Right Ear pounced on it for play, quickly shaking it about so that it slapped his face. The women came to their chief in turn, selecting the spear of their family, needing no instruction as they had seen this ritual through the eyes of their ancestors for countless generations.
The mothers carried the spears and stood in front of their respective son so that the order was mother, followed by son, followed by the young warriors with the bowls. The women wore expressions of pride for they were taking part in ensuring the tribe had leaders of the future. Such a day as this would be a unique time for these women since for the remainder of the year and their lives, village rules generally forbade them from using the weapons of men. Today would also be the last time they helped decide the fates of their boys. With a nod from Nootau, who now stood off to the side of the line, the mothers whitened their grip on the small spears and simultaneously threw them with all their might into a clearing. There was no target at which to aim. Their aim was raw distance.
When the spears had all smacked into the earth made damp by the last vestiges of pockets of melting snow, Etleloo sent two more junior warriors out to announce the results. They did not have to run far to reach the first cluster of three spears that had barely made it four fadmrs away. The mothers who tossed these spears and their sons behind them looked disappointed. There was a sense of dishonor at their weak performance because it was assumed that a weak-armed mother meant a coddled child. These boys would be given the easiest of the trials. It was a mark the boys could outlive as men, but a stain nonetheless. The same had happened to Hassun when his now dead mother had thrown the family spear. I could see that even now he was overlooked for the most rigorous or prestigious tasks of war. But he seemed to be doing well enough, I thought, for his father, Nootau, was busy molding him into the next shaman, itself a position more influential than even the chief – depending on who was asked.
Despite her obvious overprotection of Kesegowaase, I was thankful to see that Hurit was not in this batch. Nor was she in the next cluster of spears. Her arm proved true, among the strongest that both men and women ever recalled seeing. Hurit’s family spear had sailed past all the others, down the center of the clearing before plunging a full half ell deep in the soft dirt. When the result was announced, Ahanu gave a slight smile and nod, though he was careful not to show favorites. The strong heaving of the spear was an honor to Hurit and Kesegowaase, but it meant that the boy would have the most difficult of the trials.
“Now these boys will eat of the wysoccan and begin the journey away from childhood, through the spirit world, and into manhood,” called Nootau the medicine man for all to hear. The boys turned their backs to their mothers, a fitting representation to the events of the day, to face the young warriors carrying the bowls. With a nod, they took the bowls and began scooping the paste out and into their mouths. I did not know the taste of what they ate, but it must have been bitter. Each and every boy who ate of it winced with pursed lips as it went down. One of the smallest immediately threw up, but his warrior was ready with more of the paste and forced it down the boy’s mouth, holding the child’s jaw and nose closed so that he didn’t spew his stomach contents a second time. Kesegowaase swallowed his dose with as much pride as he could muster as he stood tall and proud, not looking toward Hurit who had taken her place back in the crowd along with the other boys’ mothers.
Ahanu spread his arms wide so that the loose sleeves of his tunic slipped down to show the many tattoos covering his arms. “Young warriors, lead these boys on the journey you took not so long ago. See they are taken to the place
The mothers carried the spears and stood in front of their respective son so that the order was mother, followed by son, followed by the young warriors with the bowls. The women wore expressions of pride for they were taking part in ensuring the tribe had leaders of the future. Such a day as this would be a unique time for these women since for the remainder of the year and their lives, village rules generally forbade them from using the weapons of men. Today would also be the last time they helped decide the fates of their boys. With a nod from Nootau, who now stood off to the side of the line, the mothers whitened their grip on the small spears and simultaneously threw them with all their might into a clearing. There was no target at which to aim. Their aim was raw distance.
When the spears had all smacked into the earth made damp by the last vestiges of pockets of melting snow, Etleloo sent two more junior warriors out to announce the results. They did not have to run far to reach the first cluster of three spears that had barely made it four fadmrs away. The mothers who tossed these spears and their sons behind them looked disappointed. There was a sense of dishonor at their weak performance because it was assumed that a weak-armed mother meant a coddled child. These boys would be given the easiest of the trials. It was a mark the boys could outlive as men, but a stain nonetheless. The same had happened to Hassun when his now dead mother had thrown the family spear. I could see that even now he was overlooked for the most rigorous or prestigious tasks of war. But he seemed to be doing well enough, I thought, for his father, Nootau, was busy molding him into the next shaman, itself a position more influential than even the chief – depending on who was asked.
Despite her obvious overprotection of Kesegowaase, I was thankful to see that Hurit was not in this batch. Nor was she in the next cluster of spears. Her arm proved true, among the strongest that both men and women ever recalled seeing. Hurit’s family spear had sailed past all the others, down the center of the clearing before plunging a full half ell deep in the soft dirt. When the result was announced, Ahanu gave a slight smile and nod, though he was careful not to show favorites. The strong heaving of the spear was an honor to Hurit and Kesegowaase, but it meant that the boy would have the most difficult of the trials.
“Now these boys will eat of the wysoccan and begin the journey away from childhood, through the spirit world, and into manhood,” called Nootau the medicine man for all to hear. The boys turned their backs to their mothers, a fitting representation to the events of the day, to face the young warriors carrying the bowls. With a nod, they took the bowls and began scooping the paste out and into their mouths. I did not know the taste of what they ate, but it must have been bitter. Each and every boy who ate of it winced with pursed lips as it went down. One of the smallest immediately threw up, but his warrior was ready with more of the paste and forced it down the boy’s mouth, holding the child’s jaw and nose closed so that he didn’t spew his stomach contents a second time. Kesegowaase swallowed his dose with as much pride as he could muster as he stood tall and proud, not looking toward Hurit who had taken her place back in the crowd along with the other boys’ mothers.
Ahanu spread his arms wide so that the loose sleeves of his tunic slipped down to show the many tattoos covering his arms. “Young warriors, lead these boys on the journey you took not so long ago. See they are taken to the place
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