Part 1 - Part 04

I grabbed the empty bucket, stick (rotisserie) and pipe and went inside. I secured the stick and pipe in a cabinet for the next time. I then half-filled the bucket with water from the dripping shower and dumped it onto the firepit. It steamed and fizzled and moments later it was out. I too went to bed.

I got up late the next day. I looked for Vos everywhere. He was nowhere to be found. His walking stick was still where he had left it the night before. I was sure he hadn’t gone out because Sep was still there, waiting for him outside the door. I knocked on the door to his room but he didn’t answer. There was no breakfast on the table.

I began to worry about him, especially after eating all that meat the night before, something he had never done in his life. I went out into the big room, unplugged the fountain and drank some water. I then went to the washroom and gave my face a wash. My clothes smelled of smoke.

I looked in the mirror and saw a different person. I didn’t like what I saw. My hair was a mess and my face looked scruffy. I looked like an old man. At that very moment Vos walked in. He must have noticed the disappointed look on my face.

Before he had a chance to say something I said, “I look terrible… like a barbarian. I don’t like how I look. My hair is long and uncombed and my beard… I shouldn’t have a beard. It should be shaven.” I paused for a moment, smiled and said, “This reminds me of something…I read somewhere that in ancient times Macedonian soldiers… I mean Alexander’s soldiers were all shaven and had

short hair. Alexander said he would be damned if he had a single soldier die and his throat slit because the enemy had grabbed him by his long hair or by his long beard. Short hair and well-shaven is a Macedonian tradition,” I added. I don’t know why I said that. What I should have said was, “…should have been a Macedonian tradition”

Vos walked over to the broken mirror, looked at himself and said, “Look at the mess I’m in… That tradition of yours sounds like a good idea to me. This hair has to go.”

I immediately and anxiously asked, “How are you going to do that? Do you have a hair cutting machine or shears?”

He looked at me, thought for a moment and said, “No, but there is a place we can go to that does.”

“A barber shop?” I asked

“I don’t know what that is but yes, a place where other people cut your hair and give you a shave.”

“That would be great,” I said and asked him where he had been this morning. I told him that I was worried that something had happened to him.

“I was preparing the game I told you about. After we go and have our hair cut we can play it.”

Vos was just as excited to have his hair cut as I was. I just want to mention at this point that Vos had no facial hair. Perhaps it was genetic with the men on his planet?

We filled our jars with water and put them in our pouches.

“What about food?” I asked.

“I ate so much last night I won’t need to eat for days.” Anticipating my next question he said, “Before you ask me I would like to say that I enjoyed last night very much and would like to do it again

sometime… And my system had no problems digesting the meat. I will get some food for you if you want.”

I smiled and said, “I’m good, let’s go and get our hair cut.”

He opened the gate to the yard, told Sep to stay and locked it again. I noticed he used his badge to do that. His badge seemed to work on every gate that had a lock.

We walked side by side for about twenty minutes before we arrived at the tube station. We walked down a set of stairs. It was dark inside but the lights came on before we reached the bottom. The place was empty and there were no tube cars in the station.

Vos pushed a button that looked like an elevator button. A few minutes later we felt a draft of air flow into the station, which in time grew in intensity until it became a strong wind.

A four seat car, looking like a large clear glass jar arrived and stopped. The door opened and we stepped in. Vos punched some buttons and then pushed a lever. The door closed and the car took off. Minutes later we arrived at another station. The door opened and we walked out. There were other people in this station, some standing, some coming in and others leaving the station.

Everyone here wore white and looked neat and tidy. The men had short hair and the women had shoulder length hair. Vos and I looked like barbarians, messy and unclean. We were getting stares. I felt uncomfortable like I didn’t belong there, like an immigrant, similar to how I felt in Canada when I arrived there and didn’t speak English.

We took a stairway down. A whole world opened up to us. It felt like we were inside a mall in Canada. Vos pointed to the right and about fifty steps later we were in the barber shop. There was one work station, one barber and several others, all men. The barber smiled. The others looked at us suspiciously. The barber greeted Vos like he knew him. They began to talk in their language. I didn’t understand what they were saying. Vos said something and looked at me. They all looked at me. There was disgust on their faces.

That’s what I thought it was because I had no basis for comparison. I knew nothing of these people’s culture or mannerisms. It felt like I was back in Canada being introduced for the first time to my classmates in school after I arrived from Macedonia.

