by Nōnen Títi
“I don’t know. It’s for you to decide.”
That was the easy way out. “No. I want you to tell me. Don’t push the responsibility onto me or anybody else.”
When his own boys were young, he’d done it like this. Let them decide on the punishment. That was a lot harder than to just accept what somebody else came up with.
Harmon’s voice distracted them all. “Benjamar, are you still in there?”
“Just a minute,” he called back. “I want an answer, Leyon. You either make a choice now or I’ll have you tied to one of the trees until you know, since that seems to be the only means of confinement we have here.”
“I’ll go with what Maike says,” Leyon answered.
“What she decides, no matter what?”
“Yes.”
Benjamar looked at Maike, who was now handed the belt once again.
“I can handle it,” she said.
“Are we all okay with this?”
Nobody objected.
“Good. Now what about Frimon; is he in one piece?”
Aryan said that he was.
Benjamar impelled their leaving. He didn’t want to know how Maike would deal with it. He had enough of conflicts.
Harmon was tidying up the rope and sticks. “There’s something you should see.”
One of the reed vessels, the one with Kolyag’s name on it, had a large prop of reed paper blocking its opening. Benjamar took it out. It was heavy and the vessel below it virtually empty. He stuck it inside his pocket for now and helped Harmon put the jars against his home, for all to see until their contents were counted.
Once he was alone Benjamar sat down on the bench and pulled out the paper package. Inside were one person’s voting pebbles. He picked them off and flattened the bit of paper on his leg.
Once I thought being old meant having wisdom. I was mistaken. DJar had it right after all. There is no honour in age.
Benjamar turned the paper over. The back was blank. He read it again… and again. It was clearly directed to him. No honour in age; an old person. DJar had it right, meaning he should have gone to the Land Beyond and not come here? But the word “honour” was emphasized. That had to do with more than age – it was to do with integrity. Frimon often talked about honour, but would he send Benjamar a message in Kolyag’s vessel? The word was mostly used in relation to the treyak, but Aryan was more likely to confront directly and he wouldn’t refer to wisdom. The person who wrote this had not voted and made that very clear; an attack on the elections… on his decision to hold them. A challenge indeed! It wasn’t so hard then to guess who would do this and when it had been done. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with already.
Anger caused his hands to shake when he put the pebbles back into the paper and the prop into his pocket. This wasn’t good enough! If she wanted a challenge it would be person to person. He needed time to think it over, but first he needed a drink.
Nini returned home from seeing Styna for the second time that day. “Get something to eat and a bit of sleep and be ready for a call,” Leni had told her.
Ready? Who could be ready? Well… Styna was, tired of waiting.
Nini untied the small pouch from around her middle and put it on her mat before going to the Hearth. It was past Kundown already and the lamp had been put in. The room was warm. On the centre slab lay the dinner rolls; five of them, though only Remag and Aryan were absent. Nini took her cup from the shelf, dipped it into the large pot of herbal water, which was Marya’s newest addition to the meal, and picked up one of the rolls before sitting down next to Maike.
“How is Styna?” Marya asked from the opposite side of the entrance.
“We don’t think she’ll last the night,” Nini answered.
“It looks like Styna’s will be an elective baby,” Hani said from the back of the room.
“In that case, mine is a self-appointed general and already kicking hard,” Marya answered her over the heads of Yako and Jema.
Suddenly aware that only Maike laughed at this, Nini looked around the Hearth. At the back wall, beside Hani, Leyon sat picking at his food. Benjamar, next to him, seemed to be thinking and had not looked up. Kunag stared at where Hani sat and seemed to not have eaten at all, nor had Laytji, who was next to Maike.
While taking the warm food out of the roll with her fingers, Nini’s mind returned to Styna. What if she didn’t get there in time? Or worse, what if Leni didn’t? What if it was premature? They had no light boxes.
Jema’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “At least he’s not trying to recreate DJar!”
“No, he’ll have us all join in his stupid rituals soon,” Marya countered. “As if Bue has a say in who lives and dies here.”
“And how many more times do you think Kun DJar will warn us before she wipes this whole damned colony off the planet?”
“Kun DJar has nothing to do with that!”
“You’re either blind and deaf, or totally stupid.”
“Okay, that’s enough. We came together to eat, not to start another argument. If you can’t say anything in a normal tone, you can leave the room,” Maike told both of them.
She was right. Marya and Jema debated often, but not like this. Where did the hostility come from?
Jema put her cup on the slab between them and with an exaggerated gesture sat back against the wall, defying Maike’s presumed authority. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell you a story then. It’s about AR, who didn’t take charge to stop the arguments until after OT fell to her death. You know why? Because he ignored the warnings – and he’s doing it again!” With those last harsh words, she moved forward, looking at Benjamar. “OT is dead! How long do you think that fog will sit there before we all have a heart attack, or do you prefer a heap of burning bodies so you don’t have to recognize the faces?”
Nini only just managed to grab hold of Maike’s top or she would have gone straight for Jema over the slab. While everybody seemed to have jumped up simultaneously, the words sat in mid-air, like the fog, not wanting to move, and the temperature dropped a set of degrees.
