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"What's not." Mwenye demanded irritably. He hadn't slept well, though he didn't exactly remember what had been bothering him, and he wasn't sure whether the voice's comment was the continuation of a conversation from hours ago, or a reference to his plans for the day, or the tribe's plans, or possibly not even directed at him at all. He vaguely remembered the ancestors arguing with each other last night. Honestly, he wished they'd just do so elsewhere.
Distracting yourself.
"I'm not distracting myself. I'm eating my damn breakfast."
Not going to work
"Oh for fuck's sake."
Mwenye sighed and just continued eating. Sometimes they just repeated themselves, like an echo, but if they weren't telling him to do something, they usually went away again after a while.
Can't trust him Distracting Why not? Hasani trusts him Not going to work
"Argh!" Mwenye shoved the last of his breakfast aside in frustration, and pressed his hands to his temples. "Shut up. One at a time. Buncha children you are," he muttered under his breath. He was usually very respectful towards the ancestors, but on a day like today? He was running out of patience, and the sun was barely above the horizon.
As usual once they'd started talking over each other, they ignored him and kept at it, until it was just a blur of sound, and then finally there was something close to silence. He took a deep breath and let it out again, and gave himself a moment to simply be aware of the silence, to let the meanings of their words drift to the surface. Much easier in the solitude of the open sands than among the tribe, but it didn't take too long to figure it out.
"All right. Let's go talk to him then." The prophet stood up, taking the last bit of his flatbread with him, and headed over to the stranger's tent. Saro had been traveling with them for a while, but Mwyene had not yet had a proper conversation with him. Perhaps he had been distracting himself. Soon, though, he would continue straight East while the tribe veered towards a larger oasis than the ones he would rely on on his much faster journey to Cairo.
He heard the quiet sounds of someone still inside, and Saro had shown no evidence of a man who enjoyed his own company and the inside of his own tent, so Mwenye simply sat down cross-legged outside his door to wait.
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Well, that's not going to work.
"What's not." Mwenye demanded irritably. He hadn't slept well, though he didn't exactly remember what had been bothering him, and he wasn't sure whether the voice's comment was the continuation of a conversation from hours ago, or a reference to his plans for the day, or the tribe's plans, or possibly not even directed at him at all. He vaguely remembered the ancestors arguing with each other last night. Honestly, he wished they'd just do so elsewhere.
Distracting yourself.
"I'm not distracting myself. I'm eating my damn breakfast."
Not going to work
"Oh for fuck's sake."
Mwenye sighed and just continued eating. Sometimes they just repeated themselves, like an echo, but if they weren't telling him to do something, they usually went away again after a while.
Can't trust him Distracting Why not? Hasani trusts him Not going to work
"Argh!" Mwenye shoved the last of his breakfast aside in frustration, and pressed his hands to his temples. "Shut up. One at a time. Buncha children you are," he muttered under his breath. He was usually very respectful towards the ancestors, but on a day like today? He was running out of patience, and the sun was barely above the horizon.
As usual once they'd started talking over each other, they ignored him and kept at it, until it was just a blur of sound, and then finally there was something close to silence. He took a deep breath and let it out again, and gave himself a moment to simply be aware of the silence, to let the meanings of their words drift to the surface. Much easier in the solitude of the open sands than among the tribe, but it didn't take too long to figure it out.
"All right. Let's go talk to him then." The prophet stood up, taking the last bit of his flatbread with him, and headed over to the stranger's tent. Saro had been traveling with them for a while, but Mwyene had not yet had a proper conversation with him. Perhaps he had been distracting himself. Soon, though, he would continue straight East while the tribe veered towards a larger oasis than the ones he would rely on on his much faster journey to Cairo.
He heard the quiet sounds of someone still inside, and Saro had shown no evidence of a man who enjoyed his own company and the inside of his own tent, so Mwenye simply sat down cross-legged outside his door to wait.
Well, that's not going to work.
"What's not." Mwenye demanded irritably. He hadn't slept well, though he didn't exactly remember what had been bothering him, and he wasn't sure whether the voice's comment was the continuation of a conversation from hours ago, or a reference to his plans for the day, or the tribe's plans, or possibly not even directed at him at all. He vaguely remembered the ancestors arguing with each other last night. Honestly, he wished they'd just do so elsewhere.
Distracting yourself.
"I'm not distracting myself. I'm eating my damn breakfast."
Not going to work
"Oh for fuck's sake."
Mwenye sighed and just continued eating. Sometimes they just repeated themselves, like an echo, but if they weren't telling him to do something, they usually went away again after a while.
Can't trust him Distracting Why not? Hasani trusts him Not going to work
"Argh!" Mwenye shoved the last of his breakfast aside in frustration, and pressed his hands to his temples. "Shut up. One at a time. Buncha children you are," he muttered under his breath. He was usually very respectful towards the ancestors, but on a day like today? He was running out of patience, and the sun was barely above the horizon.
As usual once they'd started talking over each other, they ignored him and kept at it, until it was just a blur of sound, and then finally there was something close to silence. He took a deep breath and let it out again, and gave himself a moment to simply be aware of the silence, to let the meanings of their words drift to the surface. Much easier in the solitude of the open sands than among the tribe, but it didn't take too long to figure it out.
