Zamimolo’s Story, 50,000 BC Page 2

  “Kukuk-na took the digging tool Timkut-na carried in his backpack and dug the best he could to bury Timkut-na. When he had him in the hole and covered by dirt, he still needed to find more dirt to cover his friend. He did not want any animals to dig the man up. Slowly he brought more dirt and covered the body. Then he found rocks and covered the mound. In the distance he heard what sounded like voices. He thought it was just his being alone that he was hearing things that weren’t there.”

  “Kukuk-na sat by the lean-to and wept. He wept because his People hungered. He wept because there were no animals to feed his People. He wept because he and Timkut-na were starving. He wept because Timkut-na died. He wept because he was alone.”

  “The voices came closer. Kukuk-na didn’t notice. It was two hunters from his People. They had found meat. They came to call the hunters home.”

  “This story is the reason we always check thoroughly for snakes and spiders when we look at a place to camp or live. Even if you are terribly tired, you must look to be certain that the place you are planning to stay is free of harmful living things. Timkut-na died because his thirst was more important than his safety.”

  The Wise One let the words move over the People. The story was as ancient as the stars. He wondered whether the People would get the significances. “Why did I choose this story, this night?” he asked, his voice cracking like the wood in the fire pit.

  Tokatumeta held his arms outstretched, palms up. The Wise One nodded towards him.

  Tokatumeta said, “We have faced drought and fewer animals. We who are here chose to leave the others and have traveled in search of a better life, where it is not so cold. We need to take care for our own safety in this land. We need to use much caution until we know this new place. The few animals we’ve observed on shore don’t look much like those we are accustomed to seeing. There are probably many differences.”

  The People made quiet noises indicating agreement. The volume of the frogs’ nightly song was increasing substantially.

  The Wise One was pleased. He continued. “What is our plan for the next few days?”

  Linpint held his arms outstretched, palms up. The Wise One nodded to him and Linpint said, “At first light Zamimolo and I will travel the area to make sure we are alone. We will look for a suitable place to make our home.” He nodded back towards the Wise One.

  Rustumarin held his arms outstretched, palms up. The Wise One nodded and Rustumarin said, “Golmid and I will hunt the hills that lie to the east.” He nodded back towards the Wise One.

  Tokatumeta held his arms outstretched, palms up. At the nod from the Wise One, he said, “I will accompany several of the women to the place where the rocks come to the shore just north of here. We should be able to find some sea life there. I will assure the safety of the women gatherers.” He nodded back to the Wise One.

  The Wise One searched the People. No other arms were held outstretched. “The council ends,” he said. There was some talking among the People, and then they headed toward the places they had set up for sleeping.

  Milukima asked Colitoba, her mother, “Where’s Olomaru-mia?”

  “I don’t know. When did you last see her?”

  “Just before the Wise One began, she left to relieve herself. I haven’t seen her since. She asked me to watch Flanilk and Picota.”

  Colitoba was jolted. Olomaru-mia had been gone too long. She was not one to wander off. She was not one to miss a council meeting. Zamimolo had attended the council, so she wasn’t with him. Colitoba found Golmid and asked him to find Olomaru-mia, explaining what had happened.

  Golmid whistled a loud sharp whistle. All the hunters gathered to hear his words.

  Golmid explained what he’d learned. Zamimolo felt as if a war club had hit his belly. Something must be wrong. Olomaru-mia would never just wander off. She’d scream if there were strangers among them—if she saw them. The men constructed torches of the wood they could find. Most wood had been used for the fire. The hunters searched the area of the place they stayed, calling her name repeatedly. She did not respond to calls. They could find nothing unusual at all. It was as if she’d vanished.

  “We cannot track in the dark,” Grakumashi shouted.

  “We have to try!” Golmid said defiantly. His daughter was missing. She must be found.