After the barber finished with his last customer everyone left. I was next. Vos told me to sit in the chair and told the barber to shave me and cut my hair. The barber did that and fast.

The barber used machines both to shave me and cut my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror and was surprised by how good I looked. I had instantly regained my youth. Despite the beard my face was well-tanned. Vos then took the seat and the barber cut his hair very short. His head no longer looked huge. He looked good too.

After we left the barbershop I said to him, “Now you look like a general.”

He smiled. We both felt nervous in the crowded mall so we decided to hasten our pace back to the facilities. It was noon by the time we arrived and we both had the same idea… lunch.

After we ate and washed the dishes Vos said, “Come with me, I will show you the game.”

He was enthusiastic when he said it, which made me even more curious as to what kind of game this was?

The Game

We walked down the hall, down the stairs and instead of entering the museum we turned left and stopped in front of a door. Vos placed his badge in a hole and it clicked open. And there, in front of us was a huge, empty semi-lit room. The only things inside the room were three chairs; two low ones on each side and a high one in the middle. The middle chair had a panel, levers and a joystick with many buttons.

“You sit there and watch me,” said Vos and pointed to the left chair. I did as he asked and watched.

Vos placed his badge in a slot on the panel in front of his chair then shifted a lever to the forward position under his seat and the room lit up in many colours. A three dimensional hologram of a space ship began to emerge. It had engines, guns, cannons, panels and all sorts of colourful gadgets. We were inside it. It even had robots looking like people, three men and two women.

After the full picture was formed inside and outside of the ship, Vos and I found ourselves sitting behind a set of controls and facing forward. There was a huge window in front and we could see stars and other objects outside in the dark space ahead of us.

Vos turned to me and said, “The robots won’t work unless I enter the proper codes. The captain, that’s me, must enter the codes for each of the five robots before they can be activated. These two robots behind us are the captain’s personal guards.”

And as Vos, the captain of the ship, entered each code a red light looking like a Japanese fan scanned his face.

“Only the captain is authorized to engage the robots,” he said and then added. “And with this they recognize me, and only me, as their commander whose orders they must obey without hesitation.” As Vos entered each code the robot took its place on the ship. When he was done he said, “We are ready to play now.” He looked at me and said, “See the two young good-looking lady robots behind us, they are my personal guards and will follow me wherever I go. They are

programmed to defend me from danger. They have also been programmed with every marshal arts move known to my planet.”

I looked at him and said, “They are just holograms, right?”

He laughed and said, “Yes, they are just holograms; they won’t be able to harm you should you decide to attack me.”

I accepted his explanation but wondered why a captain would need personal guards in a closed ship flying in space without a crew? It was just a distracting thought.

He pushed a lever forward and the ship began to hum.

“This turns the engines on. We can now fly.”

He then pushed the joystick forward and the ship started moving in the forward direction. Vos explained how the joystick worked. It was no different than that of an airplane. He also pointed out the various buttons on the joystick and their functions but there were too many for me to remember. The only thing that I do remember is that the ship had two engines, four energy cannons and a torpedo launcher. At least that’s what I understood. Vos used words unfamiliar to me. Vos then went on to explain the various functions of the display but again he used words I didn’t understand. He looked at me. I looked at him looking lost.

“Don’t worry about the words (terminology) for now just watch what I do.”

He then pushed the joystick forward hard and the ship flew forward fast.

“I felt that!” I said out loud.

“Of course you did!” “How about this?” he asked as he pushed the joystick to the left.

“I felt that too!” I exclaimed.

“That’s because the simulation was created to make the ride and effects realistic,” he explained. “Watch that chunk of rock ahead of us.”

As I did he punched one of the buttons on the joystick and “bang” one of the energy cannons fired. There was a flash of light and the rock in the distance exploded to pieces.

“You just fired an energy weapon, right? Shouldn’t that have been silent?”

“Yes!” he said. “The flash of light is silent but when the materials that release the energy are mixed they explode. The energy is then focused by the barrel and propelled outwards.”

At least that’s what I understood him to say.

He flew the ship forward, to the left and to the right and we felt the sensation of moving and turning.

“These ships are built with dampers that absorb the energy of sudden impulses, especially at great speeds,” he said. “Without the dampers we will fly right off our seats when we turn,” he added.