"All right. Let's go talk to him then." The prophet stood up, taking the last bit of his flatbread with him, and headed over to the stranger's tent. Saro had been traveling with them for a while, but Mwyene had not yet had a proper conversation with him. Perhaps he had been distracting himself. Soon, though, he would continue straight East while the tribe veered towards a larger oasis than the ones he would rely on on his much faster journey to Cairo.
He heard the quiet sounds of someone still inside, and Saro had shown no evidence of a man who enjoyed his own company and the inside of his own tent, so Mwenye simply sat down cross-legged outside his door to wait.
Saro was asleep in his tent, vaguely aware that he should be getting up and going to find morning work to help with, his repayment for Hasani’s kindness of letting him stay with the tribe and taking the time to teach him of their ways. He didn’t think that there was really a way for him to every fully repay the Leier, but he would do his best to at least pitch in around the camp.
Most days so far he had been up early, getting to work as soon as he was pulled from sleep. But that morning he was feeling strange. He missed his ship. He missed the gentle calming rolling of the waves, the smell of the salt water, the call of the gulls. And most of all he missed his family. His father shouting at him to get up and man the crows nest, or his mother dragging him out of his hammock to help with the sails. His life had been full of hard work and not exactly an ideal one for most children, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He had a family that loved him beyond anything else, though not all of them were blood.
And now here he was, among strange people, far from anyone he loved, and even further from his life and adventures upon the seas.
Saro let out a bit of a sigh. There was no use laying there, wallowing in his own regrets. He didn’t have many, but he was starting to wonder if he had made a good decision being here with the Bedoans. Especially since he was going to be here with them a lot longer than he had planned. He wasn’t sure he could make it, so far from the life he knew. But he was nothing if not adaptive, and he wasn’t going to just give in.
So he sat up in his small tent, meant only for one man and a small pack, exactly what he had on him. He shuffled around a little, pulling on a plain pair of pants and a shirt made of a light material to combat the heat of the lands. He pulled his long hair back, tying it with a piece of hide before he took a look at the feather that normally he would tie in his dark locks. He sat there for a moment, just staring at it, before he turned from it. Today would be the first time he would not wear it since the first day it was purchased for him.
He moved to the front of the tent, stepping out before nearly jumping out of his skin, as an automatic reaction, his hand flew to the dagger he kept at his side, dropping when he realized who it was.
“You scared me.” He said in his best Bedoan, though he knew the man was one of the few who knew Coptic, he thought it best to at least try and practice the words that Tanishe and Hasani had been teaching him.
He switched back to Coptic for the next bit, his Bedoan language was still fairly limited.
“May I ask why you’re waiting outside my tent? I know I’m rising later than usual, but I did not think it was that late.”
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Saro was asleep in his tent, vaguely aware that he should be getting up and going to find morning work to help with, his repayment for Hasani’s kindness of letting him stay with the tribe and taking the time to teach him of their ways. He didn’t think that there was really a way for him to every fully repay the Leier, but he would do his best to at least pitch in around the camp.
Most days so far he had been up early, getting to work as soon as he was pulled from sleep. But that morning he was feeling strange. He missed his ship. He missed the gentle calming rolling of the waves, the smell of the salt water, the call of the gulls. And most of all he missed his family. His father shouting at him to get up and man the crows nest, or his mother dragging him out of his hammock to help with the sails. His life had been full of hard work and not exactly an ideal one for most children, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He had a family that loved him beyond anything else, though not all of them were blood.
And now here he was, among strange people, far from anyone he loved, and even further from his life and adventures upon the seas.
Saro let out a bit of a sigh. There was no use laying there, wallowing in his own regrets. He didn’t have many, but he was starting to wonder if he had made a good decision being here with the Bedoans. Especially since he was going to be here with them a lot longer than he had planned. He wasn’t sure he could make it, so far from the life he knew. But he was nothing if not adaptive, and he wasn’t going to just give in.
So he sat up in his small tent, meant only for one man and a small pack, exactly what he had on him. He shuffled around a little, pulling on a plain pair of pants and a shirt made of a light material to combat the heat of the lands. He pulled his long hair back, tying it with a piece of hide before he took a look at the feather that normally he would tie in his dark locks. He sat there for a moment, just staring at it, before he turned from it. Today would be the first time he would not wear it since the first day it was purchased for him.
He moved to the front of the tent, stepping out before nearly jumping out of his skin, as an automatic reaction, his hand flew to the dagger he kept at his side, dropping when he realized who it was.
“You scared me.” He said in his best Bedoan, though he knew the man was one of the few who knew Coptic, he thought it best to at least try and practice the words that Tanishe and Hasani had been teaching him.
He switched back to Coptic for the next bit, his Bedoan language was still fairly limited.
“May I ask why you’re waiting outside my tent? I know I’m rising later than usual, but I did not think it was that late.”
Saro was asleep in his tent, vaguely aware that he should be getting up and going to find morning work to help with, his repayment for Hasani’s kindness of letting him stay with the tribe and taking the time to teach him of their ways. He didn’t think that there was really a way for him to every fully repay the Leier, but he would do his best to at least pitch in around the camp.
