Other Worlds Were Possible, page 24
Whenever anyone found something that looked like it could be edible, they asked Mountain or Setting Sun if it was safe to eat. They removed every berry those elders approved. They found a few mushrooms, and a few edible roots, which they gave to their weaker members.
It was never enough to quell their ever-growing hunger. Sunny’s arms felt so light, he had to check they still existed. Yet he still had to carry a child. That boy had become so weak, he had lost the ability to walk.
On the third day, they reached a mango tree. It was a weatherworn thing, with droopy branches that curled in on themselves, as though they were too ashamed to be seen. Its leaves had browned, and most of its fruit had fallen to the ground, where it had rotted or been eaten by flies. Yet there were enough mangoes for almost everyone to have two. This sated their appetites, and gave them the energy they needed to proceed.
They awoke the next morning, feeling just as hungry as before.
“Aaagh!”
It was Pilgrim who was screaming. Her mouth was stretched long; open, tall, but extremely narrow. Her tongue was rattling in the Stygian void:
“Aaagh! It’s a lost spirit. An omen. Run! Flee for your lives!”
The commotion shook the clans-folk from their collective slumber.
They looked towards Pilgrim, allowed their eyes to follow the shape of her body, pass over her outstretched chin, catch sight of her lips, continue in the direction they were pointing, and settle on the nearest tree.
Strewn from a branch, was the largest snake Sunny had ever seen. It was longer than a buffalo, and heavier than most of the people he knew. Sunny could make out each of its individual scales. They shone in the sun’s early glow; black, amber and bronze; hexagonal, three-dimensional, pulled apart by a web of white lines.
Sunny could empathise with Pilgrim’s response. The snake was clearly dead, but it looked every bit as lethal as any living creature Sunny had encountered. He supposed it might even come back to life, if only to scare them all to death.
Dusk sprang to his feet. He had been intending to perform a star jump, but he was betrayed by his ageing body, and by his unnaturally large head, which had always affected his balance. He managed to raise his arms, but his legs barely parted a jot.
“Ta-da!” he sang, with thespian flamboyance. “Uncle Rock Python, at your service.”
Sunny could tell that Dawn was trying hard not to respond. He was sucking his lips, gazing into the distance, pretending to ignore his rival’s success.
“There’s enough meat on this legless lizard to fill us up for days.”
Most of the clans-folk nodded, but only in the feeblest of manners. Their faces softened, but only by a little. It took them several moments to acknowledge that they would be eating. And it took them several more moments, to acknowledge what they would be eating.
One of their members was not so enamoured…
Toad, Hope’s cousin, tended to be a happy-go-lucky kind of child. His face was dominated by the puffiest cheeks, which gave the impression that he was always smiling, and his lips looked far too thin to accommodate negative words.
But looks can be deceiving.
“I ain’t eating that blood-sucking worm. Not by sunlight and not by moonlight, during this lifetime or the next!”
A few people nodded. Some smiled. But it was Hope who took the initiative; squatting beside Toad, reducing the size of her forehead, and softening the shape of her eyes.
“Come, come. You might like it.”
“No way, sunray. I hate it. It’s yucky and gross.”
“You can’t know that, Little Mister Happy Heart. You haven’t even tried it.”
“I know. A boy just knows… Come on, sister. Take a look at the thing. If Mother Nature had meant for us to eat snakes, she wouldn’t have made them look like that.”
“Ah, I see. It does look rather yucky, doesn’t it?”
“The worst.”
“And I bet it smells pretty bad.”
“Like a dozen rotten eggs.”
“But it’s the yummiest whatsit you’ll ever eat!”
“It is?... No! Don’t be a Silly Milly. You’ve never eaten one of them.”
“It… It.. It…” Hope stuttered, struggling to respond.
And so it was left to Dusk to save the day:
“These giant worms don’t live anywhere near our camps, so we don’t usually get to eat them. It’s been seasons since we’ve seen one. But back when I was a child, no older than you are today, there were times when it didn’t rain. Our watering hole dried up, no animals came to visit, and we had to pack up our camp and leave. We headed this way, and ate not one, but two of these things. And you know what? Your sister shot the tail off the boar! They’re scrumptious. The finest delicacy in all the savannah.”
Dusk’s voice cleansed the air, making everything taste of vanilla. Perhaps this is why Toad did not offer a response. Perhaps he was resigned to defeat. Or perhaps he was just so hungry, he supposed he should accept whatever was on offer.
Hope reached for Toad’s shoulder and pulled him into her womb, which had grown to the size of a watermelon.
“A little frog once told me that Dusk and Dawn used to fight over the snake’s bile, because they believed it gave them super-duper strength. If you want to grow up to become a Mister Big And Strong, a Mister Tall And Mighty, then you’d do well to give it a try.”
***
It took most of the morning to prepare their food. The elders all remembered the nights when their grandmothers and granduncles had cooked this variety of snake. But their recollections varied. Some said you had to place the snake inside the fire. Others said that it had to be hoisted onto a spit. Some said to cook it quickly, over a high heat. Others said they should take it slow. They all agreed that it would have been better to turn it into a soup. But that was out of the question, since they had lost their only pot.
