by Hannah Ross
"Just washed this morning," he told Scott. "Tahan will be angry."
The entrance flap was rolled up, and the window open as well, and plenty of light streamed into the little dwelling. Ki Tahan sat at a well-lit spot, her hands deftly at work at a beautifully made ivory frame, which, as Scott eagerly noticed, was evidently meant for weaving.
"Scott, welcome," she rose from her seat and looked at him with obvious surprise and pleasure which, though he wouldn't have admitted it, made him feel all warm inside. Then her eyes fell upon her son, and she took him out of her brother's hands, smiling and scolding at once. The little boy attempted to look properly ashamed, but it was no good - the corners of his mouth kept turning up, and it was evident he was about to burst into giggles. Ri Omrek put a few quick words in, and she nodded.
"Omrek suggests, we go to river," she explained to Scott. "I say, good thinking - must wash up this child. I will be ready soon."
She sat down to her weaving again, and set to putting things in order and tucking in some loose threads. Irresistibly attracted, Scott approached and gently touched the thread and the half-finished fabric. It was delicate, finely made, and pleasant to the touch. "How do you make this?" he asked.
Ki Tahan smiled. "From grass," she said. "We dry it, wash, press... then make... how Anders say?" she looked at her brother, who shrugged.
"Fiber?" Scott suggested.
"Yes, fiber. Then make this," she pointed at her weaving. "Then clothes. Special clothes. Lots of work – clothes are for... not wear every day," she struggled to find the right word.
"Special occasions? Celebrations?" Scott put in again, and was rewarded with a grateful smile.
"Yes, that. Clothes come out beautiful, if made well. I show you other time."
Ki Tahan and her brother picked up their pronged fishing spears and a couple of baskets. Ki Tahan drew the leather flap down the window, which plunged the house into semi-darkness, and once everyone were out, she covered the entrance as well.
They walked across the village, and whenever they passed by someone, Ki Tahan was saluted in a pointedly attentive manner, and always replied with a few simple, friendly words. It was obvious the people liked and respected their chieftainness, though paying any special homage was evidently not in the customs of the Anai. From what Scott had read, the chieftain or chieftainness mainly exercised their authority of leadership under circumstances such as famine, natural disasters, or conflict among the families of the tribe.
The river ran across the farther side of the valley, one that Scott had not visited until now, and swerved outside in the direction of the bay. It was rather narrow, but rather deep, and its stream was quick and clear. The banks were rich with grass and moss, and closest of all to the water was dark, slick soil with a high content of clay. Scott rubbed it appreciatively between his fingers, and Ri Omrek said:
"This good for making pots. When burn, grows hard."
An even wider, and probably deeper bed of clay was on the other side of the river, and to illustrate Ri Omrek's words, a couple of women were sitting there, collecting the pliable clay into baskets to carry home and make pots, cups and bowls.
"Anders is gone?" Ki Tahan asked Scott as they were choosing a place to fish.
"Yes, Anders is gone home," Scott said.
"Is sad to lose friend," Ri Omrek said, "but I hope he happy."
"Oh, he is. He says he is doing very well, and visiting with his children and grandchildren."
Ki Tahan and her brother exchanged confused glances. "How can you know that, if he is gone?" Ki Tahan asked. It then struck Scott that they probably know nothing of ways to communicate with the outside world – the Anai had never needed that for themselves, as they had no contacts beyond their valley.
"There are ways to carry messages from afar," Scott said, "very quick messages." He decided this might not be the right moment to attempt to explain how email works. Not only was it probably against government regulations, but he doubted he could sum it up in a way that wouldn't take hours of talking.
Ki Tahan's expression brightened slightly. "It is good if we can hear about Anders from you," she said. "We miss him." Then she sharply reprimanded her son, who was about to sneak away among the grasses. She called him to her, stripped his clothes off and, despite his loud protests, washed him vigorously in the river, using a tuft of grass to scrub him off. She then took clean garments out of one of her baskets, dressed the child, and piled up his muddy tunic and breeches to wash.