Most days so far he had been up early, getting to work as soon as he was pulled from sleep. But that morning he was feeling strange. He missed his ship. He missed the gentle calming rolling of the waves, the smell of the salt water, the call of the gulls. And most of all he missed his family. His father shouting at him to get up and man the crows nest, or his mother dragging him out of his hammock to help with the sails. His life had been full of hard work and not exactly an ideal one for most children, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He had a family that loved him beyond anything else, though not all of them were blood.
And now here he was, among strange people, far from anyone he loved, and even further from his life and adventures upon the seas.
Saro let out a bit of a sigh. There was no use laying there, wallowing in his own regrets. He didn’t have many, but he was starting to wonder if he had made a good decision being here with the Bedoans. Especially since he was going to be here with them a lot longer than he had planned. He wasn’t sure he could make it, so far from the life he knew. But he was nothing if not adaptive, and he wasn’t going to just give in.
So he sat up in his small tent, meant only for one man and a small pack, exactly what he had on him. He shuffled around a little, pulling on a plain pair of pants and a shirt made of a light material to combat the heat of the lands. He pulled his long hair back, tying it with a piece of hide before he took a look at the feather that normally he would tie in his dark locks. He sat there for a moment, just staring at it, before he turned from it. Today would be the first time he would not wear it since the first day it was purchased for him.
He moved to the front of the tent, stepping out before nearly jumping out of his skin, as an automatic reaction, his hand flew to the dagger he kept at his side, dropping when he realized who it was.
“You scared me.” He said in his best Bedoan, though he knew the man was one of the few who knew Coptic, he thought it best to at least try and practice the words that Tanishe and Hasani had been teaching him.
He switched back to Coptic for the next bit, his Bedoan language was still fairly limited.
“May I ask why you’re waiting outside my tent? I know I’m rising later than usual, but I did not think it was that late.”
Mwenye did not move when the stranger reached for his knife, though his muscles did tense in anticipation of needing to move very fast, and his eyes narrowed, but at least the man was not fool enough to draw.
"You seem suspicious," he commented, his tone nearly unreadable. It was, however, clearly not praise. "I am glad to not have had to go looking for you. Sit down, we will talk." He spoke Bedoan, knowing that his Coptic was not good enough to give the same impression of unwavering self confidence, but if Saro claimed not to understand him, he would at least repeat the last bit in the other language.
"The ancestors are suspicious of strangers," the prophet informed the sailor, finally switching to accented Coptic. He spoke slowly, masking the extra thought it required as deliberation. "When you came to our shore, what did you bring to trade? Or was it your entire plan to be adopted into a tribe? You claimed to know nothing of us. How did you know to come when we had gathered at the Port of the West?" It had not, after all, been the usual time for any of the tribes to be there. Eventually someone would have come, but from what Mwenye had seen, not before the man had run out of food.
Mwenye needed to know what under the sun and stars the man had been planning. He had not given any signs of being a madman, nor feebleminded, yet from what he had admitted so far, his only options once his ship had abandoned him had been to throw himself on the mercy of a people who's language he did not speak, or to die. A plan that simply did not make any sense to the Beodin.
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Mwenye did not move when the stranger reached for his knife, though his muscles did tense in anticipation of needing to move very fast, and his eyes narrowed, but at least the man was not fool enough to draw.
"You seem suspicious," he commented, his tone nearly unreadable. It was, however, clearly not praise. "I am glad to not have had to go looking for you. Sit down, we will talk." He spoke Bedoan, knowing that his Coptic was not good enough to give the same impression of unwavering self confidence, but if Saro claimed not to understand him, he would at least repeat the last bit in the other language.
"The ancestors are suspicious of strangers," the prophet informed the sailor, finally switching to accented Coptic. He spoke slowly, masking the extra thought it required as deliberation. "When you came to our shore, what did you bring to trade? Or was it your entire plan to be adopted into a tribe? You claimed to know nothing of us. How did you know to come when we had gathered at the Port of the West?" It had not, after all, been the usual time for any of the tribes to be there. Eventually someone would have come, but from what Mwenye had seen, not before the man had run out of food.
Mwenye needed to know what under the sun and stars the man had been planning. He had not given any signs of being a madman, nor feebleminded, yet from what he had admitted so far, his only options once his ship had abandoned him had been to throw himself on the mercy of a people who's language he did not speak, or to die. A plan that simply did not make any sense to the Beodin.
Mwenye did not move when the stranger reached for his knife, though his muscles did tense in anticipation of needing to move very fast, and his eyes narrowed, but at least the man was not fool enough to draw.
"You seem suspicious," he commented, his tone nearly unreadable. It was, however, clearly not praise. "I am glad to not have had to go looking for you. Sit down, we will talk." He spoke Bedoan, knowing that his Coptic was not good enough to give the same impression of unwavering self confidence, but if Saro claimed not to understand him, he would at least repeat the last bit in the other language.
"The ancestors are suspicious of strangers," the prophet informed the sailor, finally switching to accented Coptic. He spoke slowly, masking the extra thought it required as deliberation. "When you came to our shore, what did you bring to trade? Or was it your entire plan to be adopted into a tribe? You claimed to know nothing of us. How did you know to come when we had gathered at the Port of the West?" It had not, after all, been the usual time for any of the tribes to be there. Eventually someone would have come, but from what Mwenye had seen, not before the man had run out of food.