Vos pushed the holographic ship to extreme speeds, flying through the solar system to show me how it felt and to familiarize me with the various planets and stars. He told me that everything I saw in the simulation, including the stars and planets, was an exact replica of the real thing. The only unique thing about this game was the ship. It was one of a kind. I didn’t understand most of the things he said and I forgot most of what I did understand. I was not fond of games; I believed they were a waste of time.

Vos must have sensed that and said, “That’s enough for one day, we will come back tomorrow. In the meantime let’s go back to the room upstairs and I will teach you some important words in my language.”

We went back to the room and I sat in the same place at the table. He made us some lukewarm sweet tea. After we drank it he turned

on the little black box sitting on the table by tapping on it and the box began to display objects and called out their names.

“This is a teaching device used to teach young children the names of various objects. This same device is used to teach the people who repair machines (mechanics) on how to take them apart and put them back together. I think you will find it very useful.”

He showed me which button to push to start it and which to make it repeat the object and its name.

I did what he asked but my heart wasn’t in it at all. Vos could tell that I wasn’t interested but insisted I continue with my learning. After I went through about a dozen objects he reset the device, turned the sound off and began to show me the same objects. He then pointed at each and asked me what it was called. I couldn’t remember the names of any of them. He wanted to know why.

“If I begin to learn your language I will have to accept the idea that I won’t be going home. I can’t do that. I can’t afford to attach myself to your society and culture. To me it means that I’d have to abandon mine and I’m not ready to do that.”

He smiled and said, “My dear friend, your old friends will still be your friends even if you find new ones. Learning my language does not mean you will be abandoning yours. It means you will be richer for it.”

Vos had a point and deep in my heart I knew he was right and so I did what he asked.

Every day we played the game. I not only learned how to operate all its functions but I also learned new fighting techniques and manoeuvres. And, to the best of my ability, I learned many new words from the black box. Vos was relentless, which made me wonder why he was so keen on teaching me all these things. In the game he pushed me hard until I was as good as he was, even better at some things. He made me memorize all the codes and wouldn’t allow me to write them down.

He would say, “A good captain relies on his own memory not on…” but he would not elaborate, even though this was just a game.

We carried out attacks against invasions, meteor showers, pirate ships and even ground fire. I learned how and when to use the energy weapons and when to use the torpedoes. My ability to manoeuvre the ship and evade being hit by enemy fire went from 0% to almost 100%. In other words my reaction time, according to Vos, was better than his. He was very happy about that. I thought the whole idea of playing a game, especially by two grown men, was silly and downright ridiculous but I didn’t say anything to Vos, I figured it was part of his entertainment, part of his customs maybe. What else were we going to do with all that free time?

I could have played the game during the times when Vos left the facilities and went to the city to get provisions, but I needed his badge which he refused to part with. It was as if it was attached to him. One time, in the beginning, he asked me if I wanted to go with him to the city, but I said no and after that he never asked me again.

On the twenty-sixth day after we started my rigorous training on the game, Vos finally declared that I was as good as him and that my training was over. In other words I had graduated from the Vos academy on playing the game.

To commemorate the occasion I said, “We should celebrate this moment. We should go on another hunt and have another roast. I’ll also check on the wine and see if it’s finished brewing. Maybe we can have a few drinks too.”

He looked at me, smiled and said, “Yes, we should be rewarding ourselves for our hard work. We deserve it, don’t we?”

I gave him the thumbs up and he gave me the thumbs up right back. I had taught him about using thumbs up during our noisy practice sessions in the simulator.

The next morning Vos had to go to the city and the day after he promised me we would go hunting. In the meantime he told me to go and practice my learning and learn about the wildlife on this

planet. He said that he had set the device to show me the wildlife and on which part of the planet it was found. He also said he expected me to remember at least one creature and its name. He then walked away towards the front gate laughing. Was he making fun of me?

After Vos left I went straight to the big room and checked out the wine. It had settled and was no longer bubbling.

Back in Macedonia the wine, the liquid, was usually separated from the grape skins and other solids about three weeks after it had started brewing but here I wasn’t sure, because the brewing was still active. The brewing usually stops when the yeast depletes the sugar or there is too much alcohol for the yeast to function properly. Alcohol, of course, is yeast poop but I wasn’t going to tell Vos that.

