Chapter 11

“Someone’s coming!”

John was immediately alert, in case the wanderers were returning, having got over their earlier fright. The ‘someone’ came out of the trees and John recognised him as Tarka, their wandering Maker. He wondered where Tarka had been, for John had last seen him somewhere in the cave before the wanderers arrived. Yes, in the line-up of ‘warriors’.

The guard waved Tarka on and he trudged up to where John was standing. As he arrived, John’s nose jerked.

“Tarka, you stink!”

“That is the normal smell of humans, John. You have forgotten this, having changed your tribe’s washing regime. My smell is deliberate.

I decided to trail the wanderers, to make sure they didn’t go anywhere we didn’t want them, so I didn’t want to smell of soap. That would have given me away. I slapped on some mud from around the trees, to disguise my clean smell, and they never saw or heard me.”

“Good thinking, Tarka. What did you discover by your tracking?”

“They were not thinking of anything except getting away, so they followed the stream all the way to the river, and then downstream from there. They stopped to eat what food they had and hunt for more, so I decided I would leave at that time and return. I know that they were not headed for the Farfarers Tribe, so they won’t interfere with our plans in that direction.”

“Good news, Tarka. Thanks for your quick thinking. Now go and clean yourself up. I prefer the soap-washed smell!”

Tarka chuckled as he left for the stream.

John wondered when Tarka would remember he needed the soap.

Thinking about Tarka, John was reminded about the promised visit to the Chief of the Farfarers. The warriors were obviously ready with costumes, including masks, and they could stand and look fierce, and some at least could march in their regalia. He needed to be certain that the guard of honour were fully prepared for the visit as a guard of honour. That was the question he must put to Numa.

Then there was the need for a gift to present to the Chief on arrival. What would be best for that?

He strolled into the cave and found Numa.

“Numa my sweet, this visit to the Farfarers? Our honour guard needs to be fully trained on marching and weapons control; and we need to offer a gift to the Chief. What can you tell me about such preparations, love?”

“You should stop worrying about such matter, darling; just leave it to me your other wives. We have it in hand. Our team of eight have been practising, mostly while you have been out of the way, so you can take it that they will be ready by tomorrow. As for a gift, I thought that soap for the Chief’s wife and family would be well received. They have four girls and three boys, so it will be much used; but Sheila suggested adding some of the healing ointment as a present from our shaman.”

“From our shaman?” John was a trifle put out, until Numa reminded him, “That is you, my man.”

“Oh, yes; you said, until we get our own one.”

“Quite, but Sheila is running low on that stuff today, so she has got a couple of girls working on preparing another batch. Hopefully it will be ready tomorrow, if the demands of our visitors lessen. Some of them were banged around a bit; these wanderers are not nice people.”

“Perhaps I should have killed some more of them.”

“You did fine as it was, John. You can’t do everything at the one time. Don’t overdo things.”

The duty guard gave another warning call, of more visitors. This turned out to be a teenage boy with two teenage girls. They looked tired, very tired, and were probably hungry.

They stood still when challenged by the duty guard, who was not wearing a mask, and reluctantly stumbled up the slope towards the cave. The guard was chivvying them, telling them they had to report to the Chief, but before that could happen, one of the ex-captives, a man, called out, “Bondola? Is that you? You are alive, boy?”

The lad jerked his head up and stared at the man.

“What are you doing here, sir?”

“Bondola, our tribe was attacked and many people were killed – all the older ones. Those that the wanderers thought they could sell as slaves, they took with them when they left, after burning the huts. This tribe rescued us. How did you escape?”

The lad glanced at the two girls with him, and reddened. He decided to tell the truth.

“Sorry, sir, but when these two set out to collect berries and nuts, I went with them, for their protection from animals.” He hung his head in shame before going on, “When we heard the tribe being attacked, my only thought was to protect the girls, so we headed out, away from the fighting. I am sorry I didn’t stay to defend the tribe.”