Mwenye needed to know what under the sun and stars the man had been planning. He had not given any signs of being a madman, nor feebleminded, yet from what he had admitted so far, his only options once his ship had abandoned him had been to throw himself on the mercy of a people who's language he did not speak, or to die. A plan that simply did not make any sense to the Beodin.
Saro thought he had a right to be a little on edge, though Hasani and Tanishe had been nice enough and very hospitable, Saro was very aware that he was still a foreign stranger in their camp. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that all of Hasani’s people had accepted him fully, nor did he expect all of them to. As long as he wasn’t seen as a threat though, he held hope that no one would attack him.
Saro wasn’t entirely sure what all the words were that Mwenye spoke, his Bedoan still a little rusty as he did his best to learn, he didn’t catch most of it, but he did understand that the other wanted him to sit, and so sit he did. He took a seat on the ground in front of him, making sure to give him some space. He wasn’t sure how the Bedoans were with personal space, he had learned that in different places, people were more comfortable being close even with strangers, and in other places some people liked to keep their distance. Until he learned more about the people here, he would keep a respectful distance.
“I did not come to trade. I brought with me only my tent, clothing and a few survival supplies.” He said, telling the complete truth, though he wasn’t sure the other would believe him. He didn’t seem to be entirely trusting of Saro, and he really couldn’t blame him after all.
“I… well, I didn’t really have much of a plan. I came here, hoping to find someone from these lands, and hoping they would be willing to teach me of your ways. It was pure fate that the tribes happened to be here when I landed. I know little of your lands or your culture, and the people I sail with know even less. Saro let out a small snort and a laugh, realizing how ridiculous it sounded as he spoke about it.
“I assure you, I mean no harm to anyone. I have been completely honest with Hasani and Tanishe, and now you. I am only here to learn of your people. I hold a passion for exploration, adventures, and knowledge of different lands.” He shrugged a little.
“Believe me or don’t, but I speak the truth.” He said, holding his ground a little. He had been nothing but honest since he had stepped onto the shores of Bedoa, though he hadn’t revealed every detail about himself. He had told the truth in everything he spoke to them, and would continue to do so, as long as he didn’t feel it would put his life at risk.
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Jan 13, 2020 18:36:19 GMT
Posted In Slow to trust on Jan 13, 2020 18:36:19 GMT
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Saro thought he had a right to be a little on edge, though Hasani and Tanishe had been nice enough and very hospitable, Saro was very aware that he was still a foreign stranger in their camp. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that all of Hasani’s people had accepted him fully, nor did he expect all of them to. As long as he wasn’t seen as a threat though, he held hope that no one would attack him.
Saro wasn’t entirely sure what all the words were that Mwenye spoke, his Bedoan still a little rusty as he did his best to learn, he didn’t catch most of it, but he did understand that the other wanted him to sit, and so sit he did. He took a seat on the ground in front of him, making sure to give him some space. He wasn’t sure how the Bedoans were with personal space, he had learned that in different places, people were more comfortable being close even with strangers, and in other places some people liked to keep their distance. Until he learned more about the people here, he would keep a respectful distance.
“I did not come to trade. I brought with me only my tent, clothing and a few survival supplies.” He said, telling the complete truth, though he wasn’t sure the other would believe him. He didn’t seem to be entirely trusting of Saro, and he really couldn’t blame him after all.
“I… well, I didn’t really have much of a plan. I came here, hoping to find someone from these lands, and hoping they would be willing to teach me of your ways. It was pure fate that the tribes happened to be here when I landed. I know little of your lands or your culture, and the people I sail with know even less. Saro let out a small snort and a laugh, realizing how ridiculous it sounded as he spoke about it.
“I assure you, I mean no harm to anyone. I have been completely honest with Hasani and Tanishe, and now you. I am only here to learn of your people. I hold a passion for exploration, adventures, and knowledge of different lands.” He shrugged a little.
“Believe me or don’t, but I speak the truth.” He said, holding his ground a little. He had been nothing but honest since he had stepped onto the shores of Bedoa, though he hadn’t revealed every detail about himself. He had told the truth in everything he spoke to them, and would continue to do so, as long as he didn’t feel it would put his life at risk.
Saro thought he had a right to be a little on edge, though Hasani and Tanishe had been nice enough and very hospitable, Saro was very aware that he was still a foreign stranger in their camp. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that all of Hasani’s people had accepted him fully, nor did he expect all of them to. As long as he wasn’t seen as a threat though, he held hope that no one would attack him.
Saro wasn’t entirely sure what all the words were that Mwenye spoke, his Bedoan still a little rusty as he did his best to learn, he didn’t catch most of it, but he did understand that the other wanted him to sit, and so sit he did. He took a seat on the ground in front of him, making sure to give him some space. He wasn’t sure how the Bedoans were with personal space, he had learned that in different places, people were more comfortable being close even with strangers, and in other places some people liked to keep their distance. Until he learned more about the people here, he would keep a respectful distance.
“I did not come to trade. I brought with me only my tent, clothing and a few survival supplies.” He said, telling the complete truth, though he wasn’t sure the other would believe him. He didn’t seem to be entirely trusting of Saro, and he really couldn’t blame him after all.