I went to the back room and got one of the smallest square drinking glasses. I went back to the brew and dipped the glass past the solid stuff and into the red liquid. I drank some. It was still sweet but very strong with alcohol. It tasted like Port but with much more aroma. I loved it. I was sure Vos was going to love it too. But first I had to separate the liquid from the solids and squeeze the solids to remove all the liquid from them. The solids had lost their colour and looked light brown. They looked disgusting. I then realized that I had no strainer. I figured Vos might have something and decided to wait for him to return before I did anything.

It was a few hours past noon when Vos returned. I had picked some fruit and was eating it sitting on top of the woodpile. Sep was there at the bottom, a few steps away, watching me eat, expecting me to toss him some, but there was no point because Sep didn’t eat fruit. When we heard the gate open we both ran outside. Vos was carrying two bags over his shoulders. He didn’t look as tired as usual. At least he didn’t have to carry water.

After he shut and locked the gate he said, “I have something for you.” He put his hand inside one bag, pulled something out and tossed it to Sep. Sep grabbed it and disappeared into the big room under the woodpile. Vos then took the other bag off his shoulder and said, “This is for you.”

He then handed it to me. It was light.

I said thank you and asked what it was. All he said was that I had earned it. I couldn’t wait; I sat down on the makeshift bench, put the bag on the makeshift table, opened it and heard myself say, “WOW!” It was a full camouflage uniform complete with a shirt, pants, shoes, socks and underwear. With much excitement I said, “Thank you!”

“You can wear it on the hunt tomorrow. Now let’s go inside and eat. I brought some different snacks for you to try.”

While we were having our lunch I mentioned to Vos about filtering the wine and that I needed a strainer. He said he had never heard of such a thing. Later he remembered that the workers in this facility used sieves that fit on top of the buckets. They used them to remove clumped particles from the powdery chemicals.

“That would be perfect.”

He then told me where I could find one. I also asked him if he had any old cloths that I could use to fine filter the wine. He gave me one of his old shirts.

I was very excited about filtering the wine but first I had to try out my new uniform. I ran to my room and put it on. I adjusted all the tabs on the shirt and pants until everything fit just right. Surprisingly even the shoes fit perfectly. I was amazed at the quality of the material and the stitching. This was something I could wear all the time. My own clothes were threadbare and I had to borrow clothes from Vos. My running shoes were torn on the sides and had holes in the bottom.

I ran back to show Vos my new attire. He said he should have done this a long time ago. He had never seen me so happy. I asked him if he wanted to participate in the filtering of the wine. He declined; he said he had something else to do.

I changed back to my old clothes. Filtering wine was a messy job and I didn’t want to dirty my new clothes on the first day.

I went under the crawlspace in the big room and found a sieve. I also picked up one more bucket and returned to the water fountain. I plugged up the spouts and the shower started running. I washed and cleaned the two empty buckets and the sieve. They had been used to store and process chemicals so it was important to have them washed well. I used one bucket to store the liquid and the other to store the discarded solids.

The sieve fit perfectly on top of the bucket. After I washed it, I put the shirt over it to act as a fine filter and then gently tipped the other bucket with the wine and filled the sieve. The liquid ran right through the shirt and dripped into the empty bucket. I squeezed the rest of the liquid by twisting the shirt and discarded the solid stuff remaining inside the shirt into the other bucket. I did this over and over until all the solids were removed and drained. I had to wash the shirt several times to dislodge the fine particles clogging the shirt, which had acted as a filter.

When I was done I placed the lid tightly over the bucket with the wine to prevent bugs from going in, as well as limit the amount of oxygen coming in contact with the wine. Oxygen in time turns wine into vinegar. The bucket was a quarter full, about four litres. Then I placed the bucket on top of the bench so that the wine could rest. Wine, after it rests for a few days, should be either filtered or left in a cool place for a week or two to settle before drinking.

I was tempted to drink some but didn’t. I knew that it tasted okay because I had tried it earlier.

After I dumped what remained of the brew under the fruit tree, where I had earlier collected the fruit, I washed the buckets, shirt and sieve and put them away in a cabinet which I had cleaned earlier especially for that purpose. I figured if this worked I would be making more.

Hunting the Ehsib

I had a hard time falling asleep that night, thinking about my new uniform, the wine and about the hunt the next day. And it would appear that my thoughts went to dreams because the next thing I remember was Vos knocking on my door.

I quickly put my uniform on and was out of my room in no time. Vos looked at me with admiration and handed me my pouch, rifle and some bullets.

