“It sounds as if you learned all that you could learn. Why didn’t they just teach you how to do it?”
“They teach up to that point when someone has difficulty. All the rest came so easily to me. When I got to that point, they gave me time to reflect and ponder the problem. I just couldn’t find the answer. They assured me there is a solution. Sometimes I’d feel I was approaching it, and then I’d lose it. They say it’s so simple. It wasn’t simple to me! All I can guess is that it requires a different type of thinking—one I lack, just as they said. For a long time I felt terrible failure. I don’t feel failure now. I am convinced that if there was a need for me to know, I’d be able to figure it out. I learned to understand the basic working of the night sky, to predict meteor showers and the appearance of comets and when the sun or moon would be blocked out, to determine the shortest and longest days of the year, and to use complicated numbers. I could build structures to tell us that, but the School of the South provides us that information. It’s foolish to duplicate the effort for what we’d get from it, which is basically when the new year begins. I learned to communicate using the drums. We don’t use them here. We can hear them from time to time, but we choose not to make known what happens here. We guessed long ago that the Alitukit use the drums to know what we are doing, but they share almost nothing. We decided not to participate. We listen to hear what others have to share, but we are silent. We are distant from drums so we don’t always hear them.”
Olomaru-mia leaned against a rock that jutted from the sand near the shore. Mechalu skipped stones across the surface of the sea. She untied the yoke of her tunic so she could feed her daughter. She rested her thoughts as the infant suckled. She considered how Mechalu had learned things she’d never dreamed. Her sons would have that opportunity, she realized. What privilege to learn complex knowledge, she reasoned, even if it would not be used immediately or perhaps ever. Sometime, there might be a need for the information. Of all the Nola Nola, she knew well that truth.
Olomaru-mia looked at the face of her daughter. How, she wondered, did a girl like Tuna arise—a girl who wanted nothing more than to have the education that bright boys had. She wondered whether it was wrong to seek after knowledge. She wondered how to teach girls in the culture of the Nola Nola. Perhaps, she’d have no need to know, but if her girl children hungered after knowledge, how could she help them? In her culture, it would have been easy. Knowledge was available to all, except spiritual knowledge, which Wisdom apportioned to the Wise One and those who were learning to become Wise Ones. It would be good to be prepared, she thought. But, how?
Chapter 4
Pikotek lay on his bedding. His body was burning from fever and Hutapska, who knelt beside him, kept wiping his forehead and placing damp cloths on his chest. Gimel and Gifi were watching her three children. Hutapska thought back over the last several years. She adored Pikotek more than life itself. She had been drawn to him from the moment she saw him, and the graveness of his injury frightened her. They had just recently moved to these new, wonderful caves, but a snake on their travel north had bitten Pikotek, and nobody knew what kind of snake it was or what to do for the bite. The bite appeared to be infected. Linpint had run to the two Alitukit men who taught him the drums to see if they knew of something that would help. He had been gone for three days. Hutapska’s hope for his recovery grew each day Pikotek lived.
“Hutapska, you must eat something. Here’s some fruit. Are you managing to get plenty of water into him?” Meninkua asked.
“Thank you, Mother,” she replied, “I am getting water into him. Much water, but the water is not extinguishing the fire that burns in him. I worry.”
Meninkua knelt beside her daughter. Gently, she placed her hand on Hutapska’s shoulder. “I know. But, he is still living. Most poisonous snakebites take the lives of people they bite in a single day. Keep your hope. Even though he appears to sleep, his body knows your hope through your hands. Be careful what your hands say.”
“I am doing my best. I wish Linpint would return. I have trust that the wise Alitukit will have found something that helps in snakebite cases like this.”
“All of us feel the same way. If there were no help from them, Linpint would have returned by now. If there is anything you want or need, daughter, call for me.”
“Thank you,” Hutapska said with her eyes remaining on Pikotek’s face.