“I… well, I didn’t really have much of a plan. I came here, hoping to find someone from these lands, and hoping they would be willing to teach me of your ways. It was pure fate that the tribes happened to be here when I landed. I know little of your lands or your culture, and the people I sail with know even less. Saro let out a small snort and a laugh, realizing how ridiculous it sounded as he spoke about it.
“I assure you, I mean no harm to anyone. I have been completely honest with Hasani and Tanishe, and now you. I am only here to learn of your people. I hold a passion for exploration, adventures, and knowledge of different lands.” He shrugged a little.
“Believe me or don’t, but I speak the truth.” He said, holding his ground a little. He had been nothing but honest since he had stepped onto the shores of Bedoa, though he hadn’t revealed every detail about himself. He had told the truth in everything he spoke to them, and would continue to do so, as long as he didn’t feel it would put his life at risk.
The Zaire prophet remained expressionless, thoughtful but otherwise unreadable. It wasn't that the foreigner was unlikable; Mwenye could see why Hasani had quickly decided to be friends with the man. He wasn't sure exactly how old Saro was; around his own age, somewhere, he guessed. If he'd been faced with a teenager, Mweyne would have been more likely to believe simple optimistic foolishness and laugh it off like the Leier had. Men in their twenties were still young enough to still be impulsively brave, but usually they were capable of some amount of planning. They should be, more to the point. There were more ways of endangering the tribe than deliberate malice.
"How many other places have you gone to explore, Saro?" he asked. "Have you always found people willing to give you food for no payment?" The prophet was wise in the ways of the desert, but he had no experience with lands rich enough that one could easily hunt or collect enough food to live on, and no reason to believe that had been what Saro had been expecting to find. He himself could survive only on what the desert provided, in many areas, but he knew the land, knew the safe routes, and he had both a reliable camel and his ancestors to guide him. He had heard Saro tell Hasani he had not realized that travel through the desert was so hazardous, and certainly travel in Egypt was easier - just follow the river - and by all accounts Judea, while still having areas of parched wilderness, also had solid roads, so that one could at least be sure of not getting lost. But Mwenye would also not expect to simply be able to hunt wherever he might like, in nations where his tribe had no claim to the land or it's resources, nor to find much success if he did, where the land and animals were different.
"Your ship left without your saying to them that you had found a guide to Cairo, and I think you did not expect them to return to the Port of the West if they do not find you when they arrived in Egypt." He paused, struggling silently with the less familiar language. How did you say recklessly endanger yourself in Coptic? "Do you expect us to abandon you the same if you are stupid for wanting danger, or do you expect us to risk to save you?"
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The Zaire prophet remained expressionless, thoughtful but otherwise unreadable. It wasn't that the foreigner was unlikable; Mwenye could see why Hasani had quickly decided to be friends with the man. He wasn't sure exactly how old Saro was; around his own age, somewhere, he guessed. If he'd been faced with a teenager, Mweyne would have been more likely to believe simple optimistic foolishness and laugh it off like the Leier had. Men in their twenties were still young enough to still be impulsively brave, but usually they were capable of some amount of planning. They should be, more to the point. There were more ways of endangering the tribe than deliberate malice.
"How many other places have you gone to explore, Saro?" he asked. "Have you always found people willing to give you food for no payment?" The prophet was wise in the ways of the desert, but he had no experience with lands rich enough that one could easily hunt or collect enough food to live on, and no reason to believe that had been what Saro had been expecting to find. He himself could survive only on what the desert provided, in many areas, but he knew the land, knew the safe routes, and he had both a reliable camel and his ancestors to guide him. He had heard Saro tell Hasani he had not realized that travel through the desert was so hazardous, and certainly travel in Egypt was easier - just follow the river - and by all accounts Judea, while still having areas of parched wilderness, also had solid roads, so that one could at least be sure of not getting lost. But Mwenye would also not expect to simply be able to hunt wherever he might like, in nations where his tribe had no claim to the land or it's resources, nor to find much success if he did, where the land and animals were different.
"Your ship left without your saying to them that you had found a guide to Cairo, and I think you did not expect them to return to the Port of the West if they do not find you when they arrived in Egypt." He paused, struggling silently with the less familiar language. How did you say recklessly endanger yourself in Coptic? "Do you expect us to abandon you the same if you are stupid for wanting danger, or do you expect us to risk to save you?"
The Zaire prophet remained expressionless, thoughtful but otherwise unreadable. It wasn't that the foreigner was unlikable; Mwenye could see why Hasani had quickly decided to be friends with the man. He wasn't sure exactly how old Saro was; around his own age, somewhere, he guessed. If he'd been faced with a teenager, Mweyne would have been more likely to believe simple optimistic foolishness and laugh it off like the Leier had. Men in their twenties were still young enough to still be impulsively brave, but usually they were capable of some amount of planning. They should be, more to the point. There were more ways of endangering the tribe than deliberate malice.
