The creche continues.
Ningi swims slowly around the circle of children.
‘Since you've all just been very active, instead of the story of the Hathor festival, we'll start by making polyominos out of manna. I want to see a tetromino, a hexomino and an undecomino from everyone.’
The class grumbles as they start work. Eject the manna, let it breathe briefly and then mould it. If you take too long, the manna will be as hard as stone. If you are too quick, it will still flow. Manna is our mortar for the houses and is used for all kinds of waterproofing against draughts. But it takes a bit of practice to produce properly moulded manna objects from our glands. And the polyominos in particular, cubes glued together, should be perfect.
‘Dumu, you urgently need to practise more. Your manna is misshapen and not a polyomino. We'll try it together.’ Ningi makes time for Dumu. One of the main reasons why Dumu is so annoyed by the children is that his manna always looks like jellyfish. Not hard like some or perfectly shaped like others. Only very few manage both, perfectly angular hard cubes. They will probably become stonemasons in the future. Dumu probably won't.
I'm struggling with the Undekomino in particular. The other two are easy to make, but I find it difficult to join the many cubes firmly. On the fourth attempt, however, I succeed.
‘OK, if you haven't completed the task yet, take it with you as homework. Find help for yourselves or come and see me tomorrow. Now we start with Hathor. Who can explain to me what it's about?’
A few flippers go up, Ningi selects Shak.
Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
‘The Hathor festival marks the day on which our mother planet completes a full orbit of our sun. It is a great honour to experience Hathor, as it only happens very rarely. We can recognise when Hathor takes place by the rings of our mother planet Saturn. On Hathor we tell ourselves the oldest stories of all and commemorate our ancestors.’
‘Very true, thank you. What is your task for Hathor, Adab?’
‘We are helping to build the statue of our own planet Titan and our mother planet Saturn. We also travel to the homes of our ancestors to dwell there.’
‘Exactly.’ Ningi looks at me briefly before continuing.
‘Do all children have to do this, Shak?’
‘No. Those who grew up in Tjaru or even Kish are exempt. Silent remembrance of the ancestors is enough. Hathor is a festival of joy and lost places are not part of it.’
I am distressed. I am the only child in my crèche who cannot travel to the place where his ancestors lived. No one knows anyone who comes from Kish. The place was abandoned many many cycles ago. Tjaru, on the other hand, is fresh and I am the only child who had relatives there. A few of the older ones too, but they have long since resigned themselves to not being able to go to Tjaru.
‘Why doesn't anyone travel to Tjaru anymore, Adab?’
‘Tjaru was hit by a meteorite. There's nothing left of the village and places are very dangerous for us Ravi after meteorite strikes. Many of us fall ill. That's what happened to Kish once. We don't yet understand why we get sick there, but we've learnt to stay away.’
I have to go to Tjaru. Nobody is forcing me. But it feels right. I won't swim there alone. But I know someone who will certainly come with me. We just have to be quick.