Other Worlds Were Possible, page 10
At the midway point of their journey, they stopped off to visit their ancestral forest. This was the place their spirits went to exist, once their bodies had succumbed to death. It was a sacred place, the closest that mortals ever came to the ancestral realm. And it was a bountiful place. It contained the plants they used to make the poisons they daubed on their arrowheads, and the plants they believed were selectively poisonous; causing liars to vomit, without affecting honest folk.
They spent seven days in this place, making offerings to Mother Nature, singing hymns in praise of the dead, performing ghost dances, asking the ancestors for protection, and gathering a variety of plants. If someone had died during the dry season, they would have preserved their bodies, and brought them here to rest; hanging them from a branch, and leaving them for the eagles to eat. This act enabled their spirits to escape from their corpses. But no such deaths had occurred in the previous season. And so the clans-folk took their time. They only departed once everyone was ready; following Landscape and her companion, stopping whenever they fancied a rest, trekking for several days, before reaching their destination…
STONE CIRCLES, TRIANGLES AND SQUARES
Entering the Big Camp was like stepping into another world…
Most of the other clans in their tribe had already been here for several days. They had pooled their resources, working together to construct this temporary city.
The clans which lived further inland had arrived first; travelling downstream in their canoes, before disembarking at the point where seven rivers converged. The clans which lived nearby had arrived soon after. But the Eagle Clan had to travel upstream; a far slower proposition. They were among the last people to arrive.
A few clans had erected communal tents, which were supported by wooden pillars and covered in hides. Others had erected teepees, arranging them in a circle. And some, such as Sunny’s, had set up their homes in the man-made caves, which had been chipped out of the surrounding cliffs, over the course of countless generations. To reach them, one had to ascend a rocky incline, which had been used so much, the footholds had worn down into step-like shapes.
The walls of their caves were covered in art, which had been painted in a style which was aggressively unique. As if to exert their own identity, the members of their tribe did not carve the rockface, in the manner of the Northern Tribes. Nor did they depict any heroic figures; accentuating an individual’s features, giving them motifs and staffs, or making them larger or brighter than their peers; as was the custom among a few of the tribes to the south. Their tribe had their own particular style. They painted flowing murals, in which everything extended out of something else, and into something else. There were fish, birds, bees and deer; a cornucopia of flowers, reeds, rivers and mountains; hunters, gatherers, fishers, navigators, healers, storytellers, artists, mothers, babies, children, spirits and ancestors. They were all depicted in the throes of an unceasing waltz, dancing into each other, with no beginning, nor any kind of end.
These galleries served a purpose. They were the tribe’s memory palace. The images here might not have told the type of stories that outsiders would have been able to decipher. But they presented a mental pathway; providing visual cues, which triggered memories of events, places, routes, people and genealogies. These caves were not only a home. They were a historical picture book; one which grew larger each time the tribe convened.
The caves opened up onto a series of path-like ledges, which offered a panoramic view across the planes. From here, one could just about make out the distant remains of a line of pyramids, each a little taller than the last, and each submerged by forest; reclaimed by nature, after they had been abandoned by their makers. It was not possible to see the Pyramid of the Sun, the Pyramid of the Moon, or the seasonal lake which connected these ancient wonders. Nor was it possible to see most of the hill-like mounds which lay hidden in the forest beyond. These were smaller, older, and more numerous than the pyramids. No-one knew who had built them, or why they had been deserted. But they were a gentle reminder of a distant past, which could be seen from the clifftops, above these ledges and caves.
The city itself was neither old nor new. It was the descendent of several other cities, each of which had been created by one generation and destroyed by the next; a symbolic act, which allowed the tribe to reinvent itself afresh, without being held hostage to a history that was too permanent to control.
The debris from those abandoned cities was almost always reused…
No-one had ever seen a woolly mammoth. They had no idea who might have found a pair of their tusks. But this hadn’t prevented the tribes-folk from putting them to good use; propping them upright, and using them to form the entrance to a communal tent. Several of the caves remained vacant, replaced by a newer cluster of caves lower down. Some limestone pillars lay felled. But they still displayed their artwork; showing off images of menacing animals with exposed genitalia, and beasts who had several human heads. Alongside these pillars, was a set of wooden posts, which had been erected to form a Sacred Circle. A gaggle of oxen and goats had been tied to these posts, which towered above the Grand Meeting Place; the home of the tribe’s assembly.
Sunny intended to visit that parliament come nightfall. But right now, he was more concerned with an altogether different concern. Upon entering the camp, he had lost sight of Hope. It had taken him an age to track her down, and he had not been best pleased when he found her. Hope had been with another man. Someone a little taller than Sunny. Someone slightly older, with bigger teeth and eyes. Sunny did not know this person, or what he had done to make Hope smile so much. But he was all too aware of his body’s reaction. His stomach felt as though it had smashed through the base of his belly, and crashed down upon his feet; stapling him to the ground, rendering him unable to move and unable to intervene.
This sensation faded with time. So what if Hope had another lover? They had spent plenty of time together during their pilgrimage. He did not own the woman. She had the right to take as many lovers as she desired. And so did he.
