Book 1: A new way

 

The  water was warm and cloudy that morning on the Savannah. The sun rose on a bright sky and a dry smell that promised unusual heat.  The wise eyed females of the pack lined the shore to drink, according to their place among the heard.  They "Po wooed" and scuffled, settling on the proper order among themselves.

The negotiations at the watering hole were fierce.  It had not rained for months and tensions were high as provisions for drink were established in a hierarchy. The lesser members would drink after the greater members and places were held with brutal protection.

Mara woke to the sound of her Aunties’ songs by the water.  She listened closely for grandmother; her Nyana, but heard nothing.  The shade cover from the tree that she lay under had moved, and the sun shone hot on her skin.  She looked to the sky for clouds.  A respite from the sun? A blessing of rain? But not a sight of cover could be seen.

Mara knew better than to present herself  at the watering hole without Nyana.  But this morning, her trunk was dry and sore.  She rose and stretched, looking one last time for her grandmother. 

Overcome with thirst, Mara trudged along the path toward the shore.  The dust rose red from the earth as she walked.  A few females trumpeted as she approached.  The clustered bodies formed a hedgerow at the waters edge, blocking Mara's passage. 

Off to the right was a small puddle, just enough to take away the dry ache of morning.  But when Mara reached her trunk towards it, SPLASH! One of the Aunties, Angalau, stomped it away before Mara could get to it.  

“Thirsty?  You shouldn’t be meddling about alone...that's what mothers are for!” Angalau chided, knowing the pain of her remark.

It was well known that Mara’s mother was wayward and cold and wanted nothing to do with her. Mara would have been starved, stomped, or left to exposure.  But, It was Nyana who rescued Mara from the plight of her mother’s indifference.  It was Nayana’s love that saved her.   She was Mara's grandmother and  Matriarch of the pack. Provision was made for Mara because Nayana said so.  Because of Nayana, she ate and drank first, traveled in the front of the herd and was given shade during rest. 

But that morning, without Nyana, Mara was reminded of her true place among the pack.

“Step aside…It’s my turn!” Commanded Angalau, for she was tired of always drinking last.

With this treatment, other calves might have obeyed.  But not Mara, she could feel a certain heat in her chest and she stood her ground.  So Angalau pressed forward, pushing Mara toward the cliff, where the water was deep.  She bellowed again, “Step aside!”

Still, Mara stood pressing her feet into the mud.  They slid closer toward the edge and Mara's first foot slipped out from underneath her and dangled off the edge, then her second.  Maras’ heart raced, the water below was deeper than she was tall. “Please!"

 Angalau scoffed while Mara dangled there.

 “Po woo! Po woo!” Mara sounded a cry for help!  The cluster of females looked to one another to see who would give up their place at the watering hole to help Mara.  But no one did.  Mara began to hold her breath, lest she slip.

“PO WOOO!” The earth began to rumble, and Mara’s heart fluttered. Nyana!  Grandmother!

Nyana's light skin glowed as she moved toward Mara, her huge ears fanned out and she ran, extending her trunk and pulling her up.  Mara shivered and knelt, tired from thirst and fear.  Nyana wrapped her trunk over Maras’ body and breathed over.  "You're safe now little one."  She whispered.  And they stayed that way until peace returned to Mara's body.

Then suddenly, Nyana stood and walked with a great unyielding force toward the hedgerow of females by the water.  She pushed like a battering ram and three of them went down into the mud. “We care for our young!” She stood over them with the fire and command that had earned her the title of Matriarch.

“It wasn’t us!” The Aunties protested.

“We care for our young!”  Nyana repeated and motioned Mara near to drink.

Finally, Mara took her place beside her grandmother and drank until she was full. But the fire was still in Nyana.  “Where is Angalau?”

The other females motioned toward the meadow where the grass was long and sweet.  Nayana disappeared into it and was gone. Until a great loud “PO WOOO!” was heard deep in the grass.  Nyana emerged and stood before the pack while they watched her command.

“Angalau will sleep outside the pack tonight!”

The other females knew better than to protest the decree. Nyana was right.  What Angalau had done was forbidden among their herd.  Nyana  would not permit harm among her kin, especially toward the young.  She had even exiled  Mara's mother, her own daughter, for it. 

That night, the moon rose as only a crest.  Small moons meant great darkness. The distant roars and cackles persisted all night.  Mara thought about Angalau, alone in the dark; an outcast.  “Can’t you bring her back in, Nayana?” Mara begged her grandmother, feeling partly responsible.  Nayana was firm but she kept her resting eyes closed, “Others might.  But I won’t.”

“But what if she dies?”  Mara protested on Angalau’s behalf, but Nayana retorted “What if you had died?”  Mara thought about the water and it’s depth.  The way Angalau pushed her.  “Why does Angalau hate me?”

Finally, Nayana opened her eyes. “Because you have not earned your place.  And her path is bitter as the lowest among us. ”

Mara understood. "Perhaps if I were lower than she, life wouldn't be so hard for her."

"Or at least it would seem so." replied Nayana.

Maras voice held shame, “Because of my mother. It should have been that way.”  There was a long pause while Mara steeped in truth. “Do you think I am lowest among the pack?”

“Yes.  By rights you should be.” Nayana did not spare her  and Mara swelled with sadness because of it.

Still Nayana went on, “But you are my beloved one, so you will have my privileges.”

“But Angalau’s right! I don’t deserve them!”  Protested Mara.

Nayana did not take the bitter thought away, “No, you don’t.  That is true.”

Mara’s voice became small, “Then how will I live with that?”

“Only you can say, Mara.  That is your path.”  Another blow.  Mara’s mind craved a command from Nayana, but she would not give it.  Instead, the dark spread itself over both of them and Nayana closed her eyes, breathed her peace and slept.  Mara was alone in her new thoughts. Thoughts of rank and privilege and position and how they were decided.  She tossed nearby Nayana while she slept and Mara was angry that she had done so.  How could she sleep knowing all of this to be true?  And knowing Angalau was alone in the dark, left out for exposure?  And then,  as if by providence drop by drop, rain fell on the earth.  A strange Summer rain that seldom fell, bringing benison and favor to Mara's worried mind.

The next morning was a surprise.  Angalau had survived the night. She had emerged while the greater members were drinking at the watering hole. She approached, overcome by thirst and exhaustion.  She waited with her head down while the others had their share. The pack parted to make space at the shore for Mara and Nayana as they approached.  As they passed, Angalau would not raise her eyes.  Mara stopped short of her place at the shore beside her grandmother.  She lay her trunk near to Angalau's whose head was still bowed for shame.  Mara stood in stillness beside her a moment and contemplated Angalau's bitter sadness.  Angalau lifted her trunk to Mara's and Mara reached back and held on to her.

Nayana was watching from the corner of her eye, but drank, saying nothing.

Finally, Mara pulled Angalau toward an empty place at the shore next to Nayana.  Angalau was too thirsty to resist and drank deeply.

Nayana looked down at her beloved one, proud of the path she had chosen.  Nayana stepped aside for Mara to drink the way she had done for Angalau.  It was the first circle of kindness the pack had ever seen and they looked on in silence. 

 The water was sweet that morning on the Savannah and the wise eyed females of Nayana's pack lined the shore to watch the sun rise on a new day.

This story is dedicated to Barbara Hibbert Bloom...my Matriarch my Nana...Thank you for pulling me up and breathing your peace over me.  I love you forever.