Shame of Man (13 page)

He learned how they set their rope and shell snares, so that when a stranger entered the water on hostile business, men concealed amidst the reeds—sometimes under water, breathing through the stems—had only to pull on those ropes to interfere with the legs. There were loops along the ropes, that could catch ankles. There were trench-pits, covered by fine nets and a thin layer of mud, some with sharpened stakes below. The women knew where they were, and avoided them; Hue had been placed between Ann and Lee not merely because he had been associating with them, but because they would steer him clear of mischief underfoot. They had not expected mischief to seek them out.

And they talked passingly about women. Hue, recognizing the opening, mentioned that he realized that he would have to mate with one in order to join the tribe, and that he was getting more interested in the ways of the water folk, but of the two women who had shown interest, one reminded him of his little sister, and the other was thin and odd-looking.

“Chin,” Joe agreed, touching his own receding lower jaw, which was like Hue's. “Chin no, Ann yes.” And the others murmured agreement.

Actually Hue had been more concerned with her thinness and almost complete hairlessness. But he realized that all the water folk were thin and hairless, except for their heads and crotches, so of course they regarded such qualities as esthetic. Their other women tended to be broad of hip and narrow of waist, too. And breasted, with rounded legs. So by their definition, Ann was indeed beautiful.

And he, having figured out the possible usefulness of the chin, had concluded that that need not be an objection. So it made her different from the others; so did his hair and build make him just as different. So in that sense they were reasonably matched.

“Lee young,” another man said. He was Vik. “Vik sister no. Fur.” He shrugged. That was Lee's liability; she was too much like Hue's tribes people.

“Fur bad no,” Bil said, glancing at Hue.

“Fur bad no,” Vik agreed. “Lee yes.”

Hue felt good. Because they were accepting him, and he was furred, Lee's similar liability was diminishing. So she might after all be able to find a mate within the tribe.

The following day they did find prey, a baby hippo they were able to isolate from its mother and stab to death. Then they floated the carcass back to the home beach for butchering. Hue was getting more comfortable with the ways of water hunting, learning them quickly because of their underlying similarity to what he had known. He realized that he would never be as good at them as the natural water folk were, but at least he was making fewer errors.

That night there was another storm. Hue didn't wait for Ann to be frightened; he embraced her immediately. But the storm held off, not coming close.

Ann, close against him, smiled. It was too dark to see anything, but he felt her mouth stretching. He had embraced her without cause. He smiled back, not minding.

Then she put her hand on his penis and paused. She was silently offering him sex, in appreciation for his protection.

Surprised, he considered. His penis became immediately hard, indicating his body's interest. He no longer found her sexually uninteresting. But he wasn't sure he wanted to mate with her, with the attendant commitment. So he reached down and gently removed her hand. Then he held her close, to show that he was not rejecting her, only declining to go that far.

She relaxed against him, satisfied. Soon she was asleep, breathing softly against him. But he remained awake. Now that he had declined her offer, he wondered whether he should have. His penis remained hard. No, he did not find her unattractive, here in the night. But what of the day?

Then the storm abruptly moved in, and the thunder was loud, and the rain beat down. Ann woke, frightened, and he turned into her and
tightened his embrace, to reassure her. She felt his hard member against her belly and paused in her fright long enough to inquire again. But again he declined—and then wondered why he had done so. He did desire her, and would desire her by day. But the major step of mating with her and joining the tribe—that put him into deep doubt.

The thunder eased, but the rain continued. Ann relaxed. But still his penis was hard against her. This time she slid up to put her mouth to his ear. “Ann tell no,” she whispered.

So she would give him sex, and not announce it as a mating, leaving him free. In the steady noise of the rain it would be possible for them to do it, and others would not overhear.

He was sorely tempted. It would be so easy. But still he could not. “No,” he whispered with regret.

She didn't question his decision, but neither did she withdraw. She went to sleep with his hard penis against her. And, finally, he slept too.

