Gitanui

A Story by Archos

Gitanui reached down over the side of his canoe and dipped his hand into the turbid water. Only the devil knew what was hiding in those dark depths and Gitanui didn’t crave the knowledge. He tapped on the side of his canoe and stroked the wood smoothened by countless days on the river and tried to find the place where the thread holding his fishing net got stuck. He found the place when he felt soft, but sharp pain on his finger as it hit a splinter peeling off on the bottom of his canoe. He would have to remember the spot and once he got back home, make sure it wouldn’t grow into a hole. He jerked the thread stuck behind the splinter free and checked the net. There were but two small fish, one of which managed to slip out as he was pulling the net over the edge of the canoe. When he put the net back into the water, pulling it behind the canoe, he sighed, looking at the few small fish bouncing about at his feet as he was crouched in the canoe, spattering in the shallow puddle.

Gitanui paddled on. He couldn’t keep fishing at the same places, where the cunning water creatures recognized the oblong form swaying on the surface above them. In the vast nets of small islands and branches of the river there were many places to find fish oblivious of threats other than snapping jaws rushing after them, fish that would consider his nets another tangle of branches fallen from trees leaning over the river. It would bee too late once they would find themselves being pulled out of the watter.

Gitanui turned away from the main current and began exploring the slow, wandering branches of the river which grew shallow until they stretched into marshes. Gitanui paddled on through the marshes and small brooks lining them and felt his arms grow weak. Only when the canoe began leaning to the side, he noticed the thread of the net was taut. Without getting excited over false hope, he thought the net got stuck in the shallow water. But when he pulled the thread, nothing held it and soon the water surface became rippled by the fish twisting in the net he was pulling out of water. Gitanui began pulling much faster and straining his back, he pulled the net up and emptied it into the canoe. He didn’t even glance at the countless fish desperately, but successfully finding their way back into the water, for his canoe sank deeper into the water with the sudden load. Gitanui’s feet were covered in fish. He felt their slippery bodies shuffling and rubbing against his skin with delight. He paddled back home - his canoe could carry no more.

But in the vast nets of small islands and stray branches, it was easy to get lost. Gitanui found himself in the middle of one such a net, and he could not tell, though he spent good few whiles looking around, where he had entered the place. He stopped paddling for a while, but the currents were too weak and fuzzy to lead him back to the river. He studied the directions he could head, but none seemed familiar. Staying on the spot would get him nowhere, and the fish restlessly shuffling in his canoe prompted him to move on.

Gitanui picked one direction and followed it. He was trying to paddle towards the faint glow of the setting sun, but the labyrinth of islands and stripes of shore reaching into the water forced him to take several turns and when he looked for the sun after a while, his long, vague shadow stretching forth showed him where the sun was. Gitanui paddled faster and he only gave up when it was getting too dark to see and he encountered several places, whether he recognized them by the shape of the water surface, or characteristical trees, numerous times.

He stopped in the shallow water near one of the larger islands which lured him with its solid ground, unlike so many others covered with mud and reed. The glimmering heap of fish stirred only now and then and it was beginning to stink. Gitanui paddled into shallow water near the shore, climbed over the edge of the canoe into the water and leaned the canoe to the side, pouring most of the fish out reluctantly. Some waved their tales with slow and weak movements, then they disappeared in the depth with several swift jerks of their bodies. The rest floated on the water surface motionlesly. Such a plentiful catch was wasted. A few fish remained in the canoe - he would have to spend the night in the foreign corner of the rainforest. He pulled his canoe on the shore.

Gitanui walked along the edge of the thick, unwelcoming wall of the undergrowth which grew into a small forest. He gathered handful of dry branches and some dry grass, but with the increasing darkness it was harder and harder to avoid stumbling. Gitanui returned to the place where he had left his canoe, he would gather more wood once he built a fire.

He broke the dry twigs into tiny pieces and put them on a bunch of dry grass. Then, having found two suitable rocks, he got to work. The sharp sounds of stone hitting stone reverberated around and for a while forced the song of the rainforest shut. Only the whispering of the leaves remained. After a while, however, the cicadas began singing as contently as before, the frogs joined them soon after, until the noises merged together and the sound of his anxious effort fell in.

The bangs didn’t cease. Gitanui’s fists were beginning to hurt from the countless crashes and even though sparks were flying around from the ever warmer rocks, which emitted the smokish, characteristic scent, the dry grass remained untouched.

