by Tanya Allan
The man came to the circle and looked at the offering. He squatted down opposite Ed and stared at him. Ed pointed to the offering and then to the man. He repeated this several times.
The man looked in the pot and picked out the half eaten chocolate bar He sniffed at it, never taking his eyes off Ed. He tentatively tasted a tiny piece and then a little more. Then he smiled and finished the bar. Ed smiled back, not moving.
Ed pointed to the offering and then to the trees, as if to say, take it to your village. The man nodded, picked up the pot, turned and walked into the jungle.
Russell was about to rush forward, but Ed said, “Everyone, please stay exactly where you are, he is still there and watching us!”
Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, the man appeared, carrying some fruits. He approached the circle and placed the items into the centre, and then retreated out, squatting by the empty chair.
“Gillian, can you come here, slowly and without the shotgun? Bring your tape recorder!” Ed said.
I handed Russell the shotgun and walked towards the circle. I squatted just behind Ed, activating my tape recorder.
Ed pointed to his chest, and said, “Ed!”
The man pointed to himself and said, “Gorran!”
Ed placed a hand into the soil and picked some up, letting some run through his fingers.
“Earth!” he said.
And so it went on.
Ed pointed to the fruit, and the man said, “Cumm Ba!” Ed nodded.
“Gillian, go get the fruit, please!” Ed asked.
I stood and walked into the circle, picked up the fruit, and carried it back to Ed, who took it from me. He ripped open the fruit and tasted it, and then he passed some to me. It tasted a little like mango.
The man pointed to me and said, “Mala!” Followed by making female curves with his hands.
Ed said “Woman! Mala! This mala is Gillian. Ed, Gillian!” he said, pointing to himself and then to me.
This went on for a long time, and I was fascinated by Ed’s imagination and patience. As it became dark, Gorran stood, grinned, and left us, picking up his weapons as he left.
Ed stared at the jungle for a moment and smiled.
“They still don’t trust us. There are two watchers out there!” he said.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I can sense them!” he said. “Well doc, have you got enough to make a start?”
“Yes, I think I have. But you must be exhausted. You have been out here for twelve hours!” I said.
“So have you. Let’s have something to eat!” he said, so we returned to the tents.
I was excited, as several roots of languages were immediately recognisable. But the actual words themselves appeared to be new. The ‘la’ suffix came from a West African dialect, which related to any feminine noun. And the word ‘ba’ denoted fruit, from another separate dialect.
I shared this with Russell, as he was eager to find out what he could about their religion or belief systems. But, he realised that without a means of communicating, we were stuck.
“I was very impressed with your Marine. There is a lot more to him than I first thought,” Russell said, I smiled at the ‘your Marine’ bit.
I went to my tent and dug out my laptop, plugging it into the generator. I immediately got to work, so didn’t hear Ed come in. He placed a plate of food on my bed and handed me a beer.
“Time to take a break, my sweet!” he said, gently.
I looked at him, and he could tell that I was excited.
“Hey, we are here for six weeks, don’t bust a gut on the first day, it’s nearly midnight!” he said.
I had no idea that it was so late. So I saved what I had done, and ate the food.
“I think I have identified at least six different language roots from what we have done so far. This means that the original slaves came from at least six distinct tribes, so when they landed here, they had to learn to communicate together, so the language is an amalgamation of all six!” I said, between mouthfuls.
“Do you know the original languages?” he asked.
“A little of each, so it should be easy enough to construct their composite language on the computer,” I said, grinning. “Four are from the Senegambia region, so Mandinka, Hausa and a couple of related tribes. I think the others come from further east, as elements of Twee and Ga are present. They come from modern-day Ghana.”
“Good, then I am going to sleep,” he said, laying on his bed.
“Are we keeping watch tonight?” I asked.
“Not tonight, we are past the danger. Unless that silly sod Craig gets in the way,” he said, but next minute he was snoring.
I was very conscious that I was tired too, so I lay down, and was asleep in moments.
I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. It was pitch black, and I was conscious of movement.
“Shhh!” Ed said, and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Young Craig is up to silly tricks!” he said.
He slipped quietly out of the tent, and I heard a dull thud and a crash of branches.
I peeked out of the tent, to see Ed carrying a large bundle over his shoulder. He dumped it unceremoniously onto the ground, and shone his flashlight down.
The bundle was Craig, complete with telephoto lens on his camera. He had been sneaking off to take some pictures of the village, before any of us got there first.
He was unconscious, and would have a large bump on his head when he woke up. Ed looked at him with contempt on his face, and dragged him by his collar over to a tree. He tied one wrist to the other, and around the back of the tree, so he was seated, hugging the tree.
Craig moaned and came to, but started squealing and swearing. I saw Ed put his mouth close to Craig’s ear and say something. Craig went very quiet and still. Ed came back to the tent and took me by the arm.
“He’ll be fine now,” he said, grinning.
“What did you say to him?” I asked.
