Berry Moon, sun-turning 2
There was a great bonfire down on the beach last night. We baked fish on sticks, and ate berries cooked with sweet dumplings till our bellies grew hard and round. In the long green twilight, we played running games. Then someone brought out a drum and that started everyone singing and dancing. Our Twace and two boys in my cousin Rain’s compound can drum very well. I danced till I thought I would fall over from exhaustion. Later Tree, Sun Fire, and I crept off to a quiet place by the spring where we made sweet love under the stars. Some time during the night Tree’s unmarried brother Sand Walker joined us and that was good too.
Berry Moon, sun-turning 9
When I was working at my loom this evening Sleek came over unexpectedly and sat down beside me. She seemed curious, and maybe a little interested. None of my other children have the talent to be a master weaver. It would be a shame for the family to lose such a skill when I become too old for the craft. Some of our Benefactors pay high prices for our art back on their Homeworld. I let her watch for a time, then I asked, “Would you like me to show you how to do this?” She shrugged, but didn’t get up and leave. Best not frighten her away, I thought, so I just continued on with my work.
After a while she volunteered, “My grandmother used to weave – it looked something like that.”
Startled, I stopped my work and turned to face her. “Really? That’s very interesting. What kind of things did she make?”
“I don’t remember exactly; I was pretty young when she died. . . . I remember one thing she made, though. It had bright colours; I used to tangle my fingers in its long fringes.” She smiled at the memory, and added, “It was probably something ceremonial, a dance cape maybe. A lot of the old women in our tribe used to make them for the potlatch ceremonies.”
“Pot-a-latch.” My tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar word. “Was this a ceremony of your people held to honour the Earth Mother?”
“I don’t know; my mom never took me to one.”
I went back to my weaving at that point. I could see she was becoming nervous by my questioning. Be careful, Qwalshina, or you will frighten her away, I told myself. But inwardly I smiled as I twined the yarn back and forth between the rope strands on the loom. Truly our Benefactors are wise. Dra’hada knew how much I was missing Tukta, and gave me a new daughter of the same racial stock as my own. At that moment I felt very good about knowing that. It made me feel a little closer to her.
On impulse I asked her, “How old are you?”
She seemed startled by my question, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion at first, then she relaxed. “The lizards didn’t tell you?”
“No. I never asked our Benefactors. Is your age a secret? Would you tell me?”
She gave me another shrug. “No secret. Eighteen. Why?”
“I was just curious.” Eighteen. I forced myself to go back to my weaving. Gently, gently, Qwalshina, I told myself. “You are about the age of my third daughter. She got married recently and moved to another village. I miss her. I’m glad you are here to take her place.”
Sleek snorted. “I don’t have much use for mothers, so don’t get your hopes up about making me your new daughter – or teaching me that silly string stuff either.”
She made me angry then, and I allowed my evil tongue to say something cutting in return. “Maybe if you had been more willing to be mothered you could have done a better job of being a mother yourself, instead of abusing your baby.”
Sleek jerked back as if I’d slapped her – which in a way I had. I saw the hurt in her eyes for just a moment and then it was gone, replaced by her habitual sullen anger. She stood up and glared down at me with such contempt that it made my bones shiver. “You people make me sick,” she spat back.
“You think you’re so wonderful and know what’s best for everyone, don’t you? Well, let me tell you about my mother. She was a drunk who let her boyfriends fuck me whenever they wanted; then told me it was my fault for being a slut. I never wanted to be a mother – fuck mothers – all mothers. Who needs any of you?”
I stared after her with tear-filled eyes. Why had I said that? I’m so ashamed. Now I understand a little more why she acts the way she does, but that doesn’t excuse my behaviour. I must go to the Mother Stone, make an offering, and try to regain my internal harmony. Like a disease, these people are destroying our peace. And, if I am honest with myself, I must admit that Sleek and the others frighten me. Her questions and her anger make me uncomfortable. Is she right? Are we too complacent and judgmental? I have to go help Sun Fire with the children.
