Two Old Women by Velma Wallis

 

 survivors in a hostile land

 

The Gwich’in tribe had decided, and once a resolute decision is made, there would be no change.

Leader Ti’kto’ma approached the old woman with tribal leaders behind him.  The old woman huddled close to the fire, but continued to chew the hide of a seal, softening it.

”Old grandmother!  It is time to leave you in this camp for you to take your final journey!”  Ti’kto’ma shouted down at the elderly woman, where her youngest granddaughter wrapped her arms around the woman.

Old Woman, whose worth now was less than bark on a tree, nodded in submission.  The young girl begged for Grandmother’s life, her bruised deformed face twisted in tears.  Ti’kto’ma kicked her away from the fire.  “The fire is wasted on you!  Return to your mother…she must have some use for you, Mongrel Child.”

Old Woman gazed as the tribe walked off in the distance, clutching her bag and fur scarf tightly. In a day where dusk came as soon as the sun disappeared, she was left in the abandoned camp. She settled her elderly bones onto icy snow, waiting for the cold to take her.

As night crept in and cold settled over her, sounds grew louder in the forest.  Old Woman reached out, finding her grand-daughter.

“Let us both float off in the final journey together,” Mongrel Child whispered.  Old Woman wrapped her shawl and scarf around the girl, and they settled into a final night's sleep.

Elephant’s Child has provided the bold underlined words as a challenge for bloggers to stir the pot and produce any genre using those words.  This week there are six and/or another six words to play with as you choose.  Pop on over to her site, by clicking on her moniker above. These two writers are generous writers:  drifting through life and 

Have you heard of a book Two Old Women: An Alaskan Legend of Betrayal and Survival" written by Velma Wallis? The tribe name is true and this ancient custom is accurate.  The story has truth in it as well.  After discovering "two old women" left behind, the starving tribe finds them well, healthy, and with a huge collection of dried foods. Ancient skills which they understood saved them.         

 

The Gwich'in discontinued this tradition. This book is a worthy read, simplistic yet moving. How does the story end? 

More on this history and legends

 

The Life of Nuthin'

 

                         China White pigs; they are mean. Really mean.

Life on a farm can be unforgiving. This usually happens when the sow will reject the piglet(s) at birth if it seems frail in any way. Joining the herd frail or too small meant life or death.

Life was life, and things died—all farm children know the harsh facts. 

 

But, one cold winter day there was a lone piglet that was different. 

Love me for my brains!

He had been rejected by the sow because clearly something was wrong with him.  He had a huge tumor on his left hind leg.  My brother Robert looked down at the piglet in the box as I uncovered it and examined his poor leg.  “It ain’t worth nuthin’.  Should let it die.”

“Nuthin’…that’s what we’ll call him.”  Over the next days and weeks, Robert and I took turns feeding Nuthin’ first from a bottle, and then from a dish.  Nuthin’ grew, and we kept him in a pen in the breezeway until spring came.  By then, Nuthin’ was almost the size of our beagle dog Tuffy, and they played together in the yard.  We called his name, and Nuthin’ came as fast as his crippled leg allowed him.   

 

Spring was moving into May, and Nuthin’ was getting too big to let roam the yard.  Animals reaching adolescence are just like humans; they aren’t the same sweet little kids anymore.  Dad said we had to put him in the barn lot with the three milk cows.  We could still visit him, but playing with him wasn’t an option.  

 

That was when we noticed the tumor on his leg growing.  Day by day, we could see Nuthin’ slowing down, and not eating as much.  One day Nuthin’ lay down, and no amount of convincing could make him move.

The next morning Nuthin’ had disappeared.  No one said much about that, because all farm children know the harsh facts.

 

 First published: Susan Kane  22 March 2011 Robert and I have talked about good ole' Nuthin.over those years since. I had some fond memories, Robert not so much.

Endless boredom

  

says enough 

 

 

Stretched out on the bed, Gwen wondered if life could get much more boring than this.  

Anything…almost anything…would be better than this.

Every last vegetable in the garden that could be canned had been canned. In fact, the garden was a pile of pulled weeds. Yard was mowed.  Siding washed down.  Fence wire repaired.

The hogs were wearing down in the heat.  Which is why she was at home: to spray water over the hogs to cool them down.  

The slightest sound brought Gwen almost to the point of throwing furniture down the stairs or ripping down the laundry line.  

Is this what it feels to be insane, to lose my mind?

The parents were at a church committee meeting.  The older brothers had taken the truck to somewhere.  

That point seemed rather vague.

Lightning had blown out the transformer yesterday, taking all the electricity with it.  No TV.   No one to phone.  No radio.   Nothing.

What do you think a bored teen (boy or girl) would do in this situation??  What would you do?