Other Worlds Were Possible, page 14
“Why so glum? Don’t be ashamed boyo. The nuts are for everyone.”
Sunny raised his chin, but stopped short of nodding. He was a little too confused to respond.
“Boyo: We’d all like a new loincloth. Or some beads. Or some nuts… Don’t you think that our loincloths have stretched? Don’t you think that they’re also covered in holes? Or scuffs? Or stains?... What makes you so special?”
Sunny could not answer.
Tobacco nodded towards a woman who was named Rainbow. Sunny knew this for a fact. She was his mother’s friend; someone who had cared for him as a child, and who was wearing beads his mother had carved.
Rainbow adopted a compassionate but stern tone; scrunching her raggedy eyebrows, and shunting her lips as she spoke:
“Your request is not unreasonable. But neither is it essential. Your loincloth has seen better days, but there’s still some leather around the holes… Sunny of the Eagle Clan: We may be inclined to accept your appeal, once the moon has grown and shrunk. Wait until the eve of the Great Feast, and then return with your representative. If they deem your need great enough; if they’re willing to petition on your behalf, prioritising your request above those of your peers; then we’ll have little choice but to accept. And if there are loincloths leftover, when we’re packing down this store, then I think we’d struggle to say ‘No’. But now is not the time… Go, child! Go enjoy the camp. You’re a sunrise of a lad. That loincloth suits you fine.”
***
Life meandered on...
The rains came, and the rains receded. The tribes-folk still hunted, and they still roasted meat. They also cooked some of the vegetables from the store; making soups, porridges, stews and broths.
These meals evolved into meetings. The representatives smoked themselves into a state of tranquillity, before planning the Great Feast, arranging hunts, and discussing any new information which emerged. Sometimes, Sunny waited for the dances which followed. Sometimes he left; going off alone, with Hope, or with his newest lover: A girl named Desert Dew.
On a couple of rare occasions, the representatives were forced to dish out justice…
A child was forgiven for taking a chunk of jerky from the communal store, after claiming that he did not know it was forbidden. But an older man was caned for the very same offence. A woman was accused of slothfulness, but made a valiant defence; saying she was about to give birth, and did not wish to endanger the baby. That case was dismissed. But two men, who had hunted without the tribe’s consent, were cast into a three-day exile.
Talk inevitably turned to the Wogies…
New reports had emerged. According to some sightings, or perhaps they were just rumours, the Wogies had killed several members of rival tribes. But this was no hardship. The enemy of their enemy was a friend. The Wogies might have claimed a portion of their rivals’ land. But again, it was not their land. They were no worse off. There was a general fear that their tribe might be next. If the whispers were to be believed, the Wogies had already occupied the coastline. They had spread epidemic diseases, wiped out the local tribes, and erected camps in that fertile zone. Now they were casting their sights inland, following the rivers which would lead them here.
The paranoia grew with each passing day. But the tribes-folk could not agree upon a response. There was nowhere to run. There was nowhere to hide. If these Wogies were as fearsome as the reports suggested, then little good would come from engaging them in battle. They might merge with the other tribes; forming a super-tribe, which might defend itself through sheer weight of numbers. But this had never been done before. They talked about sending a diplomatic mission. The Wogies’ messenger, Father Ralph, had seemed amiable enough. But they struggled to decide what terms they might offer. The tribes-folk could conceive of welcoming these strangers, allowing them to do their thing, and even sharing a portion of land. But they were not prepared to abandon their way of life; to betray Mother Nature, submit to a tyrannical god, or commit to a solitary lover. Such things felt like a fate worse than death. Rival tribes had attacked them, killed them, and set up camps in the places they used to live. But they had never done anything as invasive as this.
Father Ralph was becoming a legend. The missionary had remained in the camp, sleeping in a private tent, in the shade of a billowy tree; preaching to little groups, and conversing with individuals. He had not attended the parliament again. He appeared to have given up on his attempts to convert the tribe en masse. But if the rumours were to be believed, he had won a few converts. Some people said he had persuaded a couple of clans; bribing them with material wealth, and offers of protection.