Korn-Ripening Moon, sun-turning 17
The entire village is in an uproar after what happened last night. Someone stole some of Granny Night Wind’s uiskajac. It was fermenting in a big wooden barrel at the back of her compound. When Sand Walker went to check on the brew, he found the barrel only half full. Granny Night Wind was furious. She threatened to give the persons responsible a bad case of “the itch” when she finds them. Whoever did it is either very brave – or crazy. She is a powerful shamanka; the spirits obey her. Still, it was funny to see her stomping around, looking under everything – people leaping out of her way – or jumping to do her bidding.
Rain-Comes-Back Moon, sun-turning 2
These young ones, so corrupted by poor food and alien drugs, have grown up spindly, like unhappy plants shaded from the sun. The last human crop of their tormented, polluted world is a pitiful one indeed. Will their life-patterns be suitable to mingle with ours? My people need the flow of new genes or we may perish in spite of all our Benefactor’s efforts. I am so afraid for my children. The birth defects and terminations are so many. I fear for my daughter Tukta. She is so young and so happy with her new man.
Ah, but Dra’hada says not to give up hope. We will salvage what we can from this last harvest. And if that is not enough, our Benefactors will collect the seeds of other worlds and crossbreed them with ours. Our descendants may not be the same in appearance as we are, but some part of us will survive. And the land will always remember us. Our bodies will lie in the cool ground until the blood memories of our species have passed into the crystals of the bedrock itself.
Rain-Comes-Back Moon, sun-turning 4
Jimtalbot and Bethbrant were troubled by a crazy rumour they’d heard, and came this evening to ask me if it might be true.
“One of the guys from Earth living at Black Rock Village said that Earth isn’t really destroyed,” Jimtalbot told me.
I looked into their troubled faces and felt a shiver run down my spine. “What? Why would he say such a thing? Of course the Earth Mother is gone. Why else would our Benefactors have brought you here?”
“Why indeed, Qwalshina?” Jimtalbot said. “Could the – uh – Benefactors be planning some weird experiment? Something that they need live humans, or human body parts for?”
I was shocked, speechless. “Experiment? No, of course not. That’s preposterous. Who said such a thing? I must tell Dra’hada; who is it?”
Their expressions became closed at that point. Jimtalbot mumbled that he didn’t know the man’s name, but I was sure he was lying to me. He looked at Bethbrant and they started to walk away, but I stopped them. “Please wait. If you don’t wish me to tell Dra’hada, Jimtalbot, I won’t, but listen to me. There is no truth to this rumour. I felt Earth Mother’s death agony myself – through the Communion – we all did. The pain was almost unbearable. Truly She is gone. And, there is no planned experiment. Our Benefactors only wish us well.”
“If your people were also a part of their design, you might not be aware of the experiment either,” Bethbrant said.
“No, we would know if they were using us in that way. We have been here for generations. My father was a man of the Tsa’La’Gui people. His ancestors were brought here when pale-skinned invaders from across a big ocean came and took their land. My mother’s people came here long before my fathers. They were Crunich and lived on the island of Erin before the black-robed ones with their dead g
od came and stole the island’s soul. There are others from Earth Mother here too, rescued from disaster as you were. Our Benefactors wish only good for us. And, no matter our origin on Earth, we are all one people now, the children of Tallav’Wahir. There has never been any experiment. Please believe me.”
When I finished talking to them, they seemed convinced that it was all a crazy, made-up lie. But later the children told me that a group of our charges walked down the beach together to talk something over in private. Did I do right to promise not to tell Dra’hada? This is very troubling. I must go to the Mother Stone and tell Her my concerns.
