tenth child with me; and the Sky Man couldn’t take away the promise he had given my husband that my womb would bear children until my death. For the Sky Man’s promise was always his law and he obeyed himself in his law from the beginning.
‘Eeve, your birrd.’ He was perched on a twig of the cedar, his feathers casting yellow and violet specks on the bark below. I wasn’t surprised at his return. The bird’s voice, however, sounded different, more clear and more human. Perhaps the hot rain had washed the beak and melted the screech inside it. He still lingered over my name, opening it like a long-lipped flower.
‘Birrd brings Eeve guest.’
‘Which of my sons has come to visit me!’ I knew that it couldn’t be any of my twelve daughters: they were too tired, too busy giving birth to child after child since their own childhood. They had neither my strength nor shape to walk great distances after so much pain.
‘Son, no. Bird iss with treeman.’
‘Who’s the treeman!’ I was up on my feet, looking around.
‘Your bird has masster.’
‘Show me your master, listening bird.’
The visitor showed himself. He jumped down from a palmtree which now seemed much higher because the cedar was no longer there to extol its own splendour. The creature had very long arms and short legs which he tried to keep unbent but couldn’t.
His small eyes shifted with great speed: they were everywhere on my body, but when I stared back, they ran like mice to their nests. The bird flew up and sat on the ape’s head.
‘Am treeman,’ he spoke his name through the bird’s beak. ‘Man,’ the bird said as if! didn’t understand. I laughed and it was a noisy laughter because the listening bird flapped his wings, the yellow feathers suddenly aglow over the treeman’s forehead. The small eyes were twice shut, for the hair covered them from above.
‘He can’t stand up on his legs, bird.’
‘I can,’ the bird answered for him and the treeman had another try, but his knees needed a prop in front. Now his right arm, now his left touched the ground. He jerked them upwards each time.
‘You’re cheating,’ I said. Since the bird was his voice, I spoke to the ape as if he could understand me. Perhaps he did. ‘Try your eyes on my eyes and you’ll be blinded like a wabbly water-pig.’
‘Can see through eyelids.’ The listening bird at once carried his thought to me. At that moment 1 saw that his eyelids were still hidden under his forehead hair.
‘You’re cheating again.’
‘No. Treeman sees through leaves.’
He amused me. I wished Amo were with me to be amused, too. But the lake hid its best fish many oar strokes from the reeds. I heard the treeman’s bird speaking my thought:
‘Your son on your lake. Eeve alone without man.’
My pride took its power from being alone. A circle smaller than the lake, my husband had once said, and yet a true circle enclosed within itself.
‘Can you draw a circle, ape?’ I wanted to see its teeth naked in anger.
‘Ape?’ There was a screech audible in the repetition. ‘Tree man is ape’s own word. I think words.’ He made a big round gesture with his arms; it wasn’t a sign of anger, but a circle drawn in the air. His eyes glittered as the sun forced his whole face to open up skyward.
‘What do you want, treeman?’
‘Bring peace.’
‘My husband talks of peace. You are not like him.’
‘Adam-man is man from sky,’ the beaky screech answered.
‘No, no! He’s not the Sky Man!’ I cried out of despair or a long-forgotten fright.
‘Treeman brings himself to woman. Eeve is not strong without Treeman’s army.’
‘Where is your army?’
‘In trees, Eeve. We conquered trees.’
I looked at the fallen cedar and his eyes followed mine. The bird was now hovering over the broken roots, a voice feathered with colours, or a pair of wings, suspended on sound and tuned to yellow and violet.
Then the treeman told me about three
‘Eeve, your birrd.’ He was perched on a twig of the cedar, his feathers casting yellow and violet specks on the bark below. I wasn’t surprised at his return. The bird’s voice, however, sounded different, more clear and more human. Perhaps the hot rain had washed the beak and melted the screech inside it. He still lingered over my name, opening it like a long-lipped flower.
‘Birrd brings Eeve guest.’
‘Which of my sons has come to visit me!’ I knew that it couldn’t be any of my twelve daughters: they were too tired, too busy giving birth to child after child since their own childhood. They had neither my strength nor shape to walk great distances after so much pain.
‘Son, no. Bird iss with treeman.’
‘Who’s the treeman!’ I was up on my feet, looking around.
‘Your bird has masster.’
‘Show me your master, listening bird.’
The visitor showed himself. He jumped down from a palmtree which now seemed much higher because the cedar was no longer there to extol its own splendour. The creature had very long arms and short legs which he tried to keep unbent but couldn’t.
His small eyes shifted with great speed: they were everywhere on my body, but when I stared back, they ran like mice to their nests. The bird flew up and sat on the ape’s head.
‘Am treeman,’ he spoke his name through the bird’s beak. ‘Man,’ the bird said as if! didn’t understand. I laughed and it was a noisy laughter because the listening bird flapped his wings, the yellow feathers suddenly aglow over the treeman’s forehead. The small eyes were twice shut, for the hair covered them from above.
‘He can’t stand up on his legs, bird.’
‘I can,’ the bird answered for him and the treeman had another try, but his knees needed a prop in front. Now his right arm, now his left touched the ground. He jerked them upwards each time.
‘You’re cheating,’ I said. Since the bird was his voice, I spoke to the ape as if he could understand me. Perhaps he did. ‘Try your eyes on my eyes and you’ll be blinded like a wabbly water-pig.’
‘Can see through eyelids.’ The listening bird at once carried his thought to me. At that moment 1 saw that his eyelids were still hidden under his forehead hair.
‘You’re cheating again.’
‘No. Treeman sees through leaves.’
He amused me. I wished Amo were with me to be amused, too. But the lake hid its best fish many oar strokes from the reeds. I heard the treeman’s bird speaking my thought:
‘Your son on your lake. Eeve alone without man.’
My pride took its power from being alone. A circle smaller than the lake, my husband had once said, and yet a true circle enclosed within itself.
‘Can you draw a circle, ape?’ I wanted to see its teeth naked in anger.
‘Ape?’ There was a screech audible in the repetition. ‘Tree man is ape’s own word. I think words.’ He made a big round gesture with his arms; it wasn’t a sign of anger, but a circle drawn in the air. His eyes glittered as the sun forced his whole face to open up skyward.
‘What do you want, treeman?’
‘Bring peace.’
‘My husband talks of peace. You are not like him.’
‘Adam-man is man from sky,’ the beaky screech answered.
‘No, no! He’s not the Sky Man!’ I cried out of despair or a long-forgotten fright.
‘Treeman brings himself to woman. Eeve is not strong without Treeman’s army.’
‘Where is your army?’
‘In trees, Eeve. We conquered trees.’
I looked at the fallen cedar and his eyes followed mine. The bird was now hovering over the broken roots, a voice feathered with colours, or a pair of wings, suspended on sound and tuned to yellow and violet.
Then the treeman told me about three
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