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*The Rite of Rites*

Big-Eye became a prominent hunter in his clan and even gained some fame outside of it. He could hit the eye of a redfish that jumped up the eastern rapids from the shore. He could kill a pheasant hiding in the bush from three hundred steps with a single arrow. He could outrun and outhide everyone who dared to challenge him. His brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha, in the meantime, left the clan and roamed along the River alone for two years.

Came the time of the spring equinox, and then came the time of spring storms. After the storms, the entire clan moved up the River, to the place of the annual gathering. For adults, it was the time of feasts and celebrations. For the youth, however, it was the time of a great test, for the ritual of initiation was performed during these days.

Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha had skipped the previous gathering but returned to the clan for this one—he was now in his seventeenth year. Big-Eye was in his sixteenth year. Hala-Totala-Shkuu was the oldest of all youths in his nineteenth year. Uncle Wara-Hiitali was to lead the youth of the clan through the ritual.

They arrived on the second day after the start of the gathering and entered the Grove of a Decapitated Snake. There they built a big reed house, in which they were to spend twenty-one days—the last days of their boyhood. These days began for the boys with Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha’s suggestion:

“You know, there was one game that we haven’t played yet—hit the eye!”

“How is it played?” one of the boys asked.

“Easy. You pick up a rock and throw it in the biggest eye of those we have here. Whoever hits it first is the winner.”

The boys looked at Big-Eye who searched for something in the grass. Knowing his skillfulness, nobody was willing to play the game.

“Come on, cats, are you afraid or something?” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha said.

“That’s right, brothers, don’t be afraid,” said Big-Eye, quickly whittling a twig with a sharp stone. “This is the last time we can have fun, so let us have it! I have my own rules, though. You throw rocks, I throw twigs. You aim for my eye, I aim for yours. How about it?”

Big-Eye threw the stick, and it hit the eye of a reed figure that stood near the entrance to their house.

“This game is stupid,” one boy said. “Let’s play skittles!”

Other boys agreed, and the two brothers were left alone. Standing opposite each other, one with a rock and the other sharpening a twig, they looked each other in the eye. Finally, Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha threw the rock away and said,

“Right. Let’s go play skittles.”

For twenty-one days the boys played in the grove, allowed to behave as childish as they wished. On the twenty-second day, Wara-Hiitali gathered them in the house. Wind swished through the grove’s crowns outside, and the rhythm of drums sounded from the direction of the gathering.

“Some of you have already heard this story,” Wara-Hiitali started, nodding to Hala-Totala-Shkuu. “Others may have only gotten a glimpse. The first people came from eagles; they went to the other side of the Earth and live now there. The Second People came from clay. They went west, to the very end of the savanna, and settled at the foot of the Big Mountains. The Third People came from snakes. They went east, over the waters of the Eastern Sea. The Fourth People came from antelopes. They settled near Lake Soddo. The Fifth People came from boars. They remained in the center of the world and spread all over the plains.

“We are the descendants of the Fifth People. The Boar is our ancestor. When fire destroyed the plains, Lolla-Tombona tried to lead the first clans out of the burnt desert, but the Boar did not let him. ‘You will not leave my lands!’ he said. ‘I will make my way with my spear if need be!’ Lolla-Tombona said. ‘Try that!’ the Boar said and ripped Lolla-Tombona’s name off him! Yes, boys, he stole his name. And what can you do without a name? Nothing. Lolla-Tombona couldn’t use his weapons without his name. He couldn’t even talk to his clan without his name. Without a name—you are nothing!

“But, Lolla-Tombona did not flinch. He tricked the Boar and he took his name back. The Boar saw that Lolla-Tombona was a worthy hunter, and let him leave with his clan. Since then every year, the Boar comes to test our youth—to decide whether it is worthy of staying out of the plains. It is coming here tomorrow. He will steal your name, and you will have to catch him and make him return it. Once you do, you will become full members of the clan. You will become adults.”

“But how did Lolla-Tombona trick the Boar?” a boy asked from a corner.

