The Man with Munnari Eyes

by M L Bellante

  Coleman gave an audible sigh. “Stop thinking like that. What’s wrong with me?” He’d had enough. It was like his thoughts were trying to coerce him into becoming someone else. He shuddered and returned to Tzeechoe’s lodge.

  He entered the dwelling and, in the dim light of the fire, noticed the worried faces staring back at him. “It is alright; I will apologize to the chief and ask him to forgive me. I should not have challenged him, but I will not allow Duba to be banished. I will become her keeper. Tomorrow evening I will talk to the chief, again.”

  Tzeecha smiled broadly, but Tzeechoe looked perplexed. “What will you do with Atura?” he wondered.

  “I will speak with Tahso. He has something he wishes to say to me.”

  “What is this you say?” Tzeechoe wondered as all eyes fell upon Atura.

  “We will see after Tondo meets with him,” Atura answered, attempting to stifle a smile.

  The following morning, Coleman asked Tzeechoe to relay a request that the visitor would like to meet with the chief in his home that evening. The chief acquiesced. After the evening meal, Coleman went to the chief’s lodge and announced his presence respectfully. After a short delay, he was allowed to enter. He found the chief and Tahso sitting on stools.

  “Have you considered my counsel?” the chief began. “Have you prayed to the gods of Munnari?”

  “No, I have not, but I have come to express my regrets for what I said last night. I was wrong and it will not happen again.”

  The chief crossed his arms over his chest and thought for a few moments before responding. “Tondo, I cannot force you to pray, and I think you should, but I do accept your apology. I can see it comes from the heart.” Coleman nodded his thanks and bowed in submission. “Tondo, you don’t know our ways. Yet, you do sometimes bring wise counsel. Tahso and I know you have a good heart. You must learn to listen to the Whisperer and ignore the promptings of the Tempter.” Coleman simply nodded and said nothing; he didn’t want to comment on the village religion. “Is there anything else you wish to say?” the chief asked.

  Coleman absentmindedly cleared his throat. “Yes, we still have the issue of Duba and the boys. I will not let them die. I will become their keeper until the oldest boy can hunt.”

  “And will you be the keeper of all future women and children who face the same tragedy?” the chief asked.

  “If I must, I will. I still think this awful tradition of banishing a grief-stricken family is todo. Anyway, hunting is less dangerous now that the gorga is dead.”

  “Tondo, you may not have spent the night in prayer, but I have. I believe that you are a messenger from the gods. You are not one of them, but we will give heed to your words. We will not banish Duba and her sons. The village will feed them. We will learn if that is the better way. We will all be their keeper,” the chief decreed. Coleman smiled and bowed again.

  The chief studied the visitor’s face. “Do you have more to say?” he finally asked.

  “Yes, I think you should send out all the hunting parties each day. Gather more food from the trees and bushes. Then, we can store some of what is collected for hard times. There are many more things the village can do. Now that the gorga is dead, the risk for everyone is lessened.”

  “I will think on your words, Tondo,” the chief said in a non-committal tone.

  Coleman was not finished, so he continued, “Also, the village should have at least two meals a day. We could eat an early one and one later in the day, as usual. The children need more food and should eat more often. In time, they could even eat three or four times a day. They need more food to grow strong and healthy.”

  “You have given me much to think about,” the chief said with obvious annoyance.

  Coleman realized he had pushed the chief to the limit. He had willingly humbled himself, accepting the chief’s chastening, but change needed to be slow or it might not happen. He would have to be satisfied with the possibility that he may have provided the village with a brighter future.

  Good going, he thought. You’re now a messenger from the gods. You can use that to your benefit.

  Late in the evening, the word went out to all the tusk-men that the chief wanted to meet with them for a special council in the great lodge after tomorrow’s meal. Only tusk-men were invited, which now included Coleman with the gorga tooth hanging from his neck. Tzeechoe advised him that the invitation was a great honor.

