B
ack on Jo-Jota's porch, the chief and Bengati sat with the Coopers and Dr. Henderson. They were enjoying one of Jo-Jota's fruit juice concoctions as they rested from the day's heat.
The chief spoke, and as always, Bengati translated his words. “I know there is no water in the ditch. I know that no water can be seen. But do you see that well?” The chief pointed to the village well in the middle of the square. “Long ago, when there was no village, our ancestors came to this place. Their chief said, âThis is where we will live.' His people said, âWe cannot live here, there is no water.' But the chief had found a special stone upon the ground, and when he struck it with his staff, water came from beneath it. That water has been there ever since, and that is where our well is today. We are here, and our village is here, because long ago, a chief saw there would be water where once there was none.”
Dr. Cooper smiled. The tale reminded him of Moses in the wilderness, striking a rock to bring forth water for the children of Israel. “In our culture, we have a story like that.”
“So are you going to strike the Stone as your ancestor did?” Dr. Henderson asked.
The chief looked just a little awkward. “I have already done that, even before we dug the ditch.”
Dr. Henderson couldn't hide the fact that she was troubled about all this. “But still you believe there will be water?”
“There is water there,” the chief insisted. “Our well is going down. We have dug it deeper, but it is difficult to draw any more water from it. We have tried digging other wells, but cannot dig deep enough through the rock. If the Stone does not bring us water, we will perish. Our god would not let that happen.”
Dr. Henderson said nothing and looked toward the square. Dr. Cooper could see she felt sorry for these people. “Dr. Henderson, what about the well these people have now? Doesn't that indicate the presence of water down there, some kind of aquifer?”
She weighed that and finally nodded. “Certainly. There are hills and mountains on all sides of the desert. Cracks and fissures under the ground could carry the rainwater from those hills into a vast reservoir under the desert floor. But even if there was water down there, you heard the chief: It's lying under solid rock and too far down for these people to reach it.” She added glumly, her voice quiet and secretive. “And a two-foot-wide ditch across the desert isn't going to make much of a difference.”
Dr. Cooper shot a glance over the thatched rooftops of the village and through the trees. He could see the Stone still glistening in the afternoon sun. “Unless something really unusual happened,” he offered.
She gazed at the Stone and shook her head fearfully. “You mean something
cataclysmic.
Doctor, any geological event big enough to break open that aquifer would probably wipe out this village in the process. I'd rather not think about that.”
Just then, the chief's wife, Renyata, came around the corner with her son, Ontolo, and everyone could see that something was wrong. Renyata looked angry, and Ontolo walked with his head drooping, looking glum.
Renyata spoke quietly to Bengati, who relayed her words to the Coopers. “Renyata would like to know if you're missing a marking stick and some strange skin.”
Renyata held up a pencil and some sheets of paper and spoke as Bengati translated. “It is against our ways for anyone to take something that belongs to another. It is the command of our god that we do not steal but work to produce what we desire and then share.” She glanced briefly at her son. “I am afraid that my son Ontolo has been bitten by the snake and has done wrong.”
Ontolo stood timidly, his eyes awaiting Jay's answer.
Jay was quite dismayed that Ontolo was in trouble. “Ma'am . . .” Jay knew he was about to contradict the chief's wife and tried to do it carefully. “Ontolo did not steal from me.” He looked to Lila for her agreement. “I gave that pencil and paper to Ontolo as a gift when we first met yesterday.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a crude knife. “And Ontolo gave me this knife. We're friends.”
“That's right,” said Lila. “It was a trade.”
Bengati was only too happy to relay this to Renyata.
When she heard Jay's words, her grim expression melted. She looked embarrassed as she asked a question in halting English, “The pencil is . . . gift . . . to my Ontolo?”
Jay reached into his pocket and brought out another pencil. “Yes. And please, here is one for you as well.”
She received the pencil from Jay's hand and looked at it in wonder. Then she put her arm around her son, and it was easy to see she was apologizing. Their faces brightened, they started smiling, and then, in a purposeful gesture, Renyata put both pencils into Ontolo's hand. “Thank you, Jay Cooper. Thank you for pencils.” She looked to Bengati who translated the rest of her words. “I will give them both to my son, Ontolo, because he will know what to do with them.”
