Diondray's Journey

Chapter 2

Chapter 2When I first (of three times over the years) arrived here in the lower valley of these hills from the northwest, I was immediately taken by the presence of this woman. She was tall and slender, with sharp eyes, and she stood like a queen amongst her tribe. The woman was not beautiful like my Sophia or Adrianna. She seemed to be all angles, suggesting masculinity. However, when she spoke to me for the first time, I knew she was deeply feminine.

I spent fifty days with Teresa and her tribe. I taught Kammbi’s teachings and told them how the Eternal Comforter could come into their lives once they believed and followed Kammbi. Teresa took to my teaching the fastest, and she told me she knew this was the path her people needed to take.

The elders of the tribe came along more slowly than Teresa. They still had their suspicions, and I got a sense that they thought Teresa was taken with me.

We spent a lot of time together repeatedly going over Kammbi’s teachings. Teresa told me she wanted to understand every bit of Kammbi’s teachings before I left her and the tribe. There was nothing romantic or s****l about our private times together. I had already committed an act of passha with Adrianna. I had learned my lesson. Besides, I never wanted to hurt Sophia again like I had when she found out about my relationship with Adrianna.

I knew Teresa had suitors amongst the leadership of the tribe. I noticed that when I first arrived. A short, stocky man named Leopolde was the most prominent of these. His gaze at Teresa when she asked questions during our teaching sessions revealed his love for her.

The day before I left the tribe, Teresa told me that Leopolde had asked to marry her. She wanted advice from me on how to ask the Eternal Comforter about rejecting his proposal. Teresa felt marriage would compromise her growing belief in Kammbi, and she wanted to devote all her time and energy to becoming a totally committed follower and believer. She also spoke about how the young women of the tribe were getting married as soon as their first menstrual cycle came. Teresa thought that was not the right path for them. They should be able to choose marriage when they found the man they truly loved, not be forced into it by the elders of the tribe. She felt the Eternal Comforter had told her to choose this path but had not told her how to reject Leopolde’s proposal. She wanted to do the right thing in her newfound beliefs and wanted my help before I traveled east and north to find more followers and believers in Kammbi.

I read the opening part of chapter 4 from the Baramesa in the Book of Kammbi after I arrived in my room. We were staying in the visitors’ area at the kahall of Santa Teresa. The room resembled the one I’d stayed in at the kahall of Santa Sophia. It had a floor-to-ceiling window on the left side and a huge bed next to it. Above the bed, a wall-sized picture of Kammbi floating in the air with the words “He’s always with us” underneath reminded me of my first night in Santa Sophia.

On the right side of the room were a desk, a bookcase, and a second wall-sized picture, this one of a tall, angular woman wearing a brown shawl. I knew this had to be Teresa, founder of this city and a member of that tribe Oscar Ortega had met on his journey.

I returned my attention to the pages I was reading in the Book of Kammbi. This was the second time I had read this chapter since arriving north of the Great Forest. I reread this chapter in order to see how, when the book clearly stated that Teresa chose not to get married and opposed forced marriage in the tribe, a tradition could have arisen like the one I was encountering now. How could someone start and continue a tradition that directly contradicts what has been written in their sacred book?

I did not grow up with a sacred book that wrote out our spiritual beliefs. In my culture, the lifechart we received at birth, validated by the oraki, our version of a morrim, determined one’s path in life. There was no way possible for misinterpretation or contradiction by those who received their lifechart.

I needed a break from reading, and I got up from the chair at the desk. I paced the room in order to clear my head and absorb what I had read.

Today was the twenty-fourth day in the fifth month of Aym, and we had arrived in Santa Teresa yesterday. So this second expedition in the service of Kammbi had started two days before Oscar Ortega’s expedition two hundred fifty years ago.

The timing was not by coincidence. This time frame had been chosen for a reason. It only made me even more convinced of my role in fulfilling Oscar’s prophecy.

I had to start writing a themily about this turn of events.

Is anything really a coincidence? Or is everything connected? Does history repeat itself from one generation to the next? Does something that’s old become new again but is really old the whole time?

I have been north of the Great Forest for nearly two months as a stranger and am now starting to feel more connected to this area, like I was back home in Charlesville.

Maybe we are not the strangers to others as we make ourselves out to be. History, traditions, and beliefs are supposed to differentiate one group of people from another group of people. But perhaps they are just barriers put up by people to make them feel connected to those who are closest to them and keep out the stranger. Those barriers can be removed when you are a part of something that’s bigger than any person or group of people.

