Manak-na's Story, 75,000 BC

by Bonnye Matthews

  Likichi gathered a handful of the leaves, and Ki’ti handed her the pouch from around her neck. Likichi put the leaves in the pouch and tightened the leather strap. She handed it back to Ki’ti, who put it back around her neck.

  “As you are right now, you may be good for years. But if you don’t take care of yourself, your time could be cut down quickly. Remember Enut? It’s like that, I think. Even if you do take good care of yourself, I cannot truly say how long you have. I wish I could. Or, maybe not. I only know that you have a serious problem and must do what I told you. Think of it this way, you’re immortal, until Wisdom calls for you.”

  “No one is immortal!” Ki’ti laughed a nervous laugh.

  “I see it differently. I think we all are immortal until Wisdom calls us to come to the navel of the world.”

  “I love that, Likichi. I’ll keep that in mind all day. It makes things more cheerful! It is a beautiful way to view Wisdom.” Ki’ti ran the statement through her mind web savoring what it had to say about Wisdom.

  “Good. Now, I’m going to make you some of that tea to help you breathe.”

  Ki’ti got up and Likichi stood, reaching back for a bundle of leaves. Likichi clenched her teeth. She was convinced Ki’ti had very little time.

  Ki’ti walked back to the place where she and Ahna would go over the stories. Ki’ti noticed that Ti’ti was sitting by Ahna, waiting. “I kept my word,” Ki’ti said to Ahna.

  “I noticed, Mother. I am grateful. What did Likichi say?” Ahna smoothed out a place on soft skins for Ki’ti. Ki’ti sat, resting her back on the skins along the wall.

  “She thinks that the lower part of my lungs is filled with ash from Baambas. The upper parts are doing well. She wants me to drink a lot of water and chew on these leaves. She wants me to be up and around daily but not to do anything physically stressful that would cause me to have trouble breathing. I’m not supposed to become overtired.”

  “Mother, if there is anything I can do to help you, will you promise to tell me?”

  “I promise. One day you’ll be Wise One. I’m sure you’re ready now. Yes, I promise to let you know when you can help. In fact, you may find that I lean on you heavier and heavier far sooner than either of us knows. It is wonderful to know that when you are Wise One, I won’t have a worry. You are a treasure.”

  “Mother, you must know that I love you with all my heart. You have shown me love and taught me to love. You have given me a life that I could never have dreamed I’d have. I will talk to Wisdom often and ask that Wisdom help your lungs work the best they can. I want you to live long.”

  Ki’ti looked at the young woman before her. “Ahna, my Dear, there is one thing I will ask of you now, so that I never forget. Right now I have Ti’ti. Whether I have another, time only will tell. When I go to Wisdom, will you take my dog and love it, as I do?”

  “Of course, if that’s what you want. I already love Ti’ti, and she cares for me too.”

  “That’s why I asked you. I will make it clear to Untuk-na that I have made that request.”

  Likichi arrived with the gourd of steaming tea. “Now, drink this while it’s hot,” she said.

  “Thank you, Likichi,” Ki’ti said. She loved Likichi, the woman who’d been her mother before she was adopted by Emaea and Wamumur to be trained as Wise One. Ki’ti remembered that more and more often.

  As Ki’ti drank the steaming liquid, she did actually feel freer to breathe. It was a definite help. She listened to Ahna review the stories for that evening. She began to wonder whether Ahna needed that supervision, and then realized that Ahna didn’t, she needed something to do. Ki’ti told Ahna to continue to practice. She was going to walk around some, while she was able to breathe so well.

  Ki’ti walked around the home cave until she found Untuk-na. She shared with him what she’d learned from Likichi. Untuk-na was alarmed, but he tried to hide it and did it well enough that Ki’ti didn’t realize he was alarmed. He escorted them to a log where they sat together. Ki’ti remembered to tell him that when she died, she wanted Ahna to take care of her dog. That alarmed Untuk-na even more and required extraordinary effort on his part to appear to receive this news as simple fact, not an emotional punch in the belly. He realized that Ki’ti was preparing for death.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking,” Ki’ti said, “I think that it’s time for Ahna to take over. Remember that Wamumur and Emaea had me take over from them, so they had some time to live without the responsibility of Wise One, but they were available to me?”

