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Member
Join Date: Nov 2003
Posts: 3
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Qe-Soetal
They stood staring out into the Desert into which they had been banished. The dust blown Tribe expected nothing but Death to be their fate. Each one shouldered the sand brown carisak and took a last look at the city that had been their home for centuries- the home that they would never set foot in again. Imprinting the sight forever in their memories the Tribe walked into the windswept Desert.
For three days the Tribe walked, hoping to quicken their demise, but the Sun was unwilling to shine bright enough or hard enough to kill. Finally, on the fourth day, Death came-claiming a small infant for his own. The Tribe’s composure broke, and they sought shelter within a network of caves.
All the next day the Tribe mourned for the loss of the infant. The child’s mother was comforted, and the infant was given back to the desert. Realizing that the caves weren’t big enough to accommodate them all, the tribe once more resigned itself to its fate. Traveling by night became the custom, and the Tribe endured.
Sixteen days later the Tribe found the first of the Great Cave Systems. Entering them, the Tribe felt a deep sense of reverential awe for them. The Great Cave System was a religious place for them; it was the Bon-qe Soetal, the birthplace of Soetal’s people. Uncertain as to what to do next, the Tribe spent the night outside of the System in temporary shelters. In the morning the Elders gathered together to discuss what to do.
“We need to move on. The Bon-qe Soetal is a sacred place, it should not be contaminated by our presence.” The Youngest Elder spoke out. Other Elders voiced their agreement.
“By simply spending time near the Cave Systems we have contaminated this sacred site.” The Eldest Elder, Bazuoli had spoken, which was enough to silence any.
Another Wise-One spoke, asking, “So we stay here, Old One?”
Bazuoli spoke only one word, “Yes.” The word brooked no argument, and the Wise-Ones gave none, they simply accepted it. Bazuoli was the oldest of all the Elders, and he was respected because of it. If he said they stayed, they stayed. It was the will of Soetal, and none knew the will of Soetal better than Bazuoli.
So the people were told, and the Tribe stayed in the Bon-qe Soetal. They lived, they persevered. They survived.
For sixteen years the Tribe’s population remained steady. The number of deaths and the number of births remained virtually the same, but then came the seventeenth year of exile. In that year the twins were born. Every mother gave birth to same sex twins. They became to much for the Tribe to handle, and the people became afraid. The Elders worked hard and long to come to a decision, and finally it was decided that the twin that was born first would be allowed to survive, and the younger twin would be killed. But the decision did not stop there. The twins would be then placed together, so that their souls would mix, and a full person would become. None of the mothers were willing to challenge it, but privately waterless tears were shed by all.
Then a mother gave birth to what would be known as an abomination if it was treated the same as the other twins, for it was brother and sister. If they were allowed to mix to form one person they would be a half person at best, with the attributes of both male and female. They would only be a burden on the Tribe, for no one would be willing to mate an abomination. So the Elders convened again.
Bazuoli thought long and hard about the fate of the twins, and meditated on the problem for almost a solid day. To prepare himself for the meditation he fasted for three days to better be able to commune with Soetal. The following morning Bazuoli took his, no Soetal’s decision, to the Elders.
“ It is the will of Soetal, that the mixed twins born in Bon-qe Soetal be his, born of his spirit and of his loins. They are his, and should be given the respect due to his chosen people.” Bazuoli said, speaking softly and clearly. The Elders accepted it without sound. But one young Elder, the youngest Elder, spoke up.
“If mixed twins are the chosen of Soetal, then why are same twins not?”
Bazuoli turned to the youngest Elder and replied, “The mixed twins are a symbol of all that Soetal is, and His infinite capabilities as both Father and Mother to His people. Do you object, Young One, to the will of Soetal?”
The Young Elder could do nothing to save himself now. Closing his eyes, the Elder knew that his time had come, and Soetal would soon have him back.
“You have questioned the Will of Soetal! Ever since we were led here by Soetal himself, you have doubted me, and because I am the mouthpiece for Soetal, you have doubted Soetal! If there is any doubt of your deception in the heart of any here, or the heart of Soetal himself, let a sign come!”
The twins had been kept in the room where the Elders met, and since it was their fate that was being discussed, they were still there.
The Youngest Elder’s eyes were closed when the children whimpered. Disbelieving, the Elder opened his eyes, and gasped. The sign had come. Both children, barely a week old, stood with their sand brown eyes fixed solely on his ocean blue ones. As he watched, both reached for him.
Quickly reaching into his memory, he remembered te words that had never had to be used before.
Falling to his knees before the twins he called out, “A sign!
Soetal has seen my allegiance, and knows that I am true to Him alone! Through this sign He disavows the charges made against me! Blessed be His Name!!!” Weeping, he hugged the children, whispering under his breath, ‘Surely you are gifts from Soetal! Surely you are!!’
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