Linpint saw Ta and asked him about the meat he could not identify.
“Oh, that’s spiked-tail armadillo.” He noticed Linpint staring blankly at him. “You know the tan animals that are huge and look like turtles. They have either a spiked-tail or a fat tail. They seem well protected. You have to spear them through the neck and into the shelled area.
“I saw one of those on the hill just before we heard your men shout.” Linpint was really interested to taste the meat now. “Thank you for telling me what it is and how to kill one.”
“It may keep you from hunger someday,” Ta said with a gentle smile. Ta was an older man and had been the one to receive the message from the other group of Kapotonok as to what to tell these young men if they asked about dark-skinned men. He was curious that they didn’t ask. He did not know that they respected joining, and believed what they’d been told without question. Olomaru-mia had joined another. That was irrevocable.
Zamimolo looked for Ba but didn’t see her anywhere.
Several men with Chief Paaku headed towards Zamimolo and Linpint. “Are you ready to observe our drum message?” he asked.
“Yes,” they both replied at the same time.
The men climbed the nearby small mountain. It didn’t take long. The path was well worn. The top was free of trees. A man stood in front of a huge log that reclined on two smaller logs that lay on the ground crosswise to the big log. It kept the big log dry on the bottom. The internal part of the log had either rotted or been removed. Linpint and Zamimolo assumed it had been carved out, because the ends were intact. Strips of wood lined the top of a rectangular hole that ran the length of much of the top of the log. Two very strong looking sticks thicker than a man’s wrist extended from the hole in the drum. The man at the drum was dark as night. He wore a leather skin tied at the waist. It was made of what looked like cat skin, clued by the paws that dangled from it. Zamimolo had never seen a man so dark or a skin like that. He wondered where the man had been, because he had not seen him.
The Chief went to the man at the drum and told him what he wanted to send. The man listened carefully. He repeated the message word-for-word. Then all sat. The drummer began to beat on the drum. The sound was monstrous. At first, it sounded as if each blow was the same as the one before it, as if the man were simply counting. That lasted for a while. It was a call to the next drum that soon a signal would follow. Then, the drummer began to beat out the message in varying bursts and rhythms. He stopped and all were deadly silent. Even the forest was quiet, eerily quiet, as if even the animals knew what was happening. From far, far away, Zamimolo and Linpint listened carefully. The drum returned the first strokes that sounded like counting and then suddenly the message beat began. When it stopped, the drummer repeated to the Chief what had been sent. It was exactly what was supposed to have been sent.
Zamimolo and Linpint were ready to stand but realized they had not finished. They remained seated in silence, wondering what would happen next. The silence seemed to last for a terribly long time. Then, when they least expected it, the beat that sounded like counting occurred afar off. Then, a different beat on the drum. It was long. The drummer looked at the Chief. He said, “Lomah will join Linpint. She will be here in two days. With her come Dop and Kumoha. They defer to your leadership.” The Chief stood and bowed to the drummer who turned and descended the mountain on the other side. The other men stood.
“Our drummer lives to himself. He remains in this place when we leave to go north. We didn’t know why he came here. He just arrived and taught all of us the use of the drum. He was Alitukit, he explained one day, but for some reason he and one other were banished from their land forever. They have no names, since they are banished. We gave them the right to live on this land forever. They ask for nothing but to be left alone. Each night they climb hills to drum if there is cause. If not, they descend the hill. If no one is here at night, they wait until darkness before descending to be sure there is no message to send. We are not the end of the drum line. It follows the edge of the sea way north and way south. It is new to us. I hope it will last. The drum signal reaches us in the north. If someone is born or dies, we know. We always have at least one person learn the drum signals.”
“This is a very useful communication tool. There is so much that is new and useful here. Will you share this with my People.”
“Of course, they may even want to participate.”
The men headed down the small mountain. It was time to go to their sleeping places. Women had prepared a lean-to for Zamimolo and Linpint. After the day they’d had, they were ready.
Mechalu and Olomaru-mia sat side-by-side on a fallen tree trunk in the shade of trees at the top of the last hill before descending to the valley that would take them to the sea where his people lived. Their backpacks balanced on the tree trunk. His arm was around her. Her toes toyed with her hat on the ground by her feet.
“See that purplish colored area where the water empties into the sea far to the right?” Mechalu pointed to a place far on the horizon.
“I see it,” Olomaru-mia replied.
“That is where we will live.”
Olomaru-mia was quiet. She realized how soon she would join Mechalu. At that point, her old life would be gone to her, even if Zamimolo found her. Joining was a sacred thing.
“You fear?” he asked, mistaking the reason for her silence.
“No, Mechalu. There are just so many feelings swimming in my belly.”
“Let me help. Here’s what you need to know right now. When we arrive, my people will be very excited for many reasons. They’ll know I survived my trial.”
“What do you mean trial?” Olomaru-mia asked.
“To be fully men, we have to travel alone to the west sea where we arrived at the beginning of time on this land. We have to go without weapons except for a small knife. We must survive by making whatever we need along the way. While on this trial, we have to find something that is very special to us, something that no other man can ever touch. It should reflect things that are not common to the place where we live. What I found on my trial, Olomaru-mia, is you. No man can ever touch you, except me. Any man who touches you will die. You are the most remarkable find of anyone of our people ever.”