A faint glow covered the thin blades of grass at last. Gitanui put the rocks down, took the bunch of grass into his palms, moved it closer to his mouth with gentle movements as if he were holding a wounded bird, and blew on it carefully. The glow livened up with his breath and he smelled the pleasantly bitter scent of smoke. He kept blowing, but then the glow grew fainter until it finally disappeared and his blowing did entirely nothing. Gitanui threw the dry grass away angrily, though light as it was, it didn’t fly very far.

In complete darkness, Gitanui marched into the thickets to find more proper wood. He forced his way through the resisting branches and found that beyond the thickets there wasn’t a sudden path, nor a glade. Just more bushes and undergrowth. He was wading through the undergrowth, reaching down time to time to pick a fallen twig. It felt as if the branches were grabbing onto him and twisting around his limbs on purpose. After many scratches from thorns and stumbles, Gitanui stopped desperately and he didn’t feel like moving on. He decided to sit down and simply give up his effort.

Then it became somewhat lighter - the moon must have left its shelter - and he could recognize the shapes of large leaves leaning towards the ground and he could find a clearer path - he was scratched enough already and so he welcomed it. He found a long straight branch - ideal for making fire. He only needed to get a good, flat piece of dry wood and he could return. The idea of starting fire using the thread of his net to spin the long branch and rubbing it against a dry piece of wood lifted his spirits. It was a more time consuming method, but far more promising than taking chance with the whimsical, unpredictable sparks. After all, he had nowhere to hurry.

Walking back, he noticed that something stirred ahead of him. One of the leaves, the large ones jerked and waved up and down in the windless air. Gitanui paused, but without further cause for concern, he proceeded. It seemed to him there was a pair of eyes staring at him from the darkness at his side. He was having delusions already - it had to be his empty stomach. The pair of eyes disappeared as he passed it.

But then the eyes appeared again. Two white eyes opened right in front of him. They goggled at him from a blackened face. He jerked back after he had barely managed to avoid bumping into whoever the eyes belonged to. Gitanui dropped the wood in his hands and barely held back his frightened shriek, but luckily it came out no louder than a gasp. What good was such luck? He must have wondered into an enemy teritory.

The face was emerging from the darkness and Gitanui was looking for means of escape. Having dropped the wood, he had nothing except for his fists. Only when the leaves and branches rustled and the person stepped forth, he saw his body. The stranger seemed somewhat taller to Gitanui, though when Gitanui straightened his back from the cowardly crouch, he saw they were the same height. The person walked calmly, staring at Gitanui with an intent, probing look. He had no weapons and wore only a simple loincloth, while Gitanui was clad in a vest made of a piece of leather with a hole in the middle for his head and the edges sewn together at Gitanui’s side. The stranger had dark hair which glimmered in the moonlight, much like Gitanui’s, though he had two long braids hanging down his back, while the stranger’s loosened hair barely reached his shoulders and twisted upwards at the end.

The stranger reached forth with his hand and touched Gitanui’s face. He didn’t protest with more than moving away from the stranger.

“Come!” the stranger prompted him suddenly. Gitanui followed.

The stranger led him deeper and deeper into the thick forest. They had to overcome many obstacles, which wouldn’t even be obstacles if they had a torch. Gitanui slipped while stepping over a large fallen tree. The stranger immediately caught him with his hands. Gitanui smiled at him in gratitude. He wasn’t sure whether the stranger noticed his smile.

They came to a fire, light of which had pierced its way to them long before they heard it crackling, or even heard the wild screams. Gitanui felt uneasily when he saw the group of people dancing around the fire. The wild ferocity of their movements was something he had never seen before. Not even during celebrations in his village. The joy in their eyes and careless smiles on their faces suggested they didn’t suffer from shortage. There were no abodes to be seen, however. Not a skin spread on the ground, no tents.

“I’ve brought a guest,” the stranger who had led Gitanui to the odd campsite proclaimed. The dancing and shouting ceased, but there was still a restless spark in the eyes of each of them when they approached Gitanui. As if the only way to get rid of a terrible itch was what he had just seen.

“And an unusual guest on top of that,” the stranger smiled. Gitanui rubbed his forearm with his palm and shot the stranger a questioning look. He was everything but unusual. “It is our lost brother!”

