So Long Been Dreaming

by Nalo Hopkinson

  “So, first we walk on the Moon,” I say. “And then what? We come back home? We use what we learned to build better adding machines? New and improved vacuum cleaners?”

  He gives me a look that, had I ever given to my Papa, would have earned me a slap across the face. And I let it pass. I have learned to let so much pass. It is a better way of getting through life, I think.

  “It’s not about . . . things,” Anthony says. “It’s about going places. There’s so much out there, Dad.” About a year ago, he stopped calling me Papa and started calling me Dad. I understand why – it’s what American boys call their fathers – but I have yet to get used to it. I will, in time, but not yet. “We can’t stay here forever. First, the Moon. Then, by the time I graduate college, Mars. Then the asteroid belt, maybe. And the moons of Jupiter. By the time I have kids, the stars. There’ll be other planets. Other worlds. Maybe with intelligent life. We have to go there.”

  “We can barely live on the Moon,” I argue. “Billions of dollars and space suits and thousands of people to make it happen. And the Moon is just next door, isn’t it? It’s just a few thousand miles away.”

  He gives me that look, and I chide myself for baiting him. The Moon is 240,000 miles away. I’ve been following everything too.

  Anthony clamps down his molars on a chunk of lamb and tears it from the skewer. “Things’ll be different by the time we get to the stars,” he says. “We’ll be different. I read a story about it. If we find life out there, we’ll change ourselves to be more like what we find. We’ll make our bodies and brains different. We won’t even have to come back home. We’ll be so well adapted that we can survive wherever we land as efficiently as the native aliens.”

  Native aliens.

  I let the paradox pass.

  Removing the satay from the grill, I lay the skewers down in neat rows on a plate. “But, what if the life we find out there doesn’t want us? What if they see us as a threat? People come to a new land, and they want to change it. They want to make it like the place they came from, and they want to be top dog. Visitors who refuse to go home aren’t really visitors.”

  “We’ll be welcome,” he says, with so much confidence that I feel my heart fissure, “because we’ll come with peaceful intentions.”

  This is a moment, now. This is a moment in which I could press the issue. I could bring to bear my thirty-five years of life experience, of scratches and bruises and scars and calluses. I could strip away every one of my son’s naive sentiments and make him see the world as it is. I have seen blood in the dirt. I bet I could make my son see it too.

  I hand him the plate of satay. “Bring this to the kitchen. And then watch your spacemen walk on their rock.”

  “Astronauts,” he says, taking the plate. “And it’s not just some rock. It’s a world.”

  I pierce more lamb chunks onto skewers. “Okay. Have it your way. A world. Tell me if the astronauts find something good on their new world.”

  He gives me his look and takes the satay kambing into the house.

  I stay in my backyard and look to the sky.

  There’s nothing to see there, but I look on my son’s behalf, praying that he’ll never have to see what I see.

  Celu Amberstone was one of the only young people in her family to take an interest in learning Traditional Native North American crafts and medicine ways. This made several of the older members of her family very happy, while annoying others. Though legally blind since birth, she has spent much of her adult life avoiding cities. She has lived in the rain forests of the west coast, a tepee in the desert, and a small village in Canada’s arctic. Along the way she also managed to acquire a BA in cultural anthropology and an MA in health education. A teacher of cross-cultural workshops and traditional Native ways, Celu loves telling stories and reading. She now lives in Victoria, British Columbia near her grown children and two grandchildren.

  Refugees

  Celu Amberstone

  Awakening Moon, sun-turning 1

  This morning I arose early and climbed to the Mother Stone on the knoll above the village. The sun was just rising above the blue mists on the lake. The path smelled of tree resin and flowering moss. I took in a deep breath and sang to the life around me. I was shivering by the time I reached the Mother Stone and made the first of my seasonal offerings to Tallav’Wahir, our foster planet.