“Lad, I thought the three of you had been killed. Many people were indiscriminately killed during the first attack, before anyone had time to pick up weapons. By the time you would have got back, it was too late; you would have died. It is as well you stayed away. Some of your friends are here with us. The boys are pretty battered and the girls were raped, so you girls were lucky Bondola was there for you.”

By this time John was standing nearby with Numa, listening to the exchange. Numa saw John’s fascination, so was first to speak.

“Welcome to John’s Tribe, you three. You look tired. Are you hungry?”

One of the girls burst out, “Aren’t we just? All we have had is the berries and nuts we were picking at the time. We have been on the move ever since, avoiding any sound of humans in the forest. Every time we heard someone, we hid ourselves and stayed quiet.”

The other girl added, “We found the stream down there, and we thought we could guddle some fish.”

“Guddle?” asked Numa. John put a hand on her arm. “It means to catch fish with your hands at a river bank or under a rock. Go on, young lady.”

“Well, our attention was on the stream and we were so tired that we didn’t notice your spear-man ... spear-woman. That was a surprise.”

Numa told her, “It is normal in John’s tribe. Men and woman are treated the same, so all adults have to be prepared to fight for the tribe.”

“ALL? Such as us girls?”

“If you have become a woman, then yes. You will soon learn how to use a spear, girl; I promise you. You will probably learn knife-fighting as well, if you stay with us.”

The teenager glanced at Bondola before asking, “What if a girl gets married? Will she still have to learn spear-fighting?”

“If you have a man, would you want to be able to fight to protect him; or leave it all to him to do the protecting?”

“Yes, I see. What if I was pregnant?”

“It would be useful to be able to protect your child, before or after it was born, surely?”

“But if I was big in the belly?”

“Have your spear to hand, and if an attacker comes to you, kill him before he can kill you. It is as simple as that, girl. All these girls who were raped? Do you think it would have happened if they had been able to fight off the wanderers? This tribe met the wanderers and showed them we were prepared to fight, and they backed down; even released their captives to us. That is a sign of a powerful tribe, young lady. Take note of it.”

“Yes, mam. You seem to be a powerful woman too.”

“I am Numa, Chief wife of John Hunter, our tribe’s great Chief. Chief John stands before you, allowing me to speak while he assesses you. He is the one who says whether you can stay.”

The girls looked frightened at the possibility that they would not be allowed to stay. They looked round at Bondola, and John twigged that they both fancied Bondola. He decided to speak.

“Do you girls have names, or are you just Bondola’s women?”

“Oh, sir, I am Breda and this is Treema. We are best friends, and as for Bondola, we don’t know what he thinks of us, or wants of us, apart from the usual.”

Bondola suddenly twigged that this was tantamount to an invitation to claim them as his women, and he liked the idea.

“Girls, I have admired the both of you for a long while, but I have not dared to say so, until know. Would you like to be my women?”

Breda, the more voluble one, risked, “Do you mean as your wives, Bondola? Both of us?”

Bondola burst out, “Gosh! Would you really? I would be the happiest man in the world if you were my girls, my wives!”

Numa corrected him, “No, the happiest man is Chief John with his family of, let me see: Me, Noma, Gomla, Gimla, Gervla, Raka, Sheila and Vickie: that is eight wives and concubines. A really powerful chief, don’t you think, girls?”

“Eight women?” Bondola was astonished. “You are a great man indeed, Chief John. May we join your tribe, as it seems our own tribe has been destroyed?”

John told him, in a solemn voice, “From what I have heard, you ran away as the best deacision at the time, due to lack of knowledge of fighting. If all three of you are willing to assume that new responsibility, alongside the rest of our tribe, then welcome to your new tribe, youngsters.”

The girls were only half listening to John, as they were busy swamping Bondola with their kisses. Bondola was likewise more attentive to them than to John, so he ended up mumbling, “Sorry, Chief. Can you say that again?”