“How could you?” Hani gasped.
Laytji started wailing, which made it hard for Nini to talk Maike into sitting back down. Benjamar had not immediately stood up, but he did so now, and, while looking at Jema, pushed Leyon, who was standing, back down onto the ledge.
Kunag almost fell over Nini’s feet on his way out. Nini had barely time to register it before Laytji also ran past. Yako stood up to push the pieces of a broken cup together and urged Marya, who looked pale, to go home and rest. “Go with her,” he told Hani. “Go!”
He stopped in the entrance himself and turned to watch the scene in front of them. Maike sat back down, allowing Nini to let go of her and salvage the roll that had landed on her dress.
Benjamar stood in front of Jema. He pulled something from his pocket and threw it into her lap.
Jema glanced down but didn’t pick it up.
“Is this a challenge, Jema?” His voice skipped a note.
She answered with no more than the twitch of a smile.
From where she sat, Nini could see Jema’s face, but only half of Benjamar’s.
“If it is, it isn’t good enough. I will never, never accept a challenge in the form of a cryptic message on an anonymous note.”
Jema looked at him but made no effort to respond.
“If you are to challenge me, at least, have the decency to do it properly. If you do this, you do it before these witnesses. You do it here and now, or not at all.”
Just when Jema opened her mouth to respond he took a step closer. “But let me warn you: I don’t think you have any idea what you’re letting yourself into. You haven’t seen half of what I can do yet.”
Jema’s hands trembled as she picked up the paper ball.
“Well?” Benjamar asked.
“I want to challenge–”
“No. You don’t want to. You either do or you don’t.”
Jema took
a breath, ready to start again.
“And you will stand up in front of me.” This was Benjamar at full strength and whatever the battle, it seemed to be over before it had started.
Jema put the ball down beside her and stood up in the tiny space between the ledge and Benjamar. Her face looked calm but her hands clenched the sides of her dress.
“Do you want this challenge?” Benjamar demanded.
She confirmed with a nod.
“If you’re going to call me on my honour you will do it with words.”
“Yes, I do.”
Nini’s own heartbeat was so loud it gave her trouble hearing. She’d have liked to walk out, like the others had, away from the row. She also wanted to jump in to stop it, whatever it was that had the two people she cared most about stand opposite each other, but she did neither. She sat and listened to Jema’s quivering voice.
“I challenge you… your honour … you… as… as governor, as leader, to reconsider this… I mean, the elections, and declare the results invalid in favour of a kennin community… or be able to promise without any doubt that the elective system will not fail the Kunjari people this time.”
Benjamar didn’t seem surprised at this ridiculous proposal. He stood waiting.
“To put yourself in the role of chief and appoint a council to help this settlement to a good future,” Jema finished.
“Why?” Benjamar asked.
“You know why, I told you.”
“Then you can inform the witnesses.”
Jema’s eyes met Nini’s for just a moment, then she dropped her shoulders and sighed. “To prevent the place being run by people who are in it for their own short-lived glory. To prevent a majority vote deciding on the future without anybody having to give a reasonable explanation to back up their choice, while knowing the majority always runs with the winner regardless of his motives.”
Almost undetectably, Maike whistled behind her teeth. Nini was impressed too. She wished she had a better view of Benjamar’s face; this was something he wouldn’t have heard very often.
“Explain to me why this is. Be specific,” he said.
Jema took another breath. “Because it has been proven that the kennin system worked for endless generations and the elective otacy ends up in power struggles, lies and deceptions. Because it’s the only way for the colony to survive.”
“How?”
“You mentioned it yourself in your speeches on SJilai. You talked to us about history and mythology. You admitted that Fetjar’s view was eventually used against him by his followers, turning morality into dogma, as it always is. You saw Nini’s chart, but you don’t even put one and one together. You promise the people a voice, but then you go ahead and organize elections while knowing it won’t last. That’s… well… not very clever.”
“Are you calling me stupid?”
He took a step forward, purposely cornering Jema, who was backed up against the ledge. But what was she expecting? Why was she doing this? Why did Benjamar respond? Neither was acting like their normal self. Nini could see his face better this way. He didn’t seem angry, but he was frowning.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
“If you’re not willing to learn from the past…?”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
Jema was way out of line here. As close as Nini was to Benjamar, this she would not have said.
Benjamar held back his response for what must have been a minute. When he did answer, his voice was calm. “My whole life I believed in the fairness of otacy. By giving the people a vote in the running of a society you give them the right to speak; to be free to stand up and have their say. You need all the people to contribute equally, not have one leader decide for all of them.” He was almost smiling now, as if explaining what Jema had misunderstood, but he was wrong to do that.
Jema started to shake her head already before he finished. “We’re mixing two things up here,” she said.
Benjamar immediately changed his attitude. “What did I mix up? You’re talking about what I did wrong, so don’t say we.”
“You are mixing up the words ‘voice’ and ‘vote’.”
“Go on.”
“You talk about right and fair and free and equal and… as if they’re all related. They’re only words, Benjamar. Tell me what they mean.”