Later that day, Sunny walked through the city alone, attempting to get his bearings; to match up the position of each tent, with his memory of where they had been the last time he was here. Everything seemed the same but different; in roughly the same place, but not exactly the same place. Everything seemed slightly larger or smaller. The colours had faded, or were slightly brighter. The hides had been repaired or replaced. Some new things had materialised, and some old things had vanished from view.
Much to his annoyance, Songbird’s clan appeared to fall into the second category. He could not find them, no matter how much he searched.
Sunny did, however, spot another person whom he recognised; a lad from the Eel Clan, with whom he had played as a child. Sunny approached that young man and said “Hello”, only to realise that it was not the person he had supposed. This youth had the same build, height and shape. He wore his hair in the same manner, scrunched up into a ball. His skin was also covered in tattoos of stick-like figures, which were supposed to ward off evil spirits. But this youngster had darker, more mysterious eyes. His ears were more erect.
The lad did not voice a reply. Sensing Sunny’s needs, he beckoned him with a curl of his index finger, and led him to a distant cavern; a dark, silent place, far away from the hubbub of the camp.
As soon as they entered the cave, the lad pushed Sunny up against a wall. That act was both soft and hard; gentle enough to be resisted, as affectionate as a caress, and yet firm enough to fold Sunny into position.
The thud-thud-thud of a thunderstorm echoed around that rocky room, growing a little louder each time it rebounded off a surface. There was something deliciously comforting about that sound. The rains might have been gushing down, flooding the valley outside. But it was dry in here; it was cosy, warm and safe.
The lad leaned in. He paused, just before he made contact; giving Sunny a moment to resist. Then he brushed his nose over Sunny’s. He waited a little, before nuzzling Sunny’s cheek. And he waited again, before sniffing the roots of Sunny’s hair.
Sunny was confused, but not concerned. He had not planned this. He was not entirely sure what was happening. But he had wanted a sexual encounter. It seemed that he was about to get a sexual encounter. Who was he to complain?
And who was he to resist? Hope’s snub had left him feeling lusty and enraged. These emotions had overpowered him; propelling him here, and dragging him into this nervy, illicit experience.
Sunny had never thought about having sex with another man. He understood the benefit, from a social point of view. He was building a bond with a member of another clan. This was an act of friendship and diplomacy. But he was unsure of the deed itself. What was he supposed to do? Was it safe? Was it physically possible?
Sunny gave himself to the moment. He cleared his mind, threw his arms upon his partner’s shoulders, flung that man around, thrust him against the wall, sniffed his face, and nibbled his eyebrows with more venom than ever before. The taste was exquisite. The metallic flavour of blood, and the woody texture of hair, formed a cocktail between his lips. But the boy’s face was a mess; all saliva and detritus. Sunny could not stand to look. And so he jolted downwards, burying himself in the man’s chest, and sucking his nipples in the manner that satisfied Hope.
His partner winced, gasped, composed himself and smiled.
He waited for Sunny’s consent, before taking Sunny’s penis in his hand.
He tried to be tender, and he tried to be firm, but he could not inspire an erection, no matter how hard he tried.
Sunny closed his eyes, to hide from his shame. But his partner just gave him a silent embrace, laid him down on the ground, removed his loincloth, and rode him as though he were a woman.
The agony! Sunny felt violated. The most private entrance to his body had been torn wide open, and a foreign object had been thrust inside his personal sanctum. It took a great effort not to scream. He bit his lip so hard, it removed a layer of skin.
The discomfort departed, almost as quickly as it arrived. Sunny felt stretched, his anus burned, but there was pleasure in the pain. His prostate was being pounded, in an almost aggressive manner, but it was also being massaged; triggering a sensation which reverberated through his body, sparking every nerve-ending, and covering his skin with fizziness and wonder. Sunny felt like a born-again virgin, doing something which was both new and familiar. It was far more intimate than any sex he had experienced before. He was opening himself up to another person, in a whole new way. And it was far more euphoric. He did not cum, nor did he form an erection. But he felt sexy, fabulous and queer.
***
The evening’s parliament had already begun by the time Sunny took his place alongside the members of the Eagle Clan, on the grassy slopes of the Grand Meeting Place. In the centre of that basin, the Sacred Circle was occupied by the tribe’s representatives. One delegate from each clan was sitting on the ground. These men and women, who had been elected by their clans-folk, would make decisions on behalf of the tribe. Only they were allowed to vote, and their votes had to be unanimous if they were to pass.
Sunny was not alone. Almost every adult in the tribe was watching from this bank. They were not just passive observers. They were permitted to make speeches, contribute information, ask questions, argue in favour or against the motions, and propose motions of their own. They could not vote themselves, but they could persuade the representatives to vote one way or the other.
The Sacred Circle was shrouded by a fog of smoke. Sunny supposed that the representatives must have been here for quite a while, smoking themselves into a state of tranquillity. This was the norm. Members of their tribe believed that tobacco helped to appease the passions and sharpen the intellect, enabling smokers to dissect even the most complex of issues. Back in the time of the Early Ancestors, tobacco (and coffee) had only been used by shamans, who took highly concentrated doses, to induce the altered states of consciousness which were required to commune with the spirit world. These days, however, tobacco was consumed by almost everyone. The tribes-folk went to great lengths to produce that crop, planting massive quantities on the plains above the cliffs, and harvesting it towards the end of the rainy season.
