Gone Buggin

Nizhoni Owapa’lu lay in her hammock, wondering what she should do.  The People called her “Beautiful Home Dream” because the forest in which they now lived grew out of her sleeping mind; but she didn’t feel like any sort of wise skill-seeker.  So close to her second naming, she barely even felt like a woman.  After all, what sort of adult went around without any useful abilities?  Her handcrafts usually broke while she was working on them, or unravelled soon after; she was always mistaking one kind of berry for another, and had come close to poisoning herself more than once; she was no skilled hunter, and was usually lucky to find a few small eggs or a lizard.  Indeed, among those who had returned after the Great Hunger, she was the slimmest member of the tribe.  

The thoughts of food and hunger made Nizhoni notice a tightening in her belly.  She tumbled out of her hammock and landed in a crouch next to her storage bags - grace was, at least, one good trait she could claim.  She rummaged out the last of her rations - a few strips of road banana, and hesitantly took a few bites.  The pepper juice with which they had been preserved filled her mouth with heat until her eyes watered.  She wished in vain for a sip of ka’lo or some nut bread to quench the fiery ahli of the pepper vine; but, of course, there was none.  Still, road bananas were better than nothing, and she choked down a few more bites.

Blinking away the tears (and careful not to rub her eyes with her spicy fingers) Nizhoni hopped down the branches of the village, toward the sacred pool.  Here, she could get a drink without needing to boil the water first.  The moisture would make the pepper seem even hotter at first, as the firey ahli fought with the ahli of the water; but enough drink would wash it away - and perhaps make her belly feel more full.

“Why,” she  muttered testily, “could I have not dreamed up a home with more food?”

“Because hunting keeps you young and strong.”  The voice was unexpected, and Nizhoni nearly leapt off the tree in fright.  She just managed to catch herself by snatching a thick liana in one foot, and dangled there like a bat. 

It was only Yula UkBala.  The old woman looked mildly at Nizhoni’s startlement, but mischief twinkled in her eyes.  “How is Owapa’lu today?” she enquired.

“Don’t scare me when I’ve just woken,” pouted Nizhoni as she dangled from the vine, “or I’ll dream up a monster to come and eat you.”

“By the time you have that kind of power,” the elder replied, unperturbed, “you’ll have the restraint to know better.”  She reached out one of her strong house-building hands and tugged Nizhoni back to a more stable perch.

Nizhoni knew it was polite to thank the second-eldest member of her tribe for aid, but she was feeling petulant, and stayed quiet.

UkBala noticed the quiet, and her manner turned to one of friendly concern.  “What troubles Nizhoni Owapa’lu?”

The younger woman crossed her arms irritably.  Even the elder’s courteous formality seemed irksome today.  “Nizhoni Owapa’lu has nothing to offer the tribe,” she replied tersely, “I cannot cook, built things or hunt.”

“Also,” UkBala added helpfully, “your singing voice sounds like a fire beetle at mating time.”

Nizhoni shot the old woman a withering look, and the elder’s joking nature settled once more.

“Did you not dream us a new place to live?” the old woman asked, gesturing at the campfires of their neighbours, that twinkled in nearby nooks of trees.

Nizhoni sighed and began to slip further down the tree.  “A hunter is not praised for what he caught in the before-time,” she murmured.  “I am hungry, UkBala.  I am sorry for my rudeness.”

“Hungry?  Come with me,” the elder smiled, leaping over the younger woman and tugging her ankle from a perch below, “I have something for you.”

Nizhoni licked her lips, which still stung from spices, and followed the elder eagerly.  Finally, she would have some breakfast!  The old woman led the younger to her house - a strong, waterproof affair of talo leaves, whose bindings never came loose, even when the giant sloth was trying to eat it.  Surely, the wise craftswoman would have some manioc cakes, or dried berries, or figs…

Yula Ukbala took something down from a peg on the wall, and thrust it into Nizhoni’s hands.  It was a loop of wood, well-built from a green branch, and bound to a bag of bark-cloth.

“What is this?”  Nizhoni asked dubiously, certain that it wasn’t food.

This is a net, used for catching Wallafiu - the giant water beetle.  His outside is hard, but his flesh is very nice after cooking.  Catch him for us, and I will cook him with juice from the tchuki fruit.  Then, your belly will be very full indeed!

