The Sicily Chronicles

9230 B.C.E.-1

Anu’s eyes openly slowly as he rolled from his right side onto his back beneath the soft weight of the animal skin covering his body. He peered out of the small shelter that he slept in, a lean-to pushed back into a crevice in the rock and covered with more animal hides to shield him and his family from the cool air of early spring. Through the narrow gap between the leather flaps at the opening to the outside, he could see the first hint of sunrise as the dark sky was chased up into the heavens by the yellowish orange glow of the sun on the horizon returning from its own short slumber on the other side of the world.

Baia lay beside him and her soft breathing let him know that she had not yet been awakened. Anu rubbed the heel of his left hand against the crust of sleep that clung to his eyes and let out a soft sigh as the day dawned upon him. Blinking his eyes twice, he reached up with his left arm and stretched to loosen his muscles. He didn’t want to move his right arm yet; it was wedged between him and Baia as they shared each other’s body heat.

Anu blinked his eyes again to clear his vision, then brushed his left hand across his brow and the bridge of his nose. Another long sigh escaped from his lips as he adjusted to the dim light coming in through the opening of the hut. He was reluctant to leave the warmth of the hide that protected him and Baia from the crisp morning air but, with a resigned heft onto his left shoulder, he hoisted his sturdy body up from the grassy mat that had cushioned him against the sand and rocky surface of the shelter’s floor.

The cool air greeted him once he slipped out from under the hide. It wasn’t much of a shock to his bare skin, not for a man who had lived many winters on the coast of this small island. As Anu rose to his feet, he pulled another animal hide over his shoulders, enough to cover his upper body and reach the waistline of the soft pelt that covered his loin and legs.

A slight shiver shimmied down his back, an action that provided momentary warmth as he stretched his arms above his head and prepared for the day ahead. His feet were covered with sewn hides taken from the toughest animals, stitched together carefully by Baia’s deft hand with animal sinew and twisted fibers serving as thread. His britches were similar, though composed of softer material, and the hide that covered his upper body still held the fur of the animal that had been sacrificed to provide this covering to Anu.

The people of Fansu, a tiny island in the middle of the great sea, respected the animals that they hunted and the plants that they gathered for sustenance. The existence of his people would have been impossible without the hunting and gathering that was a daily necessity for the tribe, and they thanked the animals and plants for giving themselves up to them. They paid homage to the animals especially, because they moved about on four legs or two just as the people did, and the tribesmen believed that the earth mother had given these creatures to them for nourishment. So, the people carved the animals’ images on the walls of sacred caves in solemn appreciation.

It was to one such cave that Anu was going today, to render features of ritual art on its walls to honor his father who had died the day before. Carving images of the animals and humans was reserved for the sacred caves found nearby and kept for privileged ceremonies such as Anu planned for the day.

The tribe had long ago chosen this particular cave because it was angled toward the sun that fell from the sky at the end of the day. The opening of the cave let in the radiant red light as the fiery ball settled into the water on its trip around his world, to reappear on the other side of his little island after they had slept.

Anu stepped toward the opening of the shelter and turned slightly back to survey the people who made up his world. There was Baia, whose fluttering eyelids and twitching smile reminded Anu of the amusing and confusing dream his head had conjured in the dark of night. There was also his young son, who recently had learned to go about on his feet but was now cuddled in the crook up Baia’s right arm, nestled in the warmth of her body and the animal hide that was big enough to cover them both. On her stomach, and pressed closely to Baia’s breast and armpit, was the latest addition to his world, a tiny newborn girl whose gentle babbling suggested that she might be awake and angling for her mother’s n****e.

Anu looked out at the sun, squinting now that its light was growing stronger, then glanced back once more at his people. Baia’s eyes were now open, probably brought out of her sleep by the needs of the baby. She looked up at Anu and blinked recognition. She knew that her man had a duty to perform for the elder who had died, and he would soon be out into the sunlight. Baia would remain in their cave to take care of the children.

Anu looked beyond this cluster of bodies to another person. His father, Anutu, was composed with crossed hands and feet, curled up on his left side and resting in death at the rear of the shelter. After Anu had carved the animals on the cave wall that morning, he would return to bury his father’s body in the soft earth of the hut where they lived.

Addressing himself to his responsibilities, Anu stepped out into the sunlight, scanned the cluster of huts that housed his tribe’s people, crossed the small circle that separated them, and walked toward the broad grassy plane toward the sacred cave nearby.