“That is for you to guess,” Wara-Hiitali said.

“That’s not helpful!” the boys grumbled, but Wara-Hiitali signed to be quiet.

“One thing you should remember—never hurt the Boar.”

The following night, they didn’t sleep, making preparations for the rite. Wara-Hiitali cut their hair. They washed themselves in the waters of the River. They made themselves spears for the upcoming hunt. They burned the reed house in which they had spent twenty-one days and with it all their cut hair. They sat in a circle around that fire and for the whole night, they sang songs of coming of age.

In the morning, they left the grove with their spears and supplies for the day and went up a creek, to the south. They reached the place between two hills where an arc stood. Wara-Hiitali led them through the arc one by one. Each of them was seated under separate sheds.

Shaman Ira-Wyghu from the northern shore took over. He visited every boy, painted two red lines on their foreheads, and spoke the last enchantments before their test. Each boy was then blindfolded and told to sing the Last Boy’s Song–the one that neither of them would ever sing again–as loud as they could.

The Shaman visited Big-Eye as well. The first thing he did was tear off Big-Eye’s clay medallion from his neck. Big-Eye jumped to take it back, but Ira-Wyghu forced him down and tossed the thing away.

“The Raging Waters did their job,” he said, his white eyes staring at Big-Eye. “Let us see the results.”

The shaman drew the marks on Big-Eye’s forehead and said enchantments, and then left. Big-Eye sat still, diligently singing the Song. He sat for quite a long time touching the shaft of his spear with his left hand. He began to think that he missed something, that the test began without him. Suddenly, he felt a bite on his right forearm. With a shriek, he tore off the blindfold and saw four marks on his skin. The shaman stood beside him, his eyes wide like mongoose holes.

“What’re you waiting for?ˮ he cried, pointing behind Big-Eye—a boar with white markings noisily ran through the brush and into the field. “The Boar stole your name! Catch it! Return it! Get it back or you will remain nothing!”

Still singing the Song, Big-Eye grabbed the weapon under his left hand and dashed into the field. He ran across the field swiftly, checking the wind, tracking the thief, but then halted. In his left hand, there was not a spear but a supple twig. Confused, he jerked back, then forward, then back again, and with a grunt of anger started forward, after the Boar.

They ran deep into the southern shore. Sometimes Big-Eye would get close, quietly moving in the foliage. Sometimes he kept his distance, watching the hog dig up roots, two white stripes on his pelt looming against the grass. The Boar was far, and Big-Eye did not know how to catch him.

When they reached a low ground, Big-Eye bumped into his older brother.

“It’s my boar!” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha hissed from behind the grass

“Your boar?”

The brothers checked each others’ hands and saw that they were bitten by one set of fangs.

“Looks like it is our Boar,” Big-Eye said.

“Well, I suppose,” his brother said. “How do we do it though? Damn white-eyed swindler replaced our weapons with these wands!”

Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha went on scolding the shaman. Big-Eye looked around, listening for noises. A weird feeling harrowed him–a feeling of something familiar. He was not bewildered by being nothing in that short moment. He did not feel the terror mixed with excitement–as other boys often described it. Instead, it was a feeling of something familiar.

Several heartthrobs later, they heard a quiet rustle behind them. Hala-Totala-Shkuu’s face showed from the thickets.

“You here too?” Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha hissed

“Actually–”

“It’s our boar!”

“Actually, I think it’s we who’s his,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu showed his forearm with the same four marks as the other boys had The Boar had all three of their names. They started thinking.

“You’ve been through it two times. Do you have ideas?” Big-Eye asked.

“If I had any, I would not be here for my third time,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu whispered with a smile.

Tushiklu-tu-Wagha kept grouching. Hala-Totala-Shkuu sat quietly. Big-Eye watched and pondered.