Then the four Motosas laughed together at some private joke as Chief Gotono rose and gave his son a playful hug. “Come. We eat in my house.”
Lunch was delightful, but Ontolo could hardly wait to be excused from the table and to pull Jay with him. The big tree Gotono's house was built around also served as a handy staircase to Ontolo's second story loft, and Ontolo led the way, clambering up the trunk while Jay followed.
Jay had to marvel, even chuckle a bit, at the sight of Ontolo's little room. It seemed very much like a primitive version of Jay's room back home. Instead of posters, skates, balls, and sports trophies, it was decorated with Ontolo's trophies: animal skins; brilliant bird feathers; a cane flute; a colorful, feathered spear; and an impressive breastplate made from leather and bones.
But Ontolo had something specific he wanted Jay to see, and he drew his friend's attention to a corner of the room where pieces of flattened tree bark and the stretched hides of small animals were stacked like schoolbooks on a small table. Ontolo picked up a piece of the bark, a flat, smooth surface about eight inches across, and put it in Jay's hand.
Jay looked at the piece of bark, not knowing what to expect. When he saw the bark was covered with tiny, orderly shapes and squiggles in neat rows, he took more than a second look. These were not just picture symbols or crude depictions of animals and adventures. The small, delicate scratches made with a sharp stick and the dark juice of berries had an unmistakable purpose.
Writing!
Jay pointed at the piece of bark in his hand and asked, “Did Ontolo do this?”
Ontolo nodded happily and immediately showed him a piece of skin stretched over a vine hoop. More writing. Ontolo pointed at the first character and indicated the sound it represented: “Oh.” Then the next character and its sound: “Nnnn.” Then the next: “Tuh.” Then came “Oh,” followed by “Llll,” and finally, “Oh” again.
Jay pointed at the characters and sounded out the word himself. It was easy. “On-to-lo.”
Ontolo got so excited that Jay feared he would fall out of the loft and onto the dinner guests below. “Ontolo!” he shouted, pointing at the word on the skin and then at himself. “Ontolo!”
“Yes,” Jay nodded, realizing what he was seeing. “Ontolo. Your name.”
“Ontolo is . . .” Ontolo looked around the room until his eyes lighted on the trunk of the big tree that held up the house. He tapped it with his fingers.
Jay tried to figure out what Ontolo was saying.“Ontolo is a tree?”
Ontolo shook his head, laughing at Jay's slowness in catching on. He tapped his chest with both hands. “Ontolo: My name is man . . .” But he couldn't think of the next word in English and tapped the trunk again.
“Man of tree?” Jay guessed.
Ontolo half-nodded and crinkled his face.
“Man of the tree?”
Ontolo only shrugged, not quite satisfied. “Man of the tree. Yes.”
Ontolo took the skin from Jay and then, with one of the pencils Jay had given him, wrote two more characters and gave it back. “You see?” He pointed at the first character and made the sound it represented, “Juh.”
Jay guessed the sound of the second character.
“Ay.”
Ontolo nodded, pleased with his pupil's progress.
Jay read the whole word. “Jay.”
Ontolo laughed, totally pleased with how well this was working.
Jay pointed at the other skins and pieces of bark, all covered with Ontolo's strange marks. “Ontolo, you made all this?”
Ontolo was jubilant. “Yes. Ontolo make, in here!” He tapped his head, indicating it was all his own idea.
Jay was stunned. “Ontolo,” he said, putting the skin back in Ontolo's hand, “write what I say.”
Ontolo didn't fully understand, so Jay made motions toward his own mouth and then tapped on the skin and pointed at Ontolo's pencil. “Write:
i.
” The
i
sound Jay made was like the
i
in
big.
Jay tapped the skin again. “Write it.”
“Eee?”
Ontolo asked.
Jay nodded. “Close enough.”
Ontolo shrugged and made a small mark.
“Now write
Nnn.
”
Ontolo formed another character, greatly enjoying the feel of the new pencil.
Jay made the sound of
Th,
and Ontolo made a face. He had no mark to represent that sound.
