A Prism of Fire

After the hunters set out, Nanahan found me and decided to put me to work again. Basket weaving. Again. My skills haven’t really improved much. And this one was more complicated in that the baskets they were weaving this time were soft and floppy (much more comfy to carry for kilometers on end, but a pain in the ass to make). I think I took even longer than when I made the first one.

I met several of the younger D’Keda members while weaving. Nandi was there too, which surprised me. I figured he would be off on another gathering trip or something. But I’m coming to learn that most everyone does a little bit of everything. Not that I blame them. If I had to weave baskets every day of my life I’d probably end up taking a flying leap in front of the atlatl target one morning.

Nandi started everyone on the Tee-Tee thing as soon as I started working, which dissolved into playful teasing. I only understood maybe a quarter of what they said. They could have been calling me any name under the sun. I knew they were only teasing, but I was still feeling frustrated that I STILL couldn’t understand half of what they said. So I got petty revenge for a few minutes by calling Nandi an annoying little fartnugget. Except they were suddenly all so curious to learn what it meant in English that I quickly changed the topic.

The rest of the morning passed quietly, and I actually had a pretty good time. The weavers, once they’d finished picking on me, began singing like they had the first time I’d been with them. I’ve noticed this in a few other daily chores too. They seem to incorporate music while they do almost everything. Sometimes it seems like they’re pre-learned, traditional songs. Other times it’s like a improvised rhythm with a series of hummed harmonies.

I really like it. It makes tedious chores more enjoyable. I really enjoyed having such a peaceful morning.

Soon after mid-day, though, the quiet gave way to chaos. It began when the hunting party came barreling in, all of them shouting at once. They looked upset. Everyone came rushing of course, and gathered around the party to listen. The shouting subsided and one of the hunters began to speak. He was talking very quickly, and I could barely catch more than a few words. Nandi carefully explained it to me afterward.

One of the hunters had died. He’d been ambushed and dragged away by a redeka.

The assembled group dissolved relatively quickly after everyone had heard the story. Then it was back to their chores. They all seemed subdued, but there was almost no outward sign of mourning.

One individual Azu-nah approached the central area once everyone had gone. He unrolled a fat pouch that revealed itself to be several smaller, attached pouches full of different colored powders. He’d take small handfuls of powder and make shapes with it as it ran out of his hands. I’ve seen sand art on Earth. That is usually quiet elaborate, and is painstakingly slow to create. This was … more organic. He was quite graceful as he drew, and used both hands at once to make these beautiful swirling shapes on the ground.


No one else paid him any mind, and eventually Nanahan came over to me and gently drew me away. “Ana-kan must do alone,” she explained. I blinked, feeling dumb. This was D’Keda’s Kan, the shaman-doctor Kohric had told me about. And here I am oogling him while he works on some sort of last rites ritual for the dead. Aaaahh. I suck.

Fortunately no one seemed offended.

I got to see the final purpose of the shaman’s work at sunset. He’d laid out a circle, perhaps about two meters in diameter, and filled it with his powder drawings. He’d lined the outside with wood, and there was more wood incorporated into the drawings inside.

The entire clan (perhaps forty individuals) quickly gathered and arranged themselves around the circle. Kohric and Nandi moved to stand on either side of me. The shaman began a low, swaying chant, which everyone joined almost immediately. When they’d finished, the shaman bent, a shadowed something in each hand, and cracked the objects together, sweeping a shower of sparks down across his drawing.

The entire drawing came alive with brilliant light. For a single moment, each carefully drawn line of the image seemed to glow. The pieces of wood formed shadowy outlines, framing the entire piece. Then it erupted into brilliant, multicolor flames. The wood caught and burned, and the entire circle became an enormous prismatic bonfire.

There was much more singing, a great deal of dancing around the fire, the departed hunter’s name was constantly spoken. I understood very little of any of it, unfortunately. There were also more handfuls of the mineral powder thrown on the fire, causing it to continue burning in such a myriad of colors. Figures that would be common on Minerva. Most of those chemicals are chlorides of some sort, and the planet is rotten with chlorine. It was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

The ceremony ended when the fire burned down to a few red embers. Everyone resumed their original position around the circle, leaned back their heads, and gazed upward to the clear night sky. It was utterly quiet. No one moved or spoke, and our fire and dancing earlier had silenced any loud night creatures nearby. It was an incredibly intense moment, and it felt very…. well, holy is the only word I can think of that comes close.

Tonight is an experience that will stay with me for many, many years to come.