  Chashutzo, a tusk-man, protested Coleman’s insistence that he remain in his lodge and heal. Tahso finally had to intervene and ordered him to follow the visitor’s counsel. He reluctantly submitted and pouted the remainder of the evening, much to Chashutza’s dismay.

  Coleman and Tahso made their way to the great lodge and entered. The chief was sitting on his stool in front of the tusk-men, a fire burning in the pit. The chief motioned with his arm, indicating he wanted Coleman to take his place on the chief’s left side. Coleman took the designated seat and sat on the ground mat next to the chief. Tahso sat on a stool to the chief’s right and crossed his arms over his chest.

  The village leader stood and began to speak, “My brothers, the gorga is dead, and we have been freed from its dread. Our fathers chose to use large hunting parties to feed the village and protect the hunters. We now can hunt in smaller groups. We can send out more men and bring back more food. If we do this, we can eat twice a day and gain strength from it. The hunters must go out every day to make this possible, and there are still great dangers to be faced. What think you, my brothers?”

  None of the tusk-men said anything at first. They looked at each other in silence and after several seconds, Dondi, the senior tusk-man, stood and spoke. “Sometimes, my children tell me they are hungry even after they have eaten. If we have no tree food to give them, they cry. I want to have enough food so my children will cry no more for food.”

  Several tusk-men grunted in agreement. Another tusk-man stood. “There are still many dangers in the wilderness. If we send out more hunters, there is a greater chance that hunters will die, and we all know what that means for their families.”

  Tahso stood, “Our ancestors began the law of banishment in the days when we couldn’t help one another; in the days of our suffering. Now that the gorga is no more, we have already seen that hunting has improved. It is time to change our traditions. Your families will not suffer because you seek to help the village. We will all be their keepers.” With Tahso’s endorsement of the new plan, all the tusk-men grunted their approval.

  The chief stood and said, “Let me see your choice.” All ten of the present tusk-men raised their tusks with the tip pointing up. Coleman remained seated, simply watching and listening. The chief turned and looked down at him, waiting. Coleman quickly realized he had a vote in this matter, too, and he lifted the gorga tooth with its point turned upward. “Then it is decided. A new time is upon us and, with the help of the gods, we will increase in strength. I want Tahso and Tondo to go to Dubo’s lodge and tell Duba and her children of our decision. Tell them, from now on all the People will help them. After that, I want you to plan the hunting parties. I want the rest of you to pass the word to the People. Let them know that no one will be banished unless they break the Batru Code.”

  The tusk-men stood in unison and began shouting their affirmation. Coleman also stood and smiled broadly. These poor people have had a huge burden lifted from their shoulders. They are ready to help each other and escape the bonds of the past. He held high hopes for their future. He could see himself showing them many ways to improve their lives. Although he had limited skills when it came to the hunter-gatherer lifestyle, he knew enough to get them started on the right foot.

  Excellent! The chief and Tahso trust you. Soon, the whole village will follow your every wish, Coleman’s inner voice harped.

  Tahso and Coleman went directly to Dubo’s lodge and entered without warning. Duba shrieked in terror, fearing the worse at the sudden intrusion. Her three young sons jumped from their beds and clutched their
mother’s legs. Coleman reached out to her and attempted to ease her fears, while Tahso told her of the council’s decision. As Tahso continued his explanation, tears welled in Duba’s eyes and Coleman could feel her legs lose their strength. He gripped her tightly and kept her from falling to the ground. She quickly regained her strength and slowly composed herself.

  Coleman could see the recent loss of her husband and the burden of dread that she had suffered under since her husband’s death was more than the poor woman could bear. At least now she would no longer fear for her life and the lives of her children. He could not remove the terrible hole that had been seared through her life, but at least she would now have time to recover and raise her children in the legacy of their father.

