“How stories began”
by Ariel Banfield Gomez
“I remember well,” said Kalvino, who had been watching everything since the universe started. “The first humanoids were living in small and dirty caves to protect themselves from the cold and the beasts lurking around. They didn’t know better, that’s how they were, instinctive creatures themselves. Not very capable, or creative, destined to disappear in a flick of time. Honestly, nobody would have noticed.
One day, something miraculous happened. A few subtle changes in their genome did the trick. Nothing too dramatic: a methyl group here, an acetyl group there, and the dormant chromatin in a group of their neurons opened up. That’s all it took: silent genes woke up and started to work. Trial and error did the rest. Their primitive brains acquired a functionality, a mind we call it now, which could observe, figure things out, adjust to circumstances, think ahead. That, of course, was later, much later.
But in the beginning, when the chromatin paraphernalia happened, the world was young, so young, that they needed to name things. I still remember when they saw fire for the first time. The whole tribe in a circle around it. They looked like clay statues, red and yellow figurines glowing against their dark faces. I’ve never seen them so quiet, instant wonderment and respect; something sacred happened that day. They learned that fire kept them warm or burned them if not careful. They figured out that meat was softer and tastier when cooked. And above all, they learned that the feared beasts were afraid of it. To honor it, they called it “Rrshfwsrh.” They kept naming things as they went along. Lion was “RrraARrgggR,” and thunder, which later became their first god, became “ThrrTPrgTTmm.” Soon after that, they learned that (SShsshh: rain) turned Rrshfwsrh off, so they had to learn how to split it and take some of it to the big cave -that’s how the world Koufff came about, but that’s another story. They could not afford to lose Rrshfwsrh, so there was always someone taken care of it.
Being Rrshfwsrh keeper was an important job. That’s how we come to Orff, the official fire-keeper. Orff was a poor hunter, but he took great care of the fire, which was always new and warm, as a functional fire ought to be. Orff felt special, he sensed that he had a special status among the tribe members. Orff had been courting Fliymä, the Chief’s daughter from a distance. A few long looks and smiles, not much, but still. She cautiously looked at him from a distance as well. Orff figured that a few more perfect fires, and he would ask the Chief for Flymma’s hand. Not many ceremonies then; if the Chief wanted it done, it was done, and that same night Orff and Fliymä would sleep in the same place.
However, Orff was not the only Fliymä’s suitor. It turns out that RRffûs, who was hunting in the brush, had been secretly eyeing the chief’s daughter as well. Because the hunt usually lasted weeks, Orff was somewhat relieved. In a few days, he will make his move.
It had been an unusually dry summer. Rffûs was among the brushes spotting what later will be a rabbit when through the corner of his eye, he saw his wooden bow rubbing against the dry straws; sparks started to fly right and left. To his surprise, Rrshfwsrh materialized then and there. Instinctively, he put it out with his bare feet -something he will never do again. But he got curious. He went back. In the brush he fiercely rubbed his bow against the dry straws until it happened again. First, a yellow flicker that turned
into a small flame which grew into a beautiful red and hot Rrshfwsrh. He knew immediately what to do. To be sure, he practiced several times. When he was certain, he abandoned the hunt earlier than anticipated. He went back to the Chief’s place, parading like a peacock, making sure everyone saw him. Making sure Fliymä listened, he showed the Chief and the elders how he ‘the first one,’ could make Rrshfwsrh from scratch, SKKrcht.
That night, the real son of a bitch -they learned those words early in evolution- slept with Fliymä, and Orff’s job lost its luster.
The same story told by Orff
I am Orff, the official fire keeper. The Chief gave me this vital assignment after we realized that fire was kind to us. I am proud of two things: first, I wasn’t afraid of fire, which I called Rrshfwsrh, you can guess why. Right? The second is that I learned to split it and keep it alive, so our tribe would never run out of it. There is something special about being a firekeeper. People look at me as if I had been touched by the same God that made Rrshfwsrh in the first place. I know better, but I cannot resist the temptation to let them think what they want. More importantly, I caught Fliymä, attention. Oh, I forgot to tell you that she is the Chief’s daughter. I am convinced she likes me; she knows she will always be warm by my side. When the Chief comes back from the hunt, I will ask him for her hand. I must hurry because the tribe’s bully, RRffûs, thinks that all women belong to him. I must make my move soon.
RRffûs side
Sure, being the fire keeper is a good job. But we, the hunters, are the ones that take all the risks and put food on the table. We eat crappy nuts and roots for days until we get lucky and catch a squirrel or a rabbit. To get a boar is a bitch. Tricky beasts, they fight you, and they have mean teeth, they almost tore my brother’s legs off. Look at me; scars everywhere, I’ve been bitten by snakes and spiders, and here I am, still around. It should be me, RRffûs the best hunter in this tribe who gets Fliymä, I know she wants me, she told me so with her own smiley eyes. With me, she gets a warrior, not a store-keeper. She knows she’ll eat well all her life. I can kill Orff in combat, but the chief will not allow it, the fire keeper cannot be touched. All he does is take care of the fire. Anybody can do that tedious job. But who would want to?