  I cut open my arm with the ceremonial obsidian knife I carried with me, and watched my blood drip into the channel carved into the stone for that purpose. Blood. The old people say it is the carrier of ancestral memories, and our future’s promise. I am a child from the stars – a refugee, driven from my true home. My blood is red, an alien colour on this world. But I am lucky because this planet knows my name.

  Awakening Moon, sun-turning 2

  I should rejoice in the renewal of life, but with this Awakening Moon my heart is sad. Always before one of my daughters has been with me to share this special time. Now they are all gone. My youngest daughter married last harvest and moved to a village across the lake. I miss her. My dear old man, Tree, says I should be glad to be done with that cycle of my life. But if I still crave the company of children, he is sure that my co-wife Sun Fire would be happy to share. He says this with a smile when he sees my long face, and truly the children left in the compound are more than a handful for us. But though I love them all – including my widowed sisters – it isn’t quite the same. I pray that Tukta’s marriage will be a happy one, and blessed with healthy children. Oh Mother, how we need healthy children.

  Awakening Moon, sun-turning 7

  Today our Benefactors confirmed our worst fears. Earth is now a fiery cloud of poisons, a blackened cinder. When it happened, our ancient soul-link with Earth Mother enabled us to sense the disaster even from this far world across the void. Tallav’Wahir felt it too. But we told our foster planet mother that our life patterns were sound. Our Benefactors would help us. Such a tragedy would never happen here. There was a great outpouring of blood and grief at the Mother Stones all over the world. The land ceased to tremble by the time the ceremonies ended.

  Leaf-Budding Moon, sun-turning 3

  The star shuttle arrives with our new wards tomorrow – twenty-one of them for our village. What an honour to be given so many. Dra’hada says that the crew won’t awaken them from cold-sleep until just prior to their arrival. When they are led out, they will be disoriented, and we will have to be patient with them. Dra’hada has assured me that our implants and theirs have been attuned to the same frequency so that we can communicate easily, and that is a relief. I wonder what these new people will be like. I am excited, and maybe a little afraid too. All the wars and urban violence we’ve heard about, I hope they can adjust to our simple ways. It’s been a long time since our Benefactors have brought settlers to Tallav’Wahir to join us. We desperately need these newcomers. Tallav’Wahir is kind, but there is something in this adoptive environment that is hard on us too. We aren’t a perfect match for our new home, but our Benefactors have great hopes for us.

  Leaf-Budding Moon, sun-turning 4

  It is moonrise, and it’s been an exhausting day for all of us. I was near the front of the crowd when the shuttle set down on the landing pad. I thought I was prepared for anything. How wrong I was. They are so alien. It is hard to believe we are the same species. The situation on Earth deteriorated so fast that the ship was forced to gather what survivors were available without delay. There was no time to select the suitable. The sorting will have to be done here, I suppose, and that is unfortunate. Culling is very stressful for everyone. Most of the people assigned to our village were dazed and confused, but some were angry too. Maybe they were afraid of our Benefactors, and that might account for their rude behaviour. Filthy lizards indeed. They are an unsettling addition to our village, and the land feels it too.

  Leaf-Budding Moon, sun-turning 5

  Dra’hada says, even though they look and act so differently, they all come from a large city called V
ancouver. We have three staying in our family’s compound. When I first saw the young woman given to us, my heart pounded like a drum. I’d caught only a glimpse of her in profile, and I thought my daughter Tukta had returned to me. Then she turned to face me and the resemblance vanished. It was an unsettling experience nonetheless. Her features at times still remind me of Tukta’s, but in no other way are they the same!

  This girl is of medium height, golden-skinned, and very, very thin. She was wearing tight black pants, and black boots with high heels that make her walk funny. She also had on a black shirt, very sheer – I could see her tiny nipples pressed against the fabric. Over that she wore a black leather jacket with lots of silver chains. Her hair is short, spiky, and blue. She has a ring in her nose and several in her ears, and a pudgy baby that cries a lot. She told us her name was Sleek. Jimtalbot, one of our other charges, says that isn’t her real name, just a “street name.” I’m not sure what he meant by that, but I’ll wait and ask him later.

