by M L Bellante
The small gathering chitchatted about various things for the next few minutes. Then Coleman asked, “Tahso, may I hold your staff?”
“No one but the tahso is to touch his staff,” Atura barked.
“Oh, sorry. I hope I did not offend you,” Coleman said coyly.
“You are still new here and you don’t understand all of our ways. The tahso’s staff is the symbol of his power and only he can touch it,” Tahso explained.
“Can you tell me about it? Is it passed from father to son?”
“It was given to my family at the time of the Great Separation. Since then, the staff has been handed down from tahso to tahso. It is now my honor to keep it as a warning to those who would disobey the law.”
“You said the ‘Great Separation.’ What is that?”
“Our old village had become very large and the land could no longer support all the People. It was decided that many of the village families should move to a distant place and start anew. In my fathers’ line was a second son of the tahso. Under normal circumstances, he would not become tahso unless the older brother died without bearing a son. But in this case, the tahso created a new staff and made him tahso of the new tribe. The leader of the new tribe was appointed by the old village chief. Some families volunteered to leave. Some were chosen by lot. For many, it was a sad time, for others, it was a time of opportunity. The new tribe left and traveled for many days until they found this place and built a new village.”
“How many started this new tribe?” Coleman asked.
“There were about as many as there are today. Life was hard at first and many died. Many rains later, a gorga came and did not like us living in his territory. Many of the People were slaughtered by the beast.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Many rains.”
Coleman pondered the phrase ‘many rains.’ Could this be the way the Batru measured their year, by the rainy season? “What do many rains mean?”
“When the rains end, we celebrate a new beginning. The time of the rains is followed by the New Birth, Matti-mas. That is when Nature renews itself. This lasts until the rains come again.”
“It seems to rain every day. Will the rains end soon?”
“We will have rain almost every day, but there will be clouds and blue sky most of the time, soon. During the rains, it rains all day long, day after day.”
“Oh, like the monsoons.”
“What is that?” Tahso asked as he scratched his head.
“In my homeland, there are places where it rains for days and days, just like here. It is called the monsoon season,” Coleman explained and then asked, “Do you ever visit the old tribe?”
“No. The old village is a long walk and it would be a perilous journey. It was decided long ago no one would ever return. We needed to grow in our own strength. It is the Batru way. With the blessings of the gods, we have.” Tahso proudly smiled and leaned back. “Tell me about your land, Tondo. Tell me about your people.”
Coleman noticed Atura turned and looked at him. Not once had she ever asked him about how he arrived here. Yet there was curiosity etched on her face and questions she wanted answered.
“Tzeechoe told me and Tzeecha that you come from a land where people ride inside big birds. That is not possible. Were you telling Tzeechoe a funny story?” Atura asked with a disbelieving air.
Coleman chuckled and said, “That is not exactly what I told Tzeechoe. I said it was like a big bird. It is a machine that looks like a big bird, but people build it. People can ride inside it as it fly across the sky.” Tahso stared at Coleman in wonder and began shaking his head.
Atura’s countenance hardened and she spouted, “Do you think I’m a fool? I don’t believe a word of this!”
Coleman didn’t know what more he could do to convince them. He merely stuttered, “But . . . but, it is the truth. Why would I make up such a story?”
Tahso thought for a few seconds, then questioned, “If this is so, why have I not seen one of these bird-things? I’m sure I would never forget such a sight. No one here has ever seen anything like that.”
A hard smile crossed Atura’s lips and her face turned hard as stone. She glared at Coleman as if to say, ‘Well, what is your answer to that?’
Coleman pondered Tahso’s words for a while. How could he explain the modern technology of a world they had never even dreamed about? How could he make them believe in aircraft, rip chambers, or even felt-tipped pens? He began to feel isolated and lonely again. His world was as foreign to them as this world was to him.
Coleman took a deep breath, “The place I am from is very different from this land. Many things there would seem like magic to you: machines that fly; little boxes that allow you to see and talk with someone who lives many days journey away; tubes that you look through that enable you to see far away things close up. You may think I am todo or I am trying to fool you, but these things and more are part of my homeland.”
“You cannot make a decent club, yet you say you can make things that fly? Show me!” Atura bluntly stated in an accusatory tone.
“I did not say I can make things that fly. I said people make them.”
“Then what can you make?” Atura challenged.
Coleman could see this conversation was going nowhere in a hurry. How could he explain a world of modern technology to those still living in this world’s Stone Age? How was he to explain String Theory, the Ripple Effect, and the unfortunate accident that brought him here? How indeed? Even he didn’t understand how he got here. In any case, he wouldn’t have believed it possible to be plunked down into this forsaken land. Yet, here he was and now he had to cope with this and more.
“The gods brought me here for some unknown reason,” he said, trying not to sound bitter. “I hope to find out what it is. In the meantime, I will struggle with you to make a life for myself.”
