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32.Forest Primeval
32.
Early morning sun's rays light the way between dripping green branches. On a path through the forest comes Mamka and, following, Boris and Olga, he with her smaller left hand in his right one. Mamka wears homemade gray ankle-knickers, the pants cut from burlap and with elastic attached socks to prevent tick bites. Her shoes are moccasins of larch bark. A rough burlap sweater is tucked under waistband. Boris is in red flannel shirt and dull blue dungarees, and over the shirt is a shiny brown rayon windbreaker with button-up front and big pockets over chest and on side. A khaki soldier's cap with visor and French foreign-legion desert-type, back-of-neck cover protects his sides of face and neck from sun and mosquito. Olga is small copy of Boris. She looks up at husband and sings in high happy voice: "A hiking we will go, a hiking we will go. Hi-ho the merry-oh, a hiking we will go!"
They follow a native path, with hanging branches brushing each hiker's face; and the path curves due to the natural obstruction of crossing river streams, to a fallen tree trunk, a blocking glacial rock, a marsh and other parts of forest. Through a forest of 10-meter-high trees with blue-green fragrant pine needles and lots of low shrubs and flowering plants – wild red roses, purple morning glories, creamy white wild apple blossom, and goldenrod topped grass. The ascending and descending slopes have the hikers alternately breathlessly tripping up and skidding down.
They follow a native path, with hanging branches brushing each hiker's face; and the path curves due to the natural obstruction of crossing river streams, to a fallen tree trunk, a blocking glacial rock, a marsh and other parts of forest. Through a forest of 10-meter-high trees with blue-green fragrant pine needles and lots of low shrubs and flowering plants – wild red roses, purple morning glories, creamy white wild apple blossom, and goldenrod topped grass. The ascending and descending slopes have the hikers alternately breathlessly tripping up and skidding down.
“We rest here,” Mamka orders on small plateau with boulder-size blue-black stone which she says was deposited by ice-age glacier.
Each takes off backpack; Olga sits against a rock while Boris and Mamka fetch wood and soon a fire crackles and smokes out of fire pit and Olga's eyes smart but her brain delights in the burning wood smell.
Mamka squats by fire, skillet in hand and in it a mix of chopped onion, snipped bacon, tiny potatoes and local herbs is frying fragrantly adding to the burning wood smell. The skillet mix pops and sizzles. Set atop a grill that Mamka stows in this spot for her frequent trips, she has her blackened old metal pot, percolating brown bubbly coffee into its glass button top, its smell a further delight to addicts of caffeine.
Olga muses: Something about drinking coffee cooked over fire in forest primeval makes it magically magnifique. Then she, Mamka and Boris eat with gusto directly out of the skillet using chopsticks. Even Mamka, who is intellectually vegetarian and would never buy bacon or kill a pig to make it, will eat it when a guest donates, as Boris has this bacon. Her idea is: Since the pig is dead at someone else's request, it is best not to let the food go to waste. But she silently meditates sympathy and thanks for the poor dumb animal killed so humans can indulge appetite. And on the rare times she eats such fried bacon she enjoys it more than the meat eater because her sensory brain memory is nearly naïve to the crispy evoked taste.
Each takes off backpack; Olga sits against a rock while Boris and Mamka fetch wood and soon a fire crackles and smokes out of fire pit and Olga's eyes smart but her brain delights in the burning wood smell.
Mamka squats by fire, skillet in hand and in it a mix of chopped onion, snipped bacon, tiny potatoes and local herbs is frying fragrantly adding to the burning wood smell. The skillet mix pops and sizzles. Set atop a grill that Mamka stows in this spot for her frequent trips, she has her blackened old metal pot, percolating brown bubbly coffee into its glass button top, its smell a further delight to addicts of caffeine.
Olga muses: Something about drinking coffee cooked over fire in forest primeval makes it magically magnifique. Then she, Mamka and Boris eat with gusto directly out of the skillet using chopsticks. Even Mamka, who is intellectually vegetarian and would never buy bacon or kill a pig to make it, will eat it when a guest donates, as Boris has this bacon. Her idea is: Since the pig is dead at someone else's request, it is best not to let the food go to waste. But she silently meditates sympathy and thanks for the poor dumb animal killed so humans can indulge appetite. And on the rare times she eats such fried bacon she enjoys it more than the meat eater because her sensory brain memory is nearly naïve to the crispy evoked taste.
Thirty minutes and they set out again.
33. Continuing the Way
After stopping to pick wild mushrooms under Mamka's expert eyes, the hikers top a hill and, below, within a vale of tall green sword grass and reeds, a small lake glistens palely. “Is it the sun or is that lake reddish?” Olga shouts, and Mamka explains the color comes from sulfide bacteria in the lake making sulfate from the sulfur in its protein and combining the sulfur with mercury in the local soil to liberate the red sulfide known to painters as cinnabar. On the hillside ahead, wild goats munch shrubbery and on its plateau is a lone cabin that Mamka heads towards. In the backyard they encounter a bent-over wrinkled woman who resembles Mamka except she is ancient. She looks up and smiles with her eyes, and Mamka after exchanging a few words in their language, indicates for them all to go into the cabin.
Inside is 5 meters square with sod floor, log walls, its crevices patched with still growing green moss, and a sloping-roof ceiling of dried reeds. Along the north wall is a platform of elevated earth for sleeping and its vertical edge facing south makes a ledge for sitting. In front of the ledge, a shale rock that has been artificially worn down flat serves as table. Before sitting, Mamka introduces ‘Djunka’ an Evenk ethnic like herself. Olga guesses Djunka is over 100 years old. Mamka explains she regularly visits Djunka to see she is OK, to help with chores, to bring supplies including food, and to keep her company.