They all smiled with joy as if the mysterious words were something natural, expected. Gitanui still couldn’t push a word through his lips sealed with confusion.

“Welcome back!” the stranger wondered why Gitanui didn’t share their joy. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t remember. It has been so long! It is all right, luckily there isn’t much to explain. You left us one day when we were here. You wandered into the forest and you have never returned.”

“Even if that is true,” Gitanui said skeptically at last. “It doesn’t explain a lot. Who are you? Where do you live? I doubt you sleep on the ground and dance all day. Where is your home?”

“What a bunch of silly questions! You really remember nothing! Poor Gitanui!” Only after a while Gitanui realized that he hadn’t told the stranger his name. Was he to blame? He was used to be called his name.

“How do you know my name?” Gitanui gasped.

“How would I not? I know it the same way I know names of Rimbda, Nuka, Ankri...” he began pointing his finger at the people around. He spoke with ease of a child. “Just the way you know my name!”

“You are Iktu...” Gitanui muttered. He had no idea where the word emerged from.

“See, I’ve told you! You haven’t forgotten everything! Come, join us. There isn’t much time before we depart!”

“Depart where? I have to return to the village...”

“Home!” Iktu’s eyes widened as he spat the word at him with joy. Gitanui had never heard the word before. Not the way Iktu said it.

“Where is that?” Gitanui wondered.

“Up there!” Ankri, he knew it was Ankri, approached him, grabbed his shoulder and aimed his finger at the stars and said the words as a kind reminder. Gitanui wanted to object, he wanted to doubt, mock their words, but they gave him no time. Nuka pulled him by the hand and suddenly he was dancing around the fire with them. It wasn’t even right to think of it as a dance. They were just tossing their arms and legs about as fast and as energetically as they could. As if the energy from the fire went straight into their bodies and they had to get rid of it. Then Gitanui noticed there was no wood. Just pure fire straight on the ground. What fueled its flame then, Gitanui didn’t know.

“Let us go!” Ankri mused after what seemed as an eternity. They all ran on a small cliff towering above a lake small distance from them. Gitanui hadn’t noticed it before, they hadn’t given him opportunity to look around. Iktu grabbed him and pulled him to the cliff. Gitanui had no other option than follow, lest Iktu tore his arm off. He saw Ankri run along the cliff, turn on his heel just on the edge of the cliff and toss himself down - back first - with his limbs numbly following the torso. Even his motions were overflowing with joy. The water splashed and flew high above the cliff, but it neverr fell back into the lake. All the others did the same, they jumped off the cliff one after the other in a wild, mad succesion and looking where the water disappeared each time, Gitanui noticed new stars appearing in the sky. A poke from Iktu standing behind him closed his still descending jaw.

“Go on!” Iktu bid him. “Before it’s too late!”

Gitanui made a few uncertain steps forward, ran off the cliff, though much slower than his companions, and jumped off the cliff back first, shouting and waving his hands and arms as he fell. He hit the water. A loud splash echoed around. Silence. Drops of water were falling back into the lake.

Gitanui’s painful shriek pierced the silence.

Iktu gasped and ran down. Gitanui had just crawled out of the lake and he was rubbing his sore back. He couldn’t straighten it as he walked, and even walking was obviously very painful for him. He collapsed to the ground, still holding his back and gritting his teeth with pain.

“That was very foolish of me,” Gitanui rebuked himself. “And very dishonest of you, whoever you are, to trick me like this with your witchery. Though I don’t know whether I am dreaming - the pain suggests I am not, I have just witnessed the impossible. How could I think I could achieve the same?”

“No, no, don’t say that,” Iktu defended himself. “It is no witchery. You’ve done it so many times before. I do not understand why you were unable to ascend. Come! You must try again!”

“No way am I jumping off that cliff again. I don’t want to have anything else to do with your witchery!”

“But you have to!” Iktu urged him. “You’ve been here too long. That must be the reason why you have forgotten how to return! You can’t give up!”

“I shouldn’t have tried in the first place,” Gitanui didn’t give way. “Leave me alone! Anyway, don’t you need to go with them?” Gitanui asked in reconciliatory tone. Iktu gasped. His eyes opened awide in shock. He turned around, then looked back at Gitanui. His restless movements suddenly ceased and his arms dropped numbly. His face was gloomy and his head drooped as if it had just become heavier.

