What th...?

Nothing wrong with me
One - Something's got to give
Two - Something's got to give
Three - Something's got to give
Now
Let the bodies hit the floor
Push me again
This is the end
Skin against skin blood and bone
You're all by yourself but you're not alone
You wanted in now you're here
Driven by hate consumed by fear
Let the bodies hit the floor
~Drowning Pool

I am aware of a lot of what goes on among the harigga, more than most believe. Being blonde is not an automatic reduction of intelligence, nor is remaining unvocal sometimes about what I think or feel. Someone very wise told me long ago to pick your battles. If it the outcome has no purpose to you then do not engage the warfare. It is simply an act of frivolity .. a waste of time and energy.

When I strolled in to the fires, I stumbled on the aftermath of a blood coup. I have no idea what nasty parasite has gotten into the water barrel lately or maybe there had been a Kataii raiding party and they had stolen all the basic problem solving skills. Now it really does not matter to me what nor who or even why the center of the harigga had come under attack from within ... what mattered was who was there and had been made part of it all. For the moment I was embarrassed, not just for myself but for the Tribe, for Him and I hadn't even been there for the melee.

What I saw now upset me enough. An angry Ubar getting his own water, women visably shaken and it takes a lot to shake a Tuchuk woman, having to rise from their seat to fill their bowls. Were there any other slaves there? Yes, but instead of getting up to see to the others she was wrapped in a blanket of ... well it was not concern for anyone else. I had to bridle my own aggravation. There had been enough public confrontation abounding around the fires for me to add to them.

There is as much depth to what he does not say as to what he does. I noticed who was and was not there as well. Pieces were beginning to take shape when he told me to pay close attention to the women there. I spent the rest of the evening following his command to make sure they had everything they needed and or wanted nearly before they realize it themselves. It didn't warrant being told to, I would have anyway.

I do not remember anyone, free or slave alike that coddled me when a freewoman aimed a spearpoint at me and said my days were numbered. That simply set the parameters of expectations. I surpassed them. I didn't get all wrapped up in myself or a snuggly blanket when the Mistresses wagered over who would get my eyes. Harsh as it sounds that is actually something to be proud of ... a sign of affection that they care, else you are merely sleen bait .. done .. kaput ... end of story. And what about when I was made the lowest of the slaves to serve an unscarred warrior while my heart was crumbling into a million slivered pieces? These were not my thoughts then, they are the ones that fill in the spaces after, the whispers of chaos and the furies. What had saved me during those hardest times was the love and concern of the very women I went about serving that eve. They opened their hearts to me and wrapped me up in them in private moments, helping heal and pushing me up to the sky and out onto the plains themselves to make me live .. to make me thrive. It is a debt I owe them because they taught me how to be Tuchuk. I gave from deep inside in hopes that it would bring the smallest of smiles back to those beautiful faces.

Nothing of seeing to the women present had anything to do with me or any other slave. It was about making sure that the guests at "his" fires ... at "their" fires ... at "my" fire weren't ill at ease or feeling traumatized by what ever had just occured. This was my home, the fires were my living room. These were my loved ones, my family, the people that meant the most in the world .. strike that ... in the universe to me. I silently agreed with the Master, when he spoke to the other girl. Get over it. My thoughts seeing the kaiila Mistress have to get up and get her own drink with a slave near by drinking tea to soothe her nerves was ... Get a grip, get up, get giving. My feet were racing to them, hurrying to see how I could be of help.

Was there any reward, any luxury acommodations included in a gift package? Did I win a prize for it? Did you expect me to say no? Sorry, You better bet there was. I won the sweepstakes with the gentleness of their smiles, the tinkling sounds of their laughter and the calming of the evening while they relaxed. There was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow with the cup of my head against his thigh and gentle spoken ... well done bell, to feel his pride return. These things were not precious because I expected or wanted anything in return, they were treasures because I hadn't. I just wanted each of them to feel at home in their own living room. Why shouldn't they be?

Something else was wrong though, something beneath the facade of being leader, commander, protector, peace keeper. I heard it in the far away voice of the man when he looked over his fires, at those he cared for, and offer, "Try and get some sleep". What the ...? Then it all fell together and there was nothing I could offer, nothing I could say or do that was going to help soothe ... anything. I could only step humbly off my silent little soapbox and help sweep up the pieces.