  After comforting Duba for a few more minutes, Tahso and Coleman exited and found the entire village surrounding Dubo’s home. The people began to sing, and soon Duba and the children stepped through the doorway and joined in the singing. It was entirely clear to Coleman that this course of action had been the correct one. He felt justified and proud of what he had accomplished. He joined in the singing although he did not know the words. He only hummed the tune while he stared at the night sky and watched the blue moon slowly eclipsing the red moon.

  Long after the villagers had left and gone to their homes, Coleman remained and watched the eclipse. It had become obvious to him that the blue and red moons orbited each other as they circled the planet. Therefore, he reasoned, an eclipse by one or the other was not that uncommon an event.

  Tzeechoe approached and stood beside him, also watching the two moons. “This is an excellent omen. It is said, when the good moon eats the evil moon, good has more power over the land of the Batru.”

  “I enjoy watching the moons in their orbits. I am used to only one moon, but to have three is a real delight.”

  “Tondo, when you use godspeak words, I cannot understand what you say.”

  “Godspeak? What is that?” Coleman asked.

  “Our leader says you are the Messenger sent by the Great Batru. Your other tongue must be godspeak,” Tzeechoe reasoned.

  Coleman watched as the red moon slowly began to reveal itself from behind the blue moon. He figured a long explanation of the orbits of the moons and planet would be more than Tzeechoe bargained for. How could he explain such things to his friend? Coleman had no desire to sully the moment. He was enjoying the spectacle and only wanted to observe.

  When the red moon was in full view again, Coleman told his friend he needed to talk with Tahso about an urgent matter. He turned and walked to the shaman’s new lodge as Tzeechoe returned to his. Coleman pondered the important duty the chief had charged them with; a task which needed to be addressed as soon as possible. Coleman was not one to dawdle, so off to work he headed.

  “Tahso, may I enter?”

  “Yes, Tondo, you may,” came Tahso’s quick reply.

  “Why do we need to choose hunting parties? Why cannot the men decide whom they want to hunt with?” Coleman asked.

  “Our fathers guided us in this way. The tahso decides which men are in the hunting parties. It is our tradition.”

  “I think we should let the men choose their own groups. Let them think for themselves,” Coleman advised.

  “Again, you want change. I am having a hard time adjusting and I am not alone.”

  “The People seem to welcome the changes. I think the traditions have served you well in the past, but they have also restricted the People and kept them from reaching their full potential. Give the People freedom to choose and they will surprise you with their ability to make good choices that serve the village well. They will come up with many new ideas and solutions to problems that neither one of us can even imagine,” Coleman counseled.

  “Tondo, are all your people wise? Our people know the traditions, but we struggle, nevertheless. Are your people gods that do not err?”

  “They are not gods. Some are wise and some are not. When given the opportunity, all men will struggle to do what they can with what they have. It makes no difference if they are Batru or visitors.”

  Tahso thought for a few moments, then said, “I will tell the hunters in the morning what your counsel is. We will then decide together what is to be done. I would like you to be there with me.”

  “I will be there.”

  “Before you go, I wish to talk to you about . . .” Tahso paused as he worked up enough courage to go on.

  “Yes, what is it, Tahso?” Coleman teased.

  “I must speak with you tomorrow night. I will see you in Tzeechoe’s lodge. I must tell you of my intentions.”

  It was all Coleman could do to contain himself. He wanted to jump for joy and high-five Tahso, but he didn’t. He only lowered his head and said in a stern voice, “I see. I will speak with you then.”

  Tahso grunted, ending their conversation. Coleman exited the hut and returned to Tzeechoe’s lodge. When he entered, he found the others waiting for him with bated breath. He looked into each face and stifled a smile. He slowly and deliberately walked to the waterskin hanging on a lodge pole, took it down, uncapped it, and enjoyed a long draft. He spied Atura anxiously waiting. She was watching his every move, wanting him to speak, yet afraid of what might be said.

  Finally, after the tension in the room had reached an unbearable climax, he spoke. “Tahso will come here and speak with me tomorrow night. Do any of you have the slightest idea why?”

  Tzeechoe grunted and slapped his chest. Tzeecha let loose with the village women’s wavering shriek, and Atura blushed.