He watched the hog tread up a slope above which there was a hillock. On the hillock there stood a tree, and on the tree sat a stork. Big-Eye watched the bird as it moved its head around. Their eyes met, and Big-Eye was sure that the Stork said something with its beak. The bird spread its wings and flew up, leaving behind the tree’s branch swaying up and down. He watched the branch sway up and down flexibly, slowing steadily. He then glanced at the Boar, and then back at his twig. He began peeling off the soft bark and dividing it into fibers. Then he started weaving the fibers into rope.

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“What are you doing, friend?” Hala-Totala-Shkuu asked him. Big-Eye gave him the fibers.

“Make a rope!”

“What are you thinking, brother?” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha asked.

“Find food. Nuts, berries, or seeds—anything to bait the hog!”

Big-Eye himself crawled back into the brush and found a stick, long and sturdy enough. He returned to the lowground and helped Hala-Totala-Shkuu finish the rope. He then made a knot on the rope and attached it to the stick—thus he made a snare. Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha returned with a handful of tubers and ears of wheat. They lay the baits in a row, ending it with the loop, and hid in the brush nearby.

They waited.

The Boar walked over the slope and descended into the low ground. He walked across the shrubs and went up the hill again. Then he returned to the low ground and roamed across the shrubs again. The brothers were becoming impatient.

“Screw it, I will go and get him with my bare hands!” Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha said, but Big-Eye held him down.

“Hunt is patience. Wait!”

They waited more.

The Boar walked across the brush, rested under a bush, then headed to where the brothers were sitting.

They crouched.

The Boar ate the first of the ears. He went along the row towards the brothers. The brothers held their breath. He ate the tubers, the ears, some grass along the way, and finally put his muzzle into the loop.

Big-Eye pulled the stick; the loop tightened, the hog screamed. Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha jumped at the animal—the animal charged at him, he ducked away. Big-Eye pulled the snare up and heard the string snap. The hog charged at his brother again, but Hala-Totala-Shkuu jumped on him; Big-Eye followed, Tushiklu-tu-Wagha joined. They grabbed the squealing hog by his legs and by his mouth, and pressed him into the ground with all three of their weights.

“How do we return the names?” they wondered, looking for the answer in each others’ faces. Big-Eye was the first to come up with an idea. He bit the Boar’s front right leg, and so did the others.

The southern wind moved the grass waves across the field, bringing along some dust from the nearby dry lands. Shaman Ira-Wyghu stood above the boys with his white eyes calmly staring, as if he had been standing there forever.

“Did we do it right?” Big-Eye asked him first, and the shaman smiled at the ends of his small mouth. He slowly made several steps up the slope, swaying his staff in front of him.

“This is the hill of your guardian,” he said from above.

“And who’s our guardian?”

“The Stork is your guardian.”

“Haven’t seen much guardianship from any storks,” Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha spat.

“He who had to see—did. You didn’t have to, so you didn’t. Each of you had your parts to perform, and you did.

“Wait, so we passed?” Hala-Totala-Shkuu asked, excited.

“Yes, Stork Brothers, you did.” The shaman then grabbed a tuber from the ground, crunched it and trod to the north. “Now show some good River Manners,” he said, pointing at the hog.

The brothers took the snare off his muzzle and let the Boar run off. He ran to the edge of the bush, where he turned back and looked into the eyes of the newly initiated men. Then the Boar disappeared into the bush.

Thus Big-Eye, Tushiklu-tu-Wagha, and Hala-Totala-Shkuu became the Stork Brothers.

*The Question*

Not all boys of the clan completed their tests that summer day, but those who did were met with cheers. The celebration lasted for an indecently long time.

“First time!” Tlun-Shiklu screamed at the top of his lungs. “First time, you cats! You hear me? How many times did you take the test?” he asked a man nearby. The man said that it took him two times. “That’s right! And how many times did your son take the test?” he asked another man, and the man said that his son has not yet undertaken the test. “That’s right! And how many times did it take my son? One! First time! Who’s the father here, eh? Who’s the good River father here, eh?”

The men pushed him around, laughing at his frenzy, congratulating him for his son’s success.