“You look like a real soldier,” he said and then corrected himself and said. “I mean you look like a real hunter.”

We took the usual route out with Sep following. We were greeted by the birds as usual. Vos turned and smiled. I assumed he was happy that his birds were still talking.

“What is that strong odour?” he asked as we approached his fruit tree

“That’s the aroma of the rakia (alcohol). That’s what rakia smells like.”

I then explained to him that I had dumped the remnants of the wine under the tree. I didn’t know what else to do with them.

He turned, looked at me with excitement and said, “So, I take it you made the wine?”

I smiled and said, “Yes, and we will get to test it later.”

He gave me the thumps up.

After walking for a couple of hours we arrived at the same grove where we had shot the Akioson about thirty days ago.

Vos stopped, turned and said, “We’re going past the grove. We will hunt for a creature indigenous to this region that does not fly but digs in the soil. Can you tell me what it’s called?”

I had no answer for him so he said, “You’ll probably recognize it when you see it.”

We walked through the grove and ended up on a slope. There was a streak of green grass growing from about halfway up the slope down to the bottom of the hill.

“That’s where we will find our quarry.”

We walked for another half hour and reached a flat and level area. It looked like a pond with tall grasses. Suddenly I saw something move. I removed the rifle from my shoulder and looked through the scope. It looked like a warthog but had patches of black and white on its skin. I waved Vos to come over and have a look and while he was coming I loaded the rifle and removed the safety. It was now ready to be fired. When Vos arrived he couldn’t see anything. I gave him the rifle and told him to look through the scope. He looked and spotted the creature.

“I see it. It’s a young ehsib.”

“Take the shot,” I said.

He hesitated.

“Take the shot because I see Sep coming up fast and he will spook the creature.”

He again hesitated, took a deep breath, held it and “bang” he shot the rifle.

“Did you get it?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

Other than being startled Sep didn’t react the way I’d expected. He probably hadn’t seen what happened. Vos and I ran up the hill and began searching. We couldn’t find the creature. We saw Sep sniffing the ground and running into the tall grass. We followed him and

found him grabbing at the creature. It was dead. Vos raised his rifle and Sep stepped away. Vos looked at the pig lying there dead and felt sorry for it. He felt like he had committed a sin.

I went opposite to him, bowed down and said, “Thank you Mother Nature for providing us with this food. We shall use it to nourish ourselves and we will not be wasteful!” I then said, “It’s one thing to watch someone take a life and another to do it yourself… But it is what it is, its nature’s way; some creatures die so that others can live.”

He looked at me and I saw tears in his eyes. This was the only time I had seen Vos cry.

To ease the tension I asked, “Why Mother Nature and not God?”

He knew what I was talking about and said, “It’s the same thing, we call it one thing… you call it another… You see God as the creator of all things we see Mother Nature as the nurturer, the sustainer of all life. In the past we believed in many Gods, later in a Goddess as the mother of all Gods, then in a single God and so on. We have seen many worlds over the years but we have not seen a Goddess or a God. The only thing that we have seen that sustains and perpetuates life is what you call nature. Nature was common in all the planets we visited. So, in time we began to give credit to nature for our perpetual existence. It was simpler, much less mysterious and easy to understand.”

I picked up the ehsib and slit its throat with my pocket knife. Its skin was very tough but it was tender inside. Blood began to drip. I picked up the pig by one of its hind legs. It was quite heavy. As soon as we took a step away, Sep dashed to lick the blood.

We walked in silence. Some distance later Vos asked, “Does it always feel like that when you take a life?”

I thought for a moment and said, “Yes, but then you accept it as a necessary thing… for your existence. Nature is a good example of how these things work. All creatures need to eat to survive. I don’t

think a wolf or a lion thinks twice about attacking a sheep or an antelope. They have to eat. They need to survive.”

He looked at me and said, “Yes, that’s true for lions and wolves, creatures that eat only meat. But not for us, creatures that can have alternate foods.”

“You’re right, for us it is a matter of personal choice; we can choose to eat meat or not. But for those who choose to eat meat… I think the dilemma we are facing is, should we be personally killing the food we eat or should we be letting others do it like it’s done here and on earth. There is meat in the processed blocks of food we eat here, so we do eat meat.”

Vos stopped me right there because he was well-aware of the philosophical issues regarding this subject. He clearly understood the idea that we were top predators and fully capable of meeting our needs standing at the top of the food chain. Therefore no philosophical discussions or excuses were necessary. He was fully aware that he had to accept what he had done and get past it.

