Other Worlds Were Possible, page 7
No-one could be entirely sure why Dusk and Dawn did not get along. Rumour had it that they were brothers or best friends; inseparable partners, who had fallen out over a girl. That woman had stopped having sex with Dawn, who had grown envious, confronted his erstwhile buddy, and stabbed him in his leg.
This explained the large gash which extended from Dusk’s buttock down to his knee. It explained his wide, wobbling stance. And it explained the hostility.
But this story made little sense. The girl could have had sex with them both. She could have alternated or abstained. Dusk and Dawn could have made a pact. They could have cut her out completely, or insisted that she sleep with them together. And who was this mysterious woman? And where was she now?
The story was believed, or at least accepted, because a more believable alternative had never been aired. Dusk and Dawn did not discuss the matter, and no-one could remember the truth.
The truth did not particularly matter. It was the animosity that affected the group. Whenever Dusk or Dawn aired a view, their peers turned to face their adversary, instinctively, expecting them to disagree. Their bickering could delay the decision-making process by a matter of days. But what could they do? It was pretty normal for clans to contain members who did not get along. Some personality-types seemed destined to clash. Squabbling clans-folk had even been known to go separate ways, joining different clans. But it had never come to that with Dusk and Dawn. Their disputes had always been solved. And, it was generally agreed that this was a good thing. It was Mother Nature’s way of challenging them; forcing them to consider alternative points of view, before settling upon a compromise; reaching the best of all possible solutions.
Such a solution would have to wait.
Dusk had just suggested that they leave their babies’ fates to Mother Nature, and Dawn was readying himself to disagree:
“It was Mother Nature who sent us this brother! The ancestors are known for their ability to adapt. They’ve always used every tool at their disposal. Who are we to look a gift bird in the anus?”
The momentum was beginning to shift.
Sunny had already voiced his support, making the case for Hunter’s medicine. And now Dawn was supporting Sunny.
Keen to drive home his advantage, Hunter interceded, a little sooner than custom would have permitted. He threw his arms to the breeze, and smiled from cheek to cheek:
“Ah! There we have it! This distinguished elder gets it. And this fine young man gets it too. There can be no escaping the facts: The children are our future. Yes. Just look at this boy. Ask yourself: What kind of world would you want for him?”
No-one answered.
The silence floated in mid-air; in the eyes which turned to Hunter, Sunny and Dawn; on the leaves which rustled in muteness, and among the flames which danced in front of the jet-black sky.
Hunter looked confident, then confused, then calm.
“Ah!” he said. “My brethren: You’re ready to vote. Good-o. Who’s in favour?”
No-one lifted their hands.
Hunter glared at Sunny, who felt himself raising his finger, tentatively; as though he was not raising it himself, but allowing an invisible creature to lift it on Hunter’s behalf.
Hunter stared at Hope and then Dawn, neither of whom moved a jot.
“All those against?”
Almost everyone lifted their hands.
“Ah,” Hunter concluded. “A split vote. Well, my uncles and aunts: We must resume these discussions tomorrow.”
No-one disagreed. They remained there in silence, for a while, before resuming their conversations; leaving Hunter on the edge of the circle, abandoned, without so much as a shadow by his side.
AN ECHO FROM THE PAST
Hunter spent the night alone, in one of the cabins which were usually reserved for sex.
But this was not the only place he resided that night. He also took up residency in Sunny’s mind, plaguing the youngster’s thoughts, and inspiring a flurry of questions: Who was this man? Why did everyone treat him with so much cynicism? None of the elders were alarmed when he called them “Auntie” and “Uncle”. They seemed to know the man. But how?
And what did his peers think of him? Were they judging him, because he had voted for Hunter’s proposal? Did they consider him a traitor? Or a rebel? Or a fool?
***
It was already dawn, and Sunny had barely slept. The sun lay flat across the horizon; red, amber and gold. The grasslands to the north were fresh with that curious form of dew; the kind which appears even when the air is dry. A few small birds were visiting for the first time this season, although they were only tweeting half the notes in their songs.
“Mother kindest: You know him, don’t you?... Hunter, I mean. The man from last night.”
His mother inhaled, allowing a meditative peace to form around her eyes. Her skin glowed, both absorbing and reflecting the light. Her cheeks did not soften or harden, form a smile or a frown; refusing to reveal her emotions.
Sunny waited for a reply which never came. He repeated his question a second time. But it was only once he had waited a little longer, and asked a third time, that he finally received a response.
“He called you ‘Brother-o’, didn’t he?”
Sunny nodded.
“Well?”
“He called everyone ‘Brother’. Or ‘Sister’, ‘Auntie’ or ‘Uncle’.”
“Terms of endearment… But with you, maybe… Maybe he was being literal.”
“Oh… You mean…”
His mother raised her eyebrows.
“It’s just… Well, you’re not old enough to be his mother.”
His mother rolled her eyes.
“He’s your nana’s grandson. Let’s not split grasses.”
Sunny was taken aback by his mother’s condescending tone. He had to make an effort to steady his legs, before deigning to push for more:
“So… Why haven’t I ever met him? I mean… Why haven’t I even heard of him?”