  “I bet he wants some more habaga. What do you think, Atura?”

  “I think you tease me. I think you are todo,” she quipped.

  Coleman and the others laughed. “Maybe I am todo. Maybe I will get lost in the wilderness tomorrow. Maybe I will stay out all night and watch the moons.” Atura’s eyes widened. Coleman sat beside Atura and put his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe I will meet with Tahso and find out what he really wants.” Atura blushed even more and attempted to hide her smile.

  Coleman awoke as Tzeechoe shook his shoulder. “It is time to meet with the other hunters,” he said, a bit annoyed. Coleman rubbed the sleep from his eyes and arose. “The light of day will soon be upon us. It is time to find food for the village. Let us hurry or we’ll be late,” Tzeechoe scolded as the two men rushed to the center of the village.

  They found the other hunters gathered in a circle around the chief and Tahso. The others made room for the two late arrivals as Tahso began speaking.

  “My brothers, the gorga no longer threatens us. There is not a need to hunt in large parties anymore, thanks to Tondo. Starting today, we will hunt in smaller groups and more often. Our families will have more to eat and our children will no longer cry for food.” The men in the circle grunted in satisfaction. Tahso continued, “You are to choose four or five hunters from your hunting party and they will hunt today. The remaining hunters will hunt tomorrow. Those who don’t hunt today will go out and find other food from the plants and trees. This is how it will be done from now on.”

  The men nodded their heads in agreement and waited for further instructions as the chief began to speak. “Now, select your hunting parties and do your duty. Bring back what you find as soon as you can. We will have our first meal when p´atezas is at its height. We will have a second meal at the end of the day, as usual. Now, go in haste, my brothers.”

  The men milled around for a while as hunt leaders took charge and divided their teams into the most efficient groups. Soon, parties of four and five hunters had been selected, were blessed by Tahso, and disappeared into the jungle. Because of Chashutzo’s injury, Coleman, the bearer of the famed gorga fang, became the de facto leader of his group. He oversaw the discussion as the other eight men chose the best groupings. He could tell Ayascho was not pleased with the changes taking place.

  “This man is evil. His influence is from the Tempter. Cast him out before all is lost,” Ayascho shouted. The oth
er men let him rant but ignored his protests. It was apparent to Coleman he had won the confidence of all the other men in his hunting party.

  When all was decided, there were five in his group. Tzeechoe was the spearman and bolo-man. Icee was lead spearman. Namad was the tracker. And Shadi was the scent-man. Coleman was their leader and a club-man. The others were to search for edible plant food in the jungle. After receiving their blessings, the two teams marched off in different directions, disappearing into the thick underbrush.

  Namad seemed to be following indistinct tracks when he stopped and kneeled. “A pack of betzoes came through this area early today,” he finally said.

  “What is a betzoe?” Coleman whispered to Tzeechoe.

  “They are four-legged animals whose heads are as high as a man’s. They have sharp teeth and hunt in packs. The males have a boney plate on their heads with a rounded horn. The males knock down the prey and the females kill it. We must be cautious,” Tzeechoe explained.

  “How many do you think there are?” he asked Namad.

  “I can see at least four different sets of tracks. They go off in that direction,” Namad said as he pointed to a cluster of large boulders about one-hundred yards away.

  The men shifted into their attack formation with Namad in the lead; Tzeechoe and Icee to either side; Shadi and Coleman brought up the rear. The men stealthily moved forward from downwind. Soon, they could hear growls and yips coming from the boulder-studded area. Coleman watched as the two spearmen silently stepped closer to the boulders, their spears set in the levers ready for launching. Quickly and without a signal, both men hurled their spears and prepared for a second throw. Shadi charged forward with Coleman closely on his heels. The club-men burst past the spearmen just as they let their spears loose again and watched as they found their marks on two more large creatures. There was little work for the club-men to do because of the deadly effects of Tzeechoe’s and Icee’s aim.