  Jimtalbot is one of the few older adults left in our care. Unlike Sleek, he has pale skin and grey streaks in his short brown hair. His face is a bit puffy, and his belly soft. Dra’hada says we will have to watch him because his heart is weak. Jimtalbot told me that he was a professor at the university. He has lively blue eyes and is very curious about everything. I like him the best of the lot.

  Our third fosterling, given into Tree’s care mostly, is a sullen, brown-skinned youth whose “street name” is Twace. He wares a bright-coloured cloth tied around his head and baggy striped pants. I don’t like his angry eyes or the colour of his aura. It is filled with red and murky grey patches. When he looked around our compound and saw the neat round dwellings with their sturdy mud walls and mossy roofs, the thatched stable for our woolly beasts, and the shady arbor where my loom sits, his mouth curled in contempt.

  They are abed now – finally. Tomorrow we will have to get them suitable clothing and bring them to the Mother Stone on the knoll. I hope they won’t be too frightened by the adoption ceremony.

  Leaf-Budding Moon, sun-turning 6

  We tried to prepare our fosterlings for the proceedings, but no amount of assurance on our part seemed to ease their minds. All were anxious, and some had to be dragged screaming and cursing to the Mother Stone while an elder made the cut for the required blood offering. Sleek was one of the worst. She kicked and clawed at the men who brought her forward, and no amount of assurance on my part could calm her.

  When we returned home, Sleek was a mess. Her arms and face were bloody, and her alien clothes were ruined. I saw my neighbours’ pitying glances as we took her away. My widowed sister and my co-wife, Sun Fire, helped me strip off her clothing and get her cleaned up. I was so ashamed for our family.

  “Ignorant savages, cannibals, leave me alone, goddamn you!” she shouted at us as we washed her.

  “It’s all right, daughter, calm down. Come now, it was only a little blood; it didn’t really hurt to make the gift. No one is going to eat you. The blood was given to the Stone so that our foster planet mother could taste you. Now She will know you as one of her own. We all make such offerings; it is one of the ways our Benefactors have taught us to commune with the soul of the land. Such traditions were practiced on Earth once – didn’t you know that?”

  “Screw traditions – and the lizards,” she snarled and threw the new dress I was trying to hand her to the floor. “I want my own clothes – what have you done with my things, bitch?”

  “Don’t talk to your foster mother like that,” my sister said. “Show her more respect.”

  Sleek opened her mouth to reply, but I spoke quickly to forestall another outburst. “I’m sorry, Sleek, but it was necessary to get rid of those alien things. They aren’t in harmony with life here. You must wear and use the natural things provided by this planet now. Their manna will help you commune with Tallav’Wahir. These ways may seem harsh to you at first, but they are important. Our elders and our Benefactors know what is best for us – truly they do.”

  Sleek gave me a withering look, but took the simple dress I handed her. While the fabric was over her head, I heard her mumble something about ignorant savages talking to dirt. “Our Benefactors know best,” she mimicked as her head cleared the opening. “Well, they’re not my benefactors. You people are pathetic. Damned lizards have you humans living like primitive savages while they fly around in their spaceships.”

  Her words were meant to cut, but I thought I saw tears in the corners of her eyes, so I bit back my angry response. “We know about the high technologies,” I told her quietly. “We use what you would call computers, air cars, and other technical things too. But to help you make the repatterning, we decided that a simple lifestyle would be best for all of us for a time. There is no shame in living close to the land in a simple way, daughter.

  “Our Benefactors teach us that technology must never interfere with our Communion with the Mother, lest we forget the Covenant, grow too greedy, and destroy our new home.”