Tahso grunted in satisfaction and Atura seemed placated with this statement, at least for the moment. These were simple people, educated only in the things that had relevance to their daily struggle to survive in a harsh environment. It made no difference that he was an educated and well-trained citizen from a planet called Earth. He could hunt well and that was what really mattered to them.
The three sat and stared into the fire in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Tahso turned to Atura and said, “Your father was a good man. I was very sad when he crossed over. It was a great loss to the village.” Atura looked at him as tears welled. Just as a tear escaped her large brown eyes, she turned her face from him and continued to stare into the fire. Although Coleman wanted to learn how her father died, he said nothing. He could see the pain was too dear and it was all Atura could do to control her grief.
Finally, he said, “Why is it that the People share in the hunting of food, yet they do not help one another build a lodge?”
“That has been the custom of the People since we came here. Every man and family must survive on their own. That is how we understand the traditions. We have made an exception because of the danger in hunting, but now that the gorga is gone, maybe we should return to the old ways and let each man hunt for himself,” Tahso speculated.
“I think working together would strengthen the village. It has worked in hunting. Why not other things, like lodge building?” Coleman questioned.
“It is the Batru Code,” Tahso said. “We must not let others make us weak.” His voice seemed distant, remembering what had been said earlier that day.
“Are you sure that is what the gods want? Could the traditions be misunderstood?” Coleman wondered.
“You are todo,” Atura finally uttered. “The chief and Tahso understand the traditions. You do not!”
“I meant no offense. I am just trying to understand. In the place I come from, people work together and by doing so, they become stronger. When they do not, they grow weaker. I think if we work together, the village will be made stronger and safer.” Atura looked at Coleman and then Tahso, but sa
id nothing.
“Tondo, you ask difficult questions. You challenge our wisdom. But it is true that we struggle much and we lose many of our people.” They all sat in silence around the fire for a few moments. “We call it the will of Batru, but we know that the Tempter works by changing the meaning of our beliefs. He twists our words. Maybe you bring a message from the Whisperer to restore us to the true Batru Code.”
“How long does it take one man to build a lodge?” Coleman asked.
“It takes many days. It depends on how hard he works and if he has sons old enough to work with him.”
“I think if several men and women cooperate to build your new home, we can have it finished in one day,” Coleman assured him.
Tahso looked at him in disbelief, “No lodge has ever been built in just one day; never since our people came to this place.”
“Tomorrow will be eye-opener for everyone. Perhaps it is time to change how things are done from now on. The village will become stronger when everyone shares in the work,” Coleman persuaded.
Tahso grunted in agreement and smiled in a way that made Coleman grin. Although, under his air of confidence, he was a bit worried. How difficult was it to build a lodge? He had no idea, but guessed that it couldn’t be too hard. It would all depend on how many other villagers he could persuade to join the effort.
Don’t concern yourself with these doubts. You’ll master all these things just like everything else. You’re better than they are. It’s your duty to show them the way. Just think how much they’ll love you then, his inner voice lauded.
As the fire burned down, Tahso and Atura chitchatted about village life and the upcoming Matti-mas. Coleman deduced that it was some form of celebration. He wanted to inject his own questions every now and then, but he let the two carry on their conversation without interruption. He sensed that they had never sat like this and talked, so he didn’t want to interfere. Coleman listened quietly and felt that the two were starting to appreciate one another. He already knew how Atura felt about Tahso. Now, he was beginning to think the feeling was becoming mutual.
Eventually, Tahso gave a loud yawn. Coleman took it as a sign that he and Atura should politely dismiss themselves. He was exhausted and knew the morning would be arriving much too soon.
“What did you say,” asked Tzeecha.
“Oh, nothing. It just seems that the night passes so quickly.”
“You’re just lazy,” Atura scolded, as usual.
“I am hungry. Is there any food?” Coleman wondered.
“You will eat after the hunters return, just like the rest of us,” Atura told him, a bit perturbed by his question.
“Yes, yes, you are right. I would sure feel a lot better if I had some food in me to start the day. And it is going to be a busy one. We have a lot of work to do.”
“Oy, the sooner you start, the better. Now, go and let me put away your bed,” Atura chided as she grabbed his furry blanket and folded it.
“Yes, my habaga girl,” Coleman teased. Atura would have none of this foolishness. She shooed him out of the lodge and went about her other tasks. Coleman found Tzeechoe waiting for him near the doorway.
“I am here, Tondo. Are you ready to meet with Tahso?”
“Yes. Today we will help him and teach the village that by helping one another we will all be stronger.”
“The chief will not like it, Tondo. This has never been done before and he may order us to stop.”
“I have always believed it is better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. Let us get to work.”
Coleman and Tzeechoe hurried to the remains of Tahso’s lodge and found him rummaging through the charred pieces. The three men chatted for a few minutes and then began clearing the site. They carried the burned remnants of Tahso’s home out of the village and dumped them out of the way. It took several trips. By midmorning, they had removed about half of it.
While this work was going on, a small gathering of village children watched the men working. This was the first time Coleman had seen such a large collection of young ones and he was shocked at how thin they all were. They were not emaciated, but all were underweight. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who would benefit from eating a daily breakfast.