With how he felt he showed me that he was not all logic and that he did have feelings. I then thought and almost laughed at the idea that he was a soldier from a tradition of soldiers, and not just any ordinary soldier but the commander and chief of the military and he had never fired a gun against any creature.

I broke the silence and asked, “Vos, what makes a person a good soldier?”

Without hesitation he said, “Loyalty, obedience, commitment…”

I then interrupted and said, “I meant to say successful in facing the enemy.”

He must have thought I was leading him into some sort of trap and said, “I can only tell you in theory; I can’t tell you in practice, I have never faced that prospect.”

“But, of course,” I replied and continued. “As you know I’m not a soldier, I would like to be one but I’m not, I do however have friends who were soldiers and have seen combat. I often asked them that very question but they never answered. One time, when we were all drunk with rakia one of the army officers opened up and described the horror of wars and how it felt to come face to face with your enemy on the battlefield.

To my question of what makes a successful soldier he said you have to kill your opponent before he kills you. I swear to you that’s what he said.

This was an older man who had survived many battles, which led me to believe that he had killed many people, a subject in which he refused to engage. He did, however, say other things with which he would have to live for the rest of his life.

He said, ‘The young men killed in battle have families, just like we do. They have wives, children, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends… You just don’t end one life when you kill a young man, you burn many lives…’ That’s what he said. So I asked him why do you do it then, why become a soldier? He said, ‘To protect our families and homes and to defend those who can’t defend themselves…’ That’s what he said.”

Vos looked at me and said, “Today I learned something important about soldiering that I had not in all my years at the military academy. I hope to God (he said God) I never face that situation.” He then said, “You never fail to impress me.”

The piglet I was carrying was heavy and was killing my arm and shoulder. It was a wild pig which would make its meat taste “earthy”, so it would need marinating before we cooked it.

“Vos, I have a question for you. Do you think we can get some onions to marinate the meat? This creature will taste foul if we don’t properly prepare it.”

He thought for a moment and said, “I don’t know what that is.”

I basically had to describe it to him, what it looked like and how it grew in bulbs but still nothing. When I told him about how it smelled he had an idea. He said there was a garden behind the facilities where all sorts of smelly grasses grew and it was possible that something like that might exist there. And the good thing about it was that it was on the way back.

We walked back in silence. It was past noon and neither one of us said anything about eating or drinking. It was a clear day and the sun was beating down on us. I found my uniform was a lot more comfortable that my other clothes. Stepping on pebbles and sharp things was not a problem anymore, my new shoes were great. I was a bit concerned, however, about Vos and what he would think of me after what I had said. But then I thought that it was only my own insecurity that I was feeling. He was a rational person in whom I had much confidence to get past any issue except, for the moment, he was in deep thought.

Just before we arrived at the facilities Vos stopped, pointed to the far side and said, “The garden I told you about is over there behind that building. Let’s go and see if we can find what you need.”

I gave him the thumbs up. He smiled and gave me the thumbs up. I felt much better, the old Vos was back.

It took us a couple of minutes to get to the garden. On the way I remarked how good the garden looked despite the dry and hot climate. It barely rained in this part of the country and when it did it was brief but, according to Vos, it was improving every year.

Vos stopped, waved his arm in a semi-circle and said, “All this is smelly grass.”

I looked at him and nodded my head. I then began to clip small parts of the grasses and sniff it. Vos lost interest in watching me and went deeper into the garden. He came back with a plant that had a tiny bulb the size of the tip of my finger.

“Could this be it?”

Just then I realized that I had not told him how large onion bulbs grow. “Let me smell it.” To my surprise it smelled like an onion.

“Yes, that’s it,” I said. I then thought to myself “what are the chances of finding onions on an alien planet, never mind Vos finding them.”

After we picked a bunch Vos said, “All these plants here were brought here from other planets. Our scientists experimented with them. They looked for plants that would survive in space. Some of these plants, the hardier ones, were put on our research ships in space and used as food on long voyages.”

Soon we were inside the facilities and we put the pig and onions on the bench closest to the water fountain. I rubbed my arm and shoulder to relieve my pain.

Vos saw me, smiled and said, “Hunting is hard work, especially for those who have to carry the quarry.” He then laughed out loud and added, “I thought of helping you but I could hardly carry myself… I am sorry about that.”