While the freshly washed garments were drying upon a nearby rock, Ri Omrek took off his moccasins, rolled up his breeches, and stood poised, spear in hand, with Scott as his eager audience. Try as he might, Scott could not see any fish in the foamy, rippling water, but Ri Omrek had a trained eye, and as his spear darted below, lightning-fast, it emerged with a flailing fish impaled on it. Scott watched admiringly as the fish was transferred into an empty basket.
Ki Tahan came closer. "Your turn," she said, offering Scott her spear. He couldn't very well back off, not without losing his dignity. Hesitantly, he took off his knee-high terrain boots, rolled up the pants of his orange suit, took the spear, and got in the water. It was icy, far colder than he would have guessed judging from the temperature of the air, but this was not to be wondered at, as the river originated in melted glaciers. Goosebumps erupted at once all over the exposed areas of his skin.
He raised the spear in his best imitation of Ri Omrek and peered into the water. Something dark moved underneath the surface, and he took his chance and struck. The spear came out empty, once and twice and three times. With a good-natured laugh, Ki Tahan took off her footwear and rolled up her breeches as well, got into the river, took the spear from him and looked down. In a movement too quick to discern, she impaled two fish at once.
"Good fishing today," she said.
Ri Omrek was squinting ahead, to the other side of the river, where women were working upon the dark clay. A slender girl with a long light-brown braid came there, passing gracefully down the natural path of slippery stepping-stones across the stream, and laid down her basket. Ri Omrek put down his fishing spear and stepped across to talk to the girl. Scott could not hear or understand the words, of course, but there was no need to – wooing was wooing, much the same no matter to which race or nation one belonged, and the expression of the young man's face spoke volumes. Ki Tahan noticed it too. She was smiling wistfully.
"Soon, Ri Omrek settle down, build his own house," she told Scott. "I am glad. It is time."
Scott made no more attempts to fish. He got out and allowed his feet to dry before pulling his socks and boots back on. It was strange to feel lush green grass between his toes and know that he is deep within the frozen realm of Antarctica.
Once he had donned his footwear again, he dedicated himself to the amusement of the little boy, with whom they were soon very good friends. They tossed flat polished stones into the river, turned rocks over to look for bugs, and found a whole depository of freshwater clams close to the bank. Egan gathered a handful and ran to show them to his mother with exclamations of delight, and Ki Tahan approached and gave an approving nod.
"These are good," she said, while her son was collecting the clams into a basket. "Make nice stew. Taste sweet. Daygan, my man – Egan's father – he liked them very much."
A sad, slightly detached expression came over her face as she looked into the distance. Scott held his breath, and it felt painful in his chest. "What happened to him?" he asked before he could stop to consider the question.
"Year before last, Daygan and other men go after... sarmak. How Anders teach me? Ah, kind of whale. Darkness come soon, we need meat for winter. There is storm. Men wait on bay, in small cave. Rocks fall. Men run, but two are injured. One gets up, but Daygan, he hurt. Lots of blood, cannot walk. Omrek and other men, they carry Daygan home. He very hurt. Arms, legs, shoulder..." Ki Tahan touched these parts of her body for emphasis, "but most badly, his head. He not... not see. Not know, he...
"
"Was unconscious," Scott suggested.
"Yes. At that time, Anders here, in village. He see Daygan, but can do nothing. Daygan in pain, and we know he... going to pass to land of darkness," her voice caught with pain. "Anders take something out of bag - medicine to give Daygan, not feel pain. Daygan go in peace, that same day," she finished. "I grateful," she added in a soft, quiet voice.
While she was speaking, Scott didn't realize his fists were clenched. Once she had finished, he deliberately pried his fingers open and wiped his sweaty hands on the grass. He had no way of knowing if there might have been a chance to save Ki Tahan's husband with proper medical care, but he knew beyond a doubt what would have been done in such a case for any station worker or visitor. McMurdo station would have been alerted at once, and a helicopter sent to convey the injured man to hospital. They never even attempted to do anything. Lindholm knew this was beyond his authority. It was against the regulations. The secret might have leaked, and keeping the secret was more important than saving the life of a man. So Lindholm just gave him some painkillers to ease his passing. For an instant, Scott’s eyes filled with hot moisture, and he blinked it away. Ki Tahan didn't seem to notice, lost in her own memories.
