Other Worlds Were Possible, page 4
The clan was strictly matriarchal. The eldest woman in a lineage was the matriarch of a hut. Her children, and their children, resided in that hut until the day she died. If one of them gave birth, they all helped to raise the baby; forming a parental team.
As well as his mother, Sunny had a grandmother and two uncles; all of whom had helped to raise him. But he also considered Pumpkin to be a guardian of sorts. That man had been his mother’s main sexual partner, back when he was conceived. And he considered Life to be his secondary guardian, since that man was also having relations with his mother. Their tribe believed in partible paternity; that a foetus could be formed using sperm from different men; that a baby could inherit skills and attributes from each of their mother’s lovers.
Sunny regularly turned to Life for advice about hunting, because he was a talented huntsman. Pumpkin had taught him how to make spears and arrows. And so Sunny had inherited skills from these men, albeit through nurture rather than genetics.
As well as his four father-figures, two of whom had passed away, Sunny also had two siblings. But he considered every member of his generation to be a sibling of sorts. His kinfolk were so promiscuous, he must have shared at least a little genetic material with everyone else in his peer group.
He certainly looked upon Hope as a sister; a close confidant who had always been there for him. A few seasons his senior, she had taken it upon herself to teach him what she knew about sex, in much the same way that Sunny had taken it upon himself to show the younger children how to set traps and throw spears.
Hope was so satisfied with her work, that she returned to Sunny whenever she had a desire for sexual gratification. This time, however, was a little different. This time, Sunny had gone to her.
Sensing his need for affection, Hope felt compelled to help.
She had one request:
“Let’s go somewhere different. The watering hole, perhaps.”
Enticed by the call of the unknown, Sunny acquiesced.
Hope took him by the hand and led him on; skipping through the long grass, flicking dew onto his knees, and disturbing the lizards, who were quick to shoot for cover.
The watering hole was a bluish-grey beacon, surrounded by grasslands, which were surrounded by wilderness and hills. A great distance from the nearest stream, it was only ever fed by rainwater. During the rainy season, it expanded to form a glorious lake. Petals, blossoms and ferns jostled for position on its banks. But it began to shrink as soon as the rains receded, becoming little more than a puddle. It was not much to look at. It was not much to smell. But it served a purpose: There were no other sources of water in this vicinity. The clan’s ancestors had dug a few wells, to make this land habitable for humans. But animals had little choice. They had to visit this pond. It was the only place they could find a drink. Left exposed, their feet buried in the mud, those animals proved easy targets for a patient hunter. This is why the clan established their Small Camp in this location: It was the perfect place to hunt.
And now, for Hope and Sunny, it was the perfect place for sex.
They lay down among the reeds, a good distance from the water’s edge, and began to nibble each other’s eyebrows. Eyebrow-nibbling was fairly common in their tribe. Lovers had been known to become so aroused, during foreplay, that they had bitten off entire chunks of skin. Indeed, you could always tell if someone was in the grips of a passionate relationship, just by glancing at the space above their eyes.
Members of their tribe did not kiss. The closest they ever came to such a thing, occurred when mothers chewed food for their infants, before passing it from mouth to mouth; a loving act, but not a sexual act. Lovers retained that exquisite desire to explore their partners’ bodies, and connect in intimate ways. But they did this by nibbling eyebrows, stroking flesh, and smelling each other’s skin. Friends greeted each other by performing nuzzle-sniffs, rubbing noses or patting arms.
Hope and Sunny took their time; nibbling each other’s eyebrows, and inhaling each other’s scent. They had not undressed. But Sunny could access Hope’s bosom, which was already exposed. Her breasts were always exposed. Members of their clan only ever covered their loins.
Sunny stroked and sucked Hope’s nipples, in the way she had taught him. Then he approached her legs; massaging her thighs with his cheek, kneading her calves, sniffing her soles, and tickling his face with her toes.
He waited for Hope to tug his braided hair; the signal she had developed to tell Sunny that she was ready for him to return up her body.