I want Fliymä, so I must think about how to get the Chief’s heart. Maybe I can figure out how to make Rrshfwsrh. That would be really cool…
Fliymä’s turn
What I do not like about Orff, Fliymä said, is that he is continually reminding us how important he is. He keeps talking about the different kinds of fires, how to keep the best flames, which wood is warmer, which ones get burned quickly. He talks and talks. He likes us to believe he is made of the same substance where the fire came from; in other words, God himself. The truth is Rrshfwsrh didn’t choose him, my father gave him the job. What definitively annoys me is that he speaks loudly when I am around. Still, he
hasn’t the courage to talk to me directly, just furtive glances and nervous smiles. I hope my father knows better.
Then there is RRffûs, the warrior. What do you expect from him? He is a brute; all he knows is killing and fighting. Yes, I flirt with him. I love to flirt I move my hips when I walk, and I see the effect they have. Even the animals stop to look at me.
Must I choose between a bore or live with a brute?
Besides, neither one has asked what I think. They may think I am a goat. Ask Ulla, my friend, and she will tell you what she thinks about them fools.
She and I talk about everything. She has been promised to someone from the tribe behind the mountains. My father says it will keep the peace between our two nations. Ulla and I are worried. Will we be able to see each other?
Three days ago, we went to our secret spot on the river. The water is crystalline, and the fish are curious about us. After we laughed about our suitors, we dreamed of things we’d like to do someday. Ulla’s laugh is like a soft waterfall. When she laughs, I cannot help it, I jump up and down and splash her naked body. She has narrow hips, mine are full and bouncy. While in the water, we comb each other’s hair. She braided mine all the way to my waist. She made me look in the water and said, “You look like the wheat goddess.” She has a way with words, and I believe her. Then she washed my back. Maybe, it was an accident, I do not know, but she touched my left nipple. It went up like a dandelion, and a shiver ran through my body. I know she noticed it. I turned around, and I saw her eyes dilated like when she receives a gift, her lips were swollen, and her nostrils wide. I know she knows that I know. I wonder what will happen next.
Livyaa
There is a spot where the river Vilnius divides into a myriad of branches that connect to one another in an irregular laced pattern. One of the branches enters a throat of rocks covered by a canopy of dense pines. Unless you know about it, the throat is impossible to find, except for Fliymä’s mother, Livyaa, who, as a child, used it as her secret hiding place. Today, Livyaa felt the urge to visit her secret spot, the perfect place to think about the things that worried her.
At the end of a snaky path through the forest, she heard their laughs, the splashing of water. After clearing a thicket covered with wildflowers, poisonous mushrooms, and prickly bushes, she could see them both washing each other. Then, they were one. Livyaa would not wait until their lips parted. What now? How would his father react? And what about the others?
She got home and started to cook. Half an hour later, Fliymä showed up.
“Hi Mama, “I brought nuts and herbs” Livyaa, barely turned around.
“How nice,” she said without looking.
What are you making?
“I don’t know… I am just trying,” Livyaa said, “Can I use some of your herbs?”
“No, Mamma, they are for toothaches, no for eating. You taught me so.”
“Oh, I am sorry, my eyes are not what they used to be. Where did you get the nuts?”
We picked them. Ulla and I did.
“Yes, Ulla. She’s got the most beautiful smile. Doesn’t she?”
“Yes,” Fliymä said, then she kept silent.
“She is a lucky girl, you know, she has been promised to the son of Urrgut, behind the white mountains. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Fliymä said. “Everyone knows about it.”
“The question is whether you really know,” Livyaa thought. “And she will move soon,” Maybe not soon enough, Lyvyaa supposed. “And your father is arranging a big party for the two tribes. He is also planning to make a separate announcement that day,” Livyaa’s voice was quivering now.
“How do you know?” Fliymä said, her ear lobes throbbing.
“Your Dad tells me about these things. Besides, I have to get ready for the big day.”
“So, what about the announcement?” Fliymä couldn’t hide the small red blotches on her cheeks.
“You know Rruffs, don’t you. He impressed your Dad.”
“You are talking about the peacock. I know him. What about him?”
“He showed us he can make fire from scratch. Didn’t you see him doing it? The whole tribe was there.”
“I didn’t pay much attention.”
“I did, and I notice you, shoulder to shoulder with Ulla.”
Anyway, your father thinks Rruffus is the right choice.
“Don’t even think about it… Mamma, look at me! what’s going on?”
“I love it when you braid your hair, just like the wheat goddess.” Livyaa said while touching Fliymä’s hair. “It is moist, still.”
A little silence grew before the women’s eyes met. Time and space became one with them, stretching the borders of history.
Livyaa thought about the river but instead added: “I know Fliymä, and I know that you know that I know.”
Ariel Banfield Gomezqp 