Give Them Wineby Mary Brunini McArdleBook I
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General Synopsis |
| Chapter 9 |
In the mid-22nd century, a mysterious apocalyptic event has destroyed the world as we know it. In the Mississippi delta country, survivors reorganize in isolated enclaves and live in primitive conditions with little knowledge of their own history.
Donas, a beautiful, bright, curious girl on the verge of womanhood, discovers that her community is hiding a terrible secret: drug-induced conformity. She flees, taking her younger brother Mak and sister Rani with her. They make their way south and find a new life with a new people. They find hope, love and maybe some trace of their own past that might point the way to the future.
It was already hot as the three girls began their walk from the house of Sebastian. Donas noticed the buildings varied in color but were made of differently shaped stones, fixed together in some manner, with thatched roofs of dried vegetation. The paths beneath were also paved with stone, but the trio’s foot coverings made little sound.
“Look, Donas,” Rani said. “Sewella’s foot coverings are a lot like ours, only nicer.”
Sewella wore foot coverings of cloth tied with bands around her ankles. The cloth was a nut-brown color.
Rani sat down abruptly on the pavement and pulled at her feet. “Do yours have deerskin lining, Sewella?”
“No, cowhide. But not while it’s so warm.”
“Cowhide?”
“The skin from the kind of animals one uses for milk.”
“Oh,” Donas said. “We call those ‘cattle’.”
“That’s the same word we use for ‘many cows’,” Sewella replied. “But to answer Rani’s question — in the summer, we line our footwear with a stronger weave of cloth, and in the winter we wear hide reinforcements on the outside. Like Lionel’s.”
Rani got back up and the three continued, Rani still glancing at Sewella’s feet. The foot coverings from the motele were a dirty white. “I like Sewella’s foot coverings better, Donas. I think it would be a good idea to put the deerskin on the outside.”
Donas’s attention was distracted by a building. It was the only one with two levels, and two men stood in front of it, facing the path. They were very still and their faces were expressionless. In each man’s right hand was a stick with a sharp point on the end, like those bound to the sides of Lionel’s horse when Donas had first seen him.
The two men abruptly turned and faced each other. After a brief pause, they made another turn so that they were back to back. They walked in opposite directions for several strides, turned once more and met again at each side of the entrance to the building. As they again faced forward, their countenances remained as impassive as before.
“What is that place?” Donas asked, pointing.
“That is the Hall of the Storytellers,” Sewella said.
“Why are those two males walking up and down with those things in their hands?” Rani put in.
“To guard. The Hall is the storehouse for all our knowledge. It must be kept intact.”
Donas wanted to ask more questions about the building, but kept her silence. ‘To guard’, she thought. ‘To guard — what?’ She shivered involuntarily.
“Alfreda’s husband is a Night Guard,” Sewella added. “She eats the evening meal with us frequently.”
“How do you know who will be your ‘husband’?” Rani asked innocently.
“That is something that just happens. It has not happened to me.” Sewella blushed and lowered her eyes. “I have not yet discovered who is to be my betrothed — but I wish...” she broke off.
“I don’t understand,” Donas said. “What is a ‘betrothed’?”
“When a young man and woman feel they wish to be wed, they ask his parents for permission to become betrothed — promised to each other.”
“Does ‘wed’ mean mating?”
“Well, yes — but for life.”
“I seem to be learning more new words.” Donas decided not to pursue the conversation further, reluctant to disclose the motele’s sexual customs. She was intelligent enough to have some inkling of what a family unit was, and the affection Barrett and Sebastian demonstrated had not escaped the notice of the young child-woman from the north. She thought of Lionel and wondered how it would be to sit at table with him every night.
“I am just fifteen,” Donas remarked. “Is Lionel older?”
“He is almost seventeen.”
“And Alfreda is the eldest?” Donas inquired.
“Nearly nineteen, as am I. We’re twins.”
“What are twins?” Rani asked.
“Sometimes when a baby is born, there are two instead of one. They are called ‘twins’.”
“Oh,” Rani said. “I wish I had a twin.”
“And if you did, I’m certain she would be as lovable as you.” Lionel’s sister smiled down at the little girl. There was a look in Sewella’s eyes Donas wasn’t sure how to express, but it was familiar — it reminded her of — of the way Ter had looked at her. The same look exactly — what was it? There was sadness, surely, along with something else. No matter how hard she tried, Donas couldn’t express the “something else.” Never had an adult female at the motele looked at a child with tenderness.
The stone path between the buildings began to fill up with people — mostly women and children. Two or three of the women had hair the color of the outside man Donas had seen talking with Ter, and many grooves in the skin of their faces.
The market was a paved area with wooden stands everywhere. Most had a female or a pair of females standing behind them. There were goods of all kinds — fruits and vegetables, house wares, beverages.
After an hour of exploring and being introduced, Donas’s head was spinning. There were things she wanted to know — how one decided to have a stand, where the goods came from, how the trading was conducted. It was too much for the first morning.
Rani solved the problem for her. “Sewella, who are those funny people with hair like the puffy things in the blue and the tracks on their cheeks?”
“The ‘blue’?”
Rani pointed straight up. Sewella looked puzzled for a moment, then laughed. “The ‘blue’. You must mean what we call the ‘sky’. Didn’t you have any older people where you came from?”