"How many other places have you gone to explore, Saro?" he asked. "Have you always found people willing to give you food for no payment?" The prophet was wise in the ways of the desert, but he had no experience with lands rich enough that one could easily hunt or collect enough food to live on, and no reason to believe that had been what Saro had been expecting to find. He himself could survive only on what the desert provided, in many areas, but he knew the land, knew the safe routes, and he had both a reliable camel and his ancestors to guide him. He had heard Saro tell Hasani he had not realized that travel through the desert was so hazardous, and certainly travel in Egypt was easier - just follow the river - and by all accounts Judea, while still having areas of parched wilderness, also had solid roads, so that one could at least be sure of not getting lost. But Mwenye would also not expect to simply be able to hunt wherever he might like, in nations where his tribe had no claim to the land or it's resources, nor to find much success if he did, where the land and animals were different.
"Your ship left without your saying to them that you had found a guide to Cairo, and I think you did not expect them to return to the Port of the West if they do not find you when they arrived in Egypt." He paused, struggling silently with the less familiar language. How did you say recklessly endanger yourself in Coptic? "Do you expect us to abandon you the same if you are stupid for wanting danger, or do you expect us to risk to save you?"
“I have explored many places, in Greece, Africa, and lands beyond.” He said simply, shrugging.
“Hardly have I found people willing to provide food or shelter without payment, but as I have offered payment in exchange for Hasani’s kindnesses and found it rejected, I repay him, and the rest of your people in the only other way I can. By working. I have already found my use in several places the few short days I have been here, and do not intend to stop until I find myself safely upon Egyptian lands once more.” He explained, which was true. He had offered Hasani money in exchange for everything, but the Leier had refused, stating that his money wasn’t useful, and he would earn his keep by working.
“I don’t expect anyone to risk themselves to save me, if I am to die because of my own mistakes, then that is my own problem. I am a man of surprises, Mweyne. I truly mean no harm. Had I not found all of you here, I would have waited awhile and then I would have left. Perhaps I would have followed the coast on my rowboat, perhaps I would have done so on foot. Perhaps I would have just continue to wait here until I saw a ship in the distance and then signaled them. I do not know what I would have done. But none of that matters, you were all here, and I ran into Tanishe who brought me to Hasani, who as proven to be a kind and generous man.” He said, keeping his gaze on the other so he could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke.
“Sometimes in life, you just need to trust that things will work out. If I am to die upon the sands here? Then so be it. If I live, then I will learn and have experiences I can speak of for years to come.” He said with a little laugh.
“It might seem strange, but that is how I have lived my life. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. Anyone could die suddenly, or have an accident, any number of things could kill any person for any reason at any time. I see no reason to spend my days worrying about when or where I will meet my end.” The pirate said, and that was all he could think of to say on the topic.
“Take it as you will, stupidity, recklessness, it’s how I’ve lived my life up until now, and how I will continue to live my life until my last breath.” He shifted a little and pushed some of his hair over his shoulder, wondering what the other man in front of him thought of what he had to say. Perhaps he thought Saro was completely out of it, or that he was some sort of threat. He was sure that Mwenye would voice his opinion, he didn’t seem afraid of telling Saro exactly what he thought, at least so far.
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Jan 28, 2020 23:33:39 GMT
Posted In Slow to trust on Jan 28, 2020 23:33:39 GMT
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“I have explored many places, in Greece, Africa, and lands beyond.” He said simply, shrugging.
“Hardly have I found people willing to provide food or shelter without payment, but as I have offered payment in exchange for Hasani’s kindnesses and found it rejected, I repay him, and the rest of your people in the only other way I can. By working. I have already found my use in several places the few short days I have been here, and do not intend to stop until I find myself safely upon Egyptian lands once more.” He explained, which was true. He had offered Hasani money in exchange for everything, but the Leier had refused, stating that his money wasn’t useful, and he would earn his keep by working.
“I don’t expect anyone to risk themselves to save me, if I am to die because of my own mistakes, then that is my own problem. I am a man of surprises, Mweyne. I truly mean no harm. Had I not found all of you here, I would have waited awhile and then I would have left. Perhaps I would have followed the coast on my rowboat, perhaps I would have done so on foot. Perhaps I would have just continue to wait here until I saw a ship in the distance and then signaled them. I do not know what I would have done. But none of that matters, you were all here, and I ran into Tanishe who brought me to Hasani, who as proven to be a kind and generous man.” He said, keeping his gaze on the other so he could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke.
“Sometimes in life, you just need to trust that things will work out. If I am to die upon the sands here? Then so be it. If I live, then I will learn and have experiences I can speak of for years to come.” He said with a little laugh.
“It might seem strange, but that is how I have lived my life. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. Anyone could die suddenly, or have an accident, any number of things could kill any person for any reason at any time. I see no reason to spend my days worrying about when or where I will meet my end.” The pirate said, and that was all he could think of to say on the topic.
“Take it as you will, stupidity, recklessness, it’s how I’ve lived my life up until now, and how I will continue to live my life until my last breath.” He shifted a little and pushed some of his hair over his shoulder, wondering what the other man in front of him thought of what he had to say. Perhaps he thought Saro was completely out of it, or that he was some sort of threat. He was sure that Mwenye would voice his opinion, he didn’t seem afraid of telling Saro exactly what he thought, at least so far.
“I have explored many places, in Greece, Africa, and lands beyond.” He said simply, shrugging.