“He left the clan before you were born.”
It was like getting juice from a sunbeam!
“Oh… Yes Mama… But why?”
His mother dropped her head. She waited, realised that Sunny was determined to receive an answer, accepted that he deserved one, sighed, and mumbled as she spoke:
“Because he poured shame upon our hut. Upon all your aunties and uncles.”
It was personal. But why? What had Hunter done?
Sunny did not ask. He placed his hands on his mother’s shoulders, pulled her close, hugged her gently, and held her until she spoke:
“He… Chick-i-lick… Your brother was the closest thing we’ve ever known to a real-life Uncle Crow. He… He was a great hunter. He could spot a bird before anyone else, throw a spear, and kill it as it flew; all within the blink of an eye. He never missed. But… But he grew so arrogant! He demanded we move here, there, everywhere; to barren lands, and to lands used by other clans… Lovely: If he’d had his way, he’d have brought us into conflict with our neighbours. He’d have started a war. And for what?... The boy was a broken arrow. He’d already succumbed to greed.”
Sunny held his mother close. He could feel her pain, as it seeped into his chest.
“It’s okay... I’ve heard enough… Mama: It’s okay.”
But his mother had found her flow:
“One day, Hunter killed five large animals, all by himself. He dragged them home, without asking for help. He shared them, of course. But there was far too much meat and fat. Most of it went to waste. And for what?... After that, he demanded that we move on. ‘I’ve hunted all the animals in this region,’ he proclaimed. Only his tone was a little too boastful. Too brash. So the clan held a trial and cast votes.”
“He was banished?”
“Yes, chick-i-lick. He was invited to remain in a voluntary exile, until three summer solstices had passed. The terms of that protection have lapsed, which is why he was permitted to speak. But…”
His mother choked on her words.
“There’s more?”
“Yes… You see, the clan didn’t only invite Hunter to go into exile… You know, we have a special way of keeping order: Every member of a hut is held responsible for every other member of that hut. We all have a duty to keep our aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers in line. This is how we prevent bad things from happening… So, if one of us misbehaves, we’re all considered responsible, because we’ve all failed to control that individual.”
His mother fell silent again.
Sunny tried to finish the story:
“Oh… You mean… What you’re saying… You were all invited to go into exile?”
A tear appeared in the corner of his mother’s eye. She sucked it back into its socket, wiped her hands on her loincloth, and then placed them on Sunny’s head. She looked at her son, mustered her strength, and spoke with calm determination:
“We were abandoned. Whenever we approached, our sisters turned their chests and bent their ears; moving away, ignoring our pleas, ignoring our very existence.”
The tear reappeared.
“Our blessed ancestors above! It was the toughest season of our lives. We only had four adults to hunt and gather. Some days, we found far too much food to eat, but there was no-one with whom we could share it. On other days, we starved and withered away… Sunny… Chick-i-lick… Your sister returned to the ancestral forest.”
Sunny’s mother took a deep breath.
“Lovely: Those times are behind us now. We were welcomed back into the group. You were born. The sun danced on our foreheads as before.”
His mother dropped her shoulders. The air returned to her lungs. But Sunny could sense there was more to this tale.
“And… Well, you’ve not forgotten? Is that right? You worry that history might be revisiting us once again?”
His mother’s face relaxed for the first time in days.
“When you saw me return with the ox, grinning like the monkey who’d caught the moon… Well, you thought I was becoming a second Hunter? You thought I’d disgrace the hut? That we’d be forced to perform another protection?”
His mother seemed to nod, without actually moving her head.
“Oh, Mama. I promise you this: I’ll never allow that to happen. Never… And Mama, you must make me a promise too. You must warn me if I begin to err again.”
His mother hugged Sunny with tender intensity, only loosening her grip to pepper his face with the most delicate nose rubs she could muster.
She had the final word:
“Sunny: I feel… I worry that you’ve already begun to err… At yesterday’s meeting… Lovely: I think you know what you did.”
Sunny nodded. He knew exactly what he had done. And he knew what he had to do to make amends…
***
Sunny was the first person to arrive at the campfire that evening.
He rubbed a sharpened stick along the indent he had created within a piece of wood. A light smoke appeared; wafting, hesitantly, as though it was disinclined to move. Sunny took a fistful of dried grass, and held it above the smoke. A couple of sparks appeared, flickering on and off. He waited a while longer, before blowing on the grass, which began to billow and blaze.
Sunny placed this smouldering creation in the middle of the fire circle, arranged some twigs just above, waited a little, blew a little, and then waited a little longer. When the structure caught fire, he added a slightly larger set of sticks, waited for them to succumb to the flames, added some bigger sticks, and then some logs.
He stepped back, admired the fire, clapped his hands, and helped himself to a drink. The clan kept a supply of water for their evening meetings, which they stored in the giant eggshells they had taken from a variety of flightless birds, in various places, at different times. They buried these vessels beneath the earth, to keep their water cool.
Sunny’s body was brought to life by the contrasting sensations, produced by the heat of the fire and the coolness of the water. His skin pulsated: Thud. Thud. Thud.
It would have been wrong, however, to attribute this sensation solely to the fire and water. His heart raced, and his muscles spasmed, because he had also just spotted Hope.