Sunny supposed the whispers were probably true. He had experienced another lecture himself, albeit through no choice of his own. Father Ralph had approached him from behind, spun him around, and clasped hold of his shoulders; launching a verbal tirade, from which Sunny could not escape.
Most of that talk was a blur. Sunny distinctly remembered one phrase: “The wicked liberty of the savages”. But he had not been able to decipher its meaning. How could liberty be “Wicked”? Father Ralph had said that he wanted to liberate the tribes-folk. But if this was the case, then why was he mocking the liberty they already possessed?
Perhaps Sunny had misunderstood. His peers rarely spoke of liberty in such an explicit manner. In the same way that they breathed, without thinking about the air; they were free to do almost anything they chose, but they did not give much consideration to this freedom.
Father Ralph had used some other words which Sunny could not understand: “King”, “Laws” and “Nation”. The missionary had to borrow these from a foreign language, because they did not exist in the tribe’s.
Try as he might, Sunny struggled to grasp these alien concepts. A “King” seemed to be an egotistical version of an Uncle Crow, who lived in a faraway place; someone who needed to be ridiculed, shunned, exiled or killed by his clan. The king’s “Laws” sounded like a fanciful kind of wish list; a series of things the king wanted others to do for him. Sunny had no idea about the “Nation” this “King” appeared to bully. As far as he could tell, a “Nation” was a bit like a tribe. But Father Ralph knew the word for tribe, and had chosen not to use it. There must have been a reason. But Sunny could not figure it out.
Sunny listened intently, as Father Ralph spoke of these fantastical things; nodding whenever he supposed it might be appreciated. This seemed to do the job. It made the missionary happy, and saved Sunny the hassle of producing an actual response.
That all changed when Father Ralph asked a question:
“Blessed child of Christ: Do you know how the world was created?”
Sunny beamed. Everyone knew how the world was created!
“Of course,” he replied. “Mother Nature pulled the planets out of her primal void... First, she gave birth to a mysterious race of fish-people. Then she destroyed their habitat, to make space for us. I mean… This was at the Dawn of Everything; back when the skies and the earth hadn’t been pulled apart, when animals could speak, and it was still possible to invent new things; things like cooking, sunsets and people.”
Father Ralph frowned. It was an elongated sort of frown, which reached down from his forehead to his chin. It was open-mouthed and toothy, scented with overtones of magnolia and sulphur.
“What a jape! No, it was God who created the world.”
“Oh… Is ‘God’ the Woggy word for ‘Mother Nature’?”
“Not exactly. No. God is a man.”
“A man gave birth to the world? How peculiar! I’ve never heard of a man giving birth.”
“God can do anything! He’s omnipotent. He isn’t an emotional woman, like your so-called ‘Mother Nature’. No, blessed child. God is divine.”
This made little sense to Sunny. For him, acts of nature, like storms and earthquakes, did seem pretty emotional. Although he did not believe that women were any more emotional than men. He had emotions himself.
But Sunny thought better than to express this opinion. He did not wish to provoke their guest; the agent of such a violent and unpredictable foe.
Taking Sunny’s silence as a sign of accord, Father Ralph adopted a theatrical tone; projecting his voice, as he spoke of “Original Sin”, “Redemption”, “Praying”, and a plethora of ancient characters: Abraham, Isaac, Moses, David, Jesus and John.
“Are these your ancestors?”
“By Jove, I suppose they are.”
“We love our ancestors too. We also ask them for protection.”
“Then that’s something we have in common. We’re all God’s children, after all.”
Sunny supposed that Father Ralph had a point. He might have looked a bit peculiar, with his pink skin and superfluous cloths. But his face was human enough; smallish, round and graceful. He had the same kind of globular skull as any person Sunny had ever met. Father Ralph also rolled his eyes, when he thought someone was being foolish. He spoke a language that seemed to contain nouns, verbs and adjectives. Sunny was almost certain he had spotted Father Ralph humming along to their music. And now there was this: His people also had a creation story, a set of special ancestors, and a collection of myths. Perhaps they were alike.