"We have enough food," she said, indicating the baskets of fish and clams, "and Omrek busy," she added with a touch of humor, looking at her brother, who was still engaged in earnest conversation with the girl on the other side of the river. "Can go home, yes? Cook stew." She collected the clothes she had washed, and Scott helped her gather the baskets. Ki Tahan called to her son, who picked up his little spear and his flat river rocks, and the three of them started back.
The clams and fish were ready soon, in the heartiest and most delicious chowder Scott had ever tasted. Eventually, Ki Tahan filled a bowl with the remainders of the meal, set the empty pot and the bowl aside, and said:
"I save some food for Omrek. He be back soon, will be hungry."
Egan took the shells and stones he had found outside, and was making a complicated structure out of them, with the help of some mud, in front of the house. His mother observed him from across the open entrance flap, and smiled.
"Children always get dirty," she observed, like any mother in the world might, and Scott flashed a grin.
"Yes. You should ask my mother about it. She was always washing when my sister and I were little."
Ki Tahan observed him with interest. "You have a mother? A sister? Far away, across the sea?"
Scott nodded. "A wife, too," he added. He was not sure why, but he somehow felt it would be dishonest to omit mentioning it.
Ki Tahan's expression became confused. "A... a woman?" she said. "And you... go away? Why?"
How could he explain? Words like career, degrees and self-fulfillment would mean nothing to these people. "I heard about this land," finally, slowly, he said. "I wanted to see it. To... to learn it. Can you understand that?"
Her smile showed that she did, perfectly so. "You are like Omrek," she observed. "He always talk, what is beyond this?" she made a sweeping gesture so that Scott understood she meant not her home, but the whole valley. "Is it all cold and empty? Maybe far are other lands, warm lands. He ask Anders questions. Anders say little, not much. Maybe you say more."
"Other warm lands are very, very far," Scott said.
"And..." she hesitated. "You have... children?"
He shook his head. "No, not yet. Just a wife. But I have a nephew and niece. Sister's children," he explained, seeing that she did not understand. "Like your brother and your son."
She nodded. "But how you say goodbye to family? You ever go back to them again?"
"Oh yes," Scott assured her, "I can go home eventually, when I want to. And my wife might come to me."
Ki Tahan was listening with rapturous attention. "I never understand," she said, "how it can be. How go beyond sea? It so big, so cold. But our people, Fathers of Anai, once came here, from the sea. It is said so in our..." she frowned in frustration at lacking the proper word.
"Stories? Legends?" Scott suggested.
"Yes, but also... I show you," Ki Tahan said and turned to one of the baskets at the head of her bed. All her baskets were sturdy and shapely and beautifully made, but this one especially. The lid was tied down with a twine of fiber rope, and it was obvious it was not often opened. Now she gently removed it and placed it on the bed. Then she pulled out something large and saffron yellow, and Scott, in his astonishment, realized that it is a long garment of fiber, made from a fabric very similar to what he had seen her weaving earlier, but more delicate-looking. He touched it reverently, and Ki Tahan, gratified by his attention, shook it out for him to see.
It was a long dress with wide sleeves. There was no embroidery or pattern of any kind, but the hem, the neckline and the edges of the sleeves were beautifully decorated with many little, smooth, finely polished ivory beads, the making of which must have been the work of many days. There were buttons in front, also made of ivory. The bright yellow color, he guessed, must have come from some of the flowers he had seen in the valley.
"It is beautiful," Scott said earnestly. He touched the fabric. It was smooth and delicate to the touch, so much that a cotton shirt would feel as scratchy as sawdust compared to it. For a long moment, he was unable to tear his eyes away from the dress, but when he did, he saw that Ki Tahan's face bore a soft, sad, wistful expression.
"I make this dress myself," she said, "when I am ready to... to join with Daygan. Then we build our own house, this house, to live and have children."