I guess there is no such thing as coincidences when we realize that we are truly connected to each other.

I heard a knock on the door right after I wrote the last sentence. I got up and looked across the room, glancing briefly out the window. The sun had risen and was lightening the horizon. In the distance, I could see the Ortega Hills. I appreciated seeing those hills and began to understand why Oscar Ortega wrote about them so eloquently in his section of the Book of Kammbi. I hoped to have some inspiration of my own for a themily about those hills while I was here.

I had been up all night, and I could feel the pull of sleep calling me to the bed even as I walked to the door. I opened the door and smiled at the tiny woman wearing her customary second esperah green shawl. She wore eyeglasses that looked too big for her face, and her cute, plump cheeks made her appear a few years younger than myself.

“Hello, Diondray Azur. I’m Second Esperah Annika Dorrado, here to serve your needs while you are staying in the visitors’ area at the kahall of Santa Teresa.”

She faced me and gave the customary bow after entering the room. I remembered how formal second esperahs could be from my interaction with Second Esperah Leo Carranza at the kahall of Santa Sophia. Second esperahs served under the diakonos and did all menial work for the kahall.

“I thought I would get a first esperah after meeting with Morrim Pomodore,” I replied.

“Morrim Pomodore chose me to serve you,” she said. “I’m grateful that he picked me instead of a first esperah for this duty.”

The savory smell from the changa on the plate diverted my attention from Second Esperah Dorrado’s youthfulness. A changa was a combination of sliced cherries, corn, and strips of meat on a hard-crusted white piece of circular bread. I’d had my first changa on the second day I arrived in Santa Sophia, and it was delicious. She placed the changa and a glass of cherry juice on the desk. My stomach rumbled, knowing that food had entered the room.

“Are you a writer?” she asked, her back to me as she glanced at the paper on the desk.

“I write themilys.”

“What is a themily?” she asked while looking at the paper on the desk.

“Words written on a single sheet of paper that are meant to inspire, encourage, or admonish an audience.”

“You read this themily to an audience?”

“I did back in my hometown of Charlesville.”

Second Esperah Dorrado faced me and smiled. “You are the first person I’ve ever met from south of the Great Forest.”

I chuckled. Even if everyone else insisted on seeing me as a stranger, I was glad I was ceasing to feel like one. “I’ve gotten that a lot since I’ve been here, and in Santa Sophia.”

“Could you read this themily to me? I’d like to hear it.”

I searched her face and was drawn in by her cheeks. She had an innocence that attracted me. “I will read it to you.”

She handed me the paper, and I read the themily.

“Those are beautiful words,” she said. “I’ve never heard anyone talk about coincidences and being connected like that before.”

“Thank you.”

“I have been feeling like an outcast recently,” she said and looked away.

Her comment surprised me. Why would she feel like an outcast? Second Esperah Dorrado did not come across as someone who would be shunned by others. “What do you mean?”

She kept her eyes downcast. “I’m supposed to get married on the first day in the seventh month of Yul. I’m supposed to look forward to it. But I don’t.”

“You do not want to get married.” As those words came out of my mouth, I thought about that parishioner at the kahall service. I could imagine that if he had a daughter like Second Esperah Dorrado, he would make life difficult for her.

“Yes. But I turned twenty-one yesterday, and it is our custom for women to get married at this age.”

“Yes, I heard that from the previous kahall service.”

“I have told my family that I don’t feel anything about the man they have arranged to be my husband. I don’t want to marry him.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and sadness showed on her face. I embraced her.

“What are you doing, Second Esperah Dorrado?” a male voice said from behind me. I turned around and saw another second esperah and Maisa standing at the doorway to the room.

“I must go, Diondray,” Second Esperah Dorrado said. She pulled away from my embrace. I saw a wan smile on her face and knew she appreciated my comfort. “I will return in a little while to clean up your breakfast.” She left the room, following the other second esperah.

I watched her go, troubled by the exchange. How could a city have a custom like this—one that forced young women to marry men they did not love? Was this one of the costs paid by a young woman who did not want to follow tradition? I felt sympathetic toward her plight and began thinking about ways to help. Had Teresa addressed in the Book of Kammbi how the tribe accepted her decision not to marry? Again, I found myself wondering why Teresa’s clear choice had been ignored by the people of this city. There was something missing, and I wanted to find out what it was.

Maisa was still standing at the doorway, and her blank expression caught my attention. Our eyes connected, and I saw disappointment in her face. She lowered her eyes and left the doorway.

I knew I had done something wrong.