“It is too late...” Iktu whispered in despair. He couldn’t believe his own words. He didn’t want to.

“Too late for what?” Gitanui asked.

“Too late to return. They have all left...” Iktu stared at the sky.

“Don’t worry,” Gitanui comforted him. “I’m sure you can catch up with them,” he said uncertainly.

“That is not the matter. Only throughout a short period can we travel back. It has always been enough for all of us to get back up there. Until now.”

“When will they return?” Gitanui asked seriously. Without realizing it, he came to believe Iktu. He had experienced and seen too much to doubt his words.

“The next solstice.” Gitanui had forgotten it was solstice. The solstice celebrations had already begun and he was sitting on an island in the middle of nowhere with a man he had never seen, yet who was supposed to be his brother and fellow of yore. From the sky on top of that!

“That is a very long time from now,” Gitanui sighed. The pain in his back was fading away. Iktu stared at the stars wistfully with an expression of a man, who is about to face death. Only then Gitanui realized that it was his fault. It was because of him that Iktu didn’t make it along with the others. Iktu sacrificed himself to help him get up to the sky while he himself lost the chance to go there. Gitanui was responsible for Iktu. Whether it was all true or not.

“At least I can learn what life is like for you down here,” he said with a sad smile.

“I’d rather you explained me everything first,” Gitanui objected. “We have a lot of time.”

“Of course,” Iktu’s kind smile evoked feeling of trust. “This place, this stray grain of sand, to explain it the words you might understand, is not our home as you may have realized. It is not your home either. We live up there. You know, it is difficult to describe with words. And it is so strange describing the place we both know very well to you, but I will try. It is only possible true comparing it to what you have come to know, for it is no use explaining to you in its true form - you wouldn’t understand. Life, being up there, is... Staying here is like sleep compared to what it’s like up there,” Iktu’s eyes glimmered when he found the right words and cheer replaced his gloom for a while. “The eternity there exists without past or future, without beginning or end. There is only presence. You may have touched the feeling when we danced - you forgot about everything else, you didn’t wish to be at one place or another, doing one thing or a thing of a different sort. You were here and now and you were inhaling the moment to the fullest. It is so different from here. The joy here is sadness up there. What is more, joy here is finite. Up there, it is endless!” Iktu’s eyes wandered wistfully back at the sky.

As much as he tried, Gitanui didn’t understand the meaning of his words. After all, he was a simple, poor fisherman. Iktu sounded a lot like the wise, spiritual men to him. Not like the high sages, but rather like the nomadic thinkers.

“If it is so wonderful up there,” Gitanui wondered, “why did you come here?”

“You could say we really do come here to sleep,” Iktu said. “Even here, whether you wish to or not, you have to sleep at some point. And so we too come here to rest from the endless joy.”

“If what you were doing was sleep, than I am a mudbug!” Gitanui objected.

“You are right,” Iktu smiled. “It is but another proof of what it is like there.”

“What are you going to do now?” Gitanui asked with sincere concern.

“I suppose I will have to wait until the next soltice,” Iktu thought outloud. “Then we shall return home!”

Gitanui had to return to the village. He assured Iktu he would return and set out on the water in his canoe. To be able to find the place again, he unwound his fishing net, tied it into a long thread to the end of which he fastened a rock, which he threw into the water. Then he raised his hand as a token of farewell to Iktu watching him from the small island and, unwinding his fishing net and pulling the thread behind, he left. During the day, following the rising sun, he managed to keep his direction and escape from the maze of small islands, marshes and brooks. He finally found the main stream of the river. There he tied another rock and a piece of wood to the other end of the thread, which was barely long enough. He threw the rock into the water and the piece of wood remained swaying on the water surface. The thread from the rock resting on the bottom of the river kept it from being carried down the stream. Now, with one piece of wood floating near the main stream of the river to mark the place where to turn from the river and the other end of the thread marking the island, Gitanui didn’t have to worry about finding Iktu again.

Only after paddling up the stream for a long time Gitanui realized how far he had got the previous day. Hungry and tired, he paddled all the way back into his village. It was end of the solstice celebrations and the vilage was quiet. Most of the people were still in the Nest of Spirits, the ceremonial village where people from the whole land came to celebrate the solstice. Only the poor, the sick and the indifferent to the solstice celebrations remained in the village. And so most of Gitanui’s friends were present at the time of his arrival. They welcomed him with looks of surprise.