This was, of course, what Benjamar himself had addressed when it was still only eight of them, but Jema didn’t give him the chance to respond. “I know what the words are supposed to mean, but since when is it that all shiny rocks get to be labelled ‘gold’ without verifying their origin? How can I prove that what I have may be pure, if all I can do is throw it onto a heap of fool’s gold where nobody will look at it other than to count the pieces? Who decided that the only right way to rule is in terms of numbers rather than meaning in the first place? How can you justify that letting people vote after so many rocks have crumbled would make this a fair system? What good is it to have a voice if there is nobody to hear it?”
She paused to take a breath and continued more quietly. “You don’t need elections for a voice, Benjamar. You need a council willing to listen.”
“And the kennin had a voice? Their system is guaranteed to work; you will vouch for that?”
“No, I’m not saying that. I’m only asking for a trial, a chance. We’ve had elections four times since we came here and it doesn’t work. Damn it, I believed in you because you knew history, you knew the myths and the kennin. I thought you could make this work, but I was wrong. You’re just another dumb politician, cowering behind votes, afraid to lead or to hurt feelings. Just–”
“Why is it you are insulting me, but you’re the one crying?” Benjamar asked.
“I’m not!” She made an angry move with the back of her hand to wipe away the water she was denying existed. “By Bue, I have no words left. Can’t you just see it, imagine it? Forget logic or what you’ve learned for just a fraction. Every idiot can use words to get elected but that doesn’t mean he’s capable. People need a leader, like AR was a leader, and it has to be you. You have their respect. It just has to be you!”
Benjamar took a step back to give Jema space to breathe. Nini breathed out with her. Yako finally sat down.
“So that’s it?” Benjamar asked. Then he softened his voice and straightened up. “So that is your challenge?”
“Yes. I’m only asking you reconsider what is right for this community. To be totally convinced that these elections will bring long-term peace and justice without destruction. I know this probably won’t mean much to you but I will never ever respect you or the government if you let the system exist only because that’s how it’s always been, only because we’ve already started.”
Benjamar pondered for a bit, shaking his head silently a few times while Nini caught a questioning look from Yako.
“Don’t you see, Benjamar?” Jema asked, less agitated. “You are no longer the judge. You are the defence lawyer for all the people. What you decide better be right or Kun DJar will overrule and she doesn’t consider individual pleas. I know you can’t see it that way, but you can see the fog out there, can’t you? Just consider its weight because it rests on your shoulders.”
“Do you realize what you’re asking of me if I decide that I’m not entirely convinced?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m asking you to initiate a proper arocracy now to prevent a misguided tyranny later; to prevent rule by elected puppets who don’t have the personality to lead.”
“So why didn’t I hear all this before I announced the elections yesterday?”
“You weren’t listening!”
Now Benjamar hesitated. He turned away from Jema and paced as he did when thinking. He brushed past Leyon a few times. The boy pretended to have no interest in the whole affair.
“All right,” Benjamar said finally. “You can have your challenge. I’m not saying that you’re right by any means, but I will think it over. I may have underestimated you, but
don’t expect to win this.”
“I don’t want to win it, because that would mean we doom the village,” she answered.
“And if you lose?”
Jema relaxed her pose and shrugged her shoulders. “I probably doom myself?”
Benjamar smiled at her sardonicism and nodded slowly. There was no doubt that each knew exactly where the other stood. The battle was one of words and wit and the outcome would decide Benjamar’s honour to himself and to her.
“I expect you to become my servant. To do as I say when I say it without as much as a word of protest for as long as I see fit. Could be as long as I still have to live.”
Jema exhaled, slow and long, before nodding, visibly relieved. “Okay, I can accept that,” she answered and sat down.
The silence was broken only by the prop of paper falling off the ledge and scattering a handful of pebbles over the floor.
“I hate this place!” Kunag yelled to the small moon. He walked around the trees and kicked the bench, his fists deep inside his pockets. He kicked the oven too. Nowhere to go. Nowhere he wanted to go – not even back to town, not anymore. He headed towards the south latrines, his strides as big as he could make them so as to outrun the image that haunted him: the image of a bonfire with a grinning face in it. To outrun Laytji’s voice, calling after him. Away from here, forever; into the bush where his creatures were waiting.
It was pitch black at first, so he had to pull his hands from his pockets to use them for protection. He punched one fist into a plamal as if it had caused his anger. He was angry at Jema for saying it, at Laytji for crying and calling after him, and angry at Leyon for just staying there.
“Damn Bue!” he yelled again. Ever since they came to this planet everything had gone wrong and it would never be right. Never again! Maybe Kun DJar could just get rid of the colony. Leave it to the creatures, the plamals.
It was quiet under the canopy. Now that his eyes were used to the dark, the soft illumination from some of the plamals made it possible to see. Only now could he breathe deeply and stop his legs from wanting to move of their own accord. He sat down on the rock he often used when drawing, pulled his pencil and a piece of reed paper from his pocket, and allowed the anger and hurt to flow through them. The rock was cold without his cloak to sit on; cold was good.
