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*Mother Shi*
Big-Eye saved the youngest son of Mother Shi*.
Mother Shi was a woman living in the eastern plain which at the time had no rivers. She was married to the eastern spirit Wiedefie** who shared with her powers of crafts. She had four sons who were known all over the plains as some of the most beautiful children in the world.
One day, the Stork Brothers were passing the valley and heard a terrible cry. They rushed to where the cry was coming from and found Shi herself, on her knees and screaming. The whole world crowded around her; birds, animals and reptiles, people and spirits from all over the plains, and Weidefie—all were present at the site.
“The children! They stole the children!” they were chanting
“Who are they? Who are the thieves?” the Brothers asked.
“Jackal, Vulture, Wild Dog, and a man from the west,” Weidefie said. “They stole our sons! They stole our boys!”
Weidefie lamented; some tried to calm the spouses, others argued who would go after who. Meanwhile, Big-Eye took the mat on which the four sons had been sleeping and gave it to his dog. The dog sniffed it and followed the trail, and the Big-Eye went with it, leaving the crowd without a word. The Brothers followed him.
“What are your intentions, brother?” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha asked, catching up.
“To find the sons,” was Big-Eye's answer.
“But how? And where? And what about the others? What if we get in each other’s way?”
“Do not worry about the others, they will stay talking things over until the seventh dawn.”
The brothers followed the dog. They went a long way to the west and soon spotted Jackal. He held the youngest son in his maw and was readying to bury him in the ground. The Brothers tried to sneak up on him, but the Jackal saw them and dashed away.
The Brothers kept following the thief. They kept afar to make him lower his guard. Soon Jackal stopped to catch his breath and the Brothers once more tried to sneak up on him from behind.
“I will catch that rascal with my bare hands!” Tushiklu-tu-Wagha croaked and started forward despite his brothers’ dissuasions. He jumped ahead, but the thief dodged him and ran away. The Brothers followed on.
They ran for so long that Brother Tushiklu-tu-Wagha tired out and fell behind, urging the rest to go forward. The two brothers followed the Jackal, keeping afar until the thief made another stop to rest.
“I can imitate his call,” Hala-Totala-Shkuu said. “To draw him closer.”
“Well, do it,” Big-Eye urged him.
Hala-Totala-Shkuu yelled and yowled like a jackal. At first, the animal didn’t hear the call, so Hala-Totala-Shkuu howled louder. Jackal heard the call and studied the surroundings. Hala-Totala-Shkuu kept yowling, and Jackal put down the boy and trod to where the Brothers were hiding. Big-Eye readied his bow. Hala-Totala-Shkuu kept yowling, and Jackal kept getting closer and closer. Suddenly, the wind changed—the thief smelled the hunters, picked up the child, and dashed away.
On they went again. This time, Big-Eye’s dear friend Hala-Totala-Shkuu tired out and fell back.
“Go forward!” he said. “I will rest just a little and catch up to you!”
Big-Eye went forth alone. He ran for so long, night came and the moon rose in the east. He still followed from afar, so Jackal, having no sight of him, stopped to bury Shi’s son. Big-Eye watched him from a hilltop. He knew he only had one shot, and that shot was hard to accomplish. He chose to distract Jackal. For that, he cried so loud and imitated so many voices that Jackal thought he was found by a hunting party. He grabbed the child and ran forward, and Big-Eye followed.
They ran for so long that the night changed to morning; they ran so far west they reached the bank of River Iz. No human could run for so long, Jackal thought and stopped to drink some water. Oh, little did the wretched thief know that Uncle Wara-Hiitali was the one who trained Big-Eye and he trained him well. Heedless, Jackal leaned his head down to the water to take his first sip. Quietly, Big-Eye emerged from the tall grass, drew his bow, took his aim, and hit the thief right in his neck.
The youngest son was saved. Big-Eye brought him back to the eastern plain, along with the thief’s pelt. The other children were dead. They were brought to the Big Southern Hill and buried there. The tears that were shed formed a stream that ran down into the plain and became what is now known as the Rivers. After the burial, Mother Shi denounced everybody—the whole world which made so much fuss about tragedy and did so little to help. She only made an exception for Big-Eye and his people. Shi granted them guardianship and let them into the Rivers, forbidding all other people from entering them. She allowed Big-Eye to keep the thief’s pelt, and since then he carried it with pride.
Thus, Big-Eye became known as the hero who saved Shi’s son.
Footnotes:
* - /ʃi/, see 15. Shi, the vengeful mother.
