Great Sky Woman (19 page)

Walkabout

Chapter Twenty-one

“Moon-blood is special,” said Stillshadow from the height of her sitting stone. Several of the elder dancers were seated about her, but it was to the younger girls that she directed her words. “It carries in it a living being. It is like a tree. Before bearing fruit, a tree must first bear flowers.

“Moon-blood,” she continued, “is like the flower: it must emerge before the fruit—the baby—can be born. Childbirth is like a tree finally bearing its fruit, which the woman then gathers.” She was most directly addressing the four girls who had recently begun to bleed: T’Cori, Fawn Blossom, Dove, and Sister Quiet Water. Fawn and her twin sister had already had their seventh eyes opened.

The Ibandi ceremony for the coming of moon-blood was called Tinaalá. It was considered the most important of their religious rituals. Its purpose was to make sex holy and fruitful. During this time, the menstruating girls were secluded in the Tinaalá hut. For one full moon the other dancers sang and celebrated the new women, as T’Cori and the others contemplated the changes within their bodies.

When a woman was in her moon-blood, she was among the most powerful beings in the universe, temporarily raised in status. At such times it was vital to isolate herself so that she would not waste her energy on everyday matters or have her concentration broken by members of the opposite sex.

“Here is the tale,” Stillshadow said, and began to dance. The depth, extension and pace of her motions all told the story more eloquently than words.

Great Mother birthed a blessed daughter, who loved and protected all the animals in the shadow of Great Sky. Angry at a group of hunters who killed more than they could carry, she followed them until, gorged on the flesh of her beloved, they fell into a stupor and slept. She slew each of them in turn, and then appeared before all of the people covered with blood. She grabbed a live antelope with one hand and wiped her other hand over her vulva. She wiped this hand on the antelope’s nose, and twisted its nose, and then let it free. From then on, it knew the smell of man. From then on, it was hard for men to hunt the antelope.

Stillshadow paused, and although the dancing had been impeccable, T’Cori saw that she was more than out of breath: she was shaking. “To the moon shelter,” she panted, and Blossom helped her mother to her rest.

Within the Tinaalá hut, T’Cori learned that all of her energy should go toward meditating on the purpose of her life and the gathering of her
num.

During her days crouched naked in the sweltering hut T’Cori used a special willow stick instead of idly scratching herself with her fingers. It was important to focus her whole attention on her body, to become aware of even the smallest natural actions. It was her duty to study her own body the way hunters studied their prey. The other girls groaned and smeared the sweat with their hands, but T’Cori pulled deep inside herself and was content.

When she emerged from the women’s hut, T’Cori watched the world swirl around her, and had to sit on the ground with her head between her legs, waiting for it to slow. When she was ready, Blossom led her to the circle of the eternal fire, a sacred spot protected by a tumble of rocks and ringed with berry vines. She had never been here before. From time to time the old women threw a handful of powders into the fire. When they did green sparks and a sharp spicy aroma rose into the night air.

Some of her sisters were grown now, with children of their own. With Stillshadow’s approval, some of those children would become the next generation of dream dancers. Others would marry or be adopted into the inner bomas. Some were younger than she, girls who had been given to the dream dancers as infants, just now entering the circle. Not all born to the dream dancers became medicine women. Every woman who yearned to be of the circle had to be approved by Stillshadow. With some, Stillshadow sorrowfully looked into their hand-eyes or face-eyes and said: “This one does not have the fire.”

And for those, when the butterflies returned and it was time for Spring Gathering, families were found to take them in. Tears stained Stillshadow’s cheeks when one of them left, but she wiped the water away quickly, and never knew she had been seen.

The younger girls gazed at the older ones with an almost worshipful awe.

Stillshadow strode among them, tired, perhaps, but still powerful as a gray-muzzled old she-lion. Her voice rang from the rocks. “We live lives apart from the others, apart from the normal women. But this is not a loss. We are the soul of the Ibandi! We are the heart beating within their chests. Only as long as we, the dream dancers and the hunt chiefs, are whole are we a true people. Only so long as we sing is a new sun born every morning. Only as long as we keep the fire does Father Mountain know we are here, and protect us,” Stillshadow said.

Raven bowed her head. “It is sometimes lonely,” she said.

“Yes!” Stillshadow replied. “It is lonely, but that is our place. And it is only lonely to she who does not feel the warmth of the mountain’s shadow, who does not hear Great Mother’s voice. The mountain calls to some of our sisters now.”

Immediately, the girls around the fire began to buzz. What did this mean? Were some of them to be blessed in such a fashion? Stillshadow spoke to each of them in turn, explaining what they must do to earn power and honor. To T’Cori and several others, Stillshadow nodded. “And it is your part to bring back healing herbs.”

“Which herbs?” T’Cori asked.

“Close your eyes,” the old woman said sharply, but then softened her voice. “Close them!”

They complied.

“Now think of this: imagine that the hunters of Earth boma are leaving to seek flesh. They are gone for many days, and when at last they return, four have been tusked by an elephant. Of those, you must heal those who are able to heal. Some will return to the mountain. You must help them die without pain. You have learned much by now. Go, and find those things needed to make this happen.”

T’Cori thought about this, understanding what was being asked.
Heal those who can heal, and provide
num
-chilling potions for those who are beyond healing.
She knew of poisons, of course, as did the hunters. But the idea of using them on her own people was sobering indeed. “Could I start with thistleroot?”