  “I remember that.” Untuk-na was not in the least disappointed. He thought it wonderful that Ki’ti would consider taking time to live. Ahna certainly was ready to become Wise One.

  “I need something to do. If I’m not Wise One, what will I do?” The anxiety in her face showed clearly to Untuk-na.

  “Ki’ti, you are not defined by what you do but rather by who you are. You can still be Ki’ti, a loving wife, taking an interest in others, wanting the best for the People, doing whatever needs to be done that you can do—or just relaxing and enjoying what you see before you. When Wamumur and Emaea left the responsibility of Wise One to you, they were available to you only when you didn’t have a clue what to do in certain situations. It didn’t take you long to get past that need, but you did need it at first. They were like guides to you from more distance. You’d have that responsibility for a while. Then they just enjoyed life. Wamumur got busy with the home made from trees. Emaea helped with meat preparation, something she had longed to do. She also made parts of the home made from trees.”

  “You’re right. They didn’t have to have a list of daily duties. They just did what came naturally in life. I’m just not used to that. I think I could get used to it though.” Ki’ti smiled at him as she savored the idea.

  “You look like you’re breathing better than you have in a long time,” he observed.

  “I am in Likichi’s care now. She is bringing me steaming gourds of water made with a leaf to help breathing. She’ll also bring some chaga. The treatment really is effective.”

  “Likichi is a wonder.”

  “She is. When Totamu died, I wondered how we’d get on without her. Everyone expected my Grandmother, Pechki to take the responsibility, but she didn’t want it, and suggested Likichi would be better at it. From that time, Likichi has done great things.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re in her care. She won’t forget when it’s time for you to drink the steaming breathing liquid.” The relief he felt was great.

  “You’re right!” Ki’ti laughed the laugh he loved. She knew that Likichi was devoted to fulfilling her responsibilities exceptionally well. Likichi’d stay right on her to be sure she got what she needed when she needed it.

  “So when will you tell Ahna and the People?”

  “I’ll tell Ahna just before the men’s council. I’ll make the transition during the men’s council.”

  “Why wait so long?” He was curious to know the answer.

  “I would do just what was done with me. I didn’t have time to get anxious about it.”

  “I see,” Untuk-na replied.

  From the entryway, Untuk-na could see that a couple of young hunters had returned with some deer. They weren’t large, but they would contribute well to the supply. He put his hand on the entryway wall and looked out at the view. He loved the scene from the trees that blocked the view from below of the cave. What a great place this was! He was so relieved that Ki’ti had chosen this time to transition from Wise One. He knew that Ahna was well ready for the responsibility and he could see that already Ki’ti had relaxed a little. Perhaps, once the transition took place she could learn to relax and enjoy life. She would have to let go of Ahna to let Ahna make mistakes. That might be hard, but she’d find that Ahna would do well.

  Children were gathered below the cave on the level ground. They were practicing with sling shots aimed at targets where Ekuktu-na had used blueberry liquid to paint various water fowl on leath
er. Leather stretchers were holding the targets. When the children reached a certain level of competency with the still stretchers, they moved down the flatland to where trees that overhung the land provided for a tethered large pouch filled with sand that could be set in motion. The children would practice with slingshots until they became proficient at moving targets. Then they’d practice with spears—first with still and then moving targets. Some of the children whose skills were great last summer had lost skill and had to work hard to regain it. Later adults would use the same practice ground for the same reasons, watched carefully by the youngsters.

  Ki’ti walked around the home cave. She was chilled, so she put on her long pants and jacket and walked outside, enjoying the activity below. She felt a sense of joy at the decision she’d made. It was time, maybe, she thought, past time. She wondered how long Wisdom had planned for her to live. Would it be years, or less than a single year? There was no way to know. Life was precious. She wanted to get the most from every day she had left. Baambas, she thought, was still damaging all these years later. Who would have thought that something like ash could do to a person what it was doing to her. She felt a nudge at her ankle.

