigh on the original People. They realized they needed to sweep a large area, much larger than what they’d need for a grave. There would be many People for the graveside ritual. They shouldn’t stand in deep white rain.
Manak-na's Story, 75,000 BC Page 28