The rain continued the next day, sometimes light, sometimes heavy. When it wasn't torrential, they could tell by the sound of distant thunder and the sight of lightning flashes that it was raining just as hard elsewhere. The water folk couldn't hunt or forage during such a storm, because they were all wary of the thunder. In fact, none of them would go into the water while there was thunder. So they had to remain in the shelter, just clear of the water.

“Why?” Hue asked, perplexed. His tribesmen had hunted in the rain; it actually helped them for some prey, because it could confuse the animals.

“Water kill,” Ann explained.

He could make no sense of that. As far as he could tell, it was an untested belief. Maybe something their shaman said, if they had one. But all of them were adamant; none would touch the water.

When there was a lull, they dived out in a long line, and swam for the beach, where they went into the brush to defecate. Hue did the same. Then they tried to make a fire so as to cook some of the hippo meat, but the moment it got fairly started, the rain returned, threatening to douse it. Ember was disgusted, evidently believing that she could make a fire that would survive the rain. But she was only a girl-child, without authority in such matters.

Hue had encountered this before. He broke a leafy branch from a tree and brought it to hold over the fire, so that the rain struck the leaves and ran down to the side, sparing the flame. It was still possible to cook. Ember clapped her little hands, pleased.

But the others fled to the water and to the shelters, so as to reach them before the thunder struck. Even Ember had to go, summoned peremptorily by her mother. She looked longingly back at the flame as she entered the
water. Hue, disgusted, remained protecting the fire. Only Ann stayed with him, though she seemed reluctant. “Storm no,” she said, looking fearfully into the sky.

He hadn't meant to get her caught out in it, knowing her concern. He lowered the branch. “Go shelter,” he said.

But it was too late. Bright light flashed, reflecting from the water, and soon thunder came. She would not touch the water now.

So he did the next best thing. He broke off more branches, chopping with his axe when he had to, and quickly formed a kind of shelter by the fire. It was far from perfect, but it did deflect the brunt of the rain, so that the fire continued to burn. Then he carved off some chunks of hippo and impaled them on sticks so that the two of them could roast them. Anne joined him, somewhat comforted by the shelter and the fire.

But the storm got worse than before, and soon managed to extinguish the fire and soak both of them. Winds swirled, making leaves dance, and blew apart the shelter. They had to flee to the protection of the larger trees of the forest. They ate some of the meat, then huddled together in the sluicing water, gazing at the nearby surface of the lake.

Lightning stabbed down, striking the water. There was a sizzling sound. The thunder came at the same time, deafeningly. Ann screamed; he couldn't hear her, but felt her shoulders moving with it. He held her as closely as he could, but there was no way he could entirely stop her fright. The fact was, he was scared himself, though of course he could not admit it.

Then he saw something strange. Things were floating on the water. As he peered, trying to figure out what they were, Ann explained: “Fish dead. Thunder.”

The thunder had killed the fish! He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't just seen it. That was why the water folk stayed out of the water during a storm! They knew that they could be killed too. Somehow the thunder did in the water what it did not do on land, becoming not only deafening but deadly.

So they could not return to the shelter until the storm passed—and it showed no sign of doing that. On occasion a storm lasted for days, and this seemed to be one of those. So Hue left Ann huddling against a large tree, gathered more branches and rocks, made a better shelter, and plaited fine branches so as to overlap the leaves and make it as tight as possible. Large rocks weighted down the ends of the branches, and vines tied them together. Then he brought Ann to it and drew closed the small entrance.

Now they were insulated from the rain, except for some inevitable drips, and perhaps more important, from the wild appearance of the outside. He held Ann, sharing body warmth, and gradually she relaxed. He had restored some of what they had lost by being cut off from the water shelter.