** - /ˌwɛidɛˈfiɛ/
*Dah-Iji-Ruu*
Dah-Iji-Ruu* was a woman who lived on the southern shore of the River in its lower eastern reaches. Little was known about her heritage. Rumor had it she was married to the Grass Spirit who shared with her an incredible power of eternal blooming. She used that power to remain forever young, and this was why she had this name, Dah-Iji-Ruu—Grass-Always-Green was what it meant.
She was a remarkably beautiful woman: with wide hips and straight back, ample bosom and round face, with her eastern narrow eyes and long pitch-black hair plaited in multiple thin braids. Men of all backgrounds fell victim to the charm of her beauty. Dah-Iji-Ruu lured them far to the south, into the depths of southern swamps. Those who were smart enough to notice that something was amiss got away, losing only their possessions: things, tools, goods, food preserves, and garments. Those less smart risked being lured all the way to the swamps and getting lost there forever.
Many cautionary tales were told about this woman and her trickster husband, but fools, especially the young ones, rarely listened.
It so happened that once among those fools was Big-Eye himself.
One spring the Stork Brothers hunted along the southern shore and Big-Eye saw Dah-Iji-Ruu gathering herbs not far away. She walked in the grass field with a smooth gait, singing a song that went like this:
Ear to ear, stem to stem.
A seed for the bird, the root for a man.
Follow the grass, seed in the beak,
Bait in your throat, share what you have.
A young and healthy man, Big-Eye was stunned by her beauty and her voice. Tushiklu-tu-Wagha noticed his brother’s gaze.
“Don’t you even think whatever you’re thinking, brother!” he said to Big-Eye. “Don’t you know all the stories about her?ˮ
“Well yes,ˮ was Big-Eye’s short answer.
“Well, can you imagine how foolishly you’d look if you went for her, not to mention being dead?”
“Well, of course.”
But the power of youth’s arrogance can be broken with neither skill nor common sense but with experience itself. Big-Eye left his brothers when they did not see him and approached Dah-Iji-Ruu. She said to him first, with a smile,
“Why, hunter, what a nice pelt you have on you!”
“Yes,” Big-Eye said. “This is a trophy I got for saving Shi’s son.”
“Yes, I heard the story,” Dah-Iji-Ruu replied, walking away from the River, and Big-Eye followed, craving to hear more of her voice.
“Why, hunter,” she began again, “you have such a lovely brown eye. Surely your father was a handsome man.”
“I didn’t know my father,” Big-Eye said. “But he must have been a pitiable man if he could only give me one flawless eye.”
“Oh, poor boy,” the woman whispered. “In the world of spirits, what can a man do in life? Only what he is allowed to do by the spirits. Don’t detest your father. I’m sure he did his best.”
They walked side by side, Dah-Iji-Ruu holding herbs in her hands and Big-Eye looking at her.
“They say you have a power,” he said. “What is it? How do you use it?”
“Oh yes, I have the power that my husband shared with me. The power of life that I exercise as I want. Incidentally, do you want to see a grove I’ve made bloom just recently?” Dah-Iji-Ruu asked.
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“Of course!”
And she led Big-Eye to the south, past the salty lakes. There, in a low ground, there was a grove full of apricot trees that were blooming in brightest white and tenderest pink.
“Look there, look at it!” Dah-Iji-Ruu said.
“I’m looking!” Big-Eye lied, for he stared at the woman.
“Do you want to see a waterfall I’ve erected?”
“Of course!”
And Dah-Iji-Ruu led him to the southwest, past the Southern Hills. She showed him the waterfall that was many lakes wide and multiple trees high, with waters falling down into a splendid cloud.
“Look at this, look how powerful it is!” Dah-Iji-Ruu said.
“I’m looking!” Big-Eye lied again, staring at the woman.
“Now do you want to see a flower I made for my husband?”
“Of course!”
And Dah-Iji-Ruu led Big-Eye further south, into the deepest of the deepest swamps.
“Look at this, look how good he looks with it!” Dah-Iji-Ruu said, pointing at her husband who wore the flower.
“Yes, I see!” Big-Eye said, staring at the woman.
“Now, meet my husband,” she said and turned Big-Eye’s head. Grass Spirit sat in a puddle of green water with a lotus in his hair and a malicious grin on his face.
“So, Big-Eye! I’ve heard of you, young hunter. I’m guessing it will be interesting this time.”
“What will be interesting?” having realized his condition, Big-Eye did not look at the woman anymore.
“Why, the contest! That every man who comes here challenges me to.”
Big-Eye stood silent. He recalled the stories now—the ones that should have taught him but didn’t. The woman lured him into the swamps like an utter fool. Lying was useless. The Grass Spirit’s contests were unwinnable. What was there to do for him?