  Feeling very uncomfortable and disoriented, Olomaru-mia returned slowly to consciousness. She opened her eyes to find herself being carried, draped across someone’s shoulders. It made no sense. There was something horrible in her mouth and a hand grasped her left arm. She wiggled struggling to free herself, thinking she must be having a bad dream. The grasp on her arm tightened and a grasp tightening on her leg assured her this was no dream and that she was in danger. She panicked. She was forcibly held on the shoulders of someone she didn’t know. His smell was not familiar at all. He was walking in water. She was horrified to realize that her hands were covered so her fingers were of no value. She continued to fight to get down. She knew to find his eyes so she could try to gouge them out. She couldn’t reach them. Kicking was a waste of effort.

  Mechalu, her captor, slid her to her feet. He said to her, “No fighting.”

  Olomaru-mia was shocked that she could understand the man. She stood there gaping at him. Then her anger rose and she kicked his shin and began to run away, having no idea where to run. She could not see the campfire anywhere.

  Mechalu grabbed her by the hair. He didn’t have time for this. He slapped her face hard.

  Olomaru-mia raised her hand to her face. She was hurt and angry. She could make no intelligible sound, just gurgling deep in her throat, but tears fell plentifully.

  “No fighting! No running!” Mechalu repeated the words. Olomaru-mia began to pummel his chest with her fists in the covers he’d put on them. She reached up to pull over her head the strip holding the leather in her mouth.

  Mechalu hit her head again. She slumped and he caught her and placed her back where he’d had her before she awakened. Why did she fight when she knew she couldn’t win? he wondered. Maybe she thinks she can find a way, he considered, and resolved to watch with special care.

  Zamimolo’s belly was ripped. He knew that nothing should have kept Olomaru-mia from him. He suspected darkly that a person had taken her, but there was no evidence anywhere that was the case. If he knew which way to turn, he’d do whatever was required, but he was mystified. Even he admitted it was futile to search in the dark.

  “Zami,” Linpint said quietly, “Tomorrow we will cover this entire area. We’ll know which way to go. I will help you. We’ll get her back.”

  “You think it’s theft, too?” Zamimolo asked.

  Linpint held his teeth together tightly for a moment. “I can think of no other reason for her to be missing. Someone could have observed us on our arrival and waited for the right moment. We thought we were safe when we weren’t. It’s frightening.”

  “Instead of fear I feel enraged,” Zamimolo said. “Olomaru-mia must be terrified.”

  The Wise One walked over to the two men. He had pulled a skin across his shoulders. He looked at Zamimolo. “It’s clearly abduction. I’m so sorry. Wait until first light. Then, try your hardest to find the trail. I think it will take much time, but I know that one day you will find her again.” The Wise One walked back to the fire saddened by the event.

  Zamimolo sank to his knees. He knew the Wise One would not have said those words if they hadn’t been prophetic. It would take much time. Olomaru-mia would be terrified. He had to find her, but he couldn’t help her this night. He thought of her sweetness and kindness and feared the worst for her. Tears fell from his eyes. He lay on his side on the sand. He couldn’t sleep. He vowed to kill anyone who harmed her.

  Rays of light were hinting the sun’s appearance to the east. Mechalu was tired, but he’d made it to the pathway to the mountain pass. The pathway was stony, so it would cover tracks well. The girl had regained consciousness, but she had not continued to make a nuisance
of herself. She was still. Once he reached the mountains and gained some elevation, he would feel safe. It was still fairly dark in the forest. He released Olomaru-mia to her feet. He tied a rope to her ankle and tied the other end of the rope to a large rock. He removed the gag but kept her hands covered. He took a piece of jerky and handed her one.

  “Let me starve,” she replied, refusing it, breaking the forest silence. “I’d rather die than be here.” She turned from him.

  In the trees howler monkeys set off a noise that scared her terribly. She looked but saw nothing. She didn’t know what was making the noise.

  “Stop fighting. Eat,” Mechalu shouted, pulling her back around.

  Olomaru-mia glared at him.

