fierce-looking man with the tattoo and the bone through his nose was sitting beside a small fire watching him. He gestured for Mark to come over and join him.
The man took a long pull on the slender plant stalk he was smoking and then handed it to Mark.
Mark studied it. The smoldering thing was tightly wrapped with leaves and tied with vines. "My parents aren’t going to like this," he muttered. He accepted the foul-smelling thing and took a short, polite puff. The aroma was so strong it made his eyes water. He coughed and handed it back.
The man laughed and slapped Mark on the back. "Kakon et tu bet."
"Kakon?" Mark cocked his head. "You people keep using that word." He put his hand on his chest. "Are you calling me Kakon?"
The man slapped him harder. "Kakon."
"Okay, sure. Kakon." Mark sat in silence, watching the activities around him. The women seemed to be working a lot harder than the men. He spotted Leeta in the garden with a digging stick and waved to her. She looked away and kept hoeing.
Mark turned to the man beside him. "Are you the leader of these people? You know, the head? The one in charge?"
The man exploded with a barrage of words. His lecture lasted for several minutes and Mark couldn’t understand any of it.
When the man was finished Mark drew a picture in the sand with his finger of several small stick men. Above them he drew a larger figure holding a club. Mark pointed at the figure and then at the man. "Is this you?"
There was another stream of words and then the man jumped to his feet and hurried into one of the huts. In a few seconds he came out and handed Mark his club.
"No, you don’t understand. I don’t want your weapon. I was just ..." Mark looked into the chiefs eyes. He was staring at Mark expectantly as if he was waiting for something in return.
"You’ve got this whole thing wrong. See, I really don’t have much to trade. Why don’t you just keep it?"
The chief continued to wait.
Reluctantly Mark stood and walked to the hut where he had left his things. He studied his small pile of belongings. The problem was, he really needed everything he had.
The compass. He didn’t need that. Maybe it would be enough. He came out holding the broken instrument in his outstretched hand. At first the little man just stared at the shiny object. Then Mark jiggled it and the silver arrow in the middle changed directions.
"Ahhh! So so Kakon!’" The leader’s eyes opened wide. He reached for the compass, holding it gently in his palm as if it was very precious. Excitedly he called to the other men. "Tsik ma Kakon."
The others crowded around and exclaimed over the treasure. Some good-naturedly hit Mark on the shoulder, apparently complimenting him on the trade.
"It’s no big deal." Mark shifted. "It was broken anyway." He caught Leeta’s eye and moved toward the garden.
One of the younger men immediately stepped in front of him. "Nah. Yi tsi su Lee-ta. Nah."
"Look, pal, I just want to talk to her. She and I are old friends." Mark tried to move around him. The man quickly blocked his way and shoved him.
Mark stood almost a head taller than the young man and he thought about pushing back. He glanced around. Everyone in camp had stopped what they were doing to watch.
Leeta quit digging and gave Mark a stern look.
Mark figured he must be breaking one of their customs. He stepped back. "Okay, okay. I don’t want to offend anybody on my first day in town."
The young man’s face broke into a good-natured smile. "Gott Kakon nee." He took Mark’s arm and led him back to the men.
Mark sat with them until it was almost dark, watching them shape and hone their weapons, smoke and talk. Mostly talk. They discussed something nonstop for more than an hour. Mark couldn’t understand a word.
At dark the whole village lined up and moved into the long thatch-roofed hut in the center of the compound. The chief invited Mark inside and indicated where he was to sit.
There was a fire in the middle of
The man took a long pull on the slender plant stalk he was smoking and then handed it to Mark.
Mark studied it. The smoldering thing was tightly wrapped with leaves and tied with vines. "My parents aren’t going to like this," he muttered. He accepted the foul-smelling thing and took a short, polite puff. The aroma was so strong it made his eyes water. He coughed and handed it back.
The man laughed and slapped Mark on the back. "Kakon et tu bet."
"Kakon?" Mark cocked his head. "You people keep using that word." He put his hand on his chest. "Are you calling me Kakon?"
The man slapped him harder. "Kakon."
"Okay, sure. Kakon." Mark sat in silence, watching the activities around him. The women seemed to be working a lot harder than the men. He spotted Leeta in the garden with a digging stick and waved to her. She looked away and kept hoeing.
Mark turned to the man beside him. "Are you the leader of these people? You know, the head? The one in charge?"
The man exploded with a barrage of words. His lecture lasted for several minutes and Mark couldn’t understand any of it.
When the man was finished Mark drew a picture in the sand with his finger of several small stick men. Above them he drew a larger figure holding a club. Mark pointed at the figure and then at the man. "Is this you?"
There was another stream of words and then the man jumped to his feet and hurried into one of the huts. In a few seconds he came out and handed Mark his club.
"No, you don’t understand. I don’t want your weapon. I was just ..." Mark looked into the chiefs eyes. He was staring at Mark expectantly as if he was waiting for something in return.
"You’ve got this whole thing wrong. See, I really don’t have much to trade. Why don’t you just keep it?"
The chief continued to wait.
Reluctantly Mark stood and walked to the hut where he had left his things. He studied his small pile of belongings. The problem was, he really needed everything he had.
The compass. He didn’t need that. Maybe it would be enough. He came out holding the broken instrument in his outstretched hand. At first the little man just stared at the shiny object. Then Mark jiggled it and the silver arrow in the middle changed directions.
"Ahhh! So so Kakon!’" The leader’s eyes opened wide. He reached for the compass, holding it gently in his palm as if it was very precious. Excitedly he called to the other men. "Tsik ma Kakon."
The others crowded around and exclaimed over the treasure. Some good-naturedly hit Mark on the shoulder, apparently complimenting him on the trade.
"It’s no big deal." Mark shifted. "It was broken anyway." He caught Leeta’s eye and moved toward the garden.
One of the younger men immediately stepped in front of him. "Nah. Yi tsi su Lee-ta. Nah."
"Look, pal, I just want to talk to her. She and I are old friends." Mark tried to move around him. The man quickly blocked his way and shoved him.
Mark stood almost a head taller than the young man and he thought about pushing back. He glanced around. Everyone in camp had stopped what they were doing to watch.
Leeta quit digging and gave Mark a stern look.
Mark figured he must be breaking one of their customs. He stepped back. "Okay, okay. I don’t want to offend anybody on my first day in town."
The young man’s face broke into a good-natured smile. "Gott Kakon nee." He took Mark’s arm and led him back to the men.
Mark sat with them until it was almost dark, watching them shape and hone their weapons, smoke and talk. Mostly talk. They discussed something nonstop for more than an hour. Mark couldn’t understand a word.
At dark the whole village lined up and moved into the long thatch-roofed hut in the center of the compound. The chief invited Mark inside and indicated where he was to sit.
There was a fire in the middle of
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