“Yes,” Big-Eye said resolutely. “Yes, you’re right. I challenge you! Why wouldn’t I? I’m Big-Eye, after all, the one who saved Shi’s youngest son, the one who shoots a redfish in the eye!”
“Sure you are,” the Grass Spirit said with a smirk. “What do you challenge me to?”
Big-Eye thought about his options.
“Running. Let us see who can run longer!”
The Grass Spirit readily agreed. He clapped, and Dah-Iji-Ruu blew, and the forest spread, opening a clearing so long it reached the Western Mountains.
“Whoever reaches those mountains first is the winner. The winner marries the woman. The loser stays in the swamps. Simple!” He clapped again and two cheetahs ran out of the forest. The Grass Spirit grabbed them by their sides, and the cheetahs carried him to the mountains at an incredible speed. Big-Eye ran after them. He ran for a whole moon; he barely reached the Western Mountains and fell to the ground from exhaustion. The Grass Spirit laughed.
“Is that the fastest runner in the plains? I thought better of you.”
“It’s not fair,” Big-Eye said, but the Grass Spirit cut him off.
“What is fair? Is running after others’ wives fair? You get what you give, and you chew what you get, fishy. Now prepare to rot in the swamps!”
“Wait,” Big-Eye said suddenly. “One more challenge. You know how to cover distances, but do you know how to do it sneakily? Let’s run back and let the eagle be the judge. Who runs all the way unnoticed by the eagle is the winner.”
“Fa!” the Spirit shouted and tore the pelt off Big-Eye’s torso. He clapped and the mountain eagle came flying above them. Then Dah-Iji-Ruu swayed a cloth around him, and he turned into a swarm of ants that disappeared into the forest. Big-Eye cursed his foolishness and ran back. He ran as smoothly as possible, as covertly as he could. He made sure not to disturb a single branch and not make a single sound in the foliage. He reached where the race began and the Grass Spirit was already there. The mountain eagle said,
“I have not seen the Spirit once, but I have tracked you, Hunter from the River, all the way.”
“How? That’s not fair! I challenge you to shooting. That hole in the farther tree, let us see who puts an arrow into it!”
“Fa!” the Spirit yelled and tore the bow from Big-Eye’s hands. “I know that you’re a good shooter. Wara-Hiitali taught you well, no doubt about that. But one thing he forgot to teach you is the power of allies!” He clapped, and a flock of southern birds appeared above them. “I have allies all over the world, and I do not need any skills other than the ones I have. You have a lot of skills, but what allies do you have?”
Dah-Iji-Ruu threw a handful of sand in the air. It turned into an arrow, and the southern birds took it and carried it over to the hole in the farthest tree and carefully put it in.
“Now your turn, shooter. Oh wait, you have no bow! What do you say, Eagle-ally? Is it fair that I took the bow from him?”
“I see it perfectly fair,” the eagle answered.
“You see the power of allies, lonely bastard?” the Spirit sneered. “Now get into that swamp.”
Downcast and dispirited, Big-Eye stared not at the spirit but at a tree top. There, a stork sat, moving its head around, clearing its feathers. Their eyes met, and Big-Eye waited for the Stork to say something with its beak, but it remained still.
“Patience,” Big-Eye muttered. “Patience is all I have now. Oh, what a mistake I’ve made. Oh, Stork, will you forgive me for this folly?”
“What are you blabbering there?” the Grass Spirit shouted. “Patience? You challenge me to patience? Heed to this, wife, we’ve got a truly disparate fool here!”
He clapped and turned into two catfish. The catfish grabbed Big-Eye and dragged him underwater. There Big-Eye lay, held by the fish. He tried to spread his hands, but the catfish held them down. He tried to scream, but nothing but bubbles came out. From under the cloudy water, he watched his last hope—the Stork on the tree. His time was running out, his chest tightened and begged for a breath.
He then saw the bird spread its wings and fly down, leaving behind the tree’s branch swaying up and down. Dah-Iji-Ruu threw her hand up to catch him, but the Stork evaded and knocked her down. It made a circle and landed right in the water, grabbed one catfish, and threw it away. He then made another round, grabbed the second catfish, and threw it away as well. Big-Eye jumped out of the pond, gasping for air, and the Stork grabbed him by his shoulders and carried him out of the swamp, out of the forest, out from the south—to the north. The Grass Spirit shouted curses after them, but curses were not his powers. They reached the River, and the Stork left the weakened, broken, and completely naked Big-Eye near his parents’ house.
Thus Big-Eye lost his bow and, more importantly, his pelt, but learned the power of allies and the utility of warnings.
As for Dah-Iji-Ruu—she keeps roaming the southern shore to this day. Every spring she walks along the fields gathering grasses and flowers and singing a song that goes like this:
Ear to ear, stem to stem.