  “Eat, or I hit you,” he said trying to communicate slowly and clearly, showing her with his hands what he meant. He knew she was frightened, but he had a long way to go and she would need to walk. He couldn’t carry her all the way back to his land in the east. It wasn’t much food, but she had to eat. He also had to make sure she feared him enough to obey him.

  Olomaru-mia didn’t get all his words, but she understood enough to hear the threat. She took the jerky and ate a piece listening to the monkeys.

  “You have husband?” he asked.

  She pretended not to understand though the words were close enough that she knew exactly what he was asking. He pushed her down and answered his own question. She was outraged, but she could not fight back. She berated herself for not answering the simple question. In the struggle the strap to the bag that Zamimolo had made for her broke. The strap slid from around her neck and the bag came to rest just inside the skin of her tunic.

  “You have no husband,” he said flatly. “Soon you will.” He couldn’t believe the woman he’d chosen for his own was a virgin. He was so lucky. No one had ever had her. He’d be first. He’d seen her hair from a distance. It drew him. She was the one he wanted, but he’d been willing to take what he could get stealthily in the dark of night. When she left the group and he could steal her so easily, he realized his luck was stronger than he thought. And, then, to have her as a virgin made him know his luck was potent. She also appeared to understand him fairly well. He wondered what else luck would bring him on this trial of his manhood. To become fully men, his people required a young man to make a trip to the western sea from where they’d come many generations ago. They had to go alone with only hand knives, no spears. They had to return with some evidence of their valor, something they’d keep the rest of their lives, a treasure—something no one else could touch ever. He’d done very well. Somehow he sensed he’d found a good woman. She would be his wife.

  Again, Olomaru-mia understood. Join her captor! Had he no mind web? she wondered. She was promised to Zamimolo. She adored Zamimolo. Where was he? Would she ever see him again? Her belly ripped apart. How could Wisdom have let this happen? Where was Wisdom? Didn’t Wisdom care? She’d listened to the stories carefully at night. She’d carefully followed Wisdom’s teaching. Why was this happening to her? To Zamimolo? Hatred for her captor washed over her repeatedly. The screeching continued, joined by very loud birds, one of which she could see. It was huge with red, yellow, green, and blue feathers and an enormous beak. She’d never seen anything like it. Her head hurt.

  “You’re filth, evil, mean, vile!” she shouted at Mechalu, tossing her jerky to the woods.

  He understood. “It is the way of the world, Little One. Just the way of the world. The lucky and strong get what they want. Others suffer for lack of it.” He retrieved the jerky and handed it to her. “Eat!” he said forcefully.

  “No!” she said with equal force.

  He shoved her to the ground. He bit off a piece of the jerky, chewed it, pinched her nose until she had to open her mouth to breathe and then he spit the jerky into her mouth and held her mouth closed. She could not fight. “Swallow!” he demanded.

  Olomaru-mia held out as long as she could and finally swallowed. He was sitting atop her and she was miserable. He was a tall man. If he held out his arm, she could walk under it. She shed more tears silently.

  “Now, will you eat it, or must I feed you?”

  Crestfallen, she nodded affirmatively, tears falling. She ate it, swallowing much of it whole. He drank from his water bag and offered it to her. She drank.

  “We walk.” Mechalu pulled her up, untied the rope from the rock and her ankle, and tied it around her neck. He tied the other end to his leather loincloth belt. He reapplied the gag. He tied her hands together behind her so she could not remove the gag. He followed the path leading upward into the mountain. Left behind in grass beside the path was the little bag Zamimolo had made her. She didn’t feel it slide from her tunic when she got up. She walked behind Mechalu. Her belly ripped with each step farther from Zamimolo and her People. Tears fell unchecked. They’d never find her. For comfort, she tried to feel the little bag Zamimolo had made her. It hung around her neck. He had attached a seashell to the flap. She treasured it. It wasn’t there! It was a tie to her beloved. She was sure it had been there earlier, but it was no longer there. More tears fell as she stumbled along behind Mechalu. She loved the little bag and the promise that it contained. It was a symbol of their love forever. It was gone. Was the promise gone? Cold fear enveloped her. The noise of the monkeys was diminishing with distance. Birds and insect noise replaced it.