“Where on the earth have you been?” one of his friends, Tangni, shouted at him standing up. Gitanui said nothing. He smiled and paddled towards the shore. Tangni walked to Gitanui, who was pulling his canoe out of the water. He stood by his side and watched him with disbelief.

“Empty again?” Tangni remarked, scratching his belly. “Where’s your fishing net?” Tangni wondered. Gitanui dragged the canoe along the sandy shore. Tangni walked by his side, his eyes running up and down his friend.

“I got lost,” Gitanui explained, still panting. He didn’t sound irritated to Tangni, but still he left without giving him a single look in addition to his curt reply. Gitanui disappeared in his small hut, leaving the canoe in front of the door. He was tired.

Tangni was sitting at the fire along with several more men. Their quiet laughter echoed into the quiet night of the empty village. There were just enough of them to enjoy their evening. Although they were left behind while most of the others had left for the Nest of Spirits to celebrate the solstice, they were not dispirited. They made a little celebration of their own. All they needed was a fire and a bowl of a good brew which they were passing hand to hand.

Gitanui appeared like a ghost in the darkness. He was walking towards them with smile, behind which he seemed troubled. None of the men noticed it except Tangni. He knew Gitanui the most.

“Our celestial bear has awakened from its eternal slumber!” Tangni called when he saw Gitanui. They all laughed, except Gitanui. Tangni welcomed him with a kind smile. Gitanui smiled back, but he stared into the distance pensively for a short instant. Then he found a place at the fire and took a seat among them.

“Here, have a drink!” Tangni said when the bowl with brew was passed to him. He reached his arm and offered it to Gitanui without even taking a sip. Gitanui nodded in gratitude and slurped the brew. Then he passed the bowl right away. The man who took it from his hand kept it far longer.

“In the Nest of Spirits, the divine, fiery creatures dance about the tall temples of stone,” a man sitting opposite Gitanui, across the fire, began talking. He told exactly the same stories every solstice. He must have been to the Nest of Spirits very long ago, for many of his stories made no sense, or were entirely made up. Still, Gitanui usually prefered to imagine the place from his stories, rather than the crowded place where people had to ask the ones in front to know what the sages were doing - the Nest of Spirits he knew.

This night, however, the stories were pushed out of Gitanui’s mind by the thoughts about the life in the sky, among the stars. He thought about the way he felt when he got dragged into the ferocious dance of his brothers of yore. He thought about what his life could have been like in the past. He could no longer enjoy their solstice celebration, knowing that it was a grain of dust compared to the life in the sky. Tangni of course teased him, at first just trying to lift his spirit, but then he became convinced that something unusual must have occured on Gitanui’s journey. But Gitanui didn’t dare to tell them what had met him. He himself was doubting his memories.

The following day Gitanui went fishing as he usually would. He got up early in the morning, took care of the weakened bottom of his canoe using mixture of resin and soft soil. He went to borrow a net, though the man whom he asked to lend him the net was unwilling to do so. He had changed his mind after Gitanui promised to give him a part of his catch. The man expected Gitanui to catch little more than nothing, but he thought it was worth it to have a debt Gitanui would once have to repay. He also packed a skin, a knife, a pot with a bit of brew and some other equipment, so he barely managed to haul the canoe into the water. Even when he did, the fully laden canoe was swaying from side to side and the line running around the canoe, the mark of the water surface, was far lower under water than usually.

“This time you take no chances,” Tangni proclaimed, stretching his arms as he left his barely standing tent. He rarely got up so early - Gitanui’s preparations woke him up. “You are counting on getting lost, aren’t you?” Tangni was merely jesting. But in fact he was wondering what Gitanui was up to.

“You can never be too sure...” Gitanui replied and got into the canoe, carefully, so he wouldn’t turn it over. Gitanui gave Tangni no time for further asking and with a hasty wave of a hand he paddled away.

He didn’t hesitate and flowed with the stream, using the paddle to keep himself away from the branches reahing for him from the shore.

When he guessed he was close enough to the place where Iktu was, he paid attention to the branches of the river pouring away from the main stream and spreading into the forest surrounding the river, or on the other hand flowing back into the river. It still took him a long time before he noticed the piece of wood floating on the water surface. It was desperately reaching for the bank of the river, but the thread held it in place.