“Hardly have I found people willing to provide food or shelter without payment, but as I have offered payment in exchange for Hasani’s kindnesses and found it rejected, I repay him, and the rest of your people in the only other way I can. By working. I have already found my use in several places the few short days I have been here, and do not intend to stop until I find myself safely upon Egyptian lands once more.” He explained, which was true. He had offered Hasani money in exchange for everything, but the Leier had refused, stating that his money wasn’t useful, and he would earn his keep by working.
“I don’t expect anyone to risk themselves to save me, if I am to die because of my own mistakes, then that is my own problem. I am a man of surprises, Mweyne. I truly mean no harm. Had I not found all of you here, I would have waited awhile and then I would have left. Perhaps I would have followed the coast on my rowboat, perhaps I would have done so on foot. Perhaps I would have just continue to wait here until I saw a ship in the distance and then signaled them. I do not know what I would have done. But none of that matters, you were all here, and I ran into Tanishe who brought me to Hasani, who as proven to be a kind and generous man.” He said, keeping his gaze on the other so he could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke.
“Sometimes in life, you just need to trust that things will work out. If I am to die upon the sands here? Then so be it. If I live, then I will learn and have experiences I can speak of for years to come.” He said with a little laugh.
“It might seem strange, but that is how I have lived my life. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. Anyone could die suddenly, or have an accident, any number of things could kill any person for any reason at any time. I see no reason to spend my days worrying about when or where I will meet my end.” The pirate said, and that was all he could think of to say on the topic.
“Take it as you will, stupidity, recklessness, it’s how I’ve lived my life up until now, and how I will continue to live my life until my last breath.” He shifted a little and pushed some of his hair over his shoulder, wondering what the other man in front of him thought of what he had to say. Perhaps he thought Saro was completely out of it, or that he was some sort of threat. He was sure that Mwenye would voice his opinion, he didn’t seem afraid of telling Saro exactly what he thought, at least so far.
Mwenye listened thoughtfully, and was silent for a while after Saro spoke, his posture still somehow that of someone listening. Finally he nodded. "My ancestors do not like you-" he paused, the slight hesitation of someone who's attention had been momentarily caught by something overheard, then continued, "Change is not the way of the Beodin, of the desert." He spoke confidently, stating facts, with no overt accusation. Yet. "We trust our Leier, and he did decided you will travel with the Zaire." And that, after all, was that, in the end. Mwenye knew his grammar wasn't perfect, but he wasn't the type to stumble and hesitate over it. If he got his point across, that was all that was necessary. "Hasani is enjoys learning - this is good. A leier must know many things." So should a prophet - but the leier and the prophet did not always need to know the same things. Hasani, with his insatiable curiosity about the world beyond the desert, would soak up everything Saro said as if it was water. Mwenye preferred chasing other knowledge, and generally only interacted with foreigners to trade, or when the ancestors suggested it.
The young prophet rose smoothly to his feet. He still didn't feel exactly welcoming, but he was satisfied enough - Saro's motivations might be strange, but he was not intending to take advantage of the tribe, and if his impulsive foolishness got him killed, he seemed unlikely to blame the tribe after the fact. "You should try to learn wisdom, Saro," he informed the sailor seriously, switching back to his own language. "The desert does not forgive mistakes." And really, what else was there to say? "I leave the tribe tomorrow. Whatever messages you have, I will collect in the evening."
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Mwenye listened thoughtfully, and was silent for a while after Saro spoke, his posture still somehow that of someone listening. Finally he nodded. "My ancestors do not like you-" he paused, the slight hesitation of someone who's attention had been momentarily caught by something overheard, then continued, "Change is not the way of the Beodin, of the desert." He spoke confidently, stating facts, with no overt accusation. Yet. "We trust our Leier, and he did decided you will travel with the Zaire." And that, after all, was that, in the end. Mwenye knew his grammar wasn't perfect, but he wasn't the type to stumble and hesitate over it. If he got his point across, that was all that was necessary. "Hasani is enjoys learning - this is good. A leier must know many things." So should a prophet - but the leier and the prophet did not always need to know the same things. Hasani, with his insatiable curiosity about the world beyond the desert, would soak up everything Saro said as if it was water. Mwenye preferred chasing other knowledge, and generally only interacted with foreigners to trade, or when the ancestors suggested it.
The young prophet rose smoothly to his feet. He still didn't feel exactly welcoming, but he was satisfied enough - Saro's motivations might be strange, but he was not intending to take advantage of the tribe, and if his impulsive foolishness got him killed, he seemed unlikely to blame the tribe after the fact. "You should try to learn wisdom, Saro," he informed the sailor seriously, switching back to his own language. "The desert does not forgive mistakes." And really, what else was there to say? "I leave the tribe tomorrow. Whatever messages you have, I will collect in the evening."
