wonders.
Now they knew what to do. As Presh moved with a dance-like strut along the shore, turning and stamping on the rocks and punching the air with his hand, they answered with cries of
Praise!
and as he passed they struck the water with their palms, shooting arches of spray over the pair of them, a salute of glittering foam through which their shining black bodies moved in glory. Li kept her grip on Presh’s hair but with her free hand punched the air, copying his gesture, timing her movements to his, so that the parade was for her like a continuation of the dance with the dolphin, as she moved with a big strong creature through its element. It struck no-one as strange or wrong that she should share in a Leader-triumph, though nothing like this had ever happened before.
Normally the tribe would have stayed for at least one more day at that bay, but as the sun lost its heat Presh gave signals for a move and took them off northwards under a waxing moon. Perhaps he felt that he couldn’t afford to let Li dance again with the dolphin and not be allowed to join in himself. Or perhaps it was a vaguer feeling, that the bay was for the moment awesome, and that it would be easier for the tribe to go elsewhere until they had come to terms with what had happened.
Next morning Riff’s family cornered a large eel. It took several adults to heave aside the boulder under which it had hidden and to wrestle it ashore, so Presh had time to take charge, and then to control the share-out. Eels being slow to die and too rubbery to tear apart, this meant passing the squirming body round and letting the favoured ones gnaw what they could from it. Presh spat out his first mouthful and gave it to Li, an extraordinary honour for a child.
That night Ma-ma started her labour. The females gave birth in water, usually just before dawn. The mother would leave the sleeping tribe and go with one close friend down into the shallows, where the friend would help with the birth and lift the baby to the surface for its first breath of air. Sometimes a younger female, not quite ready for mating, would go and watch, to learn how the thing was done. It would be a year before Li reached that age but Ma-ma took her all the same, and clutched her to her side as she pushed the infant out of her body, while Hooa caught him and guided him to the surface to wail in the dawn air. His birth-fur was sleek as a seal-skin. His mouth in the bare wrinkled face whimpered and sucked and his hands grasped and grasped at emptiness.
Ma-ma took him as soon as she was ready and put him to her nipple. As he started to suck, she placed a tress of her hair against each tiny pink palm. Immediately the fingers closed and held. That was right. It was a good birth, all that a birth should be. Hooa was muttering
Joy, Praise
and Li was doing so too, without noticing, entranced with happiness and wonder. She had never seen a birth close to. The child was inside the mother – all the tribe knew that – and when her time came she went into the sea and pushed it out of her and there it was. This had seemed no more strange or surprising than the swarming of the shrimps at full moon. It happened. There was no need to explain it.
But now Li stared at the baby as if it had been she herself who’d just been thrust into the world. Where had he come from? The mystery wasn’t the neat body, with fur to keep it warm through the chill of night. Ma-ma had somehow made that inside herself after mating with Tong. (The tribe were aware that females like Liai who refused to mate had no children.) The mystery was the person. This new other. Himself. How could he be made? If he wasn’t made, where had he been? How did the lips know to suck, the fingers to grasp Ma-ma’s locks so that when she was foraging in the water, using both hands, the baby would float safely beside her?
The baby sucked, then slept. Ma-ma crooned. Li squatted beside her, still as a rock in the trance of wonder. Perhaps he had
Now they knew what to do. As Presh moved with a dance-like strut along the shore, turning and stamping on the rocks and punching the air with his hand, they answered with cries of
Praise!
and as he passed they struck the water with their palms, shooting arches of spray over the pair of them, a salute of glittering foam through which their shining black bodies moved in glory. Li kept her grip on Presh’s hair but with her free hand punched the air, copying his gesture, timing her movements to his, so that the parade was for her like a continuation of the dance with the dolphin, as she moved with a big strong creature through its element. It struck no-one as strange or wrong that she should share in a Leader-triumph, though nothing like this had ever happened before.
Normally the tribe would have stayed for at least one more day at that bay, but as the sun lost its heat Presh gave signals for a move and took them off northwards under a waxing moon. Perhaps he felt that he couldn’t afford to let Li dance again with the dolphin and not be allowed to join in himself. Or perhaps it was a vaguer feeling, that the bay was for the moment awesome, and that it would be easier for the tribe to go elsewhere until they had come to terms with what had happened.
Next morning Riff’s family cornered a large eel. It took several adults to heave aside the boulder under which it had hidden and to wrestle it ashore, so Presh had time to take charge, and then to control the share-out. Eels being slow to die and too rubbery to tear apart, this meant passing the squirming body round and letting the favoured ones gnaw what they could from it. Presh spat out his first mouthful and gave it to Li, an extraordinary honour for a child.
That night Ma-ma started her labour. The females gave birth in water, usually just before dawn. The mother would leave the sleeping tribe and go with one close friend down into the shallows, where the friend would help with the birth and lift the baby to the surface for its first breath of air. Sometimes a younger female, not quite ready for mating, would go and watch, to learn how the thing was done. It would be a year before Li reached that age but Ma-ma took her all the same, and clutched her to her side as she pushed the infant out of her body, while Hooa caught him and guided him to the surface to wail in the dawn air. His birth-fur was sleek as a seal-skin. His mouth in the bare wrinkled face whimpered and sucked and his hands grasped and grasped at emptiness.
Ma-ma took him as soon as she was ready and put him to her nipple. As he started to suck, she placed a tress of her hair against each tiny pink palm. Immediately the fingers closed and held. That was right. It was a good birth, all that a birth should be. Hooa was muttering
Joy, Praise
and Li was doing so too, without noticing, entranced with happiness and wonder. She had never seen a birth close to. The child was inside the mother – all the tribe knew that – and when her time came she went into the sea and pushed it out of her and there it was. This had seemed no more strange or surprising than the swarming of the shrimps at full moon. It happened. There was no need to explain it.
But now Li stared at the baby as if it had been she herself who’d just been thrust into the world. Where had he come from? The mystery wasn’t the neat body, with fur to keep it warm through the chill of night. Ma-ma had somehow made that inside herself after mating with Tong. (The tribe were aware that females like Liai who refused to mate had no children.) The mystery was the person. This new other. Himself. How could he be made? If he wasn’t made, where had he been? How did the lips know to suck, the fingers to grasp Ma-ma’s locks so that when she was foraging in the water, using both hands, the baby would float safely beside her?
The baby sucked, then slept. Ma-ma crooned. Li squatted beside her, still as a rock in the trance of wonder. Perhaps he had
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