Gitanui took the piece of wood and pulled out the rock on the bottom of the river. Then, following the thread and putting it into his canoe, he flew towards the island where Iktu was. It was a difficult task, because the thread was often stuck and Gitanui would have to paddle back and forth to pull it free. He also got tangled into the thread piling in his canoe which had been full when he departed already. At last he noticed the familiar shore, because he was beginning to curse the thread, though the longer he worked with it, the more easily he untangled it.

Gitanui, carrying the supplies wrapped in the piece of an animal skin, found Iktu lying on what turned out to be a small beach at the pond Gitanui had unpleasant memories of. There was a blackened circle from the fire from the previous night. Gitanui put the supplies for Iktu down, thus waking Iktu up. Iktu looked around with confusion. He became somewhat calmer when he recognized Gitanui’s face. At that moment, his confussion turned to grief almost instantly. He remembered what had happened and that he was stuck there until the next solstice.

Iktu rose on his elbows and not even trying to hide his pain and discomfort, he groaned and frowned. He wrapped his arms around his body.

“I am cold,” he complained.

“That is because the fire went out during the night and you had nothing to keep you warm,” Gitanui explained, covering Iktu with the animal skin. “This should help you. But don’t worry, sun is soon going to reach its peak and you won’t need the skin anymore.”

“I don’t know how I am going to survive until the next solstice,” Iktu worried. The skin was warming him up and the gloom was fading away, but he still couldn’t stop the longing for his brothers, from whom he had been so unexpectedly separated. “This place is dreadful!”

“Don’t worry,” Gitanui said. “I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

Then Gitanui went fishing and being successful, they were soon building fire to prepare the fish - they were both very hungry. Iktu had been watching him fish. He would have to learn to obtain his food as well time to time - in case Gitanui was unable to come to him. Then Gitanui gave him handful of advice about hunting and life whatsoever. Iktu knew very little about the world down here.

As they ate, Iktu continued talking about the life in the sky and the times when Gitanui was with them.

“You were always the curious one,” Iktu said with a nostalgic smile. “You claimed there was more to life than what we had. You often went wandering about this island, sometimes for hours. You often returned just barely before the time to return home. Ankri would rebuke you for your whims. And so, one day, you disappeared. We went searching for you, but then we ourselves had to return. We continued the search for many solstices to come, until they all gave it up. Except for me. I’ve always known you would return. I never accepted the idea of not seeing you again. We used to be the best friends, you know...”

Gitanui listened. Frown appeared on his face as he contemplated Iktu’s words. Iktu was telling him about himself, but Gitanui didn’t know the man Iktu was talking about. Some of the memories seemed almost familiar. They brought about a strange feeling, which as if appeared out of nowhere, as well as fractions of memories. But if Gitanui had ever been the man Iktu was describing, he was that man no more.

Then it was Gitanui’s turn. He told Iktu about the village he lived in, about solstice celebrations taking place as they spoke, about the difficulties, but also pleasures of a life of a simple fisherman. Iktu swallowed his every word and especially the idea of knowing so many people was hard to imagine for him. He didn’t know anyone apart from Gitanui, Ankri, Rimbda, Nuka and Idu. He also enjoyed hearing about Tangni, about whom Gitanui complained a lot and spoke in an unkind way, but from his words, Iktu knew that Gitanui liked him very much despite their petty disputes, which Gitanui didn’t take all too seriously, as Iktu assumed.

Then the sun began to descend and Gitanui was afraid he would get lost again. He got into his canoe, parted with Iktu, and having thrown the stone at the end of the thread made of his net, he began paddling towards the river. Iktu was standing on the shore, watching him long after Gitanui disappeared from his sight. Gitanui even managed to catch plenty of fish along the way into the net he had borrowed as he paddled back.

“I was beginning to think you’ve got lost again,” Tangni welcomed Gitanui. The sun was disappearing beyond the horizon, dying the sky with wonderful shades of red and orange. Tangni was sitting near the fireplace, alone. The vilage was far more lively - people were returning from the Nest of Spirits. There were still people coming along the road to the vilage.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to help me,” Gitanui didn’t mind Tangni’s jests. Tangni got up and walked to him lazily. The sight of the fish piled in Gitanui’s canoe woke him up. He couldn’t help goggling at the unusual occurance, but forced his mouth to remain shut.