“What if I have sons, Mechalu? Will they be able to touch me?”
“Of course they can touch you, until they become men.”
“When does a boy become a man?”
“When he returns successfully from a trial.”
“Has anyone ever returned unsuccessfully?”
“No, Olomaru-mia. Some men have decided to join someone in another village and remain there. That is acceptable. Occasionally a hunter goes off and eventually dies. We have found bodies twice. To live in our village, however, a man must have a successful trial.”
“What if someone accidentally touches me?”
“Olomaru-mia, there will always be a large space around you. There is no accidental touching. Touching for any reason at all results in death. You will be very carefully avoided by men.”
“But women can touch me?”
“Yes, of course. In fact when we get home, the people will know that you are my special find. The first thing that will happen is that the women will take you to a small hut they keep for preparing young women for joining. You will go with them and they will prepare you for night. You must obey them. At a huge feast that night, we will join. We will go to my hut while the people feast and celebrate. A very old woman will sit within the hut the first night.”
“Why will she be there?” Olomaru-mia asked.
Mechalu laughed. “Her function is to assure that I am not overly rough with you, and that you do what you are supposed to do from what they teach you in the hut.”
“I have already been instructed in the ways of being a woman,” Olomaru-mia gently protested.
“Then, you’ll have to endure it again. Maybe there are some cultural differences. I do not know.”
Olom
aru-mia steeled herself to whatever else would follow.
“They will bring you to me at the fire circle. You will wear a feather cape. Keep it tightly held against you while there. You will stand while Chief Uvela says words that join us for this life. In our life joining cannot be undone for any reason.”
“Sometimes I’ve seen people unjoin if the woman has no children or they don’t get along well and both want to separate. You mean that cannot happen?”
“We don’t permit it. It would offend the Creator of All. You have to swear to join the other for life when you join. That oath is irrevocable.”
“I see. Ours is thought to be irrevocable, but sometimes it’s revoked.”
“Our people are called the Nola Nola. It’s the name of a weapon we use. This is mine,” he showed her the thick stick about as long as her arm that he carried along with his spear.
“Why are your people named after a stick?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“It is our strength. Back to what you need to know. After we join, be careful to avoid looking eye-to-eye at any of the men. If there are complaints that you are seducing them, I would be ordered to beat you. Be sure to stay with other women at all times. Some men will be jealous of me and may try to create problems. In time that will pass. But heed my words. Be careful. Always stay where many can observe you. Never wander off alone.”
Olomaru-mia was becoming uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry, sweet Olomaru-mia. My mother will care for and protect you. Her name is Ahma. “
“Your people lie?”
Mechalu wondered for a moment why she asked such a question. “My people lie just as other people lie. It is not something people do often. Most of the time it’s done to make a person look good when they’ve done something the Creator of All would disapprove or to avoid punishment. Sometimes people do it from jealousy to hurt someone else. Everyone knows that the Creator of All knows our thoughts, so it’s stupid to lie, but sometimes people do stupid things. Sometimes they appear to get away with it if they escape punishment. We believe the Creator of All knows and they are punished now or later. I’d rather be punished by my people than the Creator of All.”
“I understand. With my People, most of us would cut out our tongues rather than lie. We are trained to accept punishment when it’s due—not run from it, as it clears away our wrongdoing.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at it, Dear One.” He squeezed her to him, and with his free hand, he turned her face towards him and he kissed her, growing increasingly passionate. Olomaru-mia did not respond immediately, but soon the passion overtook her and she participated with passion of her own, given with abandon of all the past. She found herself yearning for him intensely. He broke the bond abruptly. “Tonight we will finish the moment we just began, and it will be part of our life for as long as we both live. Olomaru-mia, I love you with every part of me.” His voice was a bit hoarse.
“Mechalu, I want you,” she said filled with emotion and truth. Olomaru-mia could not tell him that she loved him. She was uncertain. That she’d be his wife was clear. That she’d have moments of passion with him, she knew. But love. Love was a special word to her. She couldn’t say that word yet. It would have to wait.”
Mechalu took her desire for him as love. He was overjoyed. He could barely wait to reach home. The two stood, gathered their backpacks, weapons, and Olomaru-mia put her hat on her head. They trekked fast all day. Sometimes they had to go out of their way to avoid large grazers they did not want to aggravate or a basking snake. Occasionally they stopped to drink water or eat some fruit. As the evening began, Mechalu could see the slight valley that led straight to his village. Very soon, the lookouts would see them and report the presence of two people. Hunters would leave the village to meet them.
As they rounded a bend, they heard shouts and men began to trot towards them, weapons in hand.
Mechalu shouted slowly and very loudly his own name three times. At that the hunters broke into a run. Mechalu ran to meet them, telling Olomaru-mia to remain where she was.