By the time Sunny arrived, the delegates were already discussing the temporary security force, which was being formed to maintain order in the camp. No such force existed at any other time, and this one would be abolished as soon as the camp was abandoned. If an individual or clan did not approve of such an arrangement, they were free to leave. But so long as they remained, they were obliged to follow the rules which were being established tonight.
Sunny spotted their clan’s representative, Serenity, who was sitting with his back to the clan, focusing on the only person who was standing: An elderly lady named Bear. Bear was a rotund individual, plumper than any member of the Eagle Clan. Even her cheeks were pudgy. And they seemed to glow. Her skin was reflecting the fire, which was splashing out ribbons of amber light.
Like the other members of the tribe, Bear wore a loincloth. But hers was made from a single length of fur, which also covered one of her breasts. Unlike anyone else, two streaks of ash had been smeared across her chest; they extended down from her shoulders, before meeting around her navel. Sunny understood what this meant: Bear was tonight’s chairperson. This explained why she was standing. And this explained why she was addressing the tribe:
“We propose that no individual or clan shall be allowed to hunt alone, whilst the representatives are arranging a tribal hunt. No individual or clan shall be allowed to keep their own supply of meat or hides. These items must be handed to the Women’s Council for redistribution. No individual or clan shall be allowed to send war parties, or arrange migrations, that have not been approved by the representatives.”
If anyone had opposed these proposals, they would have taken this opportunity to speak. Such objections were not uncommon. Tribes-folk experienced three different systems of governance; whilst living in their Small Camps, in this Big Camp, and whilst living as nomads, journeying between the two. Each society had its own customs, each of which had a habit of evolving from one season to the next. The tribe was flexible; willing to debate and amend its rules.
It would not do so tonight…
Bear’s comment was met with a prolonged silence, which she took as a show of support. She was not particularly surprised. A fairly similar set of guidelines had been adopted at every Big Camp, for over a generation. They were only being put to the vote tonight, to regain the group’s consent. From this day on, everyone would be expected to obey these rules, because they were their rules, which they had approved at this meeting.
The proposal was passed with a show of hands.
Bear closed her eyes, to contemplate the significance of this vote. She waited for the emotion to fade from her face, slowed her breathing, and allowed her chest to inflate with a grandiose rhythm.
She only spoke when the moment was right:
“We propose that a security force be established, to ensure these rules are followed, and to maintain order during hunts, festivities, ceremonies and parliaments. This force shall have the right to cane, insult or exile any individual or clan who endangers the wellbeing of the tribe.”
This was also an old proposal. A similar motion had been passed at every Big Camp that Sunny could remember.
It was met with silence and voted through.
Bear continued:
“Now we must select the security force itself. I propose we don’t choose a clan that has wielded power in living memory. We should exclude the Hawks, Cranes, Eagles…”
Again, Bear’s proposal was met with silence. And again, there was an uncontested vote. No-one wanted a single clan to form a dynasty.
“I propose the Sharks.”
This time, a voice did break the silence, after the customary pause:
“Proposition opposed!”
It was Summit who had spoken. Tall and long-limbed, with an extended neck and narrow face, Summit was Shark Clan’s representative.
“It’d be an honour to be your security force. But we’re a humble clan, no better than any other. We’re poor hunters and mediocre gatherers; a motley band, whose tents are a little shabby, and whose children are skinnier than most. What right do we have to guard our aunties, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews; most of whom are more honourable than ourselves?”
It was just the type of response Bear had envisioned. She would not have wished to empower a clan which actually coveted power. She had selected a clan she supposed would be awed by the role; who would act humbly, out of a sense of duty, and not for personal gain.
It was a pantomime. And Bear was happy to play her part:
“In that case, we’ll have to appoint the Rabbits.”
The Rabbit Clan’s representative shook her head.
“I see. Okay then. It’ll have to be the Frogs.”
The Frog Clan’s representative shook his head.
Bear threw her hands in the air.
“What’s a poor chairperson to do? Sister Summit: I beg of you. For the good of the tribe, in the name of the ancestors: Please guard our precious camp.”
Summit bowed her head, paused, slowly lifted her gaze, and beseeched the group:
“Will any other clan volunteer?”
There was silence.
“Blow the mountains over! I suppose we don’t have a choice.”
A vote was held, and the Sharks were elected.
***
Sunny struggled to pay attention…
The representatives were arranging a hunt, deciding when to meet and where to go; who would act as spotters, spearers and messengers. But Sunny’s thoughts kept drifting back to that afternoon’s encounter.
What had they done? Was it even sex? How could he play the part of a woman, when he was clearly a man? When he enjoyed playing the part of a man? He had not even formed an erection. Yet the whole thing had felt so illicit, so exciting and wild. Should he tell Hope? Would she be jealous? Would she want to join them? Would she even care?