John waited until the threesome had ceased their antics, and repeated his words. Bondola looked at his two women, and after getting a nod from each, said, “Sir, on behalf of me and my wives-to-be, we accept your offer and the conditions.”

Numa giggled at the threesome, and added, “girls, the Chief will formally declare your marriage, but we should wait until a calmer moment to do such a declaration. Take your man away and tell him how much you appreciate him, girls, BUT first of all, see the soap-makers and get a bar of soap and instruction in how to use it; then you must al three go to the stream and wash yourselves clean. After your adventures, you most certainly need a wash. Using soap will get a lot more dirt and sweat off you, girls. Bondola, you must make yourself thoroughly clean as well. Your wives will expect you to smell nice and not stink of old sweat when they get together with you. Bondola: another thing. Before you make love to your wives, consult some of the men of our tribe about such matters. We have new and better ways of lovemaking, that you should learn and teach your wives.”

This got her some confusion from the trio, until John told Bondola: “Go and have a chat with Tarka, young man. Ask him about making love to a wife. You will be surprised. Girls, go speak with Tarka’s new wife, Skola, and ask the same thing.

Before you do that, you should discuss what you want from each other in a marriage. It is important to know what the other party expects.”

The three went off to find a quiet spot to be together and talk things over. John putted Numa on the shoulder, saying “that was good advice you gave them.”

“Thanks, darling. My first husband could have done with that advice. He always followed the tribal traditions slavishly; never thought for himself.”

“Oh, that is sad. You deserved better than that.”

“John, I now HAVE better than that, and I am happy with it. If that man ever reappears – which I doubt – I am telling him that he abandoned the marriage and I have remarried to a better husband.”

“So we need to show more and more people that both sexes are just as valuable to the tribe. They have different talents and abilities, but so do the range of men in a tribe. There is no viable rationale for keeping women as less important than men. It is a sign of deliberate domination, and has become institutionalised.”

“Good grief, John, you introduce words I have never heard before. Institutionalised? What the heck does that mean?”

“To put it into your context, Numa, it means that society has assumed that a practice can continue without comment, as nobody has objected to it in the past. Well, we are now objecting to it, and changing the practice entirely, within our tribe. Hopefully this will expand into other tribes.”

Numa switched topics.

“John, what are you going to discuss with the Farfarer Chief? It will be all you, for those of us that began in that tribe will not want to speak and give ourselves away. It will be different when we chat to women, as most of then either will not know us, or won’t dare to admit knowing us, as we are now female warriors. Warriors are to be feared, remember.”

“I get you, Numa. Dare I introduce the subject of equality, or is it too risky for now?”

“See how it goes, love, and take the chance if it is offered. I would be happy for you to say that the research and manufacture of soap is all done by women. It is a man who is our sales distributor to other tribes, and that is because they expect a man to do that job.

That proves our ability without undermining any male. Discuss moccasins as well, where you can indicate that cutting out the material and putting the shoes together can be done by any competent person, male or female. These topics might make it possible for you to mention that new ideas and new competences can come from anyone, so you should encourage everyone to contribute, and not restrict it to men.”

John answered, “What about the healing ointment that Sheila produces? Is that not a female-only task?”

Numa laughed. “Don’t say that in the presence of the Shaman. He regards salves and ointments as his province. It is one of his ways of exerting control over people. The man is a control freak, all right. I would not take Sheila there, or he might attack her.”

“A man to be avoided, eh?”

“You certainly don’t want to slight him, or he will seek revenge at the first opportunity, John.”

“But listen, Numa; I don’t intend to belittle my own medical person to avoid embarrassing a guy in another tribe. Sheila earns her keep here, doesn’t she?”

“That is a fact, John. She has fitted in well, both in the tribe and in our family. She doesn’t moan about not getting enough of your rod, as I thought might happen. She has seen the way the tribe operates, and put herself into that way of thinking. I can see her being happy having her baby alongside one of the other girls, and not wanting to be first to be attended to. She is not at all like Vickie said she had been. Is there an underlying reason for that?”