In the end, they reached a compromise; filleting the snake, washing their hands in its intestines, and roasting its meat at a moderate height, above a medium fire.
Sunny was one of the last people to receive a portion. He chewed each mouthful ten times on one side of his mouth, and five times on the other. He paused before he swallowed, and he paused again before he took another bite; savouring the meat’s contradictions; its chapped skin and silky flesh, cheerful smell and sombre flavour.
He panned around to Toad.
That child was wearing his face in an aggressively serious fashion, as though waging an offensive against his meat; chewing it as quickly as he could, before swallowing at the first opportunity.
He vomited over his toes.
But this did not deter him. Without moving, or even acknowledging his mess, Toad took another piece of meat, checked that it was cooked, and launched a second assault; going a little slower, grinding that food into a paste, but looking every bit as warlike.
He was not eating for pleasure. Like a number of his peers, he was eating out of a sense of duty. He was honouring Mother Nature, by accepting the food she had offered. He was honouring the snake, who had died so they might live. And he was honouring Dusk, who had risked his life to protect them from that creature.
It lacked the festivity of a normal meal. Even the children, with their natural penchant for disorder, were abnormally restrained; subdued by a cumbersome silence, which was far too heavy to lift.
It should have been a momentous event. They had feasted for the first time in days. Their appetites were sated, and the leftovers would feed them until they arrived at their destination.
Yet this did little to improve their mood. For the previous few days, their cravings had been so intense, they had thought of little else; wondering where they might find food, and dreaming of the moment when they’d vanquish their hunger. Such thoughts had now been banished to the darkest recesses of their minds. They had eaten so much, so quickly, they were willing to consider anything other than food.
Rather than ponder their next meal, they thought of something entirely different: Their perilous situation. Their beloved home was occupied and out of reach. Their options were stark. They might die at any moment.
That meal pulled a plug, releasing a tsunami of fear; asphyxiating their minds and clamping their lips. They ate in silence, walked in silence, and barely uttered a word; until the morning of the eighth day, when they reached their destination.
DOG DAYS
They were met with the most reinvigorating of receptions…
The Dog Clan gifted them a goat, without a moment’s hesitation. The elders sacrificed that animal, to turn Aura’s dream into a reality. They removed its fur, roasted its carcass, and shared its meat.
On the second day, they erected their huts. On the third, the two clans hunted together. And on the fourth, they gathered dates, gourds and cacti.
The Dog Clan had lost a little land to the Wogies, but their main hunting ground remained intact. They had never hunted big game. They trapped rabbits and small birds, and they harvested meat from their goats; hardy animals, who were happy to eat whatever they could find. Their gatherers were still finding as many plants as before. And their morale was just as effusive. In fact, it was contagious. It soothed Sunny’s peers, putting their minds and bodies at ease.
***
That first lunar-cycle was a joyous time; twenty-nine days of storytelling, discussions, hunting and feasting…
Sunny made friends with Blue; a shiny-skinned, bird-eyed youth, whose arms were encircled by a chain of interconnected loops; tattoos which had been etched there when he was a child, to protect him from an infectious disease. Blue was one of the best fishers Sunny had ever met. He taught Sunny how to make traps, using reeds, and how to bait them; setting them on the riverbed, and waiting for a day to pass, before returning to find them full. It was a risky endeavour, now the Wogies were moving up the river, getting a little closer with each passing day. But Blue assured Sunny that, “The ends justify the means… Yes, brother, the ends justify the means… Always, brother. What good is it, avoiding the Wogies, if we starve ourselves to death?”
Sunny also embarked on a fling with an older woman; a member of the Dog Clan, who had a busy eye, and the flattest shoulders this side of the Big Camp. The affair did not last for long. The second time they had sex, Sunny spotted Hope, as she strolled through the billowy grass. She passed their hidden location, without appearing to notice. But the very sight of his pregnant lover, made Sunny feel unfaithful. His mind launched an attack on his innards, which caused his midriff to quake. He vowed never to lay with that woman again.
But the highlight of that first lunar-cycle, was the initiation ritual which the Dog Clan performed a little early, to entertain their guests. That coming-of-age ceremony was not so much a highlight because it was particularly spectacular. It was a highlight because it was so familiar. And that fleeting moment of normality, in those uncertain days, felt like the most sumptuous of comforts.
The sacred horns wailed out from their secret locations amidst the remaining trees. Heard by all, but seen by none; they hooted throughout the night, trance-like and hypnotic; a miscellany of discordant noise, that only stumbled upon a rhythm for the most cursory of moments.
The trumpeting stopped once four adolescents, two from each clan, had responded to the call. They sprinted out of the camp, scrambled up the scree, summited the highest ridge, lit a beacon, removed their loincloths, and ran through the flames; sweating off the impurities which lurked within their skin, and burning the evil spirits which lived inside their joints.
The celebrations began once they had returned to the camp…
The clans beat drums, which they had made from hollowed-out tree trunks. They performed dances, which had taken them days to choreograph and lifetimes to perfect. And they consumed magic mushrooms; giving themselves to an infusion of colour, and surrendering their bodies to the music.
The tattooing took place once the elders had returned to sobriety.