“Well how about
Tuh?”
Jay asked.
Ontolo nodded and scribbled. That would work.
Back in the main room, where the grown-ups visited and Beset was teaching Lila how to weave a beautiful headdress, Dr. Cooper looked up toward the loft where the two boys had been hiding out for quite some time. “It's awfully quiet up there.”
Chief Gotono and Bengati laughed together at a private joke, and then the chief explained through Bengati, “I think Ontolo is playing with the pencils. He likes to draw and make funny marks.”
“Jay?” Dr. Cooper called.
“Dad!” came Jay's answer as he swung from the loft to the trunk of the tree and started climbing down. “Dad, you've got to see this!”
“See what?”
Both boys came climbing, almost sliding, down the tree, full of excitement. Dr. Cooper had to wonder what was brewing, but the chief didn't seem too alarmed or curious; apparently his kids were always excited about something.
Jay landed on the floor and waited for Ontolo to drop down behind him. “Dad, you won't believe this! It's history, happening right here!”
Chief Gotono looked puzzled and Bengati tried to explain what was going on, though no one in the room really knew.
Jay took the skin from Ontolo and showed it to his father. “Look at this! It's a written alphabet!”
Dr. Cooper's eyes narrowed as he studied the weird little marks. Dr. Henderson hobbled over for a closer look. “An alphabet,” he said. “You mean, this is Ontolo's invention?”
Bengati was still translating to the chief. The chief got Dr. Cooper's question and answered it through Bengati. “Like I said, Ontolo likes to make funny marks. He thinks he can make a piece of skin or bark speak words.”
“He can!” Jay exclaimed.
“He is pretending,” said the chief. “It is a game.”
Jay received the skin back from his father and handed it to Ontolo. Then he bowed slightly and addressed the chief with proper respect. “If it please you, sir: Your son Ontolo has put
my
words on this skin, words he does not know but has still captured for all time.” He turned to Ontolo. “Ontolo, go ahead: Read.”
Ontolo was grinning, excited, and a little nervous as he began to speak the sounds his marks represented. “Een tah bee geening goad kree ate ted ta hay vons ond ta ert.”
He looked up. His father seemed puzzled. Obviously the sounds were meaningless to him.
Dr. Cooper was more than pleased. He was awestruck. So was Dr. Henderson, and Lila.
“Is there more?” Dr. Cooper asked.
Jay nodded to Ontolo and Ontolo read some more. “Ond goad sayd late tare bee lite ond tare was lite.”
Jacob Cooper chuckled, slowly shaking his head with wonder. “I see your point, Jay. This
is
history.”
The chief noticed the response his son was getting from his visitors and asked Bengati about it.
Bengati was a bit awestruck himself and tried to explain.
Lila understood every word Ontolo had read, and repeated them all. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And God said, let there be light, and there was light.”
“Does Ontolo understand what he has read?” Dr. Cooper asked.
Bengati inquired of the boy, and then answered, “No. Ontolo doesn't know what he has read. He only knows the sounds your son Jay gave him to write down.”
“This young man has invented a phonetic alphabet!” Dr. Henderson exclaimed.
“Bengati,” said Dr. Cooper, “did
you
understand the words Ontolo just read?”
Bengati's eyes were wide with wonder as he answered, “At first, I did not. But then, when I heard more, I could tell: Ontolo was reading
your
words. English words.”
“Tell Chief Gotono that his son has created a way to capture wordsâanyone's wordsâand place them on bark or stone or paper.” Bengati started to explain this to the chief even as Dr. Cooper continued. “Because of this, your words, the words of your children, the stories of your ancestors . . . anything spoken, can be kept safe, for all time, for all generations.”
The chief thought that over, then shrugged a little. He responded through Bengati, “The words of our mouths are kept safely in our heads. We remember the stories; we remember our ancestors and their names and what they did. We tell our children, and they tell their children.”
Dr. Cooper respectfully countered, “But now you can receive and understand the words of other men as well. The pages of books can carry their words to you from far away.” As Dr. Cooper said this, he opened his hands in front of him, pantomiming opening a book.