Nymphaea

Chapter 29: Clash of civilizations

As they had mastered the last miles of their trip, Ayve had turned from the course a few times to collect herbs. Stephen hadn’t thought much of it and had used the time to enjoy the landscape a little more.

Now they tread a narrow, rocky path that was hardly to be spotted if one didn’t know where to look since fallen branches crossed its way and even stones seemed to block it here and there. Ayve knew it well, though, and removed the obstacles for Stephen just to carefully replace them afterwards. Even though it was a path, it was not a comfortable walk. It was precipitous. Well, that was not exactly unexpected, was it?

Yet unexpected was the wall of bushes that mounted up at the end of it. Ayve bent a few branches away with force and Stephen climbed through the gap, trying to minimize scratches.

As he pushed away a few stray twigs, Stephen suddenly stood at the edge of a quite crowded place. Several men, women and children stood and sat around big wooden bowls and leathern bags that contained various goods. Although people pretended to be busy, Stephen noticed the glances that were thrown at him. With big brown or green eyes in round but skinny faces, framed by hair somewhere between reddish blond and mahogany. He attempted a polite smile and stepped back to give way for Ayve who stepped through, touched his forehead shortly, mumbling a greeting Stephen didn’t understand, and went hurriedly on into the cave that loomed to their left.

Stephen felt misplaced in a way he couldn’t remember ever having felt before. He wasn’t sure whether he should follow Ayve, he had not told him to and had set aside his basket next to the ‘entrance’. Two of the ladies seemed to hurry after Ayve now.

After what seemed like an eternity of standing rooted on the spot, unsure what to do without breaking some unknown rule, there was movement in the crowd and a man stepped forward to salute him. Relief swept over Stephen: it was Seya.

The smaller man approached him somewhat reluctantly but returned Stephen’s smile when he stopped just a few steps away from him. He did not offer his hand though. He spoke to Stephen, however. “One of the men has an injury and has been feverish for several days, so I heard. I suppose he’s tending him now,” he explained Ayve’s sudden disappearance, gazing towards the cave. So that was explaining the herbs.

“Could you tell me what to do, now? Where to put my things? I really feel out of place and don’t want to do something wrong.”

Seya looked once more towards the cave. “I’m not sure. I suppose it’s best for you to just sit down and wait until you’re properly introduced. Many people won’t care: we haven’t had a stranger amongst us for ages so they wouldn’t know the conventions in such a case anyway. But some of the elders do and they will be the ones to eye you suspiciously anyway so it’s better to at least respect the customs. I dimly remember something about a welcoming drink… Ayve will know.”

So Stephen sat down and waited while Seya returned to the bags he had been perched over and resumed the silent conversation he had interrupted at Stephen’s arrival. That seemed to set the rest of the group in motion as well which had been remarkably silent for pretending to be so busy. A low whisper filled the air. Yes, that was how their language sounded: like the whispering of the wind. A good disguise. It could hardly be recognized as artificial sounds. They seemed to be exchanging goods.

After their first night in the wilderness, Stephen had watched Ayve change his clothing: the outer layer had remained but Ayve had added a layer under it. Lengths of wool that he had wrapped around his hands and arms as well as his torso. They had born several longish wooden buttons with which they had been fixed. Ayve had also changed his footwear from robust shoes to flexible leather wrappings. Now Stephen saw that this seemed the custom clothing. One layer that was wound tightly around the body and an additional layer that sat more loosely. Everyone wore robe-like garments in natural colours. They did not bother with dying or they used the inconspicuous colouring as another means of disguise, Stephen supposed.

The women carried complex headdresses of intertwining braids, the men usually wore only one plait that was crossed and bound together by a leather strap. Despite their busy work it was remarkable how people always retained distance. Nobody sat close together, nobody touched. It looked like a well rehearsed choreography.

A boy and a girl – had they been human, Stephen would have estimated him five and her maybe one or two years older than Lissy – sat ‘together’ in a corner drawing signs into the earth with a twig. As many of her kinsmen, her face was peppered with freckles. The boy in turn had unusual light blond hair. Looking around it was easy to spot his mother: the only one with the same special features.

The branches a few feet from Stephen moved and a couple of men entered, bringing wood and water. They were clothed differently. Instead of the robe-ish garment they wore something similar to trousers, only that they were held together at the sides not by seams but by a row of the aforementioned buttons again. They sat very tightly. The robes probably were unfit for long walks or sprints.

