Sunday, 15 April 2018

Chapter Eleven My New Life


Chapter 11
I realised that until now, I had never really experienced any hardships in my life. Yes our life, especially through the winter months, was tough.  We were regularly at the point where we might have died from starvation. But true hardship is not about physical pain,  it is about not having loving people around you.  You can be warm and well fed, but have the hardest life imaginable.
I remembered the days back in the gorge, when the snow lay deep on the ground, and the temperatures dropped so that we had to wait hours for enough water to thaw on the fire for us to drink. Every year there was a period of about one month when we literally had nothing to eat. A few hunters would go out and catch a reindeer or two.  These are not stupid animals, and it was essential that our people did not leave it so long that we had becomes fatigued with hunger.  You get used to this way of living, and the pain of an empty stomach is ignored.  It was therefore important that we noted when this time might occur in advance, before it was too late.  Catching a reindeer involves a lot of energy.  We first tracked the reindeer herds moving across deep snow.  They knew well how to avoid us, choosing routes over snow covered streams and rivers.  Here their weight allowed them to cross, whereas our weight would, likely as not, drop us through into the icy waters below.  When a reindeer was caught, it was brought home, often over long distances.  It's most valuable dietary contribution was to be found in its stomach.  Reindeer live off scrapping lichen and mosses from rocks deep under the insulating layers of snow.  This disgusting green slim was essential to our survival, because it contained the vital  nutrients we needed to stop out teeth drop out, and our bones bend, and we knew it.  Parents coaxed their obstreperous children to eat this revolting stuff, and really it was only hunger that had any power of influence over us.  The green mush was washed, and boiled.  To make it more palatable it was cooked with strong spices, and lumps of rock salt.  Then as a community, all seated together, we would eat it as if it were the greatest of all delicacies.  It was a comical sight as you can imagine.  While we ate, old familiar songs extolling the delights of reindeer stomach were sung.  This was when our refugee friends, who already suffered greatly, not being used to surviving harsh winters, really knew we were completely mad.  I am sure they made plans to escape as soon as they could, and go back to their former lives, feeling that death and imprisonment might be more pleasant than staying another year with us.

But I had three new chums, all about my size, and although we did not speak each other’s languages, we instinctively stuck together and cared for each other in a wonderful way.  Thus if one were given left over food from a sailors meal, or a warm scarf, it was shared later with the others, without a moment’s thought.  Gradually I picked up the Oshlo language, from various sources including our rough, but pleasant enough cook.  He spoke largely though cuffs of the ear, and threatened cuffs, but also spoke in single words, which always makes learning a new language that much more straightforward.  Gradually the conversations between sailors became intelligible, and I was able to sift out the punctuating swear words. I realised how helpful to the learner these expletives are, as they slow down the torrent of words into a lilting rhythm.

Yewdis, was a dirty, pale skinned boy, with a pronounced stutter.  He had a toothy grin which I liked.  As we began to communicate more and more I learned that he was from an island a long way from Oshlo, and he thought all his family had been killed.  He had been here for longer than anyone else. I learnt that I had replaced a girl who had recently died.  Her dead body had been thrown into the fiord, and Yewdis was still grieving.  They had been very close.  He took me to the spot when he had last seen her body.   We gazed down into the deep water, and I joined him in grieving for this unknown sister.

Honya, my next companion, was a very short, skinny girl.  She had short black tightly curled hair.  She was a chatterbox, and it took me a while to understand her.  She had wonderful glowing eyes, and a great courage, which I admired.

Kinti, was my final new sister. Her initial approach to me was to ignore me completely. For a number weeks I hadn't a clue what was going on, or whether I had offended her.  I tried to discuss this with Honya, but she could not understand what I was on about.  Kinti seemed fine with the others.  Was it something to do with the loss of their old companion? Then Kinti did something that reassured me that we would be OK.  And from that moment our relationship was sealed.  It was also an act that was to prove to be of great significance for us all. We knew that on our own we were as nothing, like ants under the table. But together we were a band, a gang, and mercifully this bond was one I came to see as strong as our abseiling lines.

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