Episode 41
Travelling Light E41S02 Transcript
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Forty One.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
11th Savna 850,
To the community at Emerraine, who carry the Light.
I must start, I think, with an apology. I know I have been remiss in writing to you all this past month. I am sorry for any concern this sudden silence may have caused.
I am afraid I have no good excuse for not writing while Óli and I travelled to Clanagh. It is not as if I did not have time.
Since cutting ties with their family, Óli has determined never again to use their parents' wealth to make their way in the world. An admirable commitment to independence and integrity, to be sure.
But no amount of integrity can change the fact that Óli does not actually have any money of their own.
I had planned to pay for the journey from the Kerrin Port with a portion set aside from the money supplied to me by our community before I left Emerraine. But I had assumed I would be making that journey alone, and had budgeted accordingly.
So, instead of the two-day journey north to Clanagh by air, we too the far cheaper, far slower route over land.
We meandered this way and that over land, working our way across the continent in stages, beholden to the whims of Kerrin's planetary public transit system.
Actually, no. To call it a system gives in an air of organisation it does not deserve. Stations are few and far between, and the lines that link them are infuriatingly limited.
At one point we spent five full days heading due east, only to be forced to turn south for a day and a half before we could reach a connection to bring us back on the right trajectory.
Nor was there much respite to be found when we stopped travelling for the day. Very few of the towns we passed through had any accommodation for non-residents, and Óli and I spent more than one night sleeping in the transit station itself, propped up with our bags for pillows and our coats – or Óli's travelling cloak – for a blanket.
When we did secure lodging for the night, it was only of the most basic sort. A roughly furnished room in an inn, a pair of narrow bunks in a workers' dormitory or, on one memorable occasion, on make-shift pallets on the kitchen floor of a transit worker who took pity on us one when she was clocking off.
It all might have felt wonderfully adventurous if I were a little younger – or at least, if my back and knees were a little younger. [sighs] As it was, I was very glad when we arrived in Clanagh last night and were led to our accommodation – a cosy little cottage complete with hot water, cooking facilities, and real, actual beds! [laughs]
[sighing] And yet, I find I cannot regret the time spent traversing this beautiful, infuriating continent. I will not soon forget the half-wild country we saw from the transit carriage windows.
Great craggy hills bristling with dark foliage, giving way to the sudden gasp of an open glen, dappled with cloud-scattered sunlight. The sombre dignity of flat, grey lakes under flat, grey skies. The silhouette of some flying thing out hunting, wheeling stark against the hazy light of dawn.
To see this world at all is a gift beyond reckoning. To do so with Óli at my side is an untold blessing – one that no amount of achey joints can diminish.
It is hard for me to express the change that has come about Óli in these last weeks. They have always been elegant, always held themselves upright and seemingly confident.
But since sending word with Scarry that they were formally renouncing their family, they have transformed.
It is as if they have set down a heavy pack I never knew they were carrying. Their shoulders have softened, their quiet smile flashing more and more frequently. They are like a plant, long neglected, only now unfurling its leaves into the light.
[scoffing gently] But that is enough of that! We arrived in Clanagh, as I said, last night, after a community member met us at the nearest transport station and escorted us to the cottage.
She said there is to be a welcome party for us tonight – a chance for us to meet some new friends and learn a little more about the place.
She was quick to reassure us that the party would not be limited to those residents of Clanagh who belong to our own faith. The place is altogether too small for such divisions.
And I am glad to hear it. While I am certainly excited to be among other members of our faith once more, I am still as keen as ever to meet people from other walks of life. I only hope I will make a good impression! [laughs softly] I should not like to start things off on the wrong foot.
I will write again soon, when I have seen more of the town and its people and have something to tell of them. In the meantime, rest assured both Óli and I are well and happy and everything else you could wish for us.
I do hope that you include Óli in your good wishes. I feel my happiness is quite entwined with theirs.
[The click of a data stick being inserted into a drive that whirs as it reads]
The Traveller
Entry 850SV11-1. An account of a rite of passage witnessed in the town of Erdevhen.
Key words: children and infants; community; Erdevhen; ethnography; identity; Kerrin; occasions and ceremonies; rites of passage.
Notes:
My travelling companion and I naturally met a great many people as we made our slow, circuitous way from Kerrin Port to Clanagh.
Unfortunately, I was generally too tired, or the encounters too brief, to offer much in the way of an entry for our community archives. There was one day, however, which did not follow this pattern.
We had arrived in a town called Erdevhen rather earlier than we had planned after a run of good fortune with the previous day's travel. So, we took the opportunity to explore the town.
Not that there was very much of Erdevhen to see. Like most of the settlements in this region of Kerrin, it was not large – perhaps 300 stone dwellings clustered along narrow roads that led like spokes outwards from a central square.
Upon the square was a communications office, a transit station, and a sort of all-purpose hall that stood as offices for the local government, a place for social gathering, and a site of religious worship, depending on the needs of the day.