“No problem, I understand,” I replied. He then looked around as if looking for a place to sit. There was none.

“Let’s go outside and have our lunch, the bench should be in the shade by now,” he said.

I agreed and we stepped outside. Sep joined us.

While eating our lunch I mentioned to Vos that we couldn’t roast the pig today because it needed to sit in the onions for at least a day.

“We couldn’t have roasted it today even if we wanted to… Not enough hours until dark…”

After we had our late lunch we went inside the big room and I showed Vos how to wash the little onions one by one and put them on the clean bench. I then went into the woodpile and got a short

board of hardwood to use as a cutting board. I washed one of the buckets and put it to the side.

“We will put the onions and pig in this bucket for the night, and in this other bucket we will throw the waste and burn it in the fire tomorrow,” I said.

He shook his head in agreement.

After that I got my pocket knife out and began to skin the pig. There wasn’t much fat under the skin but there was enough to help it cook and give it taste. After I removed the skin I cut off the pig’s legs at the knees. It was a very difficult cut and I could have used a much bigger knife. Unfortunately we didn’t have one. I showed Vos, who didn’t want to look, what I had done and asked him if we should give the legs and skin to Sep.

He said, “Why not? Sep will eat anything.”

After that I opened the pig’s gut and removed all its innards. It was a male pig. I tossed the stomach, intestines, lungs, bladder and other parts into one of the buckets and kept the liver, heart and testicles. Then, after removing the gallbladder from the liver, I washed the knife, gave it to Vos and asked him to cut the onions. I washed the other bucket and after that I washed each piece of meat and put them in it.

After washing my hands I showed Vos how to cut the onions on the cutting board and asked him to drop them into the bucket on top of the meat. I took Vos’s walking stick from the cabinet, the stick we had used as a rotisserie to roast the bird, and washed it too. Surprisingly Vos was not only a quick study but a fast worker. By the time I was done washing the stick he had finished cutting the onions and had placed them in the bucket. When he was done he came over and gave me the knife.

He rubbed his eyes with his wrists and said, “I’m done. That stuff is sure potent, it made me cry.”

I put the bucket with the meat on top of the bench and placed the cutting board on top to prevent bugs from going in. I left the bucket with the innards and onion scraps on the floor. Then I picked up the pigskin and we both went outside. Sep was there waiting for us. I threw the skin at him. He grabbed it and began to crunch it. He had powerful jaws and sharp teeth; even Vos was surprised at his ability to cut through the tough skin and crush the bones.

“I told you Sep would eat anything…” he said.

I shook my head and said, “He will never be able to eat the entire skin and the legs too. It’s a lot for a little dog that size.”

It was getting late and after watching Sep struggle with the skin for about half an hour we decided it was time to take a long deserved rest. We agreed to dedicate the next day to celebrating the successful completion of my training on the game and we were going to do it by eating roast pig and drinking homemade wine. I went straight to my room and lay in bed.

Celebrating my graduation

I woke up early the next morning and was as hungry as a dog. I hadn’t eaten supper the night before. I put my old clothes on and went straight outside. I was greeted by a lethargic Sep. His gut was full and he looked like a pigskin football. I gathered he’d eaten everything that we gave him the night before. I looked around. Vos wasn’t up. I decided to prepare the firepit. I went and got one of those big buckets and a smaller one from under the crawlspace. I placed the big bucket in the closest corner of the yard. I then scooped up the ash and coals with the other bucket and transferred them to the bucket in the corner. I emptied the entire firepit. Then I got some dry grass and small sticks and placed them in the middle of the firepit. I went to the woodpile and brought a whole pile of wood and set it beside the firepit. This should be enough for the roast, I thought.

Just as I was finished bringing the wood Vos came out with our breakfast. He looked like he was in a good mood.

He took one look at Sep, laughed and said, “I wondered if he was capable of eating the whole thing... Now I know.”

I told Vos about my plans for the day and he approved. I then lit the fire and we piled the firepit high with wood. We ate our breakfast sitting on the bench and watching the flames rise high and listened to the wood crackle as it burned.

“This is nice, it gives me a sense of peace and comfort,” said Vos.

“I feel the same,” I replied.

I went inside and got the bucket with the innards. I waited until the fire had reached its maximum height and dumped the contents onto it. The loud hiss made Sep look.