The new cave system was one that a north Kapotonok had shown some of the hunters when they trained them in warfare. It was north of their former cave and part way up a mountain. It was an extensive arrangement of habitable cave areas strung along a central access way in the shape of a cylinder. The Kapotonok said water used to run underground through the cave system. They explained that long ago the land lifted up as it does sometimes after earthquakes. The cave size was far greater than they needed, but they had discovered that their numbers grew fast. The council decided to move to the location because it was an excellent choice and had plenty of room to expand. Pikotek lay in the second large area where most of the People slept. It had a small hole that opened to the sky. The hole let in light and let out smoke from the hearth fire. The first area was the gathering place for eating and where the People held council. It opened wide to the outside.
A gentle flow of air moved through the cave system along the central access way. Pikotek’s bedding was not in the flow of the air but near it.
“How is my father?” Pomodaw, their first child, asked.
“There is no change, my son,” Hutapska said flatly, putting her arm around the six-year-old.
Pomodaw stared at his father, who was alive but seemed to be somewhere else. He kept grasping the single shoulder strap of his tunic and squeezing it. He stood with his weight on first one foot and then another, as if he had more to say, but decided to remain silent.
There was some commotion at the entrance to the second cave area. Linpint walked directly to Hutapska with two gourds in his hands. His brow was wrinkled with vertical lines. He dispensed with greeting and knelt beside her. Pomodaw withdrew quickly to the side of the cave to watch from a distance.
“This is a substance to put on the wound itself. First, wash the wound. Remove all the pus and dead skin. Then put this on and wrap a cloth around his leg not too tight. Do that twice a day. Then, this gourd has a powder they made. Keep the powder dry and cover the gourd that contains it. Moisten your finger and stick it in there. Put your finger with the powder on the side or back of his tongue and give him water. Get all the powder on his tongue. Do this twice a day for ten days. Keep giving him a lot of water. Keep putting the wet cloths on him. Cover his body with wet cloths from his shoulders to his knees. That is all they told me. Do you have questions, Hutapska?”
“No, I understand. Thank you so much, Linpint.”
“I just hope it works. He is our future Wise One. You need him as a husband. We need him as a leader.”
Hutapska immediately began to clean the wound and pry the dead skin away. A task that once might have sickened her became one that carried hope. She was meticulous in her approach to the work. Having gently wrapped the wound, she put her finger into the water bowl and then coated it with the powder. She put it into Pikotek’s mouth. She managed to transfer the powder from her finger to his mouth, but it wasn’t as easy as she expected. Carefully, she transferred all the powder her finger contained to his mouth.
Linpint found Colitoba, the most knowledgeable person about plants that cure. He explained to her about the plants that the Alitukit made for Pikotek and how they made one into a paste and the other into a powder. He had sample plants. She had seen and knew where to find the plant with the shiny leaves that carried hanging green flower-like structures. The hanging flower-like structure had a triangle base with curved leaves appearing between the points of the triangles, and a rounded bud with a top that looked like worms. She had occasionally seen the elongated plant that grew stems with leaves one behind the other and carried an odd attachment th
at looked as if it could catch water in a rain. That attachment had a bright red pointed spire that rose from the top. She knew about the thin-stemmed plant that grew a flowering stem along with a leaf from the same bud area. The two discussed the two things the Alitukit had given him until Colitoba had the process clearly fixed in her mind web. The plants were ones that the People had seen and recognized. She would need some honey and wax. If Pikotek needed more than what the gourds contained, she was prepared to make more. She also kept the information in her mind web in case this need arose again.
The People in the cave had come to live more quietly since one of them lay so sick. No one suggested the hush—it just came naturally. From time to time, they would look to see whether Pikotek had moved, but he seemed to remain in the same position day after day.
Later that night, well after the evening meal, Golmid and Linpint climbed the mountain to listen for the drums. So many days had passed without a drum message, they had begun to question the value of making the daily climb. The message was short. It told of several birds—they interpreted the drums to say terror birds—moving through the lowlands from north to south. They were at the northern reaches of the Northern Kapotonok land. Golmid and Linpint looked at each other with blank stares. They lacked understanding of the message. The term terror bird made no sense to them. They hurried back to the caves and a quick council meeting.
At the meeting, Linpint told what the drum message said, and he noticed that Kolpatin blanched.