Inside is 5 meters square with sod floor, log walls, its crevices patched with still growing green moss, and a sloping-roof ceiling of dried reeds. Along the north wall is a platform of elevated earth for sleeping and its vertical edge facing south makes a ledge for sitting. In front of the ledge, a shale rock that has been artificially worn down flat serves as table. Before sitting, Mamka introduces ‘Djunka’ an Evenk ethnic like herself. Olga guesses Djunka is over 100 years old. Mamka explains she regularly visits Djunka to see she is OK, to help with chores, to bring supplies including food, and to keep her company.
Mamka helps Djunka make cups of opium tea. Minutes later they are all sitting, sipping slowly and talking.
“Djunka grows poppy,” explains Mamka. “I give seed and teach.”
“So you export the habit” says Boris with edge of disapproval. Mamka turns to Djunka and translates her reply as follows, “Is my recreation and make my life happy, happy. Without opium, life too painful because my old bones, and it too boring because alone and nothing to do but think what can never return. If that all my life, I not choose to stay alive but why leave life when to sip tea it make me feel like I eighteen and have happy feeling? Ha! Ha! Ha! Pardon my laughs but is the thoughts opium bring back: about when I am brought bought bride by late husband, then experienced man of 35 and give me first poke in my front hole. And as I drink I realize how important am I as ancient one of soon extinct people Yes it is so. Even thirty year ago our young people leave for Alexandrovsk and not return and now no more younker only Mamka and me. I not blame young folk for going and forgetting our culture. The old way to live with bear and salmon and to see nothing but forest; it going, going, going, gone. City! It future. But not for me! I live on here and with the opium tea I find joy of life and wish to survive. I get ambition to do future thing, like telling what I know of almost gone people how it was when I a girl and what my ma and grandma tell me of when they girl.”Djunka goes on as they finish sipping tea. Then Mamka hands Djunka the supplies – bag of potatoes, bundle of freshly picked wild rice, locally made curry powder. After, seating Djunka between Olga and Boris, Mamka prepares slices of potato and curry sauce on wild rice and each eats from a plate. Mamka requests Olga to assist Djunka's eating because of the ancient’s lack of teeth
Cresting final hill they see lake and home-cabin bordered by sloping hills with the blue-green pines and the forest full of the fragrance. At sight of home Mamka walks a little faster; but, for a moment, Olga and Boris stand alone, arms encircling, looking down at the smooth, quiet lake of early evening.
“In this place, one's way of thinking changes,” says Boris. “Back at work at the Embassy I worry about little things: What shall I eat for lunch? How many minutes till workday ends? I run around like a wind-up toy. Here I am thinking slower, thinking less, thinking clearer.” Then, Olga adds “And cleaner too.”
That night in room, too weary even to speak, each sleeps at once.
34. Good-bye But Not Forever
They say good-bye. Olga is eager to use the opium tea in Tokyo because it has made her feel sane for the first time. Like most people in this civilization, Olga had never realized what it is to feel sane because she, like we all, was born into a selfish, stupid system of living ruled by strong-arm brutes who sanctify their murderous control of our civilization by their law and morality enforced by armed repression and maintained by keeping the natives ignorant and restless and programmed to want to torture and kill their fellows for being different and also programmed to believe the self-serving propaganda and family teachings.
Most people, namely the stupid masses, learn nothing new and forget everything useful. They are stressed out by talking ceaselessly and senselessly and by confusing cause for effect about what is happening to their bodies and lives. It makes them objects for controllers' selfish desires. Now, Olga feels, finally, finely sane. She realizes she is a child of that dysfunctional world and has not been able to think straight, to see things as they really could be and to judge the way of life in terms of ‘Is it really good for me?’ and ‘There must be a better way to run this world than the present ass-backward way!’ Helped by the opium, her mind gets focused on the aim of the good life:
Most people, namely the stupid masses, learn nothing new and forget everything useful. They are stressed out by talking ceaselessly and senselessly and by confusing cause for effect about what is happening to their bodies and lives. It makes them objects for controllers' selfish desires. Now, Olga feels, finally, finely sane. She realizes she is a child of that dysfunctional world and has not been able to think straight, to see things as they really could be and to judge the way of life in terms of ‘Is it really good for me?’ and ‘There must be a better way to run this world than the present ass-backward way!’ Helped by the opium, her mind gets focused on the aim of the good life:
What aim?
Healthy long survival with joie de vivre for the individual herself, the community, the species, and working toward good goals for all life and non-life.
Mamka is acutely aware of death's disruptive effect. With unplanned death, her careful work of 30 years will end. She wants a younger person to whom she can hand off her life's work. "Continuity" is her key word. She hands Olga a package labeled ‘Siber tea,’a 3-month supply at 4 cups a day. She will send a 6-month regularly and Boris will arrange to route it as diplomatic mail so it is not subject to rules of normal posts. Also she gives Olga poppy seeds with instruction for growing. On the other side Olga and Boris will send Mamka needed supplies.
Mamka knows she is one small voice – Lilliputian in a Brobdingnagian world of enemy evil culture. She needs helpmates that span to the younger generation to give greater probability for success in a long range plan for self and for an evolving New People who will destroy today's rotten, anti-science civilization.
They embrace. Mamka says: “Kid! Succeed at your Art, learn Science and Math and apply them to Philosophy; then, when young time over, be back here, I wait. Here is Haven, Home, Mountain Mama Mamka.” They hold each other warmly, the two make a final signal grip like the Oath of the Horatii, then Olga turns to leave and does not look back.
For next, click 4.(35-36) Club Blue Moon - End Slim Novel 4
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