But Big-Eye was not as joyful. A trickster spirit sneaked into his mind and planted a seed of doubt. Into a bloody flower of discontent that seed then grew. On the edge of a cliff, far away from the venue, Big-Eye sat for days, in deep thinking.

He kept thinking about the conversation that had happened between him and Hala-Totala-Shkuu on the night after the test.

“Cannot believe I’ve actually finally done it,” the friend began. “I’m finally actually a part of something.” They sat in the dark, watching their clanmates dance around the big fire, with people from other clans joining the celebration. “You know,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu went on, “there is something I meant to tell you. When I was little, I once played with my big sister at the River. We fished out a basket, and inside it was a little infant, and one of his eyes was big and wide open, and another one was small and not seeing. We got scared of that child and threw the basket back into the water.ˮ

He stopped and glanced at Big-Eye, his eyes sparkling from tears.

“For many summers and winters,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu went on again, “I kept thinking about the fate of that kid. He was a freak; somebody’d got rid of him. I thought: where did he go? Would somebody ever shelter him?” He turned his eyes to Big-Eye again, who was listening attentively. “What would he say, when he would see me many years later? After I held him in the hands and then threw him back into the water?”

Big-Eye smiled.

“You were little. When we are little, everything is little. We’ve graduated from our little lives—burned them with our hair and our house. The past is past. So don’t worry, my friend, that kid won’t judge you.”

But that kid was now sitting at the edge of a cliff, far away from the gathering, suffering from the doubt that the trickster spirit planted in him through Hala-Totala-Shkuu. For many years he had known something wasn’t right. His eye was brown, and his parents’ eyes were black. His hair curled in the wrong way. His nose was wrong and different. He was called ‘fishy’, but he hoped that it was just an insult. Yet was he actually fishy?

He went to the fireplace where his clan was having a joyful time. Respected Qaoron Tutugha-Bimbagha met him with a cry,

“Is that our winner?”

He went to him with his hands wide spread and embraced him hard.

“When the Sun Games start, I want to fight you, and I want you to defeat me! And once you defeat me, I will let you marry any of my daughters!” Qaoron said, nodding to his wife, and the wife, malevolently grinning, nodded in response: Like hell it’s happening!

“And you were saying that he’s a curse!” Father Tlun-Shiklu shouted. “Look at him, he is an asset!”

“That we are yet to see,” Qaoron answered, going back to the fire. “But you’ve raised a good son, Tlun-Shiklu. Bring that boar over here. This one goes to the Raging Waters!”

“Tlun-Shiklu!”

In a blink of an eye, all the joy stopped: nobody around the River called their parents by their names. Standing in front of his foster father, Big-Eye said in a low voice,

“Whose son am I, Tlun-Shiklu?”

Poor Father Tlun-Shiklu dropped himself onto a stump underneath his butt. Everyone turned their eyes to the scene.

“Am I a son to you? Am I a member of Kizhji? Or am I an asset? A fishy asset. Just a fish you caught in the raging waters!”

“Don’t insult yourself like that!” Tlun-Shiklu cried.

“Don’t say things like that to your parent!” Qaoron yelled. Big-Eye turned his face to him–at the sight of the young man’s fierce look, Tutugha-Bimbagha lost his confidence. Nobody knew what to say. Everybody stared at Big-Eye, and Big-Eye stared back at them, his eye wet and vicious. Mother Tushiklu-Yogha ran from the women’s side, but Big-Eye denied her words too.

“My parents are fish,” he shouted. “And you are just fishers. You caught a good fish, but catching it doesn’t mean you’ll keep it!”

Big-Eye left the gathering and went into the plains. He was not found anywhere around the River for a whole moon.

*Upstream*

That moon, Big-Eye roamed the plains alone, without gear, without utensils, without even a cloak. He was eating what he could get, sleeping where he could sleep, walking aimlessly as long as he could walk. For a whole moon, he roamed the plains, and Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha followed him.

