Tribal Stories: Village

Her pace had slowed down since the first days of exile. The initial adrenaline was wearing off. The sages had cautioned that this was going to be a long journey, and that she would eventually need to slow down to have enough for the rest of the road.

A few days had passed since the critter's last visit. She hadn't been willing to admit it, but the critter's words bothered her a great deal. Had she given up too soon? Should she have tried a little longer? What if he was right that she still had something good by remaining in the city--even if not as one of the restorer of the walls?

Her mind drifted back to the years in the city. There had been other times that had past where she had been just as close to leaving the city, but there was one in particular that came to mind. She struggled to push aside the sorrowful memories that came with that time because she only wanted to recall why she had stayed.

She had gone to see one of her mothers then, hoping for a remedy that would help her through that period of pain. But there was no offer of an elixir or medicinal herb; she was simply told of a village outside of the city walls where she could go to find some rest.

No one could tell her what life was going to be like in the village, except that it would be good. She hadn't quite learnt to naturally trust her mothers and grandmothers or the sages yet, but there had been something in the forces that held them together that compelled her to walk in the direction of the village.

In the years since her involvement with the war, the time in the village had been the brightest spark in her memory. It had given her hope that a different way was possible--a way that involved simply learning how to build life together, how to dispute without bloodshed, and more importantly, how to communally appreciate the forces that held them together.

The night she began her journey back to the city, she had resolved to find ways to continue the village life while continuing the restoration work. She wanted to believe that her time in the village wasn't simply respite, but that she had learnt skills that she could bring back to the city to help at least herself and her tribespeople live differently. But before long, the restoration efforts took too much from her, and she quickly forgot about the village life.

She hadn't said much to her mother or mothers, or her grandmother or grandmothers, or to the sages or her tribespeople, but she had wondered if the path to the southern lands would lead her to start a village. There was so much uncertainty along that road to begin, and she feared that mentioning the village that early in the journey would only raise hopes for a greater disappointment should it not turn out that way.

Her mind drifted back to the critter's words.

"The road to the south is rife with uncertainty. Wouldn't it be better to go with a little more support from the city?"

She wondered if he was right. Perhaps it had been too soon. Perhaps a few more battle scars wouldn't make that much of a difference on her already battered-down body. But then she remembered the nights of darkness when the pain had been so intense that she pleaded with the forces to quickly end it for her. And then she remembered the words of one of her mothers.

"It's not supposed to be this hard, child."

If she had been willing to admit it, it was the dream of life in the village that had finally given her the freedom to go into exile. The village had been a part of those dreams that haunted her too, but it had seemed too big to become reality, and too good to be true. The years of war had taught her to stop believing good things would ever happen for her. Besides, she was too young to know how to start a village.

She shook her head as if it would help clear her thoughts. She had learnt from her time in the village that life was different in the village. The village people had taught her that the village didn't start because one person decided a village needed to be started. No, it was a group of people deciding they wanted to form a way of life together, and everyone had a role to play. There were the ones who prepared the meals, and the ones who taught the way of the forces that held them together. There were the ones who were healers and the ones who welcomed others into the village.

She had learnt that her role was the collector of stories. The village people valued stories as foundation for their way of life. Collecting stories came easy for her, but she had never understood that to be of value until then. The years of the war had limited her time for stories, and she found that she greatly missed that. She wondered if life in the southern lands would allow for that.

But it wasn't time for life in the southern lands yet. With the southern lands still far out of sight, it wouldn't be appropriate to dwell on those dreams yet. Her role until then, was to keep walking.

Her fingers found their way to those rocks again, and she clasped them firmly in her hands.

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind."
"Love your neighbour as yourself."

As she continued putting one foot in front of another, she looked to the heavens and again whispered words of blessing and thanks for her mother and mothers, and her grandmother and grandmothers, for the sages, for her tribespeople, for the critters, and for the village people.