A true seer | Neteyam

Extra II. Lowsla

I also remembered the stories they told on the night of the fourth and ninth month after the Tulkun departed. It was the story of a story: we were told why it had to specifically be told those two special nights. It always began with the teller blowing wind and then whistling. It had been the first time someone whistled. The earth below his feet trembled and stopped suddenly. There was no noise of birds, no leaves rustling, and no movement. The world stopped around the first Na'vi on Pandora; only his whistling was heard, echoing and bouncing off the limits of the land and sky. It had been four months since the creation of the planet.

A splash in the water made him turn towards the sea. The first ever Tulkun met eyes with The Man, who simply tilted his head. The animal whistled back, and they found they could understand what the other meant. With one glance they became friends. Every day they would return to the place they met and stay next to each other. The Man would soak his feet in the water and the Tulkun would raise his head to reach for air. Sometimes they'd talk, but on most occasions they would only think about what they wanted the other to know and they knew.

The Man submerged completely in the water on the night of the ninth month of Pandora's existence. He melted into the sea, leaving behind a trail of bubbles. When he came out he was reborn: different complexion, teal skin, curly hair. Amazed by Eywa's doing, he understood her will. He went back into the water and never returned to earth, as a Na'vi, at least. He died for the second time that day and returned as the second Tulkun. He told his Brother his part, and by our Great Mother, he'd be remembered as being the first in four things: whistling, teaching, learning, and living. The first reef Na'vi and the first Tulkun.

When Tsireya and I returned to the village, the previous hours were all there was to talk about. We grabbed the wooden bowl each of our mothers offered us and tasted the fish in it. We sat down next to the other Mentkayina kids, forming a semi-circle, and each row behind us was formed of people from youngest to oldest.

The composers of songs began to hit the drums with their palms. Every hit was the heartbeat of the people, repeating over and over again, speeding up and increasing in volume. Then came the harmonic sound of the flutes and the sound of bead bracelets clicking, with the sound of dry seeds and pebbles inside the round spheres. At last, came the loud, hypnotic voices of the singers. Awa'atlu had the best singers of the islands around. Combining each talent formed one vibrant song. This one talked about the Tulkun.

"We See Eywa in them, We See Eywa in them.
She birthed them, our Sisters,
She sent them, our Brothers.
Our hearts beat in unison,
Eywa our Great Mother.
Eywa, Eywa!
All life, all death, belongs to her and no one else.
She brought our Sisters and Brothers.
Love we share, in love we believe.
Great Mother she is,
Our light and guide."

Everyone joined the chanting and the song repeated two more times. The drums only got louder as another one began. Vivid nights like those were the exceptions that could keep 10-year-old kids awake past the tiredness of midnight, but they weren't enough to keep me from thinking of home.

It had been a year and a half since I last saw thanators, ikrans, the fallen Hometree, and the Sullys. Most importantly the Sullys. They were family by choice, and we were forced to part ways. The hole in my chest was slowly being filled by the memories and experiences with the Metkayina, but no matter what there'd always be something missing in my heart. Something that only had one way of being completed.

The partying stopped well after midnight, and the crowd dissolved like cockroaches under the light. Tsireya and I went to sleep on our mauris while the adults and teenagers who were still eager to continue the cheerful spirit went their separate ways: one to The Caves, and the other to the common room.

I cried myself to sleep.

The next day, I visited Lowsla, and so did the day after that. A full week went by and we made it our daily routine for four more months until she had to go live her second cycle. I could only hope she returned safe and sound.

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Author's note:

Kaltxì! How have you been? Today there are a few things I have to mention. First, I hope you enjoyed the little Arctic Monkeys reference. To be honest I think that speech Alex gave is just as iconic as the band itself.

I'm also equally enthusiastic about the song. I'm no composer of actual songs, so it was most certainly hard to do something decent that resembled the Na'vi way of singing. On the other hand, I'm not at all convinced about the short story I included, so I might as well change it tomorrow when my mind is clearer.

There was no Neteyam today (because I wanted to focus a bit on the Metkayina cultural background), but I'll do my best efforts to write a romantic chapter 17 tonight so you can have it tomorrow evening.

By the way, thank you so much for your votes and follows! They make me feel like a proud mom.

Happy 18th day of the year, cheers.

Sincerely, Dina.