Father Ralph must have noticed the transformation, because he shuffled forwards into Sunny’s personal space; leaning over the youngster, burying him beneath his shadow. In the days which followed, Sunny would forget most of this conversation. Those words; “Pray”, “Nation” and “King”; had been so foreign, they had entered through one ear and departed through the other. But Sunny would remember Father Ralph’s final question, even though he was confused by the word “Law”, and even though he thought that a yoke was a part of an egg.
“So, my child, do you agree? Will you submit to the yoke of the law of God?”
Sunny stared into Father Ralph’s eyes; hoping the moment would pass, or that something would interrupt them.
When he felt he had no other choice, he performed a tentative nod. His head felt so heavy, it took a great deal of effort to lift. He did not allow it to drop too quickly, because he was worried his body might follow; causing him to stumble forwards. But that simple, painful nod, had the desired effect. Father Ralph beamed, revealing the yellowest set of teeth Sunny had ever seen.
“Then you must stop this Juju mumbo-jumbo, with your charms and your spells and your symbols. It’s unholy nonsense. And you must refrain from laying with that fellow. Find yourself a good woman, and commit to her for life. Find the light of God. Allow his radiance to illuminate your soul.”
Sunny was about to say “No”. What right did this man have to make such a request? He felt he was under attack. And tribes-folk had a duty to resist such attacks, lest their perpetrators grow strong and seize control of the group.
But then he thought of Hope; her smell, the way she walked, and the way he felt whenever they touched. Would it really be so bad, to commit to her for life?
A warm fissure of delight scurried across his ribs.
Caught between emotions, Sunny was unable to react. Father Ralph released his grip, grinned in an ostentatious manner, nodded, and strolled away.
***
The following morning, Sunny was shaken awake with a newfound clarity of mind. He had to be with Hope. No-one else satisfied him like she did. No-one else made his arms feel light and airy. Yes, he still wanted to have sex with other people. But he would give that up for her. Perhaps Father Ralph was onto something. Perhaps it would be worth the sacrifice; forgoing a few lovers, but keeping Hope to himself. Life would be an explosive mix of energy, thrills and sex.
He just had to get Hope alone, to propose the idea. But this was easier said than done, because Hope was nowhere to be seen.
Sunny processed some hides whilst he awaited her return; stitching satchels with feverish intensity. It was a cathartic pursuit. Sunny channelled his nervous energy into his art. But it did not seem to while away the time. Sunny kept checking the sun’s position. Yet that star refused to move. He arched his neck, discovered that it was where he had left it, stitched a little more, and then checked on the sun again. If anything, it had moved backwards.
Sunny succumbed to exhaustion. He returned to their cave in a daze, stumbled through the opening, collapsed, and fell into a dreamless slumber.
***
The sun had moved by the time Sunny awoke. It had moved so much, that he looked for it in the wrong place.
The shadows had turned, and the leaves no longer glistened.
Sunny rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretched his arms, and wobbled his shoulders. He rose to his feet, shuddered, and left the cool embrace of the cave.
He spotted Hope. She was sitting with her friends, on the ledge outside their caves, laughing to the point of tears. But to reach her position, Sunny had to walk past Serenity. And as soon as he got close, that man stepped out; blocking the path, before speaking in a meditative voice:
“Let me see this loincloth.”
Serenity whipped the garment from Sunny’s hips and lifted it to his eyes. He did not seem particularly impressed, at first; rolling his lips and scrunching his lashes. But he took his time. He combed the fur, pulled the leather, and contemplated the matter.
His eyes bulged.
“Sunshine: You know we can’t carry too many nuts. Our Small Camp is further than most. But for this very reason, we must demand more than our share of cured meat, to sustain us on our journey. And we also need some satchels. These are our priorities.”