Mwenye listened thoughtfully, and was silent for a while after Saro spoke, his posture still somehow that of someone listening. Finally he nodded. "My ancestors do not like you-" he paused, the slight hesitation of someone who's attention had been momentarily caught by something overheard, then continued, "Change is not the way of the Beodin, of the desert." He spoke confidently, stating facts, with no overt accusation. Yet. "We trust our Leier, and he did decided you will travel with the Zaire." And that, after all, was that, in the end. Mwenye knew his grammar wasn't perfect, but he wasn't the type to stumble and hesitate over it. If he got his point across, that was all that was necessary. "Hasani is enjoys learning - this is good. A leier must know many things." So should a prophet - but the leier and the prophet did not always need to know the same things. Hasani, with his insatiable curiosity about the world beyond the desert, would soak up everything Saro said as if it was water. Mwenye preferred chasing other knowledge, and generally only interacted with foreigners to trade, or when the ancestors suggested it.
The young prophet rose smoothly to his feet. He still didn't feel exactly welcoming, but he was satisfied enough - Saro's motivations might be strange, but he was not intending to take advantage of the tribe, and if his impulsive foolishness got him killed, he seemed unlikely to blame the tribe after the fact. "You should try to learn wisdom, Saro," he informed the sailor seriously, switching back to his own language. "The desert does not forgive mistakes." And really, what else was there to say? "I leave the tribe tomorrow. Whatever messages you have, I will collect in the evening."
Saro wasn’t quite sure what to say to Mwenye when he stated that the ancestors didn’t like him, and then paused. He listened to his words, but wasn’t quite sure what the message was behind them. The prophet seemed to be satisfied with their little meeting, and stood. Saro followed suit, giving him a friendly smile, and at least attempting to speak the other man’s language, or at least what he knew to say.
“Enjoy your day.” He called as the other took his leave. When the other was out of earshot, he shook his head and muttered to himself, speaking in Greek just in case anyone else was able to hear him.
“What a strange man...” He stretched his arms above his head, attempting to shake off the strange conversation. He wasn’t quite sure what had even happened, he supposed one had to be a bit strange in his position. Saro had no idea if this whole ancestor thing was real, he had come across so many varieties of Gods and deities in his travels, and the people of those lands seemed to fully believe their way was right. He himself didn’t know what he really believed in, he wasn’t sure he believed in any sort of greater being, but he supposed that the Bedoan’s belief in their ancestors, or what Saro understood of it, wasn’t the most unbelievable of the religions. Perhaps the now dead tribe members who had come before Mwenye and the others truly did speak to the prophet. Perhaps he was lying, or just crazy.
Either way, he seemed harmless, or at least didn’t seem to want to harm Saro, so there was no reason to think too hard on the other man’s claim that he could hear the ancestors.
He shook the thoughts from his head and started off, to start his day and see what work he could help with.
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Saro wasn’t quite sure what to say to Mwenye when he stated that the ancestors didn’t like him, and then paused. He listened to his words, but wasn’t quite sure what the message was behind them. The prophet seemed to be satisfied with their little meeting, and stood. Saro followed suit, giving him a friendly smile, and at least attempting to speak the other man’s language, or at least what he knew to say.
“Enjoy your day.” He called as the other took his leave. When the other was out of earshot, he shook his head and muttered to himself, speaking in Greek just in case anyone else was able to hear him.
“What a strange man...” He stretched his arms above his head, attempting to shake off the strange conversation. He wasn’t quite sure what had even happened, he supposed one had to be a bit strange in his position. Saro had no idea if this whole ancestor thing was real, he had come across so many varieties of Gods and deities in his travels, and the people of those lands seemed to fully believe their way was right. He himself didn’t know what he really believed in, he wasn’t sure he believed in any sort of greater being, but he supposed that the Bedoan’s belief in their ancestors, or what Saro understood of it, wasn’t the most unbelievable of the religions. Perhaps the now dead tribe members who had come before Mwenye and the others truly did speak to the prophet. Perhaps he was lying, or just crazy.
Either way, he seemed harmless, or at least didn’t seem to want to harm Saro, so there was no reason to think too hard on the other man’s claim that he could hear the ancestors.
He shook the thoughts from his head and started off, to start his day and see what work he could help with.
Saro wasn’t quite sure what to say to Mwenye when he stated that the ancestors didn’t like him, and then paused. He listened to his words, but wasn’t quite sure what the message was behind them. The prophet seemed to be satisfied with their little meeting, and stood. Saro followed suit, giving him a friendly smile, and at least attempting to speak the other man’s language, or at least what he knew to say.
“Enjoy your day.” He called as the other took his leave. When the other was out of earshot, he shook his head and muttered to himself, speaking in Greek just in case anyone else was able to hear him.
“What a strange man...” He stretched his arms above his head, attempting to shake off the strange conversation. He wasn’t quite sure what had even happened, he supposed one had to be a bit strange in his position. Saro had no idea if this whole ancestor thing was real, he had come across so many varieties of Gods and deities in his travels, and the people of those lands seemed to fully believe their way was right. He himself didn’t know what he really believed in, he wasn’t sure he believed in any sort of greater being, but he supposed that the Bedoan’s belief in their ancestors, or what Saro understood of it, wasn’t the most unbelievable of the religions. Perhaps the now dead tribe members who had come before Mwenye and the others truly did speak to the prophet. Perhaps he was lying, or just crazy.
Either way, he seemed harmless, or at least didn’t seem to want to harm Saro, so there was no reason to think too hard on the other man’s claim that he could hear the ancestors.
He shook the thoughts from his head and started off, to start his day and see what work he could help with.