  Sleek’s face flushed a deep crimson, and she probably would have said more rude things to me, but at that point her baby began crying in the yard outside, and she took that as an excuse to leave us. When she was gone, my sister Sun Fire and I looked at one another in exasperation. Her behaviour could try the patience of a stone.

  Flowering Moon, sun-turning 7

  The planting is over. It was a nice change to play with the children on the beach today. The water in the lake is already warm enough for a swim. Sleek and I played with them for hours in the shallows by the shore. Her face relaxed; she looked younger and seemed so happy, and that made me happy too. Maybe she and the others can adjust to our ways after all.

  Flowering Moon, sun-turning 9

  Jimtalbot rubs his fourth finger when he thinks no one is looking. Like the others he was forced to give up everything from his past, including the narrow gold ring that used to be on that finger. Just now when I went out to relieve myself, I heard someone sobbing quietly in the shadows under the te’an tree. When I went to investigate, I saw Jimtalbot. I sat down beside him and took his hand. “What’s so wrong?” I asked him. He sniffed and tried to pull his hand out of mine, but I held on and repeated my question.

  “Nothing really – I’ll be all right . . . I was just thinking about home – and my dead wife. She was visiting her mother in Toronto when it happened. The whole eastern part of the country was annihilated, from what Dra’hada told me.”

  “Such thoughts are more than nothing, Jimtalbot. I can’t imagine losing so much; it must be terrible. I think you and the others are very brave.”

  He shook his head; I could see the gleam of unshed tears in his eyes by the lantern light. “Not brave at all. Your Benefactors gave us no choice.”

  There was such harshness to his voice when he said those words that I shivered and wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders. “They are your Benefactors too,” I pointed out to him. “Would you rather have had them leave you to die?”

  He was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “I don’t know, Qwalshina. It is all so different here – I don’t know if I have the courage to live in this place.”

  Surprised by his confession, I raised his hand to my lips and kissed it. “Surely you can; we are all here to love and help you. You aren’t alone here – and if you wish a new wife –”

  At that point, he disentangled his hand from mine and stood up. “Thank you for your concern, Qwalshina. You are very kind. I think I shall go back to my bed now. Good night.”

  I went back to my own bed with a troubled heart. The little ring was such a small memento. Did we do right to make them give up everything? Our Benefactors advised it, but. . . .

  Flowering Moon, sun-turning 25

  Last night, there was an argument down by the beach that ended with Sand Walker and one of the new men being injured. Everyone is so upset today, and Dra’hada was furious when he heard about it. He told me that such violence wouldn’t be tolerated. Why can�
�t the new ones see how lucky they are? These people were saved from death; why are they so angry? I don’t understand them. I wish they’d never been brought here.

  No, that isn’t true; we need them. . . .

  Korn-Growing Moon, sun-turning 11

  I had to make a difficult decision yesterday about Sleek. Her baby was suffering. She would shout and curse the babe more often than she would feed or care for the boy. Today the women’s council came to take the baby away. She cursed us in the vilest terms. Judging by her behaviour later, however, I think she is secretly relieved to be rid of the child. The council gave the little one to Aunty Shell to foster. Granny Night Wind says the boy is doing better already.

  I look at Sleek’s hard eyes and I wonder what is wrong with her. Can’t she feel any emotion but anger? How could she be so indifferent to her own child’s welfare? I remember how it was when we lost my oldest daughter’s first born. Poor unfortunate mite – we were all distraught when he had to be culled.

  Korn-Growing Moon, sun-turning 16

  Our medicine woman, Granny Night Wind, thinks we will have a good crop this harvest season. Tallav’Wahir, we live in harmony with Her cycles. She feeds us, Her spirit helpers protect us, and in return we bury our shit and our dead in her rich gray soil so that She can absorb our essence, swallow our memories, and enfold us in the oneness of Her living soul. My daughter Tukta’s face comes into my mind – she is so young, and so happy. Will the land love and bless her, make her one of Her favoured ones? Oh, I pray it will be so.