“There is. Environment is the word for it. The surroundings you are in, the people around you, tends to affect how you react to people. Where she was before, she was fighting to be an important woman, so she was nasty to other important women. She gave verbal slights before the other person could get theirs in – in her own estimation. Here, there is no similar competitive environment, so she could relax and be her true self. And it works.”

“Anyway, my darling husband, it looks as if you can make your trip to the Farfarers Chief later tomorrow, or early the day after. How long do you estimate you and your honour guard will take to get there?”

“Based on my last trip, a bit longer with the girls along, and having to carry the drum; then we have to stop at some suitable spot no far short of the Farfarers camp, and line up with masks and spears, to mark from there into the camp. I don’t want to have to march far as a group, so I think we will stop, put on the masks, then walk together a bit further, and when the trail is wider, we can adopt the guard formation. Do you think it would look better if I am in front, at the back, or in the middle of the guard group?”

“I think your guard should precede you, John, and your drummer should be another warrior similarly masked. It will be our tribe’s badge: the masked warriors, or the fierce warriors.!

“You are right. Carrying that drum as well as keeping the beat regular and strong, will be hard work. A man, do you think, Numa?”

“Good thinking, John. I will test Bondola on the drum, and if he can’t manage to keep a beat, we’ll see which of the others of his bunch can beat the drum satisfactorily.”

“In that case, we’ll base our start on the morrow, to give us time to get a good drummer for the visit. I had better prime Gereda to go ahead of us and sneak in to get his girlfriend while the visit proceeds.”

Bondola and his women were found at the site of the second fire. Gomla was giving instructions on how to build a fire with as little smoke as possible, along with the injunction to put it out at dusk, and also not to disturb the wood ashes, as they needed to be collected in the morning before the next fire was lit there. They had got a good blaze going when one of the new men appeared, asking for Bondola to go back to the cave. The girls insisted on going with him, as they did not feel safe without him, so the man took over the fire with Gomla explaining the procedure and why.

Back at the cave, Bondola was shown the drum by Numa, and told what was required by a drummer. He blinked in surprise, but was willing to have a try.

He soon understood about using his hand with a drumstick, and could bang a consistent noise. Numa explained that this repetition was a drumbeat, and the target was to keep the same consistent pace of beats for a long time. She asked him to start beating regularly and see how long he could keep it going without becoming tired.

Recognising that his two mates were watching, Bondola concentrated and was soon quite proficient at a regular beat of the drum. Numa waited for him to falter, but his pride would not let him fail. He persisted for minute after minute, until Numa was satisfied he could do the job tomorrow.

She got him to stop, and informed him that his task for the tribe was to do exactly the same tomorrow, but while marching with the guard of honour into the Farfarers campsite.

“You have to keep the beat steady, and the warriors will march to the beat you give them, so it has to be strong, consistent, and continue until one of the warriors declares ‘Halt.’ Do you think you can do that?”

“Can I try walking around beating it, Numa, to make sure I can do both at the same time?”

She granted that to be important, and he was soon walking backwards and forwards outside the cave, from one side of the grass to the other and back again. He soon adopted an easy swing to his body, and timed his beats to the way his marching went. Several of the guards came out and started marching behind him, to get used to this procession style.

Numa noted this, and told John, “The format must be: the drummer leading, followed by the honour guard, followed by the Chief of John’s Tribe. That should work, John.”

John nodded. “I like it, Numa. It seems natural, yet gives the right impression of controlled might.”

Numa went around to all those involved in the visit, and explained the plan of advance to the entrance of the Farfarers campsite.

John wanted to know who would be the warriors in the guard of honour, but Numa told him that it was best that he did not know, so that he would treat them all as warriors, and nothing more. Each warrior would carry a part of the Chief’s gift, to be handed over on arrival. He saw the rationale behind that, and accepted it. When it came time to leave, the group set themselves up in the order they expected to arrive, so Bondola, complete with drum, led off, followed by the warrior group. The warriors carried, but did not wear, their masks, but all John could see was their backs, so he still did not know who was present.