Her wedding dress! No wonder she should look at it with mixed feelings. Scott averted his eyes, ashamed of he hardly knew what. She seemed to sense his confusion, and folded the gown away.
"I never wear it," she said. "Maybe when Omrek takes a woman, I will give to her... or Egan, when he grows, to his woman. If I can. I have other dresses for... how you say? Celebration? You will see sometime, maybe. But I want to show you other thing."
She dug deeper into the basket, extracted something, and placed it in Scott's hands. Scott's fingers twitched as if electrified, and he looked at it in utter fascination.
He admired the ivory carving of the Anai, but this was something beyond what he had imagined. These were little ivory tablets, thin and smooth and made at exactly the same size, all stacked one on top of the other. They were covered with many symbols, some of them looking like hieroglyphs, some like runes, and all joined together in a pattern of perfect beauty. He saw tiny pictures of the rising sun, of birds and animals, of humans holding spears or baskets or little children upon their arms. Each tablet was full of carvings like these, lovingly and painstakingly made, running from top to bottom - or perhaps from bottom to top, he did not know. And the tablets all had tiny holes pierced along one side, through which a thin filament of leather was twined, so that they were joined together, but could be flipped open just like a...
"A book," Scott whispered reverently. "It is a book!"
Ki Tahan nodded. "It tells the story of Anai," she said. "How they come from the sea, to find this land and live here. Our elders have other books. About plants and animals, and how to get ready for winter, and to heal sickness and injury, and help mothers in birth."
Scott's head was spinning at the thought of a whole ivory-carved library. He ran his finger over the carved symbols. Though these were mentioned in the research papers he had read, he did not imagine they would be so rich and intricate, so much like a work of art. "Can you tell what it says here?" he eagerly asked Ki Tahan. "Can you... teach me to read it?"
She nodded, evidently gratified by his attention. "Yes, I teach you. Omrek and me, we teach Anders some, but he say, is hard to learn. But I think you can learn, if you want much. When Egan older, I teach him. He love to hear Story of Anai."
At this moment, they heard footsteps, and Ri Omrek came in, carrying his fishing-gear and looking self-conscious. His sister offered him an arch smile and a few quick words, and a blush suffused the young man
's face. He shook his head, laughing, and looked at Scott.
"Stayed at river longer, but got no more fish," he said.
"Fish found in water, not outside," Ki Tahan said with a sly glance at Scott, as the joke was evidently meant to be shared with him. Scott could not suppress a quiet chuckle. Ki Tahan's brother, in dignified silence, picked up the bowl of chowder that his sister had left for him, and began to eat. After the bowl was empty, which took a very short time, he patted his stomach.
"Good food," he said, "but so little."
"Who comes late, gets little," Ki Tahan said. Ri Omrek scowled.
"What about maharak? Is any left?"
Scott had no idea what this meant, but apparently Ki Tahan did, because she clapped herself on the forehead. "I forget! I make some earlier and set it aside." She took another clay pot off the shelf. It had a lid with a handle, and as she opened it, Scott saw the most surreal sight - what looked like shelled hard-boiled eggs, but with whites transparent rather than actually white, and the bright yellow yolk showing through.
"What is that?" Scott asked, bewildered.
"Comes from bird," Omrek said, "black and white. Walks like..." and he stuck his elbows a little to the side and swayed on the flat of his feet, imitating a characteristic waddle.
Scott knew now. These were penguin eggs – he had heard back in Tierra del Fuego about people eating them, but never thought he would dare to try it himself.
"These are very, very good," Ki Tahan said earnestly. "My brother go to bay, bring some back. Last this year, I think. The maharaki have now finished making their nests. They are raising their young. Meat good, too. Lots of fat. Egan!" she called out to her son and the little boy came running from outside, eager for his share of penguin egg.
Scott looked doubtfully at the murky, rubbery-looking ball in front of him, while the Anai were happily eating theirs. Finally, plucking up the courage, he bit into his egg, and chewed on the white and a bit of the yolk. The taste surprised him - gamey and fishy, it was nevertheless good, very rich, though he still thought he might prefer chicken eggs for his omelet.