“Nothing much, only that the natives were cannibals, so that if he was a bad boy, I would sell him to them!” he said, and went and lay down again.
“Why are you so good at what you do?” I asked.
“Experience,” he said, with his eyes closed. “What’s your excuse?”
I smiled, and lay down next to him. His arm wrapped itself around me, so I fell asleep, feeling safe.
Ed was already up when I awoke, so when I dressed and left the tent, he was already sitting by the circle, with a fresh offering inside the circle.
I grabbed some coffee and a piece of fruit, and went and squatted next to him. I had my tape recorder ready.
“Hi, babe, you okay?” he drawled.
“Mmm, fine. You should’ve woken me,” I said.
“Nah, you were crashed, you needed the sleep.”
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Couple of hours, I guess.”
I looked at my watch, but noticed that it was only seven am now.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked.
He smiled, but then tensed slightly. I could see nothing.
“Gigi, just shift your butt back a foot or so, just so you are slightly behind me,” he said.
I shifted, just as Gorran stepped out of the bush. I wondered how the hell Ed knew he was there.
The black man approached, this time he carried no weapons. But he held a crude wicker basket.
He placed the basket into the circle and squatted opposite Ed. They started where they left off on the previous evening, so I managed to get about five hundred words of vocabulary, including verbs. What I found interesting was that both men actually remembered every word in the other’s language. Ed would go back over everything, as if trying to reinforce it.
At midday, Ed turned to me, and said, “Hey, could you fetch me and my man here, some lunch, please? I’m sorry to ask, but I think he expects it. They have some rather outdated ideas on women’s roles.”
I smiled, put my recorder
on the ground, and then stood and walked slowly back to the tents. The others were all anxious to hear how we were getting on, so I was cautious, but I thought I had nearly enough to build a program to create their language.
I put together a couple of sandwiches, filling two cups with water. I ate a quick sandwich myself, and took the food back to the two men.
As I approached, Ed simply said, “Him first, babe.”
I smiled at Gorran as I handed him the plate of food and the cup of water.
He grinned at me, so his white teeth flashed in bright contrast to his dark face. I noticed that he had no mud smeared all over him today.
At first, he was more interested in the plastic plate and cup, than he was the food! But as Ed started to eat, so did he, and his expressions were marvellous.
They went through the ingredients of the sandwich, and I was interested that meat was a problem. They had words for fish and birds, but none for larger animal flesh, which eased a worry about possible cannibalism!
The day passed, so I went through several tapes. Eventually, Gorran examined his small pile of goodies that Ed had left him. There was a small mirror, which he found amazing, a basic knife, which he really appreciated, and a few beads for which he had no clue.
I smiled and walked to him. I took a few of the beads, threaded them onto a string, and hung them round my neck. Then I tried to thread some of my hair through one, but it was too short. For the first time in my life I wished I had longer hair.
I gave them back to him and he grinned. He picked up his offering to Ed and handed it to me. There were some fruit and a small earthenware pot. Obviously made and fired here on the island.
I handed it to Ed and, as the dutiful woman, sat down again.
Ed went through a great play of gratitude, and made sure he knew the names of everything he had been given, or had given the other man.
Gorran raised his hand and casually left us again.
Ed relaxed and grinned at me.
“Good day, huh?” he said.
I nodded, eager to get back to work, so I jumped up and kissed him. Then I realised that we were being watched by all the team.
Ed smiled, “We got no secrets now, Babe,” he said.
I kissed him again, as I found I didn’t care who knew.
“We both got one secret, and that is staying put,” I said.
“That’s a fact,” he said, standing up and stretching.
“I’ll go and get this into my program,” I said.
“You do that, I’m gonna catch me some sleep.”
* * *
Russell
I have never been quite so wrong about two people before in my life. I always considered myself an astute judge of character, but Sergeant Ryan and Gillian MacLeish have just proved me anything but.
That day, when I first met young Gillian in the Tilted Wig, in Edinburgh, I was convinced that she was a lesbian. As I looked about the interior of the pub, I immediately categorised her as a ‘biker dyke’, so was quite alarmed when she turned out to be the linguistics specialist, who had come so highly recommended.
And then, as soon as I was introduced to the large Marine, at the bar in the Keyes, I was guilty of underestimating him dreadfully. Having seen so many films about the US Marines, I thought, ‘Oh no, not another macho, Clint Eastwood type.’
So, we set sail, and the next thing I know, Gillian and the Sergeant became an item. I was amazed, as they were such an unlikely couple. I thought he’d be the last type of person she’d go for, and her butch attitude was, in my mind, the polar opposite of the kind of girl that our Marine would find attractive. In fact, I suspect that their relationship began even before we left Florida.
During the trip, they were hardly ever apart. One morning, when I got up early, they were sleeping together on the open deck. For a girl who came over so mannish initially, she has mellowed a great deal, but only has eyes for the Sergeant. I must confess to feeling somewhat inferior when he is about. His powerful size and general demeanour is such that I feel that I am always doing something wrong in his eyes.