Falling Leaves Moon, sun-turning 5
Sleek’s tattooed friend and six other youths have developed a terrible case of “the itch.” No common healing remedy has worked. Poor lads – I know they’re miserable – and I shouldn’t laugh at their misfortunes, but it is funny to watch them trying to scratch all those hard-to-reach places. Rain’s twins were in on the scheme. One of them finally broke down and confessed. About half of the stolen uiskajac was brought back. Granny is keeping the offenders in suspense for one more night, but she told me privately that she would forgive them, and give them a healing salve tomorrow.
Falling Leaves Moon, sun-turning 25
Sleek and I took the children for a walk on the knoll today. We piled up great mountains of leaves and had fun jumping into them. I tired before they did, but felt so good just watching them. I think my new daughter loves playing like a child when none of her Earth friends are around to ridicule her. She is recreating the happy childhood she didn’t have on Earth, and it is a joy to see her so.
Later we gathered siba fruit and roasted it on sticks over an open fire, and everyone sang songs. I found myself wishing Tukta could have been there to share the day with us. When we were heading home the children raced ahead as usual, but Sleek waited for me on the trail and fell into step beside me as I passed. I smiled and she returned the gesture.
In the dappled light under the trees, her face suddenly seemed to metamorphose into that of an ancient. Expressing wisdom far beyond her years, she said to me, “I had fun with you today, but I’m not Tukta, Qwalshina. Please try to remember that.” There was no anger in her voice for once; the smells of tree resin, spicy siba, and a lazy afternoon had drained her of hostility.
Startled, I paused on the trail and faced her. “I know. . . . I had fun today too, and I’m glad you are who you are. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Mmm. . . . Then stop calling me Tukta.”
“I don’t,” I protested.
She gave me a reproachful look, her eyes luminous and sad. “You’re not even aware that you’re doing it, are you?”
Was I? Oh Mother, was I confusing her with my daughter in the physical world as well as in my mind? “I’m sorry, Sleek, I didn’t realize I’d been doing that. Do I do it often?”
She made a noncommittal sound which I took to be acceptance of my apology. “Not often, but sometimes – like today – you forget.” She shrugged, looked away, and brushed her hand across a feathery tree branch. We’d chopped off the dyed blue parts of her hair some time back, and now soft brown waves hung down past her shoulders. Up ahead, one of the children called to her at that point, and she raced down the trail to catch up with the others.
I kept walking at a slower pace, thinking. I hadn’t realized I’d been doing that. Her gentle rebuke caused me to question my own insecurities. It wasn’t fair to Sleek if I was indeed trying to mold her into another’s image for my own comfort. Why did I continue to cling to the past? Why couldn’t I go on with my life – what was I afraid of? I will have to guard my tongue and my thoughts more carefully in future. I must go see Granny Night Wind; maybe she can guide me through this difficult time.
Frost Moon, sun-turning 15
It’s getting very cold at night now. We arrived back in the village by the lake yesterday afternoon, our pack beasts heavy-laden from the annual hunt. Soon we will hold the last harvest feast. Everyone is excited. After the festivities we will pack up everything important and leave this exposed, stormy beach. When the blue snows pile up outside, we will be safe in our warm underground lodges up the sheltered valley in the hills.
Frost Moon, sun-turning 28
I walked to the Mother Stone today to say farewell till our return in Awakening Moon. The seasons have turned and the dark time is upon us once again. In the shadows along the path specters of other races that once lived here too materialized, and watched me with solemn red eyes. Their voices whispered to me on the cool wind, but I couldn’t understand their alien speech. What happened to those born to this world? Our Benefactors don’t know. . . .
Along with my blood, I poured out to the Mother my hopes and fears for the future. I hope She heard and will bless us. We are all that is left of humanity now. Can we survive? Or will this land one day absorb us back into itself as she has others who have walked these hills? Such thoughts deepened the chill in my bones, and I hurried back to the warmth of my family’s compound. I want us all to live, and be happy.
The last harvest feast is tonight after the communal prayers. I’m resolved to set aside my dark mood and be happy. My pregnant daughter and others from across the lake are coming for the festivities. Oh, it will be good to see her. I mustn’t waste any more time, Sun Fire needs help with the baking.
