“It sounds like you are talking about death rather than life, if I may say so,” offered the Leader with a kind smile.
“You may say whatever you like,” said the Head.
“Have many of your people died recently?” the Leader inquired.
“Not many recently,” he replied. “It’s been about average. Every year, some die.”
“It’s good that it hasn’t gone up,” responded the Leader.
“It seems that people are made to die. It’s just a matter of time. Even those with long life spans die much too soon for their own liking, I’m sure.”
“You’re thinking about death a lot, my friend,” suggested the Leader. “It’s just a fact of life, but you know that already….”
“I’ve accepted it for the most part, but the worst part is that it doesn’t make much difference in the long run whether people live or die, or how they live their lives.”
“It doesn’t matter if people live or die? Surely, you can’t mean that,” pressed the Leader.
“Yes, I do. Think about it. Although death causes heartbreak to loved ones in the short run, individual deaths are inconsequential in the long run. For example, what impact would it have on our societies if we died? Frankly, very little, and we’re the leaders. It’s disheartening.”
“Head, I have known you since we were children. You’re a good man and have risen to the leadership of your group. Who’s the worst person in your group? Surely it would make a difference if you died versus that bad person, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe a little difference in the short run, but nothing more than that. There have been good and bad people in our group over the years, just as there have been in yours. Yet if you go back a few generations, we don’t even know their names, much less remember if they were good or bad. They left no mark and make no difference to us, just as we will make no difference to those in the not-to-distant future. So what difference does it make how we behave? The Nihilamamo agree that this is the only realistic view of our situation in the world. All else is fanciful.”
“You at least acknowledge that there may be some difference between good and bad lives in the short run,” the Leader probed.
“That’s not very much….”
“But it’s something,” the Leader responded quietly. “What about fun? Don’t you like to have fun?”
“Fun is OK, I guess, but it’s trivial and short-lived,” said the Head. “In the long run, it doesn’t matter whether I was happy for a few minutes. My smiling face wouldn’t leave a mark.”
“But fun is better than no fun, and certainly better than having a bad time, right?” prodded the Leader.
“I guess, as long as one doesn’t have to work too hard at it.”
“It’s a sad world you live in, my friend. What about the goals that inspire you to action, the principles that you live by?”
“Our true vision of the human condition is all we have. Better that, we think, than living in a world of fanciful, deluded nonsense. We Nihilamamo accept the fact that nothing matters and live our lives with a calm resignation.”
“That doesn’t get you far,” said the Leader, “but I understand where you are coming from. By the way, this is a very nice beverage.” he continued as he sipped the cup of herbal tea that had been handed to him.
“We don’t have to do much to make it. Just heat the water, throw some herbs in, and let it brew. I apologize for the small serving. We used to find more of the plants, but they have become scarcer, so we serve you half a cup of air to go with your tea,” he said with a wan smile.
“The tea fills the lower half of the cup and is very pleasant. Thank you.”
They quietly sipped on their beverages for a few moments.
“We would be very interested in learning about any new things that you’re doing,” said the Leader, “for example, new plants you’ve found, new ways of preparing or preserving food, or new items you’ve crafted.”
“Let me reflect a moment…. No, I don’t think so. We haven’t discovered anything new since your last visit. We’ve just been living out our lives, it seems.”
“I see. In that case, we can discuss with you some of the things we have been doing, if you’re interested in learning about them,” said the Leader.
“I suppose so. We didn’t have much planned for today. How do you suggest that we do it?”
“With me today are ten Euromamo who know our discoveries. Also, they brought the tools that we use in connection with them. They’ll be glad to talk with your villagers, if you want. It won’t take long and, obviously, at any time, they can decide they aren’t interested.”
“Your knowledge about things never ceases to amaze me,” said the Head. “We’ll hear your discussions…provided they don’t go too long.”
As it turned out, the Head designated Hedomamo to hear seven of the ten topics but passed on the other three. He sent Roufto to awaken the seven people to listen to the presentations. In a few minutes, the seven arrived, groggy and grumbling, at the circular benches. The interpreter whispered to the Leader that he had overheard one Nihilamamo muttering that he didn’t see the point of hearing this new stuff. The Leader nodded in acknowledgment. The pairs who engaged in the discussions spaced themselves on the benches. It wasn’t as nice a meeting area as the entertainment center or the dining hall in the Euromamo village. The benches were roughly hewn and exposed to the full rays of the sun rather than under a protective awning of fiber cloth. However, it sufficed.
The Euromamo presentations seemed to be orderly, as far as Rick could tell. Apparently, they had come well-prepared. For their part, the Nihilamamo listened dutifully, albeit grudgingly. Rick saw Harvey Fleming, the leading Euromamo expert in medicine, strike up a conversation with a Nihilamamo shaman. Rick moved close to them and John Eel Hunter followed him to translate. For his part, Fleming presented data on Euromamo successes in treating several common illnesses, including figures on how much the average life span had been extended. In response, the shaman said they had also achieved cures, although they did not keep records. He added that they could set people right with the spirit world and they could cast evil spells on enemies, noting that Fleming hadn’t mentioned either of those.