A seed for the bird, the root for a man.
So many birds fell prey,
Except for a Stork who made it away
Footnotes:
* - /ˌdah-idʒi-ˈruː/
*Big-Eye and Klanazhaano*
Big-Eye tricked lazy Klanazhaano into making a decision.
Two brothers in Clan Kizhji quarreled over an antelope pelt that their deceased father left to them. It was an exceptionally beautiful pelt which brought luck. So, the brothers quarreled over who would take it, and in the heat of the argument they nearly came to blows. The clan had to intervene and stop the men from a deadly, foolish fight.
Their uncle tried to settle the matter. He offered that the pelt be cut into two pieces, each of the pieces then given to each brother. That only made the brothers angrier.
“Nobody dares to cut our father’s inheritance!” both of them screamed.
Qaoron of the clan tried to settle it too. He suggested a race on Clay Island from its western end to the eastern. The winner would take the pelt. The brothers began the race, but soon the younger one put a stick in the feet of the older one. The older grabbed the stick and threw it in the back of the younger. The younger stopped and picked up a rock. The older stopped and picked up a rock as well. The race turned into a bloody fight, and once again the clan had to intervene to stop their madness.
Desperate, their clanmates took them to Ira-Wyghu, the shaman from the northern shore. He sat under a dead acacia tree, with eyes clouded from birth yet perfectly seeing. The party sat in front of him and laid out the story.
“Cut it in two,” the shaman said.
“We cannot do that,” the clanmates answered. “Their uncle already suggested it, and they only got angry.”
“Make a race then,” the shaman said. “Let the winner take the pelt.”
“We cannot do that either. Qaoron suggested it, but the race turned into a battle between the brothers.”
“Well, then, let them have the damn battle. The winner takes the pelt,”
“But they are reckless,” the clanmates retorted. “They will kill each other!”
“Well, then no human solution to this matter exists and I can’t help you. Take it up to Klanazhaano or something.”
The clanmates and the brothers returned to the settlement without a solution. Then Big-Eye suggested,
“I shall take them to Klanazhaano.”
“But how will you find that stranger from the abyss?” the clan people asked surprised.
“I’ll come up with a way.”
“But how will you compel that stubborn spirit?”
“I’ll think of something.”
With no other options, the clan agreed, and the three went to the southern shore. Big-Eye figured that since Klanazhaano was known as the biggest of all spirits, his footprints had to be big as well. He ascended the highest hill and checked for big low lands. He spotted a row of lakes and waterless deeps going southwest, and keeping those features as landmarks, went in that direction.
Soon the three reached a mountain that stood amidst the savanna, and on top of that mountain sat Klanazhaano. Big-Eye told the two brothers to hide in the bush, went up that mountain, and called to the spirit. Klanazhaano looked down at him as Big-Eye laid out the story.
“Why would I spend my time resolving humans’ quarrels?”
“Why, maybe because else I can hit your eye with my arrow?”
Klanazhaano burst out laughing.
“You? My eye? With an arrow? Well, you sure can try, but I will smash you into powder first!”
And the giant spirit raised his foot to crush Big-Eye, but Big-Eye disappeared from sight. Klanazhaano looked around in search of the pesky human when a small and wobbly arrow flew out of the tall grass and hit his pupil. Screaming with pain, Klanazhaano ran across the savanna, rocking the earth with his steps, and Big-Eye followed him, hidden in the grass. Klanazhaano glanced down to see where he could go. The figure of the shooter loomed in the grass.
“Aah!” the spirit groaned and ran on, gazing at the sky. He stopped again to see where he could hide—the figure loomed again in the grass with the bowstring pulled.
“Ahaa!” the spirit cried and ran on.
“Don’t look at the grass if you don’t want to lose your second eye!” Big-Eye told him from below.
“But I need to look at the grass to see where I can go!”
“Then don’t be stubborn and suggest a solution!”
“What solution can there be to such nonsense? Leave the things of the dead with the dead if you don’t want the living to quarrel over them!” Klanazhaano squatted over a lake, weeping for his lost eye. Big-Eye thought about his suggestion and concluded that this was wise. He found the brothers and went with them back to the clan. The clan heard the suggestion and agreed that this was wise indeed.
In accordance with the burial rites, the pelt was loaded on a reed boat, set ablaze, and let go. The boat floated downstream, carrying the pelt for the father. With the issue gone, the brothers ceased their quarreling. Each of them had to make an effort to obtain their own beautiful lucky pelts.
Thus, the custom was established that whenever somebody dies, no things are inherited. All things must be buried along with the deceased.
As for Big-Eye, he became famous as the only human who compelled the highest of the land patrons to resolve a human’s issue.