“Where will I find him?” asked Nizhoni, blinking curiously at the net.

“He lives with his wife and children, in the gathering places below the sacred pool.  The water there is no good for drinking, but is full of other creatures that Wallafiu catches.”  The elder paused thoughtfully.  “Beware of his bite,” she warned, “for it is so painful that you will run around the whole village three times to escape the sting, and shout so loudly that you frighten away all the animals.”

“I do not want such a bite,” Nizhoni replied truculently.

“No,” UkBala agreed, “but you want breakfast.”

The younger woman examined the net in her hand again, wondering what would happen if she was as bad at beetle-huntng as she was at hunting monkeys.

“I will paint your skin,” UkBala decided.  “That way, Wallafiu will know that you respect him, and will be less likely to bite you.”

Nizhoni agreed, and the elder marked her like Wallafiu, drawing a beetle’s body on her belly, and long legs across her thighs.  She put some more markings on Nizhoni’s face, and placed black over her eyes, like the eyes of of the water-bug.  Then, net in hand and carrying a basket on a tump line, the Home Dreamer left the elder’s hut.  She climbed down toward the places below the sacred pool, where the water collected in stagnant hollows.  There, she found a multitude of barbasco vines, which she harvested and pounded until they were a pulp.

“Hello, Wallafiu!” she called, “I am Nizhoni Owapa’lu of the Dayah, and I am hungry.  This vine will make you sleep, so it does not hurt when I take your life.”  She cast the barbasco into the water, turning it milky yellow-white.  As the colour spread, she began to sing a song.  If Yula UkBala thought she sounded like a fire beetle, perhaps the water beetle would like her music.

I am hungry every day,
Although I dreamed our home.
I call the People far away,
And tell them not to roam.
I dreamed the place where beetles swim,
I dreamed the water clear;
I dreamed it so that you could live,
With those who you hold dear.

I ask you now, Wallafiu,
To help me with my plight.
I promise that my words are true,
And I’ll treat your body right.

I need your flesh to feed me now,
And so I sing this song.
So that your meat you will allow
To keep my body strong.

One by one, water insects, small frogs and a large cæcilian drifted to the top of the pool.  Whether it was from the barbasco or in response to her singing, Nizhoni did not know, but she scooped each of them up in UkBala’s net, using a line at the middle of the hoop to help lift the great cæcilian.  Each of them had gone to sleep, and Nizhoni quickly put a sharpened stick through their brains, so they would not suffer out of the water that they loved.  Finally, a large beetle rose to the surface.  It was bigger than Nizhoni’s hand, and it surprised her, but it was as sleepy as the others, and did not bite.  From the markings on its belly and her own, she knew it was Wallafiu (surely, it was too big to be one of his children), and she thanked him reverently before taking his life.

As she stood at the edge of Wallafiu’s water, Nizhoni realized that this had been easy for her.  She had not enjoyed the hard work of pounding barbasco, and she had been afraid when she scooped up Wallafiu; but her basket was full of food - not just for herself and UkBala, but for the whole tribe.

Perhaps there was something that she could do well after all…

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The moral of this story is:  don’t try to write like Rudyard Kipling at 1 am. 

Aside from a conceptual foot-doodle ( djake.deviantart.com/art/Nizho… ), I have not yet drawn a proper picture of Nizhoni Owapa’lu - so I figured it was about time!  Besides, I’ve literally been drawing only for other people since early October, and I needed to take a bit of “me time.”  Also, I hadn't drawn a Girl Friday pic in over a year.  It’s been very liberating!

Also, this is my first pic drawn with my new Wacom Intuos Pro Large pad.  I really enjoyed the greater responsiveness to pressure, compared to my previous Wacom Bamboo Create.  However, I’m not sure that it was worth the $500+ to make the jump.  Ah well; no going back now!

By the bye:  Dayah songs don’t typically rhyme, but it’s hard to describe cadence and rhythm in text. 

Edit for and others:  Owapa'lu is an original character for my Dayah Forest setting.  I had mentioned more about this in my gallery description, so I wouldn't have to write it for each image, but it seems that some groups like to see it stated explicitly for each pic.

Created in GIMP.

Creation Time:  10 hours; 16 with research for various references.

Thanks to www.obsidiandawn.com/category/… for the cloud, mist, foliage and animal print brushes used.  They’re awesome!