“Why would you want to exercise your power to cast evil spells?” Fleming asked.
“Why would you want to limit your power to doing good?” the shaman retorted. “In the long run, it doesn’t matter which way we exercise our power. It only matters that our exercise of power is recognized.”
“We only exercise our power for good,” responded Fleming, “and we think that makes a difference. We have extended life spans and given our people an opportunity for better health. Surely it’s a worthwhile activity for us to cure them....”
“Yes, but you also give evil people a longer life span in which they will do more evil, don’t you? Not that it would matter a lot to us, you understand.”
“We encourage our people to do good and almost everyone does so,” said Fleming. “The evil among us, we deal with in other ways.”
“Most of the people to whom you give more time use it to eat and have more orgasms,” said the shaman. “Transitory pleasures that ultimately don’t amount to anything.”
“Food and orgasms are part of life’s pleasures,” responded Fleming, “but there are many other productive activities, such as improving the quality of life. We continually increase our social wealth so future generations won’t have to spend as much time satisfying basic needs and can focus on higher pleasures such as learning and the arts. Why not try that?”
“So you work for others in the future?”
“Yes, but as we work, we enjoy the social wealth that was created by previous generations, so the work we do is a means of paying it forward.”
“Theoretical. Doesn’t matter to us whether we work for good or evil,” the shaman muttered.
Fleming leaned forward, peered into his eyes and asked quietly, “If it really doesn’t matter whether y
ou work for good or evil, why don’t you work for good just for the hell of it?”
After about twenty minutes, the Nihilamamo were tired of listening, so the discussions ended. They took the tools and other devices the Euromamo had brought, looked at them quizzically then laid them on the benches. Rick wondered if any of them would get any further attention from the Nihilamamo.
During the walk back, Rick admitted to John Eel Hunter that “I found the Nihilamamo sad. They don’t have a purpose for living. How do you keep your spirits up during the meetings with them?”
“Our relationship with them is more complicated than you may think. After all, the Nihilamamo do have a point.”
“How so?”
“The position of humans on this planet is more precarious than they even realize. The very survival of the species is at risk and if we get wiped out, what we do with our lives is no longer an issue.”
“The species might not survive? What risks are you thinking about?” asked Rick.
“The immediate ones, you know: nuclear war, a massive volcanic eruption, or getting hit by an asteroid. Also, some super-pathogen could escape from a biological lab and cause a pandemic that we couldn’t survive. These are very real threats to human existence on Earth. Most Euromamo think that we will face some of these threats, if not all of them.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t deal with them,” offered Rick hopefully.
“Yes, but there is no guarantee of success, either. Far from it.”
“I am not ready to embrace nihilism because of it though,” Rick replied bravely.
“Neither are we,” said John. “In fact, the struggle to prevent or control the effects of these disasters can give a purpose to life.”
After several minutes of silence, Rick said, “You seem quiet, John. Is there something else?”
“Yes, and it may prove to be the most intractable problem of all. Five billion years from now, the Sun will swell out past Earth to the orbit of Mars and obliterate all traces of life here. Let me repeat: all traces of life. The Great Wall of China, Westminster Abbey, the Taj Mahal, the Roman Coliseum, all will be gone. This is the fate of our species unless we can make a discovery in astrophysics to deliver us from this future.”
There was an awkward pause.
“Several years ago,” John continued, “the library got an article on this topic. I was struck with how factual and objective it seemed—and chilling. If we travelled at the speed of light—impossible within our current understanding of physics—we would still be left with very long time frames before we made it to a habitable place. Many thousands of years for the generations of travelers. We don’t even know whether they could successfully reproduce in space. The only ray of hope, I think, is for science to discover a new dimension to the universe that’ll allow us to get there fast enough. Ideally, the new dimension should be useable by millions of people, not just a few representatives of the species.”
“That assumes there’s another habitable place in the universe, doesn’t it?” asked Rick.
“That doesn’t concern me much,” answered John. “Given the number of galaxies and the number of planets in each galaxy, the odds of that are very much in our favor. The problem is reaching them.”
“All of this seems such a long time away. Certainly, the species will have enough time to think about the Sun’s demise and plan our future. After all, we’ve only been doing real science about four hundred years,” Rick chimed in. “We’ll know much more in a million years, not to mention a billion years.”
“Even under the best circumstances, we’re in for a big change—total extinction on this planet—five billion years from now when our sun transforms into a red giant—but we really have much less time than that to deal with the more immediate threats I mentioned in passing, some of which are very difficult to control.”
“So we may have less time to solve the problem of interplanetary travel?”
“Yes, substantially less time. Remember that it would be very difficult to implement the colonization of other planets during a worldwide crisis from a nuclear war, a volcanic disaster, a pandemic, or a meteor impact. Whatever we intend to do, we need to do ahead of time.