Gereda appeared and informed him that he would get a little ahead of the group, and where the track widened, not far from the Farfarers, he would sneak off on his own to the edge of the encampment, ready to go collect his girl. John told him to do that and keep to himself, and head back to the cave as soon as he had his woman safely away.

It was a long slow trek to the Farfarers campsite, and fortunately there was no rain, so it was a fairly pleasant walk, despite its length.

Finally one of the warriors called a halt.

“Here is where we put on our masks, before we reach the approach position.”

They still had to walk another half mile to the selected part of the track where it became wide enough to march two abreast. They stopped and formed up. One or two had to adjust their moccasins to be more comfortable for the final march, then Bondola started his steady drum beat at the low sound level. John had asked him to start low, as if at a distance, then make the drumming louder, as if they were coming closer. He also began marching on the spot, to the beat of the drum.

The guard of honour also began marching on the spot, so that they were all in step before moving. Watching to be sure they were ready, Bondola started to march forward, and the guard of honour fell in behind him, their bags hung on their backs. John let the last two warriors move off, then joined them three paces behind.

To the gateway warriors, there was the sound of a drum slowly coming closer, then staying steady as the deputation came into sight. A drummer wearing a fierce mask let the group, a double file of warriors forming a phalanx, and they could vaguely see that someone was coming behind them.

The procession came to the entranceway, and the drummer stopped for a moment and his drum fell silent. He announced, “Chief John of John’s Tribe demands admission, to visit Chief Mongo of the Farfarers!”

The guards stepped aside to allow the procession to continue, but one of them stepped in front of the drummer, saying, “I will lead you to the Chief’s hut.”, and turned to walk forward.

The drummer resumed his drumming, and the honour guard similarly started marching again. The procession made its way to the Chief’s hut near the centre of the tribe. The beat of the drum alerted everyone to stay out of the way as the visitors progressed, Chief John resplendent in his Stripie fur tunic at the rear.

The guard arrived at the Chief’s hut, and declared as soon as the drum ceased, “Chief John is here to visit Chief Mongo!” The warriors, at a quiet commend from their leader, halted and immediately stepped one pace to each side, forming an avenue for Chief John to walk through. The drummer also stepped to the side, to join the other fiercely-masked warriors.

Chief Mongo was already at his doorway to see what the noise was. He was suitably impressed by the performance, and stood still as Chief John walked through the guard of honour to face him.

“Chief Mongo? I am Chief John. I understand I was invited to call on you.”

The middle-aged Chief looked John up and down, as if examining him for acceptability. Next he looked at the guard of honour and the drummer, and their fierce faces. He nodded in approval, and said to John, “I like your method of arrival, Chief John. That noisemaker is quite something. Can you make me one for my tribe to use?”

John indicated willing. “Yes, I am sure we can have one made for your use. Would you like it to make a slightly different sound? That way, your warriors will know which drum is which, if we ever find ourselves fighting together.”

“Good idea, youngster. You younger men manage to devise new ways of doing things, some of them good, like this one. I am not so sure of the fierce masks on your warriors.”

John reassured him, “That is for our tribe only, Chief Mongo. It is part of what I like to call our uniform: a style of dress for war that makes all of our warriors identical in looks, and shows everyone which are our warriors. I am planning ahead, for when our tribe is much larger and more powerful.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Mongo commented with much less enthusiasm. “You are aiming at taking over other tribes, are you?”

John waved his hand from side to side, indicating dismissal of that idea.

“Not at all, Mongo. We aim at growing by assimilation; by encouraging people to come and join us. That is a better way of becoming greater. Taking over other tribes is always bad, for the tribesmen will be resentful at their tribe being taken over. They will, feel that they have been conquered, and naturally reject it.

Coming to us by themselves, due to our great reputation, conveys the correct welcoming attitude in our people, and the newcomers will find it easier to fit into our ways of doing things.”