The first part of Anu’s trek was easy. The land was smooth and covered with wild grass, and except for the fist-sized rocks strewn across this well-worn path, the walking was relaxed.

As he neared the cave, Anu had to mount a narrow ledge that hugged the rocky cliff and circled around it to his destination. The sacred cave had been a part of his tribe’s spiritual ceremonies for many years, chosen in part because it was not likely to attract idle wanderers, and in part because it was lit by the glow of the last sun of the day, much as the people who died were lit by the last light of their lives as their spirits passed into the other world.

He climbed over a large boulder just beside the entrance to the cave, a last impediment before he could slip inside. The interior of the cave was as dark as night, since it faced away from the rising sun on the other side of Fansu. Anu pulled a leather bag from his shoulder, crouched down, and spread the implements of his art on the floor of the cave.

The first thing he reached for was a clay pot filled with a tar-like grease and small, cold chunks of wood partially darkened from the previous evening’s fire. He laid down a pile of brush and dried leaves that he had collected along his walk, then pulled two sticks of wood from his bag. He spread all these implements at his feet.

Crouching down and sitting cross-legged on the earth, Anu placed one stick of wood – the flat one with tiny holes on the side – on the earth. He moved the pile of grass and leaves close to his leg, then pulled the smudge pot alongside them. Spitting on the palms of his hands, Anu grasped the other stick and rotated it back and forth between his palms. As his spit coated the wood, it made the stick glide more easily across his skin. When he thought it was moving quickly enough, and with as little painful friction as possible on his dry hands, Anu applied the end of this stick to one of the holes in the wood on the ground.

Spitting once more into his hands, Anu began to rotate the vertical stick rapidly, creating friction and heat in the joint with the other stick. More spitting and brisk rotation of the stick, he continued with this action for nearly two minutes. Slowly, the lower end of the stick began to warm up and wisps of smoke rose from the wood on the ground next to Anu’s leg.

A bit more spitting and rapid rotation of the stick produced even more heat and smoke. Pausing only briefly, Anu moved the grass and leaves closer to the stick and resumed spinning. The glow of the heat caught the tinder and a small flame erupted. Anu added more fuel, and then placed the smoldering pile of leaves into the smudge pot. The cool embers and tarry substance quickly caught the heat and the small flame grew larger.

From this, Anu was able to produce a long-lasting light source which he would use to survey the walls of the cave and conduct his ritual carving.

Once he was satisfied that his smudge lamp was self-sustaining, Anu stood up and stared at the carvings that already occupied the cave walls. He didn’t recognize many. It was the custom among his tribe that the carvings would be rendered by the family of the lost person, alone, without the help of others. Anu had lost his mother whom he had memorialized on the cave wall as a woman with an abundant belly, proof of the brothers and sisters that Anu had enjoyed; some lost, some still among his kin. The other carvings were put there by his fellows back at the village, but such art is too primitive to attribute to a particular creator.

Except for one. The father of Lotya, Anu’s friend, was famous in their tribe. He had fought and brought down a mammoth, twice the size of a human being. After the man’s later death, Lotya celebrated him by carving the scene on the wall here, and the size of the animal – easily dwarfing the man whose spear was aimed at its heart – made it clear that this was his father.

Anu found a part of the wall that was relatively untouched and set the smudge pot down in front of it and just to his side. He wanted the dim light to be cast on the wall he planned to carve, and not have his own body shield the flame. Reaching into his bag, he retrieved two stones. One was elongated and had a tapered end. The other was a large, rounded stone that Anu grasped in one hand as if to smash its bulk against the other.

He examined the wall once again, this time to imagine the art that he would carve. Anu had spent the evening before deciding what image would represent his father. Anutu, the older man, was a hunter but so were most men in the tribe. Anu wasn’t trying to decide what set Anutu apart from the rest; these were simple people, they were mostly alike and all contributed equally to the survival of the tribe. But he remembered Anutu also as a keeper of animals. His father tended the sheep that the tribe kept fenced in with a stick-and-vine corral.

Raising his left arm with the elongated stone to the wall, Anu brought the hammer stone in his right hand down with a smack. This produced a small hole in the wall as a chip fell at his feet. He repeated this motion several more time until a smooth line of pits appeared curving from left to right. Reaching for another tool, a stone sharpened at one end more than the last, Anu repeated the action along the line of holes already created. This secondary work deepened the small pits already made and strung them together in a closer line so that, when he stepped back, Anu could appreciate his work as a curved line that would form the start of his carving.