But as soon as we made initial contact with the natives, the Sergeant proved to be invaluable, and he and Gillian accomplished great things with the language in just three days.
But much more than this, Edward managed to build such a rapport with the native spokesman, or leader, that we received our first invitation to go to their village.
Craig had learned his lesson, so was much more amenable now. He apologised to me, for getting grand ideas about photographs of a people group, never seen by westerners before. But then he realised that he was in danger of ruining the whole point of the expedition. Mind you, the unmentionable threats from the good Sergeant probably went a long way to convince him of the error of his ways.
Ed told us all to touch nothing, and to behave absolutely straight with these people. He explained that they saw the white man as the evil stealer of people, so they would be naturally suspicious and possibly hostile. So, no flash photography and no weapons were to be visible.
Gillian gave us a quick run-down of the language, as she was delighted to be able to identify all six of the root languages and dialects from which the islanders’ new language had sprung. Her computer program had constructed the language, so she was at pains to try it out.
When Gorran, their leader, came to us, and instead of joining Ed on the circle, he had waved for us to follow him to the village; Gillian was as excited as a schoolgirl.
Ed hid the weapons in a locked strong box, which he buried in his tent. He was the only one who was carrying a side arm, so as he was the only person who could use one properly, I thought that best.
The village was about a fifteen-minute walk away. It was situated in a valley, with very tall trees masking it from above. There was a stream running through the centre, where small children were swimming in a pool, which had been formed behind a small dam. It looked like somewhere the women would wash clothes, but as none were there at the moment, the children took advantage of the opportunity.
There were about forty huts and, as Ed had surmised, there must have been about two hundred people living here! I wondered how many slaves had survived the shipwreck, all those years ago.
There was a large open space in the centre of the village, where the earth was packed solid. I assumed that this was the sort of village green or their version of the village hall, where all essential community functions took place.
We were attracting a lot of attention, Gillian in particular. She was wearing shorts, and it was the first time that she had shown any leg at all. Except when she was in her bikini on the boat, that is. It was her blonde hair that the children seemed fascinated with, and even my ginger hair was a novelty to them.
We were seated in a circle, along with a dozen of the men, whom I took to be elders. We saw women, but they were not included in the circle. I saw Gillian talking to Ed, and she sat just behind him, so as not to cause offence to the men of the village, but close enough so she could assist with the communication process.
Finally, the talking started as always with an exchange of gifts.
At last, we were able to ask the questions that had brought us here, and the story of these remarkable people was finally told!
Gorran
It was one of Kali’s boys who first saw the strangers, so within moments, everyone knew that they had landed and were making a camp to the south of the village. I sent four watchers to go and watch the strangers and to tell the village if they left their camp.
I was with eight of the warriors, rebuilding one of the huts, which had been damaged by one of the storms, when the village council was called. Russak, our Shaman, was told and he came and sat in the circle.
My younger brother, Droig, wanted to attack them and to drive them back into the sea. There was much approval for this idea. The strangers were white-skins, and so the fear was always there that they had come to take the people back as captives.
I looked at
Russak, as gradually everyone else became quiet and all looked at the old man. He had been Shaman for nearly fifty summers, as his father had been before him. He was wise in the ways of the world and the ways of the spirits.
“I saw them coming, two moons ago,” the old man said.
“Are they dangerous?” I asked.
He shook his head, his long grey hair waggling against the elaborate feather headdress. He had a bowl full of lots of little bones, so he shook them, casting them onto the ground.
“They seek only wisdom, and truth. They come not to harm, but to offer the people a hand of friendship,” he said, as he looked at the bones.
“Should we attack them?” Droig asked.
Again he shook his head.
“They are but few, six souls only. And yet one is a great warrior, so if you attack, he will destroy many of our young men.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
Russak looked me in the eyes.
“You, Gorran, will go to them, and as our best warrior, you will meet their warrior alone. He will be your friend,” he said. Then, the old man picked up his bones, returning to his hut.
Droig was not happy, but we agreed that I should go to at least look at the strangers and take things carefully.
I dressed as a warrior and smeared the mud over my skin, so I would be more hard to see, and then went to the bushes near the strangers camp. I saw they had put up three strange huts, which seemed to be very thin. But they had very bright flames in bowls on the end of poles, which made daylight come to their small hill.
There were indeed six, just as Russak had said; yet one was a female. I immediately saw which one was their warrior. He was very tall and strong, and dressed as the jungle around him. He carried no spear, but a black stick like the men from the flying machine. I remembered the stick spat flame and noise, so I fear that it also spat death.
I watched all night, and they changed the guard. I saw the warrior again later, but I sensed that he had left their camp. I checked the other watchers, yet they had seen nothing, but then I saw his tracks. I noted that he had been right into our village, yet touched nothing. He was indeed a great and brave warrior.