The men vanished in the cave, probably to deposit what they had brought. Oh, Stephen was wrong, he noticed. The last member of the just arrived group was female. And she carried no less than her male companions. So they did not divide tasks in the manner one might expect. But if sex had such small importance in their lives and men were hardly stouter in built than women why should they make such differences?

Ayve reappeared carrying a bowl and walked into Stephen’s direction. Stephen got up. But Ayve passed him with a small smile. Stephen could see that the bowl contained bloody water and leaves. Ayve poured the bowl out at the rim of the plateau they were standing on where more bushes grew and shielded the plateau from clear view and came back. A female nymph met him halfway, took the empty bowl from him and handed Ayve a cloth to clean his hands on, carefully avoiding any touch. She carried something in what looked like a big shawl. When she turned to head back to the cave it hit Stephen that she probably carried a baby. Hadn’t Ayve said his sister had just given birth to a daughter?

Ayve turned to him.

“Was that your sister?”

Ayve nodded. “Sorry to let you wait; I did not want to postpone the treatment any longer. I suppose the trade-off will be finished soon. They do that each autumn to balance the supplies, enrich their menu. I’ll put what we brought with us away and Ceira will prepare what’s necessary to properly welcome you.”

Stephen had noticed when Ayve had greeted his people that he had resumed the pretence to be able to speak again.

When Ayve bent down to pick up the basket, Stephen saw how the girl in the corner watched them. After Ayve had disappeared in the cave again, the place indeed slowly cleared up. Most of the leather bags were put aside, the rest was brought into the cave. The people who came back out carried piles of wood. They were not all used for one big bonfire but for four small ones.

Then some stone bowls were brought and set into the flames. Water was poured into them. People started settling around the fires, each person carefully putting a small piece of leather on the floor to sit on. By now they did not seem to take notice of Stephen anymore.

When Ayve exited the cave, he wore one of those robes as well and carried another wooden bowl. His hair was bound back in nymph fashion. One by one he stepped to the fires and let a handful of herbs slowly rain into the stone bowls. When that was finished, smaller wooden bowls – in the size of a big tea cup perhaps – were distributed.

Ayve motioned for Stephen to come to the fire he stood at now. He set down two more pieces of leather and seated himself on one, clearly having provided the other for Stephen. Stephen slowly moved between the fires, careful to keep as much distance from the nymphs as possible but was glad to finally be given a place in all this. Placed around the fire were already Seya, the light blond lady and her son, Ayve’s sister and two other men.

When Stephen had sat down, Ayve moved forward and scooped a bowl full of tea to hand it to Stephen. A few leaves and a single blossom still swam on the drink’s surface.

Don’t worry: I researched all ingredients in advance: they are perfectly harmless for humans. Take a sip because no one else will fill his bowl until you have done so.

And from Ayve’s behaviour Stephen concluded that neither would anybody talk.

He took in the smell of the tea. Was there apple in it? He puffed a bit so it wouldn’t be too hot. Yes, he was right: the blown air set the pieces that swam on the surface into motion and a small piece of what could have been dried apple paring appeared. Stephen slowly took the bowl to his lips and tasted a small sip of the brew. And indeed after he had removed the drinking vessel from his lips, the others started to move and fill their bowls. Unexpectedly, Ayve was the last to do so. Stephen would have thought he’d be the first, since he was the leader.

But there still was no talking. People, including Ayve, sat with eyes closed, the bowls placed on their hands in their laps, only taking a sip by guiding the drinking vessels with the left hand to their mouths every now and again. For a while Stephen just sat in silence, gazing into the crackling fire or looking at the people. He was still a little overwhelmed by the day, by being amongst strangers somewhere in the wilderness without the security the western civilization had provided him with throughout his life. He really did not feel like shutting his eyes now.

But after a while the calm atmosphere and the warmth that came over from the fire mollified him and he closed his eyes as well, holding onto the bowl from which the warmth of the drink emanated. He heard and felt his breath smooth. He listened to the crackling of the flames.

Finally, Ayve’s sister and another man got up. And as if on command so did someone from every fire. The stone bowls were removed and carried to the brim of the plateau once more. Water was brought and the vessels cleaned. Then they were replaced on the fire and refilled with fresh water. Again several bowls were brought out of the cave but this time they did not contain herbs but a variety of already prepared ingredients for a soup. Probably the best dish to feed nearly thirty people. The cooking took a while and in the meantime people started talking again.