As soon as they were lying face to face, Sunny began to stroke Hope’s cheek, neck and ears. He repeated this routine until Hope gave him a second signal; removing her loincloth, and shunting him down onto her genitalia.
She circled her finger upon Sunny scalp, directing the patterns she wanted Sunny to copy with his tongue.
This foreplay lasted far longer than the sex itself; an act which began when Hope pulled Sunny up from her groin, and ended soon after they had climaxed.
Their post-coital embrace lasted for longer than everything which had come before. Sunny would have been happy for it to last forever. High on endorphins, his mind was finally clear; free of that image of Uncle Crow.
But whilst Sunny may have been happy to remain in this state forever, someone else had other plans…
The sky darkened. Sunny could not avoid the transformation, which had turned the reeds from green to grey. But he felt little desire to investigate. He was happy to exist in the moment, enjoying Hope’s body as it breathed in time with his own.
“Good day-o.”
This greeting shook Sunny to his core. It was not the words which disturbed him. It was the voice in which they were delivered. That voice was both strange and familiar. It was as warm as could be expected from a member of his own clan, with the elongated “O” sound which only they used. Yet it was primmer and more powerful than any voice Sunny had ever heard before. It was a confusing accent; both comforting and disturbing, cosy and caustic. Sunny felt compelled to break off his embrace, and look upwards, just to see what sort of a person might speak with such a contrary kind of rhythm.
The image which met his eyes was just as confusing. This man’s facial hair was almost identical to Sunny’s. It stretched down from his sideburns, and skirted around his mouth, without filling the spaces between. This man’s shoulders were the same width as Sunny’s. They had the same roundness. They connected to his neck and arms at all the same points. His skin had been decorated with the very same tattoos. He wore the very same type of loincloth. His body looked eerily familiar. And yet he wore it in the most peculiar manner. He stood proud, tall and brash; lifting his shoulders as high as they would go, pushing them forwards; not allowing them to waver, falter or droop. And, what was more, he appeared to be maintaining this posture without exerting any effort. He must have been holding himself this way for so long, that his body had fixed itself in place. He had probably forgotten what it was like to stand in a natural fashion.
“Day… Good,” Sunny replied, stumbling over his words.
“Day good,” the man repeated.
Sunny covered his groin:
“Do… Do we know you?”
“Perhaps.”
Sunny cringed. It was not just this man’s voice, appearance and posture which were making him queasy. It was his speech as well. What sort of person said “Perhaps”, when you asked them if you had ever met?
The stranger must have sensed Sunny’s anxiety, for he did not respond with an additional comment, but with an action; reaching behind his back, and removing a peculiar device: A long shiny tube, which was attached to a triangular piece of wood.
Sunny had never seen anything like it.
The man tried to explain:
“A gun.”
“A what?”
“A gun.”
“Oh… I mean… A what?”
“A…”
The man’s use of this alien word had only added to Sunny’s nausea.
“A gun. This can kill the biggest prey, from the greatest distance-o. Yes, brother. This is a fact.”
Sunny did not believe a word. Whatever this thing was supposed to be, it was certainly no good for hunting. It did not have a sharp end or a blade. It did not appear to contain any arrows, darts or poison.
“You don’t believe me? You think I’m a rascal? A giant mouth, all pubic hair and no snake?”
Sunny was about to refute this allegation. But his head was already nodding. He did think this man was fibbing; that he was all “Pubic hair and no snake”.
“Ah, brother! If I were in your position, I’d think the very same thing. Only a fool would trust a stranger. And not just any stranger. A strange man, who makes strange boasts, about a strange gun. And what is a ‘Gun’? And who is this man?... Brother, you’re wise beyond your seasons. You’re right to have such doubts. Yes. This is an indisputable fact: You’re a big wise man, with the most beautiful of lovers.”
Sunny had been so mesmerised by this man, he had completely forgotten about Hope, who had covered herself and slunk back into the reeds.
“Yes-o. Big wise man. He has his doubts. Very clever. Very wise.”
