A NOVEL SET IN PREHISTORY
The Oak People
Chapter 10: The naming of Hua
Bidari
Nuno is lower down the slope, calling up to Bidari to hurry, but it is hopeless. They will never get back down to the cave in time. Balqa is in the land of death and even the stars will be lost in this thick cloud. When darkness falls, they will not be able to see their own feet. Bidari is exhausted. He has been fighting the wind on the mountain top all day and now does he have to fight his younger brother too?
It seems so long since he woke this morning to the sound of cursing. The rain had blown into the cave, putting the fires out. Worse still, Bakar’s precious stash of firestone had got wet and it was ruined. There was nothing to be done but go to the quarry for more.
At first, when the day was new, it felt good to be climbing the mountain with Nuno, like starting on a hunt. But a cool wind had been whipping rain into their faces all day, the sudden gusts forcing them to cling to whatever they could find. It was well after midday before they reached the place. Chiselling deep into the wet face of the rock, he had found it first — a dull yellow layer. They had hacked the firestone out together, the uneven lumps glinting darkly in their hands. Bidari had stowed them quickly away from the light, so they would not lose their power.
‘Dari!’ Nuno’s voice from below is fainter now. ‘Come on!’
Bidari curses. Nuno is a fool if he thinks they can get back to the cave in the waning light. He surveys the slopes, unfamiliar shapes under their lush green winter cover. Perhaps if they can find the path that leads to the pear trees, they could sleep in that place where the rock overhangs the path. He pictures the space. It’s safe, but will there be room for them both?
He calls to his brother and waits till Nuno appears, bent double from climbing back up. ‘I know a place where we can sleep.’ Bidari says. ‘It’s not far.’
Nuno is impatient. ‘What’s the matter with you? We can get back before dark.’
Bidari begins to waver. If they don’t get back with the firestone, how will the others start the night fire? As he peers out into the gathering darkness, he hears a low growling, coming from below them on the mountain. Both men freeze, listening intently. The sound does not come again. Without a word, Bidari starts back up in the direction of the shelter and Nuno follows him.
Bidari wakes in the early light. Nuno is curled beside him in the small space under the overhang, snoring. Shuffling on his buttocks towards the opening, Bidari’s fingers touch something hard and cold: a hand axe — more than one. They are sharp enough but roughly struck. He picks one up but it feels too small for his palm. The tools puzzle him. How did they get here?
He climbs down to the path from the ledge and starts to piss. Before he has finished, the crack of a falling stone comes from behind. He spins round. Something is moving, higher up the slope. The mountain cat they heard last night? He calls out to Nuno, then searches around for something to defend himself with. He waits and watches, but there is no further movement on the mountainside. Instead, Nuno’s eyes are peering at him from the gap, his hair sticking out in every direction. Bidari bursts out laughing and now Nuno is shinning down and jumping on top of him and they are fighting like they used to when they were boys.
For the first time in days, Eshtu is climbing joyfully in a clear blue sky. In the light the walk down to the cave is easy and Nuno goes on ahead, singing. Bidari’s belly is empty and he thinks of what food is left in the cave. Acorn meal. He screws up his nose; however long the acorns are soaked, they still taste bitter. He makes a detour to the nearest spring and drinks, then searches carefully in the vegetation nearby. Squatting down, he loosens the roots of some charlock from the moist red soil, cleans them under the flow of cold water and bites into their fresh sharpness with relish. Ansa comes into his thoughts. Is she getting enough to eat? She has carried the child all through the wet, cold winter, when food was scarce. He must catch her something. The lizards will be out basking again soon, when the days grow warmer.
After the rain and the wind, he is grateful for the touch of Eshtu’s fingers on his back, but something else is different too. The birds are singing as if they have a glad secret. Bidari looks up into the sky and lifts his arms in welcome. There, almost too weak to make out against the blue of the morning sky, is the sharpest blade of white. The familiar thrill courses through his body. Balqa has returned to them and, this time, he brings the summer with him.
Bidari breaks into a run and now he can see Nuno, below, at the place where the tracks cross. Ikomar, his wife, has come to meet them and she’s holding something in her hands. They look up and Nuno begins to wave and shout. The bundle Ikomar carries is wrapped in leaves, dark with blood. There has been a kill!
He bounds down the path and now Nuno is embracing him, his face full of excitement. Ikomar pulls back the leaves to show him. There has been no kill. It is an afterbirth — the cord still attached. No wonder Ikomar is cradling the meat so carefully. She will cook it to eat and then, perhaps, she will grow a child at last.
‘It’s a girl. Come and see!’ Ikomar cries, tugging at his arm.
All at once, Bidari understands. While he was up on the mountain, Ansa has given birth! Dropping his bag on the ground, Bidari takes the short cut, scrambling down the slope, zig-zagging between the outcrops of rock. Old Esti is sitting at the cave entrance with blind Bakar, minding the smaller children.
‘Bidari! You’ve got a daughter!’
She struggles to her feet, eager to be the one to show him, but her husband holds her back. He peers, unseeing, in Bidari’s direction and calls out in his cracked voice: ‘Where is it? Did you get it?’
Bidari looks at the blind man blankly, then remembers the firestone. ‘Yes, Uncle. It’s safe — Nuno has it.’ He turns to Esti. ‘Where is Ansa? Has my mother finished with her?’
‘Yes, yes, they’re inside!’
Bidari bends his head and passes into the cool of the cave. A buzz of talk reaches him from over by the wall. The others move back, leaving only his mother, kneeling beside Ansa. Koru is holding the baby in the crook of her arm, and she beckons to him.
As his eyes become accustomed to the dim light, he can see the change in Ansa’s belly. He squats down in front of her, grasping both her hands. Her skin feels warm and dry. Relieved, he peers into her face. She smiles at him shyly and then leans back against the rock. The birth has exhausted her.
Leaving her to rest, Bidari turns to his mother. Her eyes are wet with tears and she pulls his head to her wrinkled breast and kisses it, like she used to when he was a boy. Then she gently pushes him away, wiping her eyes with the flat of her hand.
‘You must name the baby.’
Bidari kneels down on the ground and Koru places the baby in his arms, showing him how to hold the child’s head. The bundle feels surprisingly heavy. Bidari pulls back the goat skin and peers at the child. A girl, they said. The baby’s movements seem strong as she wriggles in his arms and her little legs and arms are fat. But it is her eyes that hold him. She is looking straight into his face, but she doesn’t seem to see him.
He looks up anxiously to his mother. ‘Is she blind?’
‘No, no. Her eyes are weak now, but they will become strong.’
Koru smiles at his ignorance and he notices new lines in her weathered face, drawn there by the pain of her winter illness. One day I will lose her. With the thought comes a crushing in Bidari’s chest. Although he has Ansa, it is not the same. She never opens her heart to him.
He pushes the dark thoughts away. This baby has been born at a good time — after the winter cold and before the heat of summer brings the fevers. More than likely, she will survive and grow strong. And she has come from his own body. He remembers, too, what he saw in the sky and his face opens into a smile. This child has been born on the day of Balqa’s return. Bidari carefully places the baby back in Ansa’s arms. Lifting his arm and wiping his fingers across his armpit, he smears the baby’s forehead with his own sweat.
‘Hua. A new day. Her name will be Hua,’ he announces.
Thank you for reading. Chapter 11 coming soon …
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