Devour | on hold

Chapter 2 (The prisoner)

- Chapter Two -

T H E   P R I S O N E R

Father shows in his beige breechclout embroidered with different colors of wool threads and some precious stones. Shirtless, only has his leader cloak on, perfectly in match with the breechclout. I hear his boots tapping on the wooden stand as he takes his place on top of it.

“I told him to wear the stones necklace, he never listens to me.” Orenda complains beside me, and I roll my eyes, just like every time she opens her mouth to speak. She never says anything important. Like I can finish her sentences for her, she repeats herself constantly. 
“Mother! Please.” Says Kaya, the nine-year-old kid.
“Good girl.” I think to say, but I remain silent instead.
“My people!” Father starts, “As we are used to, every time like this we gather to discuss our issues and our preparations for The Celebration.” He clears his throat, “All respect and love goes to our goner, Sinopa’s son: Maska.” That is how our tribe calls names. The whole tribe was named after my family, so that is how they call me by full name: Eyote’s daughter: Lenmana. The family name, then son/daughter, followed by the person’s first name.

The Celebration is one of filthiest traditions of the Eyotes. But we weren’t the ones who had invented it in the first place. They were the cannibals.

Two men bring Maska’s body wrapped in layers of brown cloths and put him down in front of father, who has the oldest man of the tribe standing next to him now, Dyami, the Spirits’ Healer, as they call him.

Eyotes believe that there has to be an ambassador between the alive and the spirits of the dead, and that ambassador is Dyami, he is said to be the best soul and kindest heart and so he was chosen by the elder souls to be the ambassador. However, I don’t believe in what they call their religion. I don’t believe in any of what I was told to. Chosen by the souls? That’s absurd!

When someone dies, Dyami’s job is to ask the spirits of the dead to accept him with them and ask the alive to forgive his faults and sins, and so he is expected to be peaceful.

He stands ahead of Maska’s body and keeps mumbling verses that no one knows except him and his students, which are few.

“Oh souls of our beloved goners,” He speaks out, “we ask your permission and mercy to accept our brother and friend Sinopa’s son: Maska in your world, and give him peace and sanity and help his people to forgive his sins and flaws.” Then he turns to the crowd, which is singing a quiet lullaby to please the goners’ spirits. I am not singing with them, that means totally nothing in my point of view. I find Orenda poking my arm. I sigh and mutter the words I think they are singing. “I ask you people to forgive Maska and let his sins fade with the light of the setting sun.” And as he says the words I notice for the first time it is sunset already. That took too long.

Maska’s family is now supposed to go carry his body home so that they have plenty of time to say goodbye before The Celebration tomorrow.

I see Nara walking with them with tears in her eyes. Maska is her father. He died of a heart attack yesterday, late at night.

People are finally leaving and I have to hurry to catch up with Nara. “Nara!” I call.
“Len.” She smiles brokenly. “How are you?”
“I’m good if you’re good.” I hug her.
“I’ll be.”
“Nara!” Shouts her mother. She is quite a tough woman.
“Coming, mother.” She raises her voice so that she hears her.
“You can go.” I gesture at her to follow her mother, “I’ll be seeing you around.”
“Sure.” She hugs me again. “Thank you, Len.”
“There’s no need for that, Nara. We’re friends.”