Cold Moon, sun-turning 1
I am a little achy this morning – too much good food, dancing – and definitely too much uiskajac. What a wonderful party. I danced till I thought my feet would fall off. It was too cold for lovemaking under the stars, but the sweet pleasure under our warm blankets was just as good. I want to laze around in bed today, but the village will begin the packing for our move. And I have to say farewell to our departing guests. My daughter looks radiant – she is due in the Awakening Moon. What a good omen. I will miss her though. I wish I could be with her during this time. I hope she waits till I can come to her to have the child.
Sleek has disappeared again – just when I need her the most. . . .
Cold Moon, sun-turning 12
During the good weather, we were able to distract our charges with work and games played down on the beach in the evenings. Now that the blue snows are here, some of them have started whining about computer games and videos again. I talked to Tomcowan today about a theatre project. Maybe that will help keep them amused.
Cold Moon, sun-turning 14
As a compromise, Dra’hada is willing to send for some of the high tech equipment now in storage. If our new charges agree to study in our school, they will be allowed limited time on the equipment for entertainment pursuits. Twace and the others are dubious about the schooling part, but Dra’hada was firm with them. The Long Sleep Moons are a strain on everyone; I hope the play practices and Dra’hada’s machines will help it pass in tranquility.
Ice Moon, sun-turning 2
We are teaching those who wish to learn the discipline of “The Communion.” In the long nights when the snows are heavy on the land above, we journey underground, to the warm cave of the Mother. There we lie together on the floor of a large chamber, our limbs touching, and we slide into the sweet reverie that is the Deep Communion with Tallav’Wahir. We leave our bodies in the warm darkness and allow our spirits to swim upon the Great Starry River. We journey to other worlds and visit with friends light years away. None of our charges can travel so far, but for those who are willing to try, we have hope that someday they will master the technique well enough to join us.
Ice Moon, sun-turning 7
Tomcowan’s play was a success. It was written and performed by our charges. And I am so proud; my new daughter is such a good actress. She seemed to shine like a jewel when we offered her our praise. Our fosterlings told us the story of their lives in the lost city of Vancouver. Parts were funny, and some things were sad. Much of it I didn’t understand, but in spite of that, the performance was very moving. The elders will tell stories of our own history tonight. I
hope our fosterlings will like them. There is so much for us to share and weave together if we are to become one people.
Ice Moon, sun-turning 15
In the aftermath of Tomcowan’s play, an air of desolation has settled over our charges. It is very disheartening. The long, gloomy days indoors have given the memories of their lost home an unexpected poignancy. More fights today.
Just now I found Jimtalbot staring moodily into the flames of our fire. I sat beside him and asked why he and the others were still grieving for such a horrible place.
He looked at me with his sorrowful blue eyes and said, “It wasn’t all bad there, Qwalshina. My wife and I lived comfortably in a nice house by the ocean. Along with the bad, there was a lot of good too. Art, music, fine literature, advances in science and medicine – we had a lot to be proud of. As hard as it was for people like Sleek and Twace back home I think they miss it as much as I do.”
“Yes, I’m sure they do, and I can’t understand that either.”
He shrugged. “Home is home, no matter how bad it is, and you can’t help caring when it’s gone – if it’s gone.”
If it’s gone? I didn’t want to get bogged down in that conversation again, so I began a new topic. “Caring? Why didn’t the people of your city care enough to protect suffering children who starved on your city streets? Why didn’t they care enough to honour the Earth Mother and not destroy her gifts to you? Can you honestly say that life here has been so terrible that you would wish to go back?”
He was silent for a long time, just staring into the flames. Finally he tossed another stick onto the fire and shook his head. “I don’t know, Qwalshina.”
“Don’t know?” I was confused and upset myself by then so I left him. Vancouver sounded like such a terrible place. How could they possibly miss it and want to return?
So Long Been Dreaming Page 21