Sunny understood. Serenity would probably lead the clan’s contingent, when they appealed to the Women’s Council. It was normal for the clan’s representative to adopt this secondary role. And whilst Serenity was sympathetic, he had more pressing concerns.
Sunny did not mind. He had made peace with the council’s decision. His loincloth still did its job, a few of his peers wore worse, and his request had not been rejected outright. He might get still get a loincloth, if any still remained on the eve of the Great Feast.
Right now, he just wanted to get dressed. He was embarrassed, standing there naked in front of his peers, cupping his genitalia. And he was impatient. He wished to push through this conversation, run to Hope, and tell her how he felt.
But that would have been disrespectful.
Serenity was still speaking:
“Some of our sisters have asked for antlers, to dig up roots. Their need is small, but we must prioritise their request, because they haven’t appealed for several seasons.”
It was infuriating. Sunny’s request had been denied. He understood this. He accepted this. So why was Serenity speaking? It was out of character. That man was usually so efficient with his speech.
“If all these requests are granted, and if the council is favourable, we may ask for another loincloth. I can see that yours needs to be replaced. But we can always make you another one, back at the Small Camp.”
Sunny nodded. He could not be upset. Serenity had been so reasonable. His tone had been irresistibly smooth.
And there was cause for optimism. Sunny would get a new loincloth, one way or another.
He smiled, pressed his forehead against Serenity’s, exhaled, and turned to face Hope. But she and her friends were nowhere to be seen. Sunny supposed they must have sought shelter inside a cave, or perhaps a marquee. The sky had turned black, and the rains were starting to fall. It would be difficult to find her, and impossible to get her alone.
He flicked his tongue against the top of his mouth, stepped onto the lip of the ledge, and allowed the waters to wash over his skin.
***
Sunny did not see Hope till nightfall, when he was taken by nerves, and could not muster the courage to speak. Perhaps it was because she was surrounded by her closest friends. He did not wish to embarrass her. Or perhaps that was just an excuse.
The following day, Sunny looked for Hope soon after he awoke. But she had already left the camp.
Serenity approached.
“Child: We’re going to the Women’s Council. Would you like to come?”
Sunny performed the most cursory of nods. He would have preferred to search for Hope. But it was unlikely he would have found her. It would have been rude to reject his elder. And there was little else to do. There were no more satchels to stitch. The tobacco had been dried, the coffee had been roasted, and the preparations for the Great Feast were already complete.
They descended the step-like rocks in silence. They snaked between the tents and the mud-caked tarpaulins, which smelled of decomposing straw. And they emerged onto the main boulevard, where the last remnants of grass now sparkled with morning dew.
They reached the communal store, greeted a few of their clans-folk, and entered without much of a wait. Sunny supposed they must have had an appointment.
His thoughts turned to Hope: Why had she left so early? Was she avoiding him? Did she have another lover? Did she know what he was planning to ask?
Sunny knew it was wrong, yet he could not help feeling jealous. He shuddered at the thought. What on earth and the ancestral realm had he become? Did he even want to dedicate himself to a single woman? It conflicted with all their tribe’s traditions. Had his mind been poisoned by Father Ralph? Surely not! It would be good for them. His mother only slept with one man, Pumpkin, and she seemed fairly happy. They might not have sworn an oath, but they acted as though they were exclusive. And if it could work for them, then it could work for him and Hope.
Sunny broke free from these daydreams and doubts. He observed the scene before him, and was surprised to discover that the women were nodding as one. It felt like they were nodding at him.
A few helpers bundled up some sides of dried meat.
Sunny had lost track of the conversation. He had lost track of time. But, as far as he could tell, everything was going smoothly. Serenity had received the meat for their journey, as well as the antlers his aunts had requested. Now he was asking for a few items he had not mentioned before: Some decorative arrowheads, nuts and coffee. He was given these, along with a bundle of tobacco, which no-one had even mentioned.