The stranger smiled, revealing a tooth which twinkled like a star.
“You need proof? Big wise man needs evidence? He cannot believe a stranger? He must see the facts with his eyes?”
Sunny noticed that he was nodding again.
“And you think I’ll just put on a show?... Brother, what would be the point of that? What’s in it for old Hunter?”
Sunny frowned.
“Confused-o? You don’t get your brother? Why, we must agree like men! We must make good, like leaves and wood.”
Sunny waited for more.
“Brother, let’s talk facts: I’ll show you how to use this gun. I’ll show you how to kill the largest beasts in the valley. But if it works as I say… If it’s an undisputed fact… Then, my brother, you’ll be honour-bound to take it. You’ll have to use it whenever you hunt.”
Sunny laughed. It was a minuscule laugh, which barely tickled his throat. But it was a laugh nonetheless; cocksure and condescending. Sunny did not believe this man would be able to kill a single thing with this spear-less, point-less, poison-less device. But he was ready to be entertained; to watch on as this stranger succumbed to failure.
“Okay then. Prove it works and I’ll take it.”
“Ah! Good choice. A wise choice, from a big wise man!”
With that, the stranger swung around, wedged the wooden triangle into his shoulder, and pointed the tube towards the sky. He looked along the length of that pipe, and pulled something round, which Sunny had only just noticed.
Bang!
The noise took Hope and Sunny by so much surprise, they jumped upwards and backwards together. But even from this new location, a body-length away, they could not help but observe the scene.
A bird had exploded above them, sending feathers in every direction. What remained of its body was floating to earth, at a much slower rate than made sense; as though Mother Nature’s laws had been thrown into confusion by the sheer peculiarity of this event.
“Ah! Wait just here, my brother. Yes. You’ll see. This is a fact.”
The stranger, Hunter, turned and sprinted away. He vanished, and then he reappeared, holding the mangled remains of a bird:
“You see the power? Wow! Shredded-o! My brother, this thing could kill an evil spirit! With this gun… Brother… You’ll be the boss of the jungle! An ancestor among men!”
Sunny was impressed. His eyes bulged so much, they began to turn purple.
“And now, big wise man. Now, you must take this gun. A deal is a deal.”
Sunny tried hard to repress a smile. He still felt a pressure to re-gift his debt to the neighbouring clan. With a weapon like this, that task would be a doddle. He would be able to shoot an animal which was just as big as the ox. His debt would be cleared, and his mind would find peace.
The stranger passed Sunny the gun, before rooting around in a bag; handing over a handful of shiny balls, a few scraps of material, and a sack of powder.
“Now, these shots are scarce-o. I’ll give you ten... You wrap them in this cloth… Like this… Then you ram them down this tube. The barrel… See?... And this, the gunpowder, goes on here…
“Now, use five of these shots to get animals for Hunter. No teeny ones. Just big, big beasts. Big animals, from a big man. The size of a buffalo. The size of an ox… This is the deal… The other five shots are for you. A gift-o. A present from one brother to another.”
“But…”
“A deal is a deal.”
And with that, the man disappeared.
Sunny was startled. Had he really just taken on an even bigger debt than before? Did he really owe this man five animals? Five! What had he done?
He held his face between his knees, allowing his oversized legs to swallow his undersized torso; hiding his broken chin, gigantic nose, and almost all of the tattoos on his face.
Hope could not help but smile.
“Oh, Sunny. Mister ‘Big Wise Man’. Mister I’m In Big Trouble Now. Mister Silly, Silly Boy.”
A DEBT OF GRATITUDE
Five days had passed, and Sunny was back where it had begun; here, on the border of the neighbouring camp, staring at the oxen. They were tied to the same tree, eating from the same pile of grass, chewing with a sideways motion.
The intervening days had been eventful…
At first, Sunny had not dared to use the gun; hiding it among the reeds, and hoping his problems would disappear. His mind had been riddled with doubts: What would his kinfolk say, if they knew he had borrowed the ox from another clan? What would he do, if their gun stopped working? What would happen, if he wasted all their shots?