“They scare me.”
“You mustn’t feel that way. Hair and skin change when people age. They are someone’s mother’s mother or someone’s father’s mother, and they love children. They’ll want to give you sweets or hair ribbons.”
“Then I want to make friends with them.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll make friends with you.”
“That’s good. Those females working in the market talk an awful lot, don’t they?”
Sewella laughed. “They spend as much time gossiping as they do trading. I’ve heard it said that if a young woman is seen with a young man in the evening, everybody in the market knows it before the afternoon of the next day.”
Donas thought Sewella’s reply was meant to be amusing, but it obviously didn’t connect with Rani. “I’m hot, Sewella,” the six-year-old said. “And I’m hungry.”
“Let’s go home, then, and prepare our midday meal.”
‘Yes!’ Donas thought. ‘Now I can decide if it is safe to eat these people’s food.’
“Can we come to the market again?” Rani asked.
“Surely. There’ll be things we’ll need from time to time.”
“Look, Donas, there’s that new girl,” Rani said.
Donas turned her head and saw an older woman and Nakoma behind a booth displaying fire sticks, cloth ribbons, and other small objects.
“Nakoma and her mother keep a booth full of many of the housewares and trinkets we use,” Sewella explained.
Nakoma waved at them, and Donas waved back.
“Do you trade for the things you need?” Donas inquired.
“Yes — since my mother is a Weaver, we usually trade cloth. The market closes for the afternoon in the summer; it is much too hot between these stone houses.”
Donas had to agree. When they passed the Storyteller’s Hall, sweat was pouring down the faces of the Guards, who nevertheless maintained their composure. Donas looked away.
“Your home is made of stone, Sewella,” she said. “Does it not become hot also? It’s close to the other homes.”
“I’ll show you after we eat how we combat the heat.”
Just then a woman called a greeting to Sewella, and inquired about Alfreda’s health. Donas seized the opportunity to whisper in Rani’s ear, “Eat only what I eat. Understand?”
Rani frowned. “I guess so.”
Sewella took Donas and Rani right away to the kitchen. It had an opening in the back wall; Sewella showed her visitors the wood stove used for cooking, placed just outside the house for the smoke to escape. The pantry was a dark closet containing food that was for the most part familiar.
The older girl invited Donas to help select and prepare the meal; Donas watched her carefully and indulged in whatever Sewella chose. Then Donas divided her own portions with Rani.
“Is this the only kitchen?” Donas asked casually.
“Of course. Why?”
“We had more than one. Of course we all lived together in the same building. May we see the rest of your home?”
“Surely. Here is how we keep the afternoons cool.” Sewella took them through the house, waving to Barrett at her loom as they passed her room. Donas was shown how the rooms were set at uneven angles, so that the square openings caused cross breezes. The openings were covered, whereas in the morning they had been bare.
“We keep the house darker in the summer afternoons. That helps. Sometimes we don’t cook as much hot food. The outdoor work is done away from the City, so that the workers can take advantage of the fresh air.
“Donas, you mentioned at supper last night that you worked at various tasks before. Rani is so young she can help around the house for a while. Is there any particular work that you liked best?”
Donas thought a moment. “I didn’t care as much for the kitchen work or the sewing. I liked outdoor work better. With plants.”
“We are always in need of Tillers. Why don’t I have Lionel show you where we grow the plants for our cloth?”
“You grow plants for your cloth?” Donas’s face lit up with interest. “I would like to see this!”
“Of course, Mother must approve. The adult woman of the household gives approval for a person’s choice of work. I’m certain she’ll have no objection.”
“But I thought Barrett said at supper that you choose your own work.”
“Oh, we do. The final approval is a mere formality — a custom.”
Donas was becoming more relaxed. They had eaten and had nearly ended their tour of the house of Sebastian. Lionel was at work; the door to his bedroom was wide open, hiding nothing. The last thing Sewella showed them was the bathing room.
“This is so different!” Donas exclaimed. She stood on a platform of slatted wood, slanting toward a linear opening in the outside wall. “How does it function? There are no tubs.”
Sewella indicated a shelf holding a number of jugs, and trays of hard round objects. “We use a bit of water, soap ourselves, and finish by pouring a jug of water over our bodies. The water runs through the slats and out the opening to a trench.”
“What is soap?” Donas asked.
“We trade for it. It helps get one cleaner. Nakoma and her mother supply soap at their booth in the market.”
Rani was fingering a piece. “It smells good, Donas.”
“There is a process for making it. The Craft Women make that and candles and many other wares.”
“Candles?”
“For light.”
“Oh, fire sticks!”
“Can I take a bath, Sewella? Please?” Rani was still perspiring from the walk home.
“So long as you are sparing with the water. Why don’t I leave you with your sister, and the two of you can bathe.”
“Our thanks.” Donas was relieved to have some privacy. Rani delighted in the new way of bathing, and Donas found it refreshing. Best of all, she had time to think about the house. ‘I’ve seen it all — there is no secret kitchen,’ she reflected. ‘I think we need worry no longer about the food. Tonight I’ll allow Mak and Rani to eat their fill.’
To be continued...
Copyright © 2011 by Mary Brunini McArdle
