Small white flakes began to fall as the tribe members looked disbelievingly up to the sky. Children wildly ran around, trying their hardest to catch the flakes before they hit the ground and disappeared. Some of the tribe’s elders quickly huddled at the base of the temple. No one had seen anything like this in their whole lives. The chief stated that the last time such a phenomenon occurred was 5 generations earlier. The white flakes began to fall faster and faster. All of the elders gathered in the library on the first floor of the temple. They were determined to figure out what this meant. They scanned through the various scrolls and writings left behind by their ancestors. After hours of research, they came up with an answer.
The elders assembled the tribe around the base of the temple so the chief could deliver their findings. All the people stood around awaiting the chief, the looks on their faces ranged from anxiousness to outright fear. The kind faced old man stood on the steps of the temple and looked out at the sea of faces staring back at him. He slowly wringer his hands as he searched for the words to convey his message. By now, the white flakes were falling faster and starting to accumulate on the roofs of the village. He reached down and scooped up a handful of the flakes. “My people, this is… snow.” The crowd in front of him began to clamor as they tried to make sense of what he said. A towering wall of humanity named Gabor asked, “Ahaw, what is this word you speak? Snow?” The chief took a breath to try and come up with an explanation his people would understand.
“It is… frozen rain.”
The people once again began to clamor again. This time, there was a sense of excitement and wonder about the crowd. Many among the crowd exclaimed that the snow was a gift from Chaahk, a reward for their many prayers. A chorus of cheers erupted. The chief let out a heavy sigh as he tried to get his people to calm down so he could finish delivering his findings. Once the throng of villagers finally calmed down, the chief continued.
“While this does come from Chaahk, it is not a gift. Everyone please go to your homes until we have a chance to decide what to do next.” An uneasy silence fell over the crowd as they slowly dispersed and headed towards their homes.
A day later, the chief finally emerged from his house. While the snowfall had slowed down, the ground was completely covered with the white flakes. He went back inside and grabbed a a deer skin to wrap around himself. He slowly shuffled towards the temple in the center of the village. As he did, the village priests and elders emerged from their homes, wrapped in animal skins and joined him. Once the group of men were assembled at the foot of the 3 story high, stone building, the chief suggested that a hunting party be sent out to investigate the status of the river. The elders and priests all agreed and the youngest among them was dispatched to gather the young men of the village. A few moments later, the young priest returned with a handful of men carrying weapons in tow. They all gathered around the chief, in part to hear his discrete instructions but to also conserve warmth. Once he was finished speaking, the hunting party quickly made their way towards the tree line in the direction of the river. The rest of the retreated to the men retreated to the shelter of the temple’s library to discuss plans.
As the hunting party slowly made its way towards the river, each man’s face showed a different level of concern. Their leader, Gabor, was exceptionally worried. He knew that if something was wrong with the river that it could spell doom for the village. Usually the forest around their village was full with the sounds of life, but now the eerie silence around them spoke volumes to even the most novice among them. Their worries were confirmed when they finally reached the river. The crystal clear water was frozen solid! It was a sight none among them had ever seen before. Gabor instructed his little brother, Yaxkin, to walk out onto the frozen river. The younger brother broke a branch off a nearby tree and obliged. As he slowly traversed out onto the frozen body of water, he gently poked at the sheet of ice between his feet. The rest of the men stood at the ready to rescue him, should the water return to its natural form. Once he was halfway across the river, Yaxkin turned back to face his comrades.
“What is it, my brother?” Gabor asked, his baritone voice echoing throughout the valley.
“The water is as solid as the land, but I can see fish swimming underneath my feet!” Just as Yaxkin replied, he looked down and saw a catfish swimming under the clear sheet of ice. Then he quickly made his way back to the riverbank so they could report their findings to the chief.
As the party hurriedly made their way back to the village, the snowfall picked up intensity. By the time they were at the steps of the temple, they were in a perpetual blizzard. The young priest was standing outside, shivering, awaiting their return. He quickly waved them over to the door of the first floor library so they could warm themselves near the fireplace inside and present their findings to the elders.
“Ahaw, it is as you feared,” Gabor said, his perfectly chiseled square jaw chattering between words, “The river has stopped flowing.” All them in the modest sized room turned their attention towards the chief, who’s expression had gone from mild concern to complete worry in seconds. He let out a heavy sigh as he came to grips with the information he had just received.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave our home if we are to survive.” The tone of his voice conveyed defeat. The group of men in the library let out a collective groan. “Please gather the village so we can share the decision,” the chief continued. The young men of the hunting party begrudgingly nodded and left to collect the villagers.
Some time later, everyone was gathered at the foot of the temple, wrapped in hand-woven blankets and huddling together to stay warm. The snow was coming down in full force now. The chief stood on the steps, staring out at his people, the feeling of defeat from earlier had intensified. He steadied himself and delivered the bad news as well as their only course of action. They would depart the village at first light and head south. Hopefully, they would be able to return to the village after a few days. Grumbling erupted in the crowd as small pockets of dissenters disagreed with what they had just been told.
“Why should we give up our home?” one man shouted from the middle of the crowd. “Our people have survived in this valley for generations, now is not the time to abandon it!” Some of the young people loudly voiced their support for his comments, but the old chief didn’t waver.
“I have lived my entire life in this village, in this valley. As my father before me did and his father before him. I don’t say these things without a heavy heart. But my spirit and the spirits of my ancestors tell me that this is the best decision for us.”
The grumbling subsided a bit and the old chief instructed the villagers to go back to their homes and pack what they could carry. Then he assured them that they would return to their home once it was safe to do so. Most of the villagers nodded and scurried back to their homes to begin packing for the journey. But a small group of youngsters stayed gathered at the foot of the temple steps, waiting for the chief to approach.
As the old man slowly made his way down the stone steps, a young man named Bembe came up to greet him.
“I meant no disrespect by speaking out Ahaw, but I don’t agree with your decision.” The old man softly nodded as he linked arms with Bembe and continued down the steps and towards his home. They were joined by the rest of Bembe’s group on the walk.
“I was not always an old man Bembe, and I too disagreed with elders in my youth.”
While they walked, Bembe informed the chief that a small group of people wanted to stay behind. They felt as though the valley would continue to protect them from whatever was to come. The chief let out a heavy sigh but chose to not argue with the youngsters. Instead, he advised them to make sure they each had enough food to last until the next new moon and to stay inside unless absolutely necessary.
When the chief woke up the next morning, he was shocked by the fact there was no light coming in through the high windows of his home. He went to the door and opened it. To his surprise, he was greeted by a wall of snow and ice that stood taller than the frame of the door. He looked around the room. The fire in the stone stove in the corner had gone out, the logs were wet to the touch. He quickly retrieved his tomahawk and began swinging at the ice wall with all of his might. After a few moments, he fell to his knees, breathless from his battle with the ice. He looked up at the ice wall, he had barely made a dent in it.
“We waited too long,” he sighed as despair filled the room around him.
In My Own Words... 