D'Keda

This morning dawned bright and clear. There’s barely been a cloud in the sky since I’ve landed on the planet. Weather data we collected on the Marco Polo before heading down said my part of the planet is in the middle of their warm season, which is also a major dry spell. I’m grateful for the timing. I can’t imagine making this trek hock deep in snow or sopping wet with rain.

Kohric and I have been slowly trying to exchange vocabulary as we’ve gone on. And today we made a bit more progress. It’s been incredibly difficult. When you think about learning a language on Earth, you generally worry about becoming fluent. You pick up the basics and then work on your vocabulary and grammar until you get really good. Usually you have some sort of teacher or program to guide you.

It’s very, very different when you just don’t have that last bit. There isn’t anyone to ask for help. Even the simplest things are more difficult when you have no common language. This morning, Kohric pointed at a flying creature and said a word. Well, of course he must be saying the Azu-nah word for that animal, right? Well, maybe. Or it may be a word for “flying,” or the word for that class of animal (like “bird” versus “robin”) or he may have been describing its color.

You see where this gets tricky?

So, as you can imagine, it’s taking us a long time to get anything down. At this point, Kohric is actually trying to teach me a set of gestures that will help us teach each other actual vocabulary. For example, when Kohric points at something with his hand open, and all the fingers pointing at the object, I know he’s giving me a general name for a type of thing. “Animal”, for example, would be an open-hand word. A single finger pointed at a thing is its specific name, like “chestha.” This is working well so far. It’s going to get tougher when we get into verbs and other abstract concepts.

Kohric’s an incredibly patient teacher. I wish I could ask him if that’s why he came to meet me.

On our one and only rest break before encountering D’Keda, Kohric switched gears and tried to give me a crash course in Azu-nah manners. That was tough, and our break was a lot longer than the others had been. I got some very basic concepts down at least. A polite greeting involves bobbing your head once, and pressing both your palms to those of the other person. It is not good to touch another person’s things or go into their home/space without permission. Permission is given by word, or another gesture that’s a head bob that ends in a little bow.

I was a nervous wreck as we made our way into D’Keda territory.

As we drew close, I began to see a few signs of habitation. Carvings on the occasional rock, a basket hung on a tree branch, and painted symbols on many of the trees. I kept straining my eyes looking for the main camp. I think I was subconsciously expecting to see something out of a History of Man movie, with a big fire pit surrounded by leather tents, with spears and knives lined up for the next hunting party.

Azu-nah camps are much different.

We approached a spot where there were few trees, a kind of mini-plain. A handful of Azu-nah were crouched there, each worrying at an object in their hands. Kohric whooped and said something to them. After his slow, careful speech with me, he sounded like a Spanish football announcer. The other Azu-nah all jumped up and clustered near me. Their eyes seemed huge with them up close, and they were all speaking to me, but I couldn’t understand more than a handful of words. They were all different colors, and some had some fantastically detailed designs on their bodies.

“Hello,” I squeaked.

Suddenly there were more of them. They came down from the trees. I gaped up at them stupidly, watching as they slithered and slinked down the trunks and branches like an entire tribe of big cats. Amidst the rainbow of Azu-nah, I caught a glimpse of draping hammock-shapes in the trees. I barely had time to register that before the entire tribe crowded near me, chattering excitedly. I felt like the last donut at a corporate morning meeting. The only word I could really pick out was “welcome,” yalalea, which made me feel a bit better. But I still couldn’t help feeling like a piece of meat tossed into a piranha tank.

It took nearly an hour before things quieted down. Each and every one of them insisted on pressing their palms to mine and bobbing an excited greeting. By the end my neck was aching, but I was thrilled. I never expected such an excited, enthusiastic greeting. I figured I’d be the equivalent of the Thing that Ate Schenectady, and there’d be a wary few who’d come near me, while the rest would treat me like a leper.

Kohric seemed to think I’d had enough and brought me to a huge tree with thick, low branches. On one of the lowest was one of those odd, draped hammock things I’d seen before. It was actually more like a tent held suspended in the tree. It wasn’t much bigger than me, really. There’d be enough room for me, my pack, and maybe one other person if they didn’t mind being practically in my lap.

“Home,” Kohric said, pointing at the little hut. He leapt easily up the tree and pulled a flap open for me to see inside. “Yalalea!”

I grinned and followed him up into my new home.