“You were quite lucky today!” he admitted with pretended indifference at last.

“Yes, I was,” Gitanui said. “However, I have to share part of the fish with Unki. He lent me his net. That may be the reason for my luck! I wonder if he lends me the net now!” Gitanui laughed.

The man who Gitanui borrowed the fishing net from was surprised indeed. The half of Gitanui’s catch was more than the whole of his catch sometimes was. He accepted it gladly and, knowing that Gitanui would probably not be willing to share a half with him again, he promised to lend him the net for handful of fish next time, if he of course wouldn’t need it at the moment.

Gitanui would go fishing almost every single day. He couldn’t go when it rained, of course. He spent those days in anxiety. Especially when there was a heavy storm, lightnigs tore the sky into shreds and water was pouring down so ferousiously, that the creeks surrounding their village took along everything that was left outside. Even the houses made of dirt and straw couldn’t resist. They demanded numerous repairs as soon as the rain stopped.

Ironically, Gitanui came to see that Iktu got through the storms without difficulties. How he did that Gitanui didn’t know. Until one day he came early after a storm and saw Iktu sleeping on a tree with one of the animal skins Gitanui had brought him, fastened to the branches above.

Tangni kept pestering Gitanui to reveal him his secret, for he knew Gitanui had one as soon as he saw him leave with supplies and return without them. At first he didn’t reveal his effort, but then he began openly asking Gitanui where he was going every day and the reply ‘I’m going fishing,’ didn’t satisfy him. Sometimes his molesting got Gitanui angry and Tangni had to back away.

Iktu was doing worse and worse each time Gitanui saw him. On the surface he seemed healthy - he didn’t lack food or even comfort. Of course, there were people in Gitanui’s village who did better, but there were also those who did far worse. What gave Iktu away was when he set his eyes on the sky. He suffered. Seeing his wistful gaze, Gitanui wondered whether he had suffered when he had seperated as much as Iktu did now.

“Didn’t you miss us?” Iktu asked.

“I didn’t remember you. I still don’t remeber what it was like to live with you,” Gitanui replied uneasily. No matter how familiar Iktu seemed to him, there still seemed to be a barier between the two of them. Iktu told him about their friendship and Gitanui believed him, because memories brought up by Iktu were supporting his stories. But it didn’t change the fact that Iktu was a stranger.

“Of course,” Iktu looked down. “Don’t worry, we will catch up what we have missed!”

“Wouldn’t you like to come with me?” Gitanui asked one day as he was leaving Iktu. “You could see all that you were so fascinated by. You could meet the people from village, even Tangni. I’m sure they would be happy to get to know you. At least some of them. And you don’t have to worry about the others...”

“I would like to,” Iktu avoided Gitanui’s eyes. “But I think it’d be better if I didn’t. And you shouldn’t go either. Please, listen to me first. I think they are the reason why you failed to ascend. Perhaps you were afraid of leaving them behind. That is why I think it would be better for you if you stayed here with me. They will eventually fade away from your memory, as we did. And then you will be able to be with the ones you belong to. You are one of us!”

It wasn’t easy for Gitanui to listen to Iktu, though he had delighted in his words before. Iktu was right. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the whole village, his whole life, behind. Gitanui was almost angered by Iktu. He wanted to tell him that he wasn’t one of them anymore, but he didn’t even feel sure about that.

Gitanui left hastily, before Iktu could force him to stay on the island. The whole journey home he contemplated returning to the sky. Perhaps it was true he had left the hevenly life. As Iktu put it, he lacked something and so he set out to seek it aimlessly. Whether he had found it or not, he didn’t know. Now Iktu and his brother appeared and prompted him to return. The life in the sky they spoke of lured Gitanui. But if he had left it once, did it have anything to offer him?

His head began to hurt from thinking the way he had never thought before and he would have been happier if he had never tried to find a nook of the river where there were more fish. He was always an unsignificant fisherman. Why was he the one to have descended from the sky?

Tangni didn’t even think about bothering him with curious questions when he saw Gitanui’s troubled look. He thought it was because Gitanui had returned with an empty canoe again.

That night Gitanui didn’t speak with his friends. Gitanui noticed he talked to them less and less each day. They too seemed a bit foreign to him. If he didn’t feel at home around them, then where? Perhaps there wasn’t place for him in the world.