Sunny was surprised to note that the Dog Clan used a different method to their own. Rather than pull a thin length of sinew underneath the epidermis, they inserted a needle into the skin, withdrew it, and replaced it with a thin shard of wood, which they had dipped in oil and soot.
Sunny watched on, transfixed, as these tattoos were etched into skin; enjoying the process, enjoying the art; enjoying the chance to live in the moment, without a thought for the future, or a care in the world.
***
Those were blissful days. But they were not destined to last…
By the end of the second lunar-cycle, they had eaten all but one of the male goats. Blue had moved upstream, to avoid the Wogies, and was catching fewer fish. They were still capturing rabbits. But very few birds remained. Most had flown away; searching for new homes, in a place which still had forests.
Sunny enjoyed their hunts, no matter the outcome. He loved the routine; flinging a satchel of arrows over his shoulder, picking the perfect bow, tightening the bowstring, and walking out with his friends; talking, laughing, and singing. Although the Dogs were certainly different to the Eagles, when it came to the manner in which they hunted...
Sunny would never forget one of their missions, when the members of the Dog Clan had jumped with joy, after surrounding the remains of a fallen tree. They had loaded their bows, and pointed their arrows at either end. Sunny’s heart skipped a beat. He had not spotted the animal himself. But, judging by their hosts’ reactions, he was certain it must have been large; a gazelle, antelope, or even an ox. One person’s eyes had bulged so much, Sunny felt compelled to reach out and push them back into their sockets. Another person was smiling so hard, Sunny thought her cheeks were about to crack.
He stepped backwards, in case the target launched itself in their direction, with its head bowed and its antlers set ready for impact. But their hosts were not so cautious. They hollered. They wailed. They circled the fallen tree, encroached a little, encroached a little more, lifted their bows, and fired a flurry of arrows. A brief silence ensued. Then they celebrated; performing a fleet-footed jig, and a triumphant shriek, before swooping towards their prey.
Sunny was alarmed to see what they had killed: Two undersized pigeons. He looked around, in an attempt to assuage his confusion. Perhaps they had shot these birds as well as something larger. But no. All that energy, and all that excitement, had been reserved for a pair of birds who were still too young to fly.
He shouldn’t have been so surprised. The Dog Clan rarely caught more than four or five birds in a day. Those birds were seldom any larger than these.
But there was no way he could have known any better, when it came to the events which followed.
A few days after this expedition, Sunny’s clans-folk were hunting alone. They arrived at the same fallen tree, where they discovered another pair of birds. Recalling the Dog Clan’s glee, upon making a similar find; they killed those birds, returned to the camp, and presented their catch.
They were greeted with the coldest of welcomes. The members of the Dog Clan were clearly appalled. Their mouths were agape and their jaws hung loose. But it was impossible to tell why they were so upset.
It was left to a liver-spotted elder to speak on behalf of her peers:
“What! Where! Why!... Why did you obliterate such a young and defenceless clan? In the name of Mother Nature’s children: What could’ve possibly possessed you?”
Serenity played along, supposing their hosts were shaming the meat.
“The ancestors know that it’s true: These are pathetic creatures. There’s barely a morsel to eat between them… You’ve been such generous hosts, and this is such a sorry offering. We haven’t come close to re-gifting your hospitality. Please, dear sister, find it in your spirits to forgive us.”
But Serenity had missed the mark.
“Pathetic creatures? Barely a morsel? What… Where… Why… No! Upon our mothers’ spirits. No! Don’t you think we recognise these birds? Don’t you think we’d have killed them, if we’d wanted to consume their fat? Don’t you think we left them for a reason? Do you take us all for stones?”
No-one responded, leaving the elder with little choice but to answer her own questions.
She scrunched her brow, which caused her hairline to advance. She shook her head, as furiously as her skin would permit. And she adopted the most pained voice she could muster; annoyed by the inconvenience of having to explain something that even a child should have been able to grasp.
“After we kill a bird, we wait for the next full moon, before we even think of killing another member of their species. We make sure not to hunt in the same place again, until ten days have wandered by. We never empty a nest of all its birds. We never kill mother birds, or their last two hatchlings.”
Sunny was beginning to understand.
“What you’ve done is unforgivable. You’ve not just killed these birds. You’ve destroyed an entire bloodline; stopping their chicks, and their chicks’ chicks, from ever being hatched. You’ve diminished our stock of meat for several solstices to come. You’ve waged war on our future wellbeing.
“Shark’s tooth, buffalo’s tusk, antelope’s horn! Unforgivable! Violent and unforgivable. Such over-hunting? You’re as pestiferous as the Wogies, and just as odorous!”
***
The Eagle Clan acknowledged the error of their ways…
In a moment of sombre introspection, they admitted they had overstayed their welcome. It was the Autumn Equinox, a time when the clans usually engaged in a bout of competitive feasting; eating as much as they could in a single evening. But there was not nearly enough food for such an event. And their clan was partly to blame.
The Dog Clan had been more than generous, sharing everything they had, till they barely had anything left to share. If they had any honour, the Eagle Clan would say their goodbyes, pack down their huts, and move to a different location.