  Ki’ti picked up Ti’ti and hugged the little dog. “You’re just adorable, Little One,” she said. Ti’ti licked her face and neck. “Ah, you bathe me?” Ti’ti looked at Ki’ti’s face. The little dog was a happy pup. Ti’ti turned her head from side to side and looked into Ki’ti’s eyes. Ki’ti hugged her and returned her to the ground. At least it didn’t wind her to pick up the little dog.

  Ki’ti felt in some inexplicable ways that suddenly each day was more sacred, more special—to be savored every moment. She felt she saw with different eyes, everything was in sharper focus. She didn’t want to miss anything. She felt a certainty that she didn’t have much time left. As time for the evening meal approached, she returned to Ahna.

  “Are you ready for tonight?” Ki’ti asked her.

  “Of course, Mother,” Ahna replied from afar where her thoughts were in the story.

  “I tell you, you are not.” Ki’ti stood over her, holding Ti’ti on her arm against her rib cage where Ti’ti rested quietly.

  Ahna looked up, clearly broken from her mind web practice. “What is it, Mother?”

  “I want some time just to live without heavy responsibility, Ahna, my Dear One. Tonight I will lay down the responsibility of Wise One and turn it over to you.”

  Ahna began to protest, so Ki’ti raised her hand palm outward. She continued to stand over Ahna. “None of that. You’ve known all along that this would eventually happen. You’re exceptionally well ready. I have no reservations whatever, knowing you’re as suited as I—if not, better suited—to the task. The People will accept you without equivocation. It’s time. I need to do this—now. From the time of the council tonight, I will lay down my responsibility. I will be available to you for guidance only, and I mean only, when you have tried with all you have to solve a problem yourself. I will not interfere with your carrying out your responsibility. Ask hunters for help. Ask other women. Use me only as a last resort. Do not fear making mistakes. You’ll make some. Learn from them. Talk to Wisdom as often as you can.” Ki’ti stood there reflecting on the spiral chipped in stone in the observation place where she’d told Untuk-na what it meant to her. Had she not gone from the point in the center and spiraled out? Had she not long ago begun her retreat in the spiral? She knew for a certainty that her retracing of the spiral was near the end point, what Ki’ti saw as the beginning and the end of life, but she had not received that information in a clear vision from Wisdom or a dream, instead it came from her own body signals, signals she’d never noticed until she slowed down this day. She was in strange pain. Pain she’d blocked. Now she was aware of its presence, if not its severity. She was glad the severity of the pain was blocked. It was deep in her bones. She silently sent a prayer to Wisdom to keep the pain blocked.

  Ahna was sitting there with her head down. Ki’ti could see tears falling silently unchecked.

  “Ahna, it is Wisdom’s way. Look how far Wisdom went to find the right person to replace me. Look how hard it was to get you here. Wisdom knew this moment would come. Do not fret. Wisdom selected you from all those who live on earth at this time. When I die, my Dear, it is a temporary time before I see again you and all who are here. Death is an entry into another type of life. Separation is for a short time, really.” She put her hand on Ahna’s head. “Ahna, imagine my boundless joy to see Wisdom face to face. Just imagine!”

  Those words cut through Ahna’s grief. It transferred a sense of strength, if not the immediate reality of it. Ki’ti wasn’t fighting death, but seemed to welcome the transition she’d make, even as Ahna was facing a transition. “Wise One,” Ahna said, using the words while she still could and looking into the eyes of the only real mother she’d ever known, “I will toughen myself to make my transition as well as you are making the one you speak of making. I will seek to find the joy you speak of in the ultimate passage of this life.”

  Ki’ti stooped down and released Ti’ti. Ti’ti bounded to the entryway and went outside. Ki’ti did a firm palm strike. It was answered by one from Ahna. Then Ki’ti hugged Ahna tight. Likichi arrived with a steaming cup of tea for Ki’ti’s breathing. The evening meal was about to be served.