Finally, Kolpatin cleared his throat and said, “The terror birds are terrible predators. They are taller than we are. They have huge beaks that can tear a person apart. They don’t fly but rather run around on the earth. They can run much faster than we can. They eat meat, and they would see us as food. It would not be wise for any of the People to be alone. Preferably, at least six hunters should be together when two of these birds are present. If there are large numbers of them, we must think of climbing trees to avoid them. Children should not spend time in the lowlands until danger is past. It’s possible we’ll be beyond their pathway, since they do prefer the open spaces and they track usually more to the east of us. It is good to have warning that they are nearby. They usually don’t come through this narrow strip of land we inhabit, preferring to remain way to the south or north of us where in both places the land is much larger and more open, but occasionally, they do come through. I have seen them twice. Once a single one that our hunters killed and we ate, and another group of four from which our hunters wisely hid. The one I saw that we ate killed one of my people. I was very young, but I saw it. We ate it, in retaliation, I think.”
“How do they taste?” Zamimolo asked. “Sorry, but my curiosity is caught.”
Ba hit him in the side with her elbow, and gave him a disgusted look.
Kolpatin smiled, “They taste better than a spiked-tailed armadillo to me, but not as good as well-cooked camel.” At that the group chuckled. Each thought to himself how great it would be to have terror bird for the evening meal sometime. It seemed more of a grand challenge than the terrifying reality Kolpatin reflected. Something to share with future generations. Kolpatin knew the birds were named appropriately. “If they come here, you may change your mind about eating them, and just try to avoid their knowledge of where you are. Whatever you do, if you see them, don’t lead them to the cave.”
Kumoha began to clear away the food from the evening meal that had remained out for the People to eat.
Kada asked her, “Did you ever see one of those terror birds?”
“No, when they are out, my people hide or leave the area completely. They are not something to treat lightly. They are terrible predators. I’d rather go up against a big cat than one of those birds. How is Mop doing with the slingshot now?”
“He finally learned to hit what he was aiming at. Apparently, when he’d let the stones fly, he’d shut his eyes. Inrusk discovered what was happening and taught him to keep his eyes opened. That made all the difference.”
Slowly the People went to unroll their sleeping skins and prepare for night. From some sleeping areas, the night sky showed the uncountable stars. This night was so clear that stars filled the skies in abundance. Zamimolo thought as he drifted off to sleep of luminescent salt water. The cave quieted gradually for a while, until finally all but the guards slept.
The Wise One raised himself up on his elbow and looked out at the early return of light beyond the hills he could see from his sleeping skins. He had not felt well for some time. He decided that he would turn over the responsibility of Wise One to Pikotek as soon as the young man recovered. Of all the People he was the only one certain that Pikotek would actually recover. He and Hutapska had been joined for almost ten years and Pikotek had a solid understanding of being a Wise One. He wondered why he had held to the responsibility for so long instead of turning it over to Pikotek a year or two ago. At eighty-one, he was exceptionally old. He felt his age. He tried to rise, but found the task beyond his ability. He found that peculiar. For a moment he lost his vision. He supposed he’d shut his eyes without realizing it. His mind web became confused. He returned to his resting place with a bit of a thud. His eyes no longer saw but instead lost their focus hold and rolled oddly; his jaw muscles fully relaxed into a strange, unlifelike drop.
It was Uilo who found the Wise One. Her wail awakened everyone in the cave except Pikotek. Meninkua and Colitoba immediately began the necessary steps to prepare the body for burial. They laid out a skin and washed the old man carefully. They tied his jaw shut and closed his eyes. Colitoba cradled his head in her arms briefly, as she mourned. All of the older People were stunned. For all purposes at that moment they had no Wise One. The thought was unnerving. It raised questions. How did the People, in the absence of a Wise One, properly perform a burial? Tukyatuk began to go from person to person asking whether anyone knew the story for burials. Jalutui, Folifilo’s youngest daughter, said she knew it, but she was only seven years old. Surely, she overestimated her storytelling ability, her mother thought.