On the day we were in Erdevhen, the hall was in use for some kind of party. The front of the building was decorated with flags and ribbons, and the people going in and out were dressed in festive fashions, most carrying gifts and covered dishes – presumably party food.
I had not thought my companion and I were especially conspicuous. We were sitting on the low wall that ringed the market square and sharing some food from our packs, watching the proceedings but with no great attention.
It was rather a surprise, then, when one of the party goers broke off from the group and made a beeline towards us.
“You'll come to the party,” she called, only barely making the statement into a question.
“We do not know the celebrants,” I said. “We are strangers here.”
But this did not deter her. “All the better – strangers are just what we're missing!”
It seemed she would not be put off. We packed our food away and followed the newcomer inside.
The hall was full of people of all ages, smiling and dancing and eating among the lights and garlands. Contrasting colours and shapes clashed delightedly with each other in a messy, joyful riot.
A mishmash of tables had been pulled together to hold the food, and I realised each dish was unique, often hailing from an altogether different cuisine than any of its neighbours.
The music too seemed not to follow any particular form. It hopped from style to style as one song blended into the next.
I tried to ask the woman – whose name was Fodha – about the nature of the celebration, but we kept being interrupted. People approached us constantly, pushing plates of food into our hands and asking us endless questions.
“Where have you come from? How did you come here? What are your names? What is the meaning of your names? Do others in your family share this name? Do you have this food in your home? Or this? Or this? What do you eat at home? What events do you celebrate? Do you have a god, or many gods, or none at all? How old are you? When do your people consider someone an adult?”
It was very almost completely overwhelming. But I did not mind. The people I spoke to were as keen to share their own answers as they were to hear mine, and while I would have liked to get into more detail, I enjoyed the conversations nonetheless.
“Forgive my ignorance,” I said to Fodha when I finally had chance, “but I still do not know what it is we are celebrating.”
Fodha's eyes grew wide. “A child!” she exclaimed. “We are here to learn the gender of a child of our town! It is a good omen that you two were here for the day,” she continued. “Strangers are a particular blessing on such a celebration.”
Before I could ask more, I was interrupted by the arrival of the child in question. It was not a baby, as I might have expected, but an adolescent, gawky and proud in an outfit clearly very carefully chosen for the occasion.
The hall erupted in cheers, and the child was swept up in a crowd of other young people clapping and shouting with joy.
“Nie is a little young for the declaration,” Fodha mused. “Usually our children do not shed neir child-genders until ney are closer to adulthood, or beyond. I myself kept my child-gender until I was almost 28. We are considered adults at 25,” she added quickly, seeing mine and Óli's confused expressions.
“So 'nir' is correct for a child?” I checked. Fodha nodded.
“Nie and nir for a single child, ney and neir for multiple. Have you no such words in your own language?”
“No,” I confessed. “My people just sort of guess at a gender for the child to make do with until they are old enough to choose for themselves.”
Both Fodha and Óli looked appalled.
“You just guess?” Óli echoed.
“Well what do you do?”
“We do as these people. Though our words are eit, eita and eitr, and it is the same whether it is one child or several.”
“How very civilised,” I said.
“What if a person decides to change their gender later in life?” asked Óli, ignoring me. “After all this fuss the first time round…”
“Oh, they get the fuss regardless, whether it's the first or forty first time around! There isn't a great deal to do around here, I'll admit, and we're always glad for an excuse for a party!”
“And why are strangers in particular considered a blessing?”
Fodha grinned. “Look around. What are we celebrating here if not difference?
“As children, we are ill-defined. We're still learning who we are. Declaring our gender is one of the ways in which we give ourselves shape and distinguish ourselves from others.
“It is in contrast that we see ourselves. So today, we want to bring as much contrast into our life as possible – to see our child as clearly as possible.
“So it is our tradition to eat many different foods, hear different music, and to talk to people different than ourselves – old friends, of course, but new friends and strangers too.”
She laughed, clapping Óli on the back so hard they almost choked. [laughing] “You are a very good omen, my friends – a very good omen!”
There followed a short ceremony in which the child, Gelvan, announced himself as a boy and chose the words by which he wished to be known.
I have enclosed a photo of him, though it is actually a copy of the original. His mother, upon seeing my camera round my neck, insisted that I take a picture of him and share it with her.
The look Gelvan gave her at this request was rather at odds with the rest of the party. For all the diversity to be found in the universe, it seems that teenagers being embarrassed by their parents are one of life's great constants.
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on a submission by Ealasaid. You can see Matt's illustration for the entry on our social media accounts.
If you've got an idea for the archive, we want to hear it. We accept anything from a one line prompt to a fully written entry through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
This episode includes an audience decision. Should the Traveller ask Óli for fashion advice and risk being late to the party, or make sure they're on time by choosing an outfit themselves? Vote by making a donation at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
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