  Light had just returned, and the People were busy getting ready to search widely for their missing member. Zamimolo and Linpint were ready to depart. They made a wide sweep beginning at the water’s edge, arcing out into the land, and going to the edge of the water north of them. Then they returned to the start point and made another wide sweep from the water’s edge arcing onto the land and back to the water’s edge south of where they began. They could find tracks nowhere. They had been certain they would find something. They did another arc from the midpoint of the first arc north to the midpoint of the arc at the water’s edge south. Nothing. It struck them that the abductor must have walked away in the water or had a boat. There were no tracks on land from man or beast. The abductor must have approached them from the water, unless it was a bird, but they dismissed that idea as absurd.

  Zamimolo sought out the Wise One. “Wise One, may I talk with you?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “Will you give me guidance as to where I should look first?”

  The old man slowly sat on the sandy ground. He appeared to have entered into the world of spirits. Zamimolo also sat. He waited patiently. The sun continued to rise higher and higher in the sky.

  Finally, the Wise One looked up directly into the eyes of Zamimolo. “He is taking her to the other salt sea to the east. He will treat her well. He will go southeast from here along the river and then east. There is a path through the mountains, but it connects with many other paths, and I can give you no better direction. Where he goes is far from here by more than a moon’s reckoning. He speaks our language from long ago. Zamimolo, if you pursue her, it will take the better part of your life. Do you understand me? As painful as it may feel to you, you can let her go and know she will not be treated badly.”

  Zamimolo stared at the old man. “How can I not try to find her? She has been my life!”

  “She will not be abused. She will always be treated well. At least know that. It will take a long time to find her, and by then she won’t be the same person you know now. When you see her, you will both have white hair.”

  “How can she be different? We love each other. She was stolen.”

  “I simply know what I’m given. I don’t get all the details.”

  “I should go southeast? I should look for a path through the mountains?” Zamimolo asked.

  The old man nodded. Zamimolo got up and gave the old man a hand to help him up. The old man put his hand on Zamimolo’s shoulder and shook his head. He turned and walked away.

  Zamimolo found Linpint and told him what the Wise One had said. “It’s probably better that I go alone, my
friend. According to the Wise One, I’ll be white-haired old before I find her.” A gull soared overhead. Zamimolo wished he could fly to find Olomaru-mia with greater speed and sight.

  Linpint looked sadly at his friend. “I’ll give four seasons to help you. The loss of my wife keeps me disinterested in women right now, so an adventure might just be a good thing. Come, Zamimolo, let’s head southeast.”

  As they began to depart friends and family came to wish the two young men well. They had backpacks filled to the brim with jerky and bed rolls atop their backpacks. Each carried two spears and extra points. They carried several water bags apiece. They walked down the riverbank following the direction Olomaru-mia had already been taken according to the Wise One. So much time had passed.

  The small mountains were some distance from them. Grasshoppers moved through the grass at their approach as they walked the riverbank. To find a path through the mountains would require a lot of guessing. As they walked, Linpint wondered how many paths there could be that went through the mountains, paths that could be accessed from the shoreline. The mountains extended as far as he could see. He guessed there could be endless paths.

  Back at the site where the People camped, there was great concern. That someone had stealthily taken one of the People while all hunters were awake remained in the forefront of the mind webs of all. They’d been invaded. They felt a need to find a place to live that provided a sense of security, safety from others who might want to steal from them. Their first thought was to the hills. The mountains to the north were appealing for they seemed to be elevated well enough and did not form a long range, so they would be able to keep watch over approaches to their place with the few People they had. Access to their new place would have to be more observable at heights rather than down on the flat land near the river, where washes cut out depths in the land enabling a stranger to hide from view. This had not been a problem in their old land where People were rare. The hazards were different in this place.