But they were caught alone, isolated from the tribe, and he knew that Ann felt nervous about it. She was a creature of the tribe, and though she
had been somewhat outcast within it because of her chin, she needed it. He had known first that he would have to mate with her to join the tribe; now he knew that he had to join the tribe to mate with her, because she could not exist apart from it. Lee was feisty and independent, ready to leave the tribe if she had to to get what she wanted, but Ann was a creature of her people. If he were ever to leave the tribe, he might not be able to take her with him. That could have been part of what made him hesitate, before. Did he want to be locked into the water folk?

What else did he have? His place in his own tribe had soured; he did not care to return there. Bub had offered to have him mate with Sis if he joined their tribe, but that didn't completely appeal either. So the water folk seemed best. All he had to do was commit to Ann—and he was about ready to do that. He was coming to like her very well.

But there was one more thing: how did she feel about him? She had offered to train him for the women's work, and had stayed with him when he went on to man's work, but that might mean just a continuing responsibility until he went to some other woman. She had offered him sex, but that might be from appreciation for his support, or just general courtesy. He needed to know how well she liked him for himself, and whether she wished to commit to him permanently.

He tried to ask her. “Ann Hue like?”

She glanced at him. “Sex?”

They were sitting beside each other. The reference made his penis harden, and she could see that. “No.”

“Yes,” she decided. “Owe.” She shifted position, seeking a way to lie down in the cramped shelter.

“No!” But of course that wasn't clear. “Ann owe no.”

She gave him a straight look. “Ann want.”

But was she saying it to free him of obligation, so that she could give him this without committing him? He was not looking for appreciation, he was looking for love. “Hue want.” She smiled acquiescently. “Hue want Ann want.” She nodded. Finally he broached the dread notion: “Love.” This was a seldom used, seldom understood concept. It signified the union of those who did it for reasons other than practical, sometimes at great cost.

Her eyes grew large. “Love,” she repeated. “Hue Ann?”

“Ann Hue,” he clarified. He wanted to know if Ann could love Hue.

She looked at him again. “Hue Ann love?” She touched her chin.

He turned his upper body, caught her elbows, and approached her face. She could turn away if she wished to. She did not. He kissed her projecting chin.

Her mouth worked, but she did not speak. Water appeared in her eyes.

He lifted his face and brought it close again. This time she moved too, bringing her mouth to meet his. They kissed. In that moment he knew that he could indeed love her, and that she could love him.

When he drew away, she remained unmoving. Her eyes lost their focus; she seemed to be gazing out beyond the shelter, into the sky. “Love day,” she said. “Storm no.”

She thought that love could not exist in a circumstance like this. She was afraid it wasn't real. She was afraid to believe.

But it might be days before the sun shone again. He did not want to wait that long. He wanted her to believe now. How could he persuade her?

He thought about it. Then he tried something he had never thought of before. He tried to pretend there was sun. “Ann eyes shut,” he said. “Hue eyes shut.”

She glanced at him, then closed her eyes. He did the same. “Think rain no. Think sound water splash. Think day yes.” He had always been good at imagining sounds; could he enable her to do it too?

“Rain yes,” she said, perplexed.

“Rain yes. THINK rain no. Think sun yes.”

“Sun yes,” she echoed uncertainly.

Carefully he took her through it: instead of being stuck in a leaking shelter in a storm, they were in bright sunshine. They were not alone on the beach, but together with the other members of the tribe. They had an audience for what they were about to do.

As he spoke the words, over and over, and heard her echoes, he did begin to see it. They were still on the beach, but in the brightest day, surrounded by a ring of all the water folk, waiting expectantly. Then he took Ann's hand. “Hue mate Ann,” he said. “Join tribe.”

“Ann mate Hue,” she said, her voice charged with emotion. “Love.”

“Love,” he agreed. Then he kissed her. Then they did sex before everyone, the whole tribe being witness. And lay there hugging each other, just sharing the feeling. While the sunshine beat down loudly and steadily all around, and dripped on them.

Hue wasn't sure how many times the sun shone on their unions, but it was a number. At one point they laughed together, realizing that the sun was shining just as brightly in the middle of the night. But at last they woke to real day, after a night, and the rain was gone. Hue opened the door.