Ayve turned to Stephen, now. “This is Seya’s bond-mate Ucha,” he introduced the light blonde, “and this is my sister’s bond-mate with his brother.” Ayve nodded towards the two other men whilst his sister was busy with preparing the meal.

“And this is our son Siyo,” added Seya.

The boy stared at Stephen with big eyes. Then he turned to his mother and mumbled something in his native language. His mother answered.

When she had finished, Seya explained what the boy had asked. “He wanted to know why I talk so strangely when I face you.” He smiled. “I fear, our children learn late about other cultures. Our tribe consists of several original tribes – my wife for example is the only known survivor of her Scandinavian clan – but that is how far it goes. From your race we have been hiding so far and the other Asian tribe is too far away to have the kind of contact one would wish. Without human means of transportation we wouldn’t be able to maintain contact at all.”

Finally the soup was ready and the by now also cleaned wooden dishes were filled with it. It looked more watery than Stephen was used to and he wasn’t able to recognize all its ingredients but it didn’t taste bad. It was a little difficult to actually drink it without spilling anything but he managed it. Funny as it was, Stephen had realized that the less he ate, the less he needed to become ‘full’. His body seemed to adjust its needs.

By now Stephen’s back hurt from the hard floor and the coldness that crept up from it. But the evening was not yet over. The empty stone bowls (there was not enough food to waste it so they were all empty) were cleaned again with the rest of the dishes and replaced on the fire whereas the wooden dishes were put up on sticks around the fire to dry in the heat just like before the meal. Ayve in the meantime had gotten up and prepared a mixture of herbs once more and applied it to the stone bowls after the water in them had reached the right temperature.

When everybody had the second cup of tea Ayve’s sister suddenly started to hum a soft tune. After a while another lady from a different fire joined in. And after yet another few moments another. And finally a fourth. Perfectly choreographed, Stephen thought as he had thought before. And that even though these were two groups of nymphs who did not share daily life all year. How did they know who was supposed to do what?

No one seemed to wait for him this time so Stephen let the bowl rest in his lap for a while. He noticed that the boy had no tea. Stephen finally lifted it to his nose. It smelled different. Not as fruity as before.

Just pretend to drink, a calm voice sounded suddenly in his mind.

Why? he attempted to ask back.

There are plants in this that contain components your body would not react well to. Not strong enough to truly harm you but unpleasant, I believe from what I have read. And this is the tea that will quite kill your libido.

Stephen had an idea. Have you never been tempted to change its composition? I mean, you are the one to prepare it…

Ayve looked into the flames, pretending to take a sip every now and again while the women still hummed their lovely, slightly melancholic and very soothing tune.

I only prepare it when I am here. I am not in the position to truly change it. And who am I to decide our traditions should be discontinued? People are happy with their lives. Well, maybe that is exaggerated. But the parts of their lives they would like to see improved are the parts where we have been forced to give up our culture, our traditions. I don’t see that all our rules and customs are generally harmful, even if they have… added up to my… discomfort. Had I been a pure-blood nymph, I think I would have been happy. And that is my task as a leader: not to destroy what has troubled me but preserve what keeps the community together, what enables us to lead a peaceful life. There has never been violence of any kind between nymphs. And I think these customs are a part of the reason for that. I’ll do what is necessary to perpetuate them.

The funny thing was: since most people had shut their eyes again, it indeed wasn’t difficult to silently dispose of the tea unnoticed.

Finally, Seya’s group packed up their goods and said farewell. By then the sun had gone down and left only little light. Ayve silently explained that they would stay in a nearby cave and make their way home from there.

Torches were put up in the middle of the cave now. It reached several dozen metres into the mountain. The officially collective part of the day seemed over now. Everyone saw to his or her own business. Some carried the hot stones that had lined the fires into the cave with the help of leather pieces so they wouldn’t get burned and placed them in their tents that were built out of sticks and hides, others sat in the entrance of their huts and used the little light to do some handiwork.

Stephen gathered his bag and followed Ayve into the cave.

“The supplies are stored in the back,” Ayve told him. “The women sleep on the left side, the males on the right.” He went on as he spoke. “Usually two to three people sleep in one hut to hold each other warm – without deliberately touching each other of course. Luckily since I am away often I have a tent to myself, so we won’t have to share.”