Big-Eye knew about that—he saw his brother’s posture from afar. He could employ his skills and sneak away from him but didn’t quite feel like it. He wanted to fight him but did not yet feel prepared.

Once Big-Eye ambushed Tushiklu-tu-Wagha near a ravine. He attacked his brother with a pointed stick and threatened to kill him, but Brother dodged all attacks and did not respond.

“So, what are you waiting for, brother?” Big-Eye hissed to him. “You’ve wanted that your whole life, haven’t you?”

“I wanted that when I was little,” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha said. “But I am not little anymore, and neither are you.”

He jumped atop a boulder. Big-Eye launched the stick at him—Brother deflected it but fell into the bush. Big-Eye stood at the edge looking for movement, but there was nothing but the rustling leaves.

“You’re acting unbecomingly to River Man, brother,” the voice informed him from the brush.

Once Big-Eye prepared a trap in a grove and lured Tushiklu-tu-Wagha into it, but Brother saw the trick.

“Such a lazy trap is a disgrace for the apprentice of Wara-Hiitali!” the brother said, sitting at the edge of the covered pit. An arrow whizzed past his face, and he jumped into the tall grass.

On the fifty-ninth day, a storm came from the south and poured fierce rain onto the Earth. Big-Eye hid beneath a cliff; Tushiklu-tu-Wagha sat at a distance without shelter. Big-Eye watched him get wet; Tushiklu-tu-Wagha watched Big-Eye sit under the cliff. Soon, the rain eased, the sky got lighter, the clouds gave way to rare sunbeams.

“No use getting wet for nothing, isn’t it? Get in here!ˮ Big-Eye finally shouted to Brother.

“What’s the point? The rain is almost over,ˮ the brother said and remained where he was.

They kept sitting in their places as the drops were getting rarer and rarer until they stopped. Without another word, Big-Eye got up and went on. Tushiklu-tu-Wagha followed.

On the sixtieth day, Big-Eye strode along the shore near the Eastern Rapids and saw Uncle Wara-Hiitali. He quietly sneaked up to him through the grass, but the uncle noticed him.

“Every game needs its own approach,” the uncle said. “Small and nimble needs a snare. Big and strong needs an ambush. Medium and quick needs a sneak-up. As for your fellows—they should be faced up front.”

Big-Eye stopped hiding and sat on a fallen trunk nearby.

“What are fellows?” he asked sullenly.

“Those you hunt with. Those you live with. Those you fight alongside.”

Wara-Hiitali went closer to the cliff that separated the land from the water. On the River, redfish jumped up the rapids.

“My grandfather used to tell me: what’s the difference between the Plain People and the River People? The Plain People know that the River flows in one and only one direction—to the east. The River People know that the direction of the flow doesn’t matter. You go where you need to be.

“The flow of your anger takes you downstream, to the sea of hate. You may think that sea has a lot to offer, but actually, there is nothing in there but dead waters. Upstream, however, there is something of value. There are people who sacrificed their lifetime for your sake. There are people up there who went through the test of initiation with you—without turning back.”

Wara-Hiitali looked afield, where the figures of brothers Tushiklu-tu-Wagha and Hala-Totala-Shkuu could be seen.

“That doesn’t answer one important thing,” Big-Eye said. “Which direction does this fish come from?”

“Whatever that direction is, the fish came and went. There is no fish anymore—there is Big-Eye, the Stork Brother of Kizhji.”

Wara-Hiitali picked up his bow and staff that lay in his feet and prepared to go away.

“Our clan is waiting for you at the gathering. The Sun Games are already over—too bad you missed them, they were fun this year. But we still have a celebration to finish, so come by when you’re ready.”

He went west along the shore, and before descending into a low ground that lay in his way, he turned and said,

“And if it still matters to you—you came from upstream, obviously.”

With that, he went to the gathering—upstream.

The very next day, the Stork Brothers came back to the clan. The celebration was finished; the remaining ceremonies were performed and the clan returned to their usual place of settlement with Big-Eye as a full adult.