“So we had better start figuring out how to transport people and begin actually transporting them?”
“Yes.”
Rick was brought up short by the abruptness of his answer.
“We’ve got a lot of time. We’ll probably find a way, don’t you think?” Rick asked, hopefully.
“The time that we have will certainly help, but we could be blocked by a law of physics…a law, you understand, something we can’t circumvent,” said John calmly. “We would be doomed. Extinct.”
“That is a grim prospect,” said Rick. “Hemingway said we should exhibit grace under pressure.”
“That strikes me as a slim reed for guidance or comfort.”
“If that’s the case,” offered Rick, “is there any worthwhile purpose to life?”
“That’s a very good question. Perhaps we should discuss that later when we have more time to devote to it. In the meantime, we prefer life over death, health over sickness, pleasure over pain, social responsibility over self-centeredness.”
They continued walking along the path back to the Euromamo village.
After a while, Rick asked, “Are the Nihilamamo the saddest of the neighboring groups?”
“Yes, except, perhaps, for the Thanatomamo who have an outlook that is comparably dismal. Their village is west of the Nihilamamo.”
“What’s the difference between them?”
“The Nihilamamo don’t care about anything while the Thanatomamo care only about death.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You cannot describe them any other way. Concern with death is pervasive in their culture. For example, as you approach their village, to the left are their burial grounds, which are extensive, immaculately groomed, and dotted with elaborate tombs, each one as big as one of our shelters. The tombs are skillfully designed, carved, and painted over many years. They are their major form of decorative arts.”
“Do specialized artisans make and decorate the tombs?” Rick asked.
“No, all Thanatomamo are expected to build and decorate tombs throughout their lives. It’s the main outlet for their creative energy.”
“If the tombs receive that much effort, they must be beautiful.”
“As objects of craftsmanship and art, they are.”
“I sense that you don’t approve of the importance of tombs in Thanatomamo society. Why’s that?”
“It’s their focus on death that gives me pause. The Thanatomamo spend their lives preparing to die, rather than living. Tomb-building and other death-related activities occupy so much of their time that little is left for improving their society. For example, our meetings with them are usually held in a pavilion in their burial ground. It’s where they hold all their community meetings as it’s the only large, well-maintained building they have. Once you leave the burial ground, the rest of their village is drab and unkempt with few amenities. The shelters they live in are not nearly as fine as the tombs of the departed. Maybe they think that building the burial grounds is increasing their social wealth but it wouldn’t satisfy us.”
“Beyond tomb-building, are the Thanatomamo concerned about death in other ways?”
“Yes, the concern runs throughout their culture. They have, far and away, the most elaborate funerals of any society in the rain forest. Bodies are embalmed by highly skilled experts who know more about this process than anyone else in the area. Indeed, they care more about potions for preserving the remains of the dead than about potions for healing the living.”
“So they direct a lot of resources to their funerals….”
“Yes, but that’s not the half of it. Throughout their lives, they work diligently to accumulate things, not for their use, but to be buried with them. They bury a large amount of stuff with the deceased because they t
hink it comforts the departed. We regard this as a senseless drain on their standard of living.
“That’s not all. After the funerals of the deceased, their resources are used to feed the community for two weeks. Anyone who wishes to attend the mourning feasts gets food, courtesy of the departed. Since people die all along, there are almost always several feasts going on at any time. The practice supplies much of the food needs for the entire society.”
“Isn’t it a lot like the communal kitchen back at the village?”
“Not really. We eat together to share and celebrate what our community members have killed or gathered or grown in the rain forest. The practice solidifies our community because it’s everyone’s responsibility to give to the communal kitchen when they’ve acquired or produced food. In contrast, the Thanatomamo mourning feasts are somber remembrances of the departed. Sad throughout. Even their clothing has dark tones.”
“What happens to the wealth of the departed following the lavish interment and the mourning feast?”
“Only a minor portion escapes interment and the cost of the mourning feast. That portion is distributed through elaborate rituals of inheritance guided by lengthy wills. The wills not only convey stuff, but also comment on the lives of the departed and speculate about the afterlife. Thanatomamo work on their wills their entire adult lives. It’s their major form of literature.”
“With this extensive preparation, things must go smoothly when death finally occurs.”
“The tomb and the will are invariably meticulously prepared, but it’s still a wrenching process emotionally. During the funeral and for weeks afterward, the bereaved exhibit an intense, sorrowful mourning that requires constant comforting from their kinsmen and friends. Mourners wear grief amulets for years, sometimes until the ends of their lives.”
“Don’t they have some reprieve from death in their culture?”
“You be the judge. The society’s daily news, conveyed by a village crier, is about who has died and who is seriously ill or injured. For some strange reason, this news about death, illness, and injury satisfies their need to be kept informed, even entertained.”
The Blue Disc Page 19