  Untuk-na went to Ki’ti and asked how she was feeling. She said she was fine. Her eyes spoke more than her words. He looked at her blue eyes framed with the long brown lashes that he loved. She was tired, he could see. She appeared to be in discomfort, but he didn’t press the issues with her. She would tell him when she was ready, or he’d ask when there were fewer People around.

  They had smoked leg of large deer that night with many greens both cooked and fresh. Someone had taken the fat stored with blueberries in intestines and mixed it with some of the remaining nuts from storage they’d crushed that afternoon, and that added delicious rolled fruit and nut balls to the meal. Ki’ti smiled at Untuk-na while they ate. The meat and the greens were seasoned to perfection. Their People knew how to gather food, store it, prepare it for eating, and mix different seasonings to make their meals a feast. It was good, very good, Ki’ti thought.

  After the cleanup from the evening meal the People gathered at the men’s council. Ki’ti sat in her seat presiding. Ti’ti curled up in the lap of her tunic. Ki’ti began: “Tonight I have a change to make. All of you have known that for some time I have had difficulty breathing. Likichi attributes it to the ash following the explosion of Baambas. I am not well. I turn my responsibility as Wise One over to Ahna tonight. Ahna, you and I well know, is completely ready to serve as Wise One. From this moment forward, she is your Wise One. Ki’ti took Untuk-na’s offered hand and stood up. She walked to the back of the group of People and seated herself with Untuk-na’s assistance. There was dead silence in the home cave until slowly the palm strikes began. The People were accepting Ki’ti’s transition and Ahna’s becoming Wise One. It was a sign of sincere respect and acceptance. Nothing could have pleased Ki’ti more. The palm strikes lasted longer than anyone could have anticipated, but when they ceased, Ahna was seated at the place where the Wise One sat to preside over the council. She looked around and saw Ermol-na looking at her. She nodded.

  “I wish to express the love we all have for Ki’ti.” He carefully used her name. “She has served all of us so well. I will speak for the People. Ki’ti, if you have any need or desire that any of us can provide, ask. There is no one here who would not willingly stop what we’re doing to help in any way at any time.”

  Ki’ti lowered her head as far as she could. She hadn’t anticipated words like that.

  Ahna looked up. Ki’ti was looking at her. She nodded to Ki’ti.

  Ki’ti took the little pouch from around her neck. She emptied out the yellow owl. She pushed the leaves back into the pouch and put it around her neck. She handed the yellow owl to Untuk-na. Untuk-na took the yellow owl to Ahna. “That little yellow o
wl is for the next person who becomes Wise One after you. It will need a new pouch,” Ki’ti said.

  “Thank you, Mother,” Ahna said forcibly keeping her voice from breaking.

  Ahna looked up. All the heads of the People were looking down.

  “That concludes the council this evening. There will be a story tonight.” Ahna stopped speaking to give People a time to move around. All was utterly still. During that time, Untuk-na went with Ki’ti to their sleeping place. He unrolled the skins and helped her in. He covered her. Likichi brought her the vasaka and chaga teas. Once Ki’ti was well set, Untuk-na returned to the council.

  Ahna began the story. She chose the story of Maknu-na and Rimlad, because in it Wisdom provided. It was a different story from what she had planned.

  After the story People quietly turned to their sleeping skins. The evening had brought a great surprise. They were adjusting.

  Chapter 9

  The seven trekkers had been gone from the home cave for a moon. Komus led, followed by Tongip-na and Aryna, Mitrak and Domur, and Kai-na and Manak-na. They had arisen this day before Wisdom surprised them with a glorious burst of brilliant rosy glow to the whole sky. All were invigorated. They were nearing the big lake and there was a lot of excitement.

  “I feel better than I’ve felt in a long time,” Domur said to Mitrak. “Must be the exercise.”

  “I, too. It’s as though I were young again,” Mitrak replied fully in recognition that both she and Kai-na were the oldest of the People on this trek.

  “Mitrak, I never think of you as older. We grew up together. Sometimes I forget. It’s good to trek like this. It does make you feel vibrant. But it’s impossible when there are young children and old people. And look at my belly. A lot of the fat I gathered around my middle has vanished.” Both women laughed.