Colitoba called Jalutui over and asked her to tell the story. Jalutui was frightened that she had said something wrong in admitting she knew the story, but she knew she knew it. She sat with Colitoba by a tree on the side of the hill above the cave. Looking directly into Colitoba’s eyes, instead of unfocusing her eyes on some indefinite point as Wise Ones did, she began:
“In the beginning, Wisdom made the world. He made it by speaking. His words created. He spoke the water and the land into existence, the night and day, the plants that grow in the dirt, and the animals that live on the dirt, and those that live in the water and in the air. Then he went to the navel of the earth. There he found good red soil and started to form it into a shape with his hands. He made it to look a little like himself. Then he inhaled the good air and breathed it into the mouth of the man he created. The man came to life. Then he took some of the clay left from the man and he made woman. He inhaled and breathed life into her. Wisdom created a feast. He killed an aurochs, skinned it, made clothing for the man and woman from the aurochs, and then roasted the aurochs for the feast. The man and the woman watched carefully and quietly to see how he killed the aurochs, how he skinned it, how he made clothing from its skin, and how he roasted it. They paid good attention and they were able to survive by doing what they had seen done.”
“The People were special and Wisdom pronounced that the man was to treat the land and the water and the animals and the woman the way he wanted to be treated—good. And the same was true of the woman. And it went well for a long time. But Wisdom hadn’t made the People of stone. He had made them of dirt, knowing that they shouldn’t have lives that would go on too long for they might get prideful and forget Wisdom. That is good because People should not be without Wisdom. They would die.”
“That is why the People return to Wisdom when they die. They are placed in the earth and Wisdom knows. When Wisdom hears of a death of the People, Wisdom waits until the grave is filled
back. He waits until it is dark. Then he causes the earth to pull on the spirit of the dead to draw that person’s spirit back through the dirt of the earth to the navel from which all People came, the navel of the earth where the red clay for making the first man was. The dead spirits depart for the navel of Wisdom. That is where they reside for all time. All People’s bodies return to the dirt. But their spirit, that essence of the person made by the One Who Made Us, is pulled back to Wisdom in the place where first man was made, and Wisdom keeps all those he chooses with him there, safe and loved. There is a cycle Wisdom made: a cycle from the navel to the navel. He keeps the spirits of those whom he chooses and he destroys those whom he hates. Wisdom hates those who hate him, those who ignore him, those who would be hurtful to him or the land or water or to those living things Wisdom made including People.”
Jalutui exhibited another difference in telling the stories. When the Wise Ones said the stories, they almost sang them. Jalutui spoke it in words that sounded as if she were talking with a good friend. It was the same story but told a little differently. As far as Colitoba knew, she knew the story perfectly. She hugged the young girl and went to find Tukyatuk. Colitoba admitted to herself that she liked the eye contact and Jalutui’s telling the story with feeling in her words.
The men had found a level place in a meadow on the mountaintop not far from the drum. The drum was about the length of the height of a boy age twelve. It sat in a hut without walls with a carefully made roof of palm leaves laced with other vegetation to keep the drum dry. They chose flat land near the drum for their first grave. The men began to dig right away. As soon as the grave was finished, the People walked solemnly up to the meadow and gathered in a circle around the grave. A few men carried the camel skin that held the body of the old man. He had become so withered that he was lighter than most of the women. They gently handed their light burden to men who were standing in the hole, so they could place the body in the hole appropriately. Many of the People had gathered wildflowers from the meadow, not wanting to go to the lowland where they might encounter a terror bird. Then, as they had done from the beginning of time, they began to speak, rotating around the People who edged the grave, each telling of the special meaning of the deceased to them. When each finished his or her words, they added their flowers to the grave by tossing them into the open hole. Over time, People had taken longer and longer to tell of the special meaning the deceased had to them, as if a short amount of words meant that the deceased was a lesser person. It took quite a long time for the circle to complete. Then, Jalutui began. She spoke from her heart, for she had loved the old man. She told the story in a way no one had heard it told, but the words were the same, and all recognized it. Back in the cave, Hutapska watched over an immobile Pikotek.
Zamimolo’s Story, 50,000 BC Page 16