Sa Henjei Zemeji (( In Their Land ))
Jon Breselle
A narrow peninsula and accompanying chain of volcanic islands runs along the northeastern coast of Mikramurka, Matar, well above the planet's northern polar circle. This region is known as “Komak” and it is one of a handful of largely undeveloped wilderness regions to be found anywhere, on any of the homeworlds.
The people of this region are known as the Komak as well, and the clans here comprise the Komak Kinship Group, or “sub-tribe” in colloquial language. Here, the Star-Fire clan, or “Amankezei” as they call themselves, still maintain their nomadic existence, traveling north in the summer to fish for salmon in the Nyakii River, south in the winter to the forests along Uhr River.
On an unremarkable summer day, along the banks of the Nyakii River, a young member of the Star-Fire clan did not feel much like fishing. The young woman – girl, technically, and for a little while longer – sat on a flat rock, well warmed by the sun, working at her family's other trade. In her lap lay a bundle of cloth and leather, and next to her lay a small bag which contained her needles, awl, threads, and other sundries which she required to do her work.
No one seemed to mind that she was not helping with the fishing, even her parents. Tomorrow would mark the beginning of her Voluval, a ritual which would last for several days and which would, on its completion, confer adulthood on her, full membership within the Clan. All around, people speared salmon, smoked salmon, cleaned salmon, but she was not expected to help with the task; not today. She had far more important things to prepare for, after all. She simply sat on her rock, working on her dress, trying to calm the swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
Avlænkaa Tarkja was, frankly, absolutely terrified. She was not making much progress on her dress – she had been trying to finish it for weeks – but she was also just trying to keep her mind occupied. She was excited, of course, eager to receive her adult naming mark, her rank markings, and to officially take her place among her Clan, but the ritual was demanding and not without its risks. So lost was she in her thoughts that she never heard her “auntie” approaching.
“Ava?” the woman called as she waded through the waist-deep water, making no attempt to be quiet. Avlænkaa – everyone called her “Ava” – looked up quickly, startled at the voice.
“Oh, hello Kyllsa.” Avlænkaa said, setting her sewing down and scooting over, making room for Kyllsa to share her rock.
Kyllsa waded out of the water and sat down on the rock with a wet plop. Kyllsa was perhaps fifteen years older than Ava and was the seida, or “shaman”, of their clan. She sat down next to Ava, impossibly wet from head to toe for someone who had been wading in water which barely reached to her waist in most places, and immediately wrapped Ava in a wet, squishy hug.
“Ack!” Ava squealed, squirming. “Kyllsa! Cold!!!”
Kyllsa laughed and fluffled Ava's hair. “Silly. It isn't cold. You're just a wimp.” Kyllsa was Ava's mother's cousin, and had never had any children of her own. She made up for this by helping Tarkja and Olno, Ava's parents, raise their children – in her own, special way.
“Why do you always do that...” Ava whined. “I'm miserable enough without...”
“Relax. Damn.” Kyllsa said bluntly, cutting Ava off mid-whine. “It isn't anything that each and every one of us hasn't done, right? You'll be fine.”
“I'm just worried about the needles...” Ava replied, quietly.
Kyllsa nodded, and spent a moment watching the water flowing by before replying; “I know. I was really worried about that part too. I was so scared, I wanted to just run.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Yeah.” Kyllsa replied, smiling. “Yeah. It hurt a little. Just for a second, though.”
Ava did not reply this time. The pair just sat there, on a rock next to a river, watching the water flow by. The day was beautiful and warm, with the sun shining brightly over the green, rolling hills to the south, and the faintest hint of a breeze helping their clothes to dry. Kyllsa laughed a bit when they saw a mink repeatedly try for the same small grayling before finally cornering it in the shallows and carting it off triumphantly.
“A lot of work for a little bite.” Ava said, quietly.
“Yep...” Kyllsa replied, pausing as she looked downriver at a simply unbelievable sight “...what the hell is that fool doing?”
Once a summer, a man from the Tribal Council Office in White Point would visit the clans to get a good, accurate count of their members; how many children, married couples, and whatnot, so that the Council department could have reliable figures regarding aboriginal clans like the Star-Fire. This year, the census-taker was a young Gallentean man, who happily walked along the bank, slipping and sliding on the wet stones, and who was quite eager to get to work, eager to meet the sorts of people that his anthropology professors had lectured about during his courses on primitive Matari societies.
“I have no idea.” Ava answered, wide-eyed.
Kyllsa and Ava stood up and watched, in amazement, as he strode right up to them, dressed in his breathable short-sleeved shirt, short pants, and hiking boots, looking for all the world like a wealthy suburban fisherman who had gotten hopelessly lost, save for the heavy backpack he carried and the datapad in his hand.
“Who is the leader of this clan, hmm?” the Gallentean asked, speaking their language perfectly.
The people of the Komak were used to seeing outsiders, especially Gallenteans. Ava herself frequently worked as a guide to Gallentean hunters and fishermen, and Kyllsa spoke their language. Neither, however, had ever seen one so gloriously out of place before, nor one who spoke Sebiestor.
The pair continued to just stare at him, speechless.
“I am the census taker.” he said, removing his eyeglasses to wipe a drop of sweat from one of the lenses. “The Tribal Council has sent me to do the count.”
“You work for the Tribal Council?” Kyllsa asked, somewhat surprised. “But... you're not Sebiestor? How..?”
“I am an anthropologist, ma'am.” he replied with a nod. “I study people. My name is Jon Breselle, and I have come to take the census, as well as perform some participant observation; with the permission of your elders, of course.”
Kyllsa and Ava just stood there, confused, looking at one another, then at the anthro...whatever. As he watched them, watched these two women in their simple, handmade leather tunics and baggy wool pants, standing barefoot next to a river in the middle of absolutely nowhere, he smiled. He was beginning, already, to realize just how little the galaxy at large knew about the Minmatar people, how little he knew. Elsewhere on this same planet, other members of their same Tribe were building starships, yet here, at the top of their world, he had a feeling he was seeing these people, the Sebiestor, very much as they were before the Day of Darkness, before anyone discovered space flight, before any part of “modern” life had been conceived, let alone actually invented.
He was seeing, with his own eyes, what the Amarr had worked very hard to destroy.
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Topic: Sa Henjei Zemeji (( In Their Land )) (Read 933 times)