It was Hope who helped him around. She grabbed him by his wrist, and led him into the bush, for what he assumed would be a sexual encounter. He was sorely mistaken. Hope pushed him away, when he tried to nibble her eyebrows. She pointed at the gun, and told him in no uncertain terms: “You must kill the five animals, return this thingy, and end this whole caboodle. No good will come of this. No good at all.”
She handed Sunny a bow and arrow, slapped him, called him a “Mister Silly Boy”, called him a “Mister Big Wise Man”, stared into his eyes, softened a little, quaked a little, sniffed his hair, nuzzled his cheek, told him she loved him, and shoved him away: “Hurry! Go, Mister Silly Boy. Go! Go! Go!”
Sunny went.
But things had not gone according to plan.
Sunny stalked a golden antelope. Or perhaps it was a buff antelope. It was so far away, it was impossible to tell.
But Sunny had no such doubts when it came to the gun itself. Hunter, the stranger, had made it look so easy to use.
He poured a little gunpowder into the barrel, wrapped one of the balls in a scrap of cloth, rammed it into the powder, added a little powder to the flintlock, and cocked the hammer. He stood in the same erect fashion that Hunter had adopted, pressed the gun’s heel into his shoulder, took aim, inhaled, and squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The trigger contracted the spring, which pulled and released the hammer. The hammer’s flint struck the frizzen, shaving the iron, and creating enough sparks to ignite the gunpowder.
The shot flew towards its target.
The antelope bolted.
Not only had Sunny missed, he had scared off every other animal in earshot, and wasted one of their shiny balls.
He dusted himself down and headed towards the neighbouring camp. There was no point remaining here, without a single animal in sight. Even if he did shoot another target, he would struggle to drag it all the way to that encampment.
It was late when he arrived, so he slept a short distance away, within a patch of trees.
He awoke early the following morning, and caught sight of a second antelope. This time, he was not so arrogant. He bided his time, waiting for the animal to approach. He controlled his breathing, allowed his pulse to drop, and only pulled the trigger when he was certain the moment was right.
Bang!
He missed again.
Something similar happened the next day: He missed a goat, wasting the third shot, and leaving them with just seven.
But the day after that, Sunny finally hit his target: A buffalo. As far as Sunny could tell, it was almost exactly the same size as the ox he had borrowed.
Confident his debt was about to be cleared, Sunny hid the gun among the exposed roots of a gnarled old tree, removed the shot from the buffalo’s skull, stuck an arrow in the wound, peppered the buffalo’s body with the rest of their arrows, marched into the camp, and asked the clans-folk to help him carry the buffalo.
The reception he received was mixed…
The meat was insulted. But he considered this a compliment. Indeed, it was Sunny who had started the ritual; declaring that the animal was, “So hollow, it might as well be a ghost,” and claiming, “You’d find more meat on a cat who’d starved to death.”
It was the response he received from Songbird, the woman who had loaned him the ox, which caught Sunny by surprise.
“Impressive legs,” she said, running her eyes across the buffalo. “They’re the same size as the ones on the ox.”
Sunny should have probably looked at the buffalo and passed comment himself. But his eyes were fixed on Songbird, pulled in by her gravitational field. Songbird was almost as old as his mother, but she must have been at least three times the size. Sunny felt compelled to stare at her thighs, which were quite possibly the roundest things in the world, and at the space where he had expected to find her knees. He knew it was rude. But he was unable to avert his gaze, no matter how hard he tried.
He stared at Songbird’s spherical neck and round mouth, whilst she appraised the animal:
“Impressive legs. Hmm… They’re pretty much identical to the legs on that ox… Impressive rump. Near enough the same size as the ox’s rump… The same quality. Hmm… The same depth of fat… Impressive tail... Impressive head… Impressive ribs... The same! Everything the same!... How dare you? Thunderous skies and stony mountains! Giant cliffs that never crumble! The same, the same, the same!”