Soon, about a dozen older boys without tattoo lines were watching the cleanup. In a short time, many village men also gathered and were watching the trio work. Coleman kept glancing over at the growing crowd of men and boys. “Hoy! We could use a little help. Grab something and take it out,” he shouted. No one moved; they just stood where they were and watched. After another trip, Coleman noticed the village chief had joined the crowd. He, too, stood watching with no apparent inclination to help.
Coleman walked to him and respectfully said, “We could use a little help here. Many hands make light work.” Apparently, it wasn’t a saying in their language, judging by the chief’s stare.
The chief pondered Coleman’s words for a few seconds and then stated, “Tradition says a man is responsible for his own affairs. It is not the duty of others to interfere with the gods’ rulings.”
“I am not interfering; I am helping. Tahso can strengthen the People better when he has a lodge, and Tzeechoe and I grow stronger through the work. I think we can build a new structure in a day if others join us. Does tradition say a man must do it by himself?”
“This is not the way things are done here, Tondo. I forgive you for your lack of knowledge of our ways, but Tzeechoe and especially Tahso know better.”
“So, you are saying the People must be weak while we wait for Tahso to do this alone?”
“No, I’m not, but never before has it been done this way.”
“Maybe it is time to grow as a people. The more men who help, the stronger we will become together.”
The chief thought for a while and continued observing but not helping nor interfering. Coleman persuaded members of his and Tzeechoe’s hunt team to join the effort. Ayascho alone stood next to the chief shaking his head.
After the rubble was cleared, the men divided into two groups. While one team left the village to find poles, the other group went to find vines that would serve as bindings. Coleman followed Tahso and Tzeechoe to the tree line and watched as they selected and chopped down a bamboo-like plant of forty or more feet in length. As the men carried back many light and flexible poles, Coleman noticed they passed through a field of ground plants, some with purple flowers. The plants rested atop a small raised area.
“Stop!” Coleman ordered the men. Surprised and confused, they came to a halt. He then dropped to his knees and began digging while Tahso and Tzeechoe stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Coleman pulled up a round, red tuber from the soil the size of his fist and held it up for the other men to see as he admired it. “It is a red potato. My family used to grow these at my lodge when I was a boy.”
“What is rud-bo-t´a-tzo?” Tahso asked.
“It is food. You can eat them raw, or you can cook them. Potatoes are good.” Coleman cut the tuber open and took a bite. “It tastes just like a potato. Here, take a bite,” he said excitedly. Tahso and Tzeechoe both took bites, and Coleman chuckled as they responded with sour expressions. Both spat out what they had bitten off.
“It will taste better after it is cooked. Tonight, we will have baked potatoes with dinner.” The men laughed and shook their heads before gathering up their poles and continuing back to the village.
Back at the lodge site, holes were dug in the ground as deep as a man’s arm, from fingertip to elbow. The poles were lashed together with the vines and set in the holes. The lengthened poles were placed in a circle about twenty feet in diameter and then bent into an arch with the top of the pole being sunk into the hole of the pole on the opposite side of the circle. The holes were then filled with dirt and tamped down with logs. The men then began weaving the vines through the poles, starting at ground level and working their way around the circle.
A steady stream of team members and their sons ret
urned with more vines as a couple of weavers continued their work. Coleman stepped back and admired what had already been accomplished, not so much for the progress being made on the lodge, but how quickly the men and boys divided the responsibilities and coordinated their tasks.
The chief also continued watching, apparently amazed by how quickly the new home was coming together. After a few minutes, he eased his way over to where Coleman was standing. “Tondo, this is impressive! Your words have obviously swayed Tahso and I can see how we are all stronger from them. The gods seem to work through you.”
Coleman bowed his head. He wondered how such a trivial thing as helping one’s neighbor was such a new concept for these villagers. “I do not think the gods had anything to do with this. Where I am from, this is called being a good neighbor.”
“Tondo, if the gods have nothing to do with it, tell me how you got here.”
Coleman was stunned by the chief’s remarks. He had no answer for him. He only stood in silence and continued watching the men as they hustled around the quickly forming lodge. He soon felt someone touch his elbow. It was Atura, and she offered him a waterskin. He drank and thanked her for it. She then went to Tahso and offered him a drink. He also drank and soon the two were engaged in conversation. Coleman couldn’t tell what they were talking about, but their smiles seemed to indicate that things looked promising for his Cupid’s stratagem.
By the time the hunters returned late in the afternoon, Tahso’s new home was completed. Coleman could see, the hunters were surprised and confused by how quickly the dwelling was rebuilt. When they had left early in the morning, Tahso’s lodge was just a pile of charred fronds and poles. To the hunters, it was as though the structure had risen from the ashes by some magical power. Coleman smiled to himself as the hunters filed past, gawking and commenting about what they beheld.
After a hard day’s labor without a single meal, Coleman was famished. He was gratified to see that the hunters had been successful and were lugging back to the village two large carcasses that resembled beef.