“Do not ask me, girl,” the old woman thundered. “Have you not watched and listened these years? Your men rely upon you.”

“When shall I go?”

“Tomorrow. But not just you. Your sisters also.” Then as if the speech had emptied her, Stillshadow sighed deeply, and sat.

T’Cori searched her feelings, seeking the meaning in those words. She, T’Cori. Fawn. Dove. Sister Quiet Water. Could they do this? They were being asked to function as women of the tribe, with all the freedoms and responsibilities that that implied. Her next words emerged as a whisper. “Where must we go?”

“The best thistleroot can be found to the west, beyond Father Mountain’s shadow,” Stillshadow said.

Dove blinked hard. “I…saw thistleroot in the rocks near the stream….”

Stillshadow smiled at Dove’s feeble attempt to influence her fate. “Oh, no,” she said. “A baboon pissed on that. We need
new
root. Do you understand me?”

T’Cori nodded, trembling. “Yes, teacher.”

“Go,” Stillshadow said. “Prepare for the morning. And then sleep.”

Although the camp was unusually quiet that night, deep sleep evaded T’Cori. Fawn Blossom and her twin, Dove, were even less fortunate. Twice during the night the nameless one awakened to hear them tossing and groaning, muttering to themselves as if afraid they would be devoured on the morrow.

And perhaps they would.

When sleep finally came, T’Cori dreamed of colored bands bending and bonding around her, of a sun blazing fire tracks in the sky, of a moon little more than a hole torn in the darkness, a tunnel to all the secrets of this world and the next. She was restless, but excited as well.

This was her chance.

T’Cori swore she would make Mother Stillshadow proud.

She glanced at Raven. Could the girl hear that she had called Stillshadow mother, even in her mind?

No, of course not.

Still, it was always best to be careful.

In the morning, T’Cori began her cleanliness rituals. After all, they were voyaging out as brides of Great Sky, with faith that the mountain itself would keep them safe from harm. They had to look and feel the part.

So they washed and prepared themselves. Stillshadow made a mush of red berries and urine. With it she painted stripes and swirls along their bodies. Then she made white markings with a lump of chalk, sketching the bones and skull beneath the flesh.

The chalk tickled, like a furry caterpillar crawling up their legs, but not a giggle escaped the girls. There had been no moment in their lives more serious than this, and every one of them knew it.

When this was done Stillshadow drew the girls around her, and there spoke to them plainly. Her flame was cool and calm.

“One day my flesh will flow up the mountain,” the old woman said. “My daughter Raven will keep the fire, but you will be at her side, and some of you will stand high.”

“How will you decide?” Sister Quiet Water asked.

“Your dreams will tell the tale,” the old woman said. “One at a time, I will come to each of you. In the night, in the dream time, I will show you a dance. Display these steps for me, and you are the one.

“Dance in your dreams,” she told them. “Live in them. Come to me, although you are far away. The one who can dance my dance in dreams is the one who will follow me.” She paused, the very silence adding significance to her words. “Great Mother speaks in dreams,” she said.

Alone in the cool of her hut, T’Cori knelt and with ritual precision gathered her bundle, rolled it in a zebra hide, and slung it over her back. Within was a sleeping skin, as well as dried meat and a pouch to carry whatever herbs and medicinal plants the girls gathered. Within it she would also carry foodstuffs or small creatures her guides might trap and kill. Every small motion, twist of wrist, and flex of her shoulders was as controlled as a dance. Softly, she sang a sacred journey song.

Whirling Pool, a slender stick of a nine-spring, scurried up to her. “How long will you be gone?” Although young, Pool knew the name of every plant on Great Earth, and could repeat a dance after seeing it only once. She spread her arms and turned in a circle, dancing her name.

Some of the fear T’Cori had not allowed herself to feel last night finally made itself known as a sour taste in the back of her throat, a tightness in her legs. “I don’t know. Days. Nights.” She paused. “A moon, perhaps. I am afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid,” Whirling Pool said, perhaps peering into her flame. “Mother would not send you if you were not ready.”

“I hope you’re right,” T’Cori said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.”

Pool hugged T’Cori, then ran away. T’Cori realized that the words of encouragement were not actually meant for her. Whirling Pool was actually speaking to her own older self, knowing that one not so distant day it would be her own turn, wanting to believe that when that day came, things would be fine.

When the girls were ready, they gathered together. Stillshadow blessed them, sprinkling a pinch of powder over each bowed head. Then, together, they started down Great Earth’s slopes, heading southeast.

“Why must we do this?” Fawn pouted.

“Because it is the path,” T’Cori said.

Fawn glared at her. “Aren’t you afraid?” she asked.

“This is everything we have trained for. We have protection—the hunt chiefs are with us, and we are on Great Mother’s work. When we return, we will be women.” She felt Fawn’s fear and frustration, but knew that strong words could stiffen a weak spine.

Dove spoke for all of them. “We’ll be fine if we stay together. It’s a test of trust.”

T’Cori prayed that that was true. But as she descended the path and glimpsed the two armed hunt chiefs who would accompany the young women, all strength seemed to abandon her. What was she doing? Didn’t Stillshadow know that there were risks out there, beyond the shadow? And why did she, T’Cori, imagine she could do such a thing?