He stopped at the last hut. It was (like the others) not more than five feet high and perhaps six wide. Stephen lifted the hide that covered the entrance so Ayve could enter and set their stones on their beds to warm them.

Stephen was relieved when Ayve sat down afterwards and moved his head to signal him to come in. So this day finally came to a close.

“What about sanitary arrangements?” he asked before he had the chance to fall asleep. “I mean, where do you clean yourself, where do you leave your… digestion products?”

Ayve nodded. Right. I’ll guide you to the river in the morning. We usually do these things at the beginning of the day. Please try and time those needs in that manner. If you don’t manage at all, wake me and I’ll show you a place just a few minutes from here – we passed it. But in any case you have to dig a hole for whatever you leave and cover it up afterwards…

Stephen smiled lopsidedly. “Okay.”

He took off his shoes, unpacked his blankets and lay down on the fur covered floor, curling around the warm stone.

“Even in winter?” he asked further, catching himself at puzzling about how to dig a hole into frozen earth.

Ayve smiled indulgently. Frozen things don’t smell and you don’t step into them.

“Right.” Stephen closed his eyes and nuzzled into the fur that still carried the scent of its former owner but was comfortable nonetheless. He wondered briefly what the next day would bring but was too tired to ask and instead decided to just take things as they came.

“Good night, Ayve.”

Good night.

*

Stephen awoke the next morning to the sounds of leather scratching over rock and soft voices conversing. Ayve’s bed was empty and both of their stones removed. The smell of burning wood rose to his nostrils.

Stephen dressed, then took the crème coloured towel he had brought and enveloped fresh clothing in it, as well as other toilet articles, and exited the hut to look for Ayve. In front of the tent opposite his, a woman was bent over a chunk of wood she worked on with several stone tools lying about her.

To Stephen’s left, several feet away near the entrance of the cave, a fire had been built. A handful of people were seated around it. Ayve motioned for him to join them, an invitation that Stephen gladly accepted as it promised warmth. He took the place to Ayve’s right whilst the others were discussing something. Ayve pointed to a fish that was placed on a wooden stick over the fire. Stephen took it off but didn’t know how to deal with it. Ayve pointed to a bowl filled with water in which a sharp stone lay. Stephen took it and managed to slice the skin above the fish’s belly open with it.

After his worst hunger had been tamed, they descended the path they had come, but halfway turning sharply left. They had to climb over a few rocks that had blocked the way and shielded it from Stephen’s view earlier. All in all it took about twenty minutes to reach another flat space at which’s side a small stream fell down the mountain.

Ayve handed Stephen something like a wooden spade and nodded towards the open area that obviously was used regularly. For a moment Stephen hesitated. They were alone and Stephen had never had problems releasing himself in front of friends in his teens when they had been out for a night but he hadn’t done it in ages and had surely never dreamed of doing it in front of a lover, especially not Ayve. But Ayve was turning towards the waterfall anyway, filling leather pouches with water, so Stephen gave himself a nudge and got it over with.

The more unpleasant thing was the actual washing. Stephen brushed his teeth whilst Ayve was reluming the small fire at near the waterfall and heating some water. Then Stephen undressed with clenched teeth because of the cold and let Ayve douse him with the water that Ayve had incensed with plants and cooled down to a comfortable temperature by mixing it with cold water. Stephen wasn’t at all convinced that he was clean now but that was all he would get and he wouldn’t have been interested in prolonging this ordeal in the cold anyway. Ayve rubbed him dry which at least mended the worst shivers and he dressed as quickly as he could, sitting down by the already deceasing fire for a few moments before they headed back, Ayve carrying the water bags.

Stephen was nearly grateful for the arduous path since that at least warmed him up a little. “You don’t use any metal, do you?” he finally asked to break the silence.

Ayve answered without turning. No. We used to. When I was a small child some people still had knives and metallic jewellery. But most of it was already eaten away by time.

“Why?” Stephen wanted to know, trying to eye Ayve’s ring.

I don’t know. I think we stopped metal processing when we left our fixed dwellings, when we stopped building houses and the like. Stone and wood tools you can easily leave behind and make new when you need them. Metal things are too hard to make so you would have to take them with you when leaving a place which would slow you down, make you more vulnerable. We lack safety to allow for luxury.

***