“It is only a few days to the solstice!” Gitanui encouraged Iktu before he even reached the shore. Iktu was waiting for him, as usually. “A sage told us today when he stopped in our village. He is travelling from village to village to let people know when to start preparing for journey into the Nest of Spirits. You will soon be able to go back!”

“We will soon be able to go back!” Iktu corrected him with a smile. His smile was unsure and it was soon overcome with gloom. “I’m worried about you Gitanui. You have to leave them at some point. You ought to stay from now on. Don’t return anymore, not even to say goodbye, for it wouldn’t be easy. Perhaps you knew that when you left us.” It seemed to Gitanui, that Iktu was in fact blaming him for leaving them, though Gitanui didn’t even remember it. At first Iktu had been trying to conceal it by excitement from their reunion, but eventually his true feelings came to the surface. Gitanui didn’t reply. He didn’t want to decide yet. “And as for the solstice,” Iktu added when he saw what effect his words had, “It is precisely five days away.”

“How do you know?” Gitanui wondered. But he didn’t get his reply. He didn’t need any. There were things far more unusual about Iktu and his brothers.

They were talking with enthusiasm similar to that of Iktu’s first days spent on the island. They felt like two lost friends again. But Iktu forced Gitanui to stay and forget about the people he had made bonds with, at last. They had to be sure he was able to return with them. Gitanui avoided talking about it. Iktu seemed to care more about Gitanui’s return than Gitanui himself.

Gitanui’s boat was lightly drifting away from the island. He had convinced Iktu into letting him leave by saying he wouldn’t be able to leave his friends behind without saying goodbye after all and that it was their priority he was free of the bonds he had made. Seeing Iktu grow smaller as the weak waves caressed his thoughts, Gitanui kept thinking about how much suffering Iktu underwent. What for? It was because of him. It was his inability to ascend with them. His uncertainity. Gitanui didn’t want to cause them anymore trouble.

He was drifting away. He was far, but he didn’t throw the thread into water. He kept it in his canoe. He watched Iktu and he was sadder than usually.

“What are you waiting for?” Iktu cried after him with innocent confusion. “Gitanui, what are you doing?” Iktu cried in panic. He ran up and down the shore of the small island when Gitanui began paddling away. Gitanui’s eyes were sad, for he knew he saw Iktu for the last time.

Gitanui returned to the village. Tangni tried to solve the mystery of Gitanui’s departures as usual. But he soon realized that he had missed his opportunity, for whatever had been causing Gitanui to stay fishing longer than usual and spend the nights in silent reflections, was gone. Gitanui began returning early again and with far less fish - just like the old times. He even began to laugh again, though Tangni noticed there was something bittersweet in Gitanui’s laugh whenever his eyes wandered up to the stars.

Years went by and they grew old. Many people from the village passed away. The man who used to tell stories about the Nest of Spirits, the man who had lent Gitanui his fishing net a few times... Until there were only Gitanui and Tangni sitting at the fire in the evening. Only the two of them remained and they no longer laughed. Tangni never really gave up on trying to pull Gitanui’s mystery out of him, but he had never been successful. They often smiled whenever memories of their friends of yore were brought up. Their smiles ceased as soon as they were reminded that one of them would have to remain sitting near the fire alone.

That day came. Gitanui became alone. He was the eldest in the village. People came and went, but Gitanui remained. He grew old, but death refrained from taking him. There wasn’t anybody who remembered where Gitanui had come from. He was respected for his age, yet there was no one to join him in the evening.

And so, under the veil of night, Gitanui took his old canoe and pulled it to the river. It was solstice and the village was empty - at least that much hadn’t changed. Even though the canoe was empy, he had to struggle to drag it along the ground.

He scrambled into the canoe and it swayed from side to side. Then, with slow strokes of the paddle, he moved forth. His hands were lean, wrinkly and weak. But his sight remained keen. He found the place even in the darkness. He found the place he had sought many times. Many times he had set out on a search for the island on the river, but he had never had the courage to find it. He had been afraid of finding it. Not anymore. Gitanui recognized the place where the river poured away and spread into a web of tiny islands and brooks flowing around them. Gitanui paddled to meet his brothers.

After that night, the amount of stars became just right once again.

When people returned to the village, the old man was gone. Nobody knew where the old man Gitanui had come from, and nobody knew where he had disappeared.