SHAYAN ( A TRIBES REALM TALE)

TWO

The village mourned for the death of their Chief. He was the most revered among the Manobo tribe and his passing put everything on hold until his body was laid to rest. The farmers who were in charged with crops production stopped working for the meantime. Even bartering goods at the marketplace ceased in observance of the Chief's vigil. The weavers were out of the hut to bring water and rice wine to those who came to mourn. Myrah, Shayan's mother along with other women in the family attended the Chief's body. Organic oil was prepared, perfume and clean clothing as well for the cleansing. It was crucial to bury the body on the third day. If not, the tunnel of light will close for good for the newly deceased and the unrest spirit would wonder for all of eternity. When the Chief was finally entombed, the villagers tried to go back to their usual routine. Some stalls from the market were opening for business as the trading business continued. The Chief's family including Shayan was mending their grief a week after the burial and as the days passed, they came out of mourning one by one until the main Hut was back to normal again. But the thing with death, no one can entirely recover the loss of loved ones. The void will always be there no matter what.

Shayan watched his family went back to the cadence of everyday life and at a very young age he understood what they were going through and the hardship it brought to everyone not only to his family but to the entire tribe. Every morning he woke up with someone crying, her aunt or her mom or any family member who was still suffering from the loss. Shayan was bothered by this at first but as days turned to weeks then months, for every cry he heard each morning, he shifted and turned the other way. The men grieved silently, only the women who snuffled their noses as tears fell from their eyes.

"They will come out of it eventually" Said Nun, the youngest brother of Myrah.

Nun was supposed to be Shayan's uncle but he was too young to be called uncle, at 15yo, he was more of a big brother to him.

"How do you know Nun?" Shayan asked, hoping that Nun's assumption was right.

He couldn't bear the sadness in his family anymore. He knew that it was hard but he wanted them to go back to being normal and be happy again. His grandfather would want that for them too, Shayan thought.

"Oh I know, just wait for it." Nun assured him. "No one is bound to mourn forever. They will grow tired of it and they will come out of it, I promise you that."

"But how?"

"Well, when they realize that there's no use in mourning and that whatever they do, the deceased will not come back. When the truth sinks in, in time, they have no choice but to accept it." Nun Shrugged.

Shayan thought about it for awhile. Nun and he were sitting on a pile of rock near the village well. They were asked to fetch drinking water for the family. The clay jars were already filled and it was already being hauled on a man-made cart towed by a male water buffalo. He wanted to believe Nun. In his heart, Shayan uttered a silent prayer to the Gods that Nun's words were true so he could take comfort on them. Shayan sighed and cleared his head. His eyes drifted around the village and watched the villagers carried on with their mundane lives. This prosaic nomad living was surely an enough reason to commit suicide for wanderers. But Shayan found comfort in it. The routine helped him coped up.

"Yeah, eventually they will." He said with a hopeful smile in his lips.

"Come on let's go." Nun called.