 it
was theatre night in clan comri, a biweekly event that caer never
missed. she walked along the lane from the commonplace, the lovely
cluster of stone thatched-roof huts where the clan's shared property
was housed, and which included the windfarm and the solar heaters and
the clan's last remaining computer, with its rich naïve history of the
ancient civilized world, in the old, awkward tongue that, when 'spoken'
by the elders who still knew how, scared the children with its
gruffness and severity.
the new generation of the clan had
evolved a new language, which was sung rather than spoken, with each
sound, depending on inflection and tone and duration, representing an
idea, object or action and its qualifiers. the elders said that it was
only natural that the comri invent a language based on song, since
their old tongue was sing-song-like anyway, and everyone knew the comri
had the best voices in the world. the young had picked up and enriched
this new language, and, through the nomad network, had spread it to
other clans. it was said that the comri could understand and
communicate with the birds.
caer loved this lane, rich with wild
berries and currants and surrounded on all sides by the deciduous
forest that had reclaimed most of the great british island since the
demise of civilization over a century before. she spread her arms wide
to touch the leaves and branches of the trees on either side as she
walked, and delighted as the cool drops of a recent rain showered off
the leaves into her hair and onto her breasts and legs.
<<ye
walk like a wild filli, so ye're perfect for the role of the black
beauty>>, one of the elders had told her, and after her
experience acting as that famous horse on theatre night, caer had
fallen in love with acting, and studied each performance she attended
with delight and intensity.
nearly all of the sixty members of
clan comri were there for theatre night, along with several young
nomads, students from other clans who were visiting, learning the comri
ways, sharing the learnings of other clans, and bringing the disks with
the latest lore for the computer. as the actors set up in the round
clearing surrounded by the flat limestone outcrops on which the
audience would sit, the members of the clan sang to each other, and
were entertained by musicians and magicians, to the delight of the
rosy-faced children.
the chef-artists had prepared a
vegetarian feast of leeks and cabbage, potatoes and onions, apples and
pears, wild mushrooms, berries, and oats, and of course bara-lawr, the
exquisite bread made with oats and native seaweed that had sustained
the comri peoples since long before the civilization had come and gone.
at one time these feasts included lamb and bacon, but since the time of
the prion-diseases the eating of farmed animals had become deadly, so
comri resourcefulness had substituted vegetable oils but otherwise kept
the recipe unchanged from what it had been for over a millennium.
in
the centre of the stage was a wicker-framed coracle boat, a prop that
indicated that the play was set in a foreign land near the sea. a
tartan draped over the boat suggested that it was set in the
loch-lands. caer had spent some of her nomad time at clan moray in
those lands. some of the actors were wearing kirtles and doublets -- so
strange that the 'civilization' people saw fit to wear clothes, so
uncomfortable and disguising of the beauty of the human body! caer had
had to wear a costume when she played the black beauty, and found it
frighteningly constraining and uncomfortable. and it covered up all her
tattoos, adornments and body jewelery, the very epitome of her
individuality! never in her twenty years of life had she felt so
imprisoned, and by mere cloth.
several of caer's friends and
lovers had joined her on the limestones around the grassy stage, and
now the play began. it was the story of a laird and his wife, rich and
ambitious people from civilization time. when the actors sang their
parts, the children in the audience shrieked with laughter at the
trills and flourishes that they added to the words of their songs, as
their parents explained to them that such extravagances in language and
fashion and manner were common in those days. the story was very
violent and disturbing to caer and the other young members of the
audience -- the laird, urged on by his wife, killed many people to
become and stay as 'king' of their clan.
the next play was
meant for children, and was a short play based on an ancient fable
about creatures called 'tribbles'. at first the tribbles were cute and
adorable, but soon they multiplied so much that they overran the stage
and got out of control. the play was traditionally used to introduce
children in the clan to the importance of using birth control.
after
the theatre, there were drinks and potions and more magic tricks, and
then the people slowly made their way back to the communal sleeping
area. caer played with her friends for awhile, and then went for a walk
with zan, a young man she was especially fond of. she presented him
with a poem
in the old tongue that she had found on the computer, and which, she
said, blushing, reminded her of their time together. she loved him, she
said, and the red lipstick she had used to paint and accentuate her
pubis was an expression of the joy that love brought out in her. they
then made love, slowly, gently, caer laughing and joking and urging zan
on with loud joyous songs, zan more restrained, focused, serious.
as they lay in the afterglow zan sang that he wished he could have her all to himself, and caer began to cry.
<<ye nae like yeself much, that ye must hae me as a personal trophy, as a possession>>, she sang, miserably, her voice breaking. <<i've said before, tis unhealthy, that>>.
<<i
just can't bear others hae'ing yer body>>, he replied
plaintively. <<the thought of ye laughing and coming with them as
they're inside ye, just makes me crazy! i can tolerate when yer loving
wit' the girls, but not wit' other boys>>.
<<there
be lots of me to go around>>, she sang back, with great distress,
<<tis not like ye have to wait in line for me! i'm here for you
and we can play whenever you like. but look ye i have to be free.
ye lock me up for yer exclusive use i'll just be miserable, like a
caged bird, no good for ye nor anyone. don't ask me to make such a
sacrifice!>>
they lay down and slept at the edge of the
commonplace, in the comfort of one of the solar heaters. when caer
awoke, zan was gone. he had left her a note.
. . . . .
<<he's
gone>>, she sang to her mother. <<become a nomad again, he
has. what is't wit' some people -- the jealous young and the senile old
and the angry in-between -- that they be obliged to make others so
unhappy, and for naught? is't a disease of the head, and what causes
it? haen't we learnt enough from the history stories, like the show
last night about ambition and last month's show about ishmael and the
great forgetting? is't some tragic flaw of gaia that she inflicts on us
to make us wary, or what is't?>>
her mother thought for a
moment, and then replied: <<i think it's gaia's trick on us. she
is a great experimenter, always inventing those that is a little
different from the rest, to see what works and what doesn't, in her
evolutionary way. that is what has led us to be what we are now, you
know. as she learns what works and what doesn't, so do we, and that's
important, learning, to keep us from another great forgetting, such as
those poor folks back in civilization had to endure, before they blew
themselves up in despair, and most of gaia with them.>>
<<your
poor boy zan>>, she continued, <<tho' I know ye love him
dearly, is a messenger to ye and to us from gaia that we must never
again forget who we really are, never allow others to imprison us in a
world pretend-controlled by humans. your friend's departure is gaia's
trickster wink at us, my love -- she is teaching ye, and us, the
critical art and skill of letting go.>>
caer
hugged her mother, crying, and walked away, along the narrow lane
between the thick woodlands towards the commonplace. and soon she heard
the whisper-song of invitation, the laughter of her young friends and
lovers seducing her into the forest and away from the sadness. she
sighed, smiled, reached out an arm, and was drawn in, surrounded by
hugs and kisses of love and consolation -- and then suddenly tagged
with the yellow die that made her 'it'. she gasped in surprise, and
laughed, and chased after the others to join the game.
(As regular readers will have guessed, this story segment is practice-writing for one of the chapters in The Only Life We Know.) |
MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