Hope appeared different, although it was impossible to say how. Her face was just as lithe. Her body was just as slender. Every part of her was present and correct. Perhaps she smelled different. Sunny could not be sure. But there was something. Something that pulled Sunny in; which made him want to jump inside Hope’s body, and reside within her skin. He wanted to talk to her without making a sound. He wanted to hold her without needing to touch. He had never felt anything like it. And he had no idea how to respond.
Hope sat by his side.
As though she had sensed his state of mind, she did not say a word. She did not touch or look at her lover.
Sunny could not have wished for anything more intimate. The iciness faded, and his body warmed from within.
The iciness suddenly returned. Only now, it was all-encompassing. The cold was both within and without, surrounding him and penetrating his body. Sunny checked the fire, supposing it must have been extinguished, and was surprised by the intensity of its flames.
The chill had come from an entirely different source: Hunter. That prodigal son had galloped through the grasslands, flattening the tiny flowers, before coming to a sudden halt.
He had changed. He was no longer wearing a loincloth. He was dressed like that ghost, or spirit, or albino; the person who Sunny had spotted whilst returning from Songbird’s camp. The only difference, so far as Sunny could tell, was that Hunter’s cloths were a murky shade of brown.
Now Sunny did grab hold of Hope. And now she embraced him back.
Hunter looked at them, grinned, and waited for a greeting which never came.
***
At first, it felt like nobody was going to join them. Then everybody arrived at once.
They came bearing food, which they cooked on the fire; toasting mushrooms, roots and yams. Sparrow brought a cassava, but it would be a while before it was ready. It had to be grated, its liquid had to be expressed, and its remains had to be oxidised before they could be cooked. There was very little meat that night, just a couple of frogs and wrens. This was not uncommon. Hunters may have spent countless evenings, boasting of their prowess in the bush; of all the times they had downed buffalo, boar or antelope. Such tales served a purpose. When the elders spoke of each species, its habits, and how it could be hunted; they passed on their knowledge to the younger generations. But if you had pushed them on the matter, they would have been forced to admit that they had only ever shot a handful of gazelles, and ten or twenty antelope. Their successes were real, but they were rare. As on this evening, most meals only included a few morsels of meat. Around ninety percent of the clan’s calorific intake came from plants. Around a quarter came from tubers, corn, bulbs and roots. Even though these foodstuffs were rather small, they tended to be bunched together, so a large amount could be gathered in a single outing. Grasses, fruits, seeds, nuts and edible leaves could be found throughout the year, in spots which were known to the clans-folk; either because they had always been found in those locations, or because someone had noted their presence during a recent expedition. Gatherers always returned with food, and their hauls were fairly consistent, whereas most hunting trips ended in failure. The clan’s very survival depended on their gatherers, most of whom were female; not on the hunters, most of whom were men.
Indeed, this was why Sunny had been so keen to return with an animal, and why he had accepted the loan of an ox. He wished to prove his worth.
It also explained why he had been so excited by Hunter’s gun. That weapon had the potential to revolutionise their diet. With a device like that, he and his fellow hunters might be able to provide their fair share of food, for the first time in the clan’s history.
Sunny sensed he was not alone; that a number of the other hunters had also wanted access to a gun. They had not rejected Hunter’s offer because they were indifferent to Hunter’s rifle. They had rejected it because they did not wish to be in Hunter’s debt.
***
By the time they had cooked, eaten, and engaged in idle conversation, Sunny had almost forgotten the man who was looming above them, sitting atop a mysterious animal, wearing far too many cloths, and possessing way too much braggadocio.
Hunter cleared his throat:
“Ahum!”
It sounded more like a shout than a normal bodily function. That noise rattled up Hunter’s windpipe, projected itself over the fire, bounced off the hills, rebounded back, and fell flat at the feet of its maker.
The silence was instantaneous.
Hunter smiled, revealing his sparkly tooth, which reflected the fire.
“Welcome back, my uncles and aunties. Welcome back to our humble abode.”
He panned around.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot, and for that I offer my humblest apologies. My brethren: There is another world. It is a bright, fine thing, with medicine and meat, sturdy huts and dazzling art. But you love your world. It’s only natural. Most people support the status quo, whilst it remains the status quo. And who am I to shake things up? You love your lives. Why would you change your ways for me?”
He looked at the crowd, to see if anybody wished to answer.
“Because of the facts! That’s why. Because change is on its way. Change is going to kick you in the eggs, whether you like it or not. Yes, uncles and aunts. The Sons of Empire are coming. I’ve come here to warn you. I’ve come to protect you from them.”
The silence was orchestral; a cacophony of scrunching brows, popping eyes, and the mutest of all possible murmurs.
“It’s an indisputable fact. You need to know what you’re up against. It’s a greater force than anything you could imagine. Yes. A million Uncle Crows are on the march.”
Hunter paused for effect.
“The Sons of Empire have conquered all those who’ve stood before them… Ah! In one battle, one-hundred-and-sixty Sons took on eighty-thousand natives. And do you know what happened? They vanquished every last one, without losing a single man... Wow! Just wow!