The men greeted Mechalu with great warmth and then the greeting stopped as all stared at Olomaru-mia. The men had never seen a human with such light colored skin. She was dressed oddly and wore a greenish brown hat. Mechalu explained very fast what she was and the men were speechless. The sun created a golden aura around her where her hair hung very long. Mechalu ran to her, and taking her by the arm, he led her to the group. Men stepped back instantly to avoid any possibility of a touch. Olomaru-mia kept her eyes downcast to avoid eye-to-eye contact. She had not forgotten Mechalu’s warning.
Hunters went before them, and a few followed them to the village. The Nola Nola all stood outside curious to see what person Mechalu had brought home. As soon as they realized this was his special find, they marveled. This very pale person was framed in lovely gold hair. She fascinated them. They gawked.
Mechalu introduced her to Chief Uvela and told the Chief he intended to join with her that night. Chief Uvela called Ahma and told Olomaru-mia to go with her. Olomaru-mia went with her immediately. Four women gathered around them and all of them went to a hut, the one Mechalu had told her was the place they prepared women for joining. They told Olomaru-mia to leave her backpack just inside the door. She had to step up to enter the hut. The floor was raised of packed earth. She shrugged off the backpack, and then they led her first to the privy outside and then back inside the hut. The hut was large compared to some of the other structures. Once inside, they removed her hat, foot sun protection, and her tunic. Olomaru-mia was horrified, having no idea why they did what they did, but she had promised to obey. They made her lie down. She became alarmed. The women forced her legs apart and checked.
“She is a virgin,” Ahma said softly. She lifted a breast, “And look at these nipples. They are pink!” she remarked with interest.
Olomaru-mia was outraged as they examined her and made her lie still on the skin. She had no outlet for the outrage, so she had to let it dissipate.
Then, a very old woman began to speak. She wanted to know whether Olomaru-mia understood her. Olomaru-mia replied that she understood well. The old woman began. She explained what was expected in joining and Olomaru-mia listened carefully. Everything she heard was the same as what she’d been taught. Ahma came and kneeled at her side. While the old woman talked, Ahma began to paint her. She painted dots on her forehead in three parallel size-increasing lines. She painted waves on her cheeks. She painted two dots on her chin.
The old woman began a singsong chant and then announced. “You will listen carefully to the story of the Fountain of Life and the Sacred Hot Springs.” She reached for a small hide covered drum. She beat the drum with a stick and timed her words to the rhythm of the drum. “Long ago before we traveled to this new land, there was a huge storm in our old land. A large bird that could not fly saw a glowing form before it. The form slowly placed a small white rock on the ground and then another. ‘Eat the rocks, for they are seeds,’ the glowing form said, ‘Follow me.’ The large bird was fascinated. He began to eat the white rocks. He followed along watching the glowing form and then looking at the ground. His craw was filling and he slowed down. After following the rocks and eating every one, he came to the sacred hot springs. He inserted his beak and drank from the hot spring. He began to tingle all over. His form changed. He was man. The form he’d followed changed into woman. Then he saw the sacred hot springs had also changed. It was part of the woman. He also saw the change in himself. The seeds had transformed into a white fountain of life. The woman smiled at him. Knowledge filled his mind web. The fountain of life must enter the sacred hot springs to create life. They joined and from their joining, life of people began.” Her words stopped but the drum and humming continued for a while.
The story fascinated Olomaru-mia. Her People had no tradition even close to this.
Moving down to her chest, Ahma painted white dots under one breast circling it to the breastbone with more dots,
then going over her breast and arching down to end in a white dot at her navel. Then she did exactly the same thing with the second. She painted both nipples, using more paint than she had for the dots. She took Olomaru-mia’s left arm and painted dots from the shoulder to the wrist. Then she did the same with the right arm. She went back to the navel. She painted a trail of dots from the navel over the hipbone and above the pubic rise to her leg on the opposite side from her hipbone. She repeated the pattern on the other side. She spread Olomaru-mia’s legs apart, and painted the dots down the front of her leg and up the inside of her leg to her labia, repeating the design on the other side.
“Olomaru-mia, now you must lie totally still. This has to dry completely. It will take some time.”
“Why have you painted me?” she asked.
Ahma and the other women chuckled. “Probably the first thing Mechalu will do with you when you come to his hut is to lay you down. Your passion will begin with kissing no doubt, but then, he must remove every dot from your body with his mouth before he can do anything else. He cannot even visit your well until you are dot free. Be responsive, but do not help him in the removal of dots. Do you understand?”
“I understand what you’ve said but not why.”
“This effort makes him very aware of you as a person, not just a way to relieve sexual tension. It also increases your desire of him while he removes the dots. It forces both of you to be patient. Does that help you to understand?”
“I think so,” Olomaru-mia thought of some women who complained that the night they joined, sex occurred so fast that their new husband fell asleep, while they were still wondering what joining was all about. This would, she reasoned, definitely slow things down.
When Ahma realized that the dots were all dry, she helped Olomaru-mia get to her feet without chipping off the dots. She covered her with a long robe that came to her knees. It was made of bird feathers of bright colors. She held it together as Mechalu had told her to do.
Zamimolo’s Story, 50,000 BC Page 10