We sat there watching the wood burn for a long time. There was some uneasiness in the air, I could feel it. I had often felt this way when there was a turning point in my life, when I had to do something new and unusual but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

I looked at Vos. He was staring at the fire. He was mesmerized by the dancing flames. I looked at Sep. He was looking away but his back leg kept twitching. He looked like he was trying to kick something invisible, his indigestion perhaps?

I wanted to get moving and prepare for the roast but my body felt heavy and stuck to the bench telling me it didn’t want to move. Vos said something and broke my trance.

“How long do you figure it will take to cook the ehsib?” he asked.

“We’ll give it about four earth hours once all the wood turns into embers,” I replied.

I then went inside, got the pipe and gave it to Vos to spread the remaining unburned wood over the burning coals so that it would burn faster. I went back inside and got two small glasses and an empty jelly jar. I dipped the jar into the wine, filled it to the top and shut the lid. I was tempted to take a sip but decided against it.

When I came outside I placed the jar and glasses on top of our makeshift table.

Vos looked at them and said, “Ah, nice, another jar full of jelly.” He looked confused. “Why the small glasses?” he asked.

“In my culture it’s customary to drink wine from small glasses and rakia from even smaller glasses,” I replied.

He smiled, shook his head and said, “I thought the stuff was jelly,” and began to laugh and dance.

He then started singing a song in his language. I kept staring at him, an old man looking like a little boy. I chalked it up to nervousness. It would appear he too was feeling uneasy.

He saw me staring at him and said, “This is an old pirate song. Pirates sang it and danced to it when they drank rakia and other illegal stuff.”

“The fire is just about ready, let’s gets the meat prepared and start the roasting,” I suggested and he agreed.

I removed the pig from the bucket and placed it on the bench. It smelled foul.

Vos made a face and said, “Are you sure that’s edible? It stinks!”

“Pigs generally do stink but it’s the combination of onions and pig meat you smell. It should go away after the meat is roasted, I hope,” I replied.

The fat on the pig’s surface made the meat look slimy and Vos refused to touch it. I had to put the rotisserie stick through it by myself. I did the same with the innards.

Vos parted the coals in the firepit the same as before and we began the roast. The innards unfortunately were too heavy to roast with one hand and I was afraid the stick holding them might break from their weight and we would lose them in the fire.

I also realized it might not be possible to evenly cook liver, heart and testicles together. The liver would burn before the heart was cooked. So I asked Vos to take over turning the rotisserie with the pig so that I could fix the innards problem.

I explained to Vos what I was going to do; cook the liver on its own first then the testicles and then the heart. He gave me the thumbs up and said he would be happy to operate the rotisserie. I thanked him.

I threaded the liver lengthwise so that it wouldn’t flop around when I turned it and began to cook it.

The melting fat from the pig began to drip into the fire, giving off a nice aroma. I noticed Vos was lifting the meat up every time flames flared up. I was happy to see that he knew what he was doing. He was smiling and looked happy.

The liver cooked in no time and was ready to be eaten. Liver always tastes better warm. I looked around the table for a place to put it down but it looked like there was dust everywhere. With the cooked liver in my hand I ran inside and got three large plates. I put the cooked liver on one of them and brought them all outside. I put the heart and testicles sitting on the table on another plate, went in and washed them and came back out. I must have looked like an idiot running back and forth inside and out. I saw Vos smiling and shaking his head.

I cut the liver into bite sized pieces and left it on the plate. I extended the plate towards Vos and said, “The hunter who made the kill gets to eat the liver.”

He didn’t say anything. He picked up one piece and bit it. He made a face and shook his head.

“It’s a little bitter, isn’t it?” I asked.

He shook his head “yes”. I tried a piece. A little bitter but it tasted fine. I ate the whole piece.

I looked at him and said, “It’ll taste fine if we wash it down with a bit of wine. What do you think?”

He gave me a short nod and smiled. I flipped the lid on the jar and poured a little wine into both of our glasses. I handed him one and he drank it all in one gulp.

“This tastes great,” he said and added, “you’re right it got rid of the bad taste.”

I smiled and said, “That was your practice drink. In my tradition we toast to our health and friendship by clinking our glasses together and then we drink. We sip it slowly and enjoy its flavour. This wine, that we made here, is particularly strong with a lot of rakia (alcohol) in it so we need to take it easy because we could get very drunk and sick. Since we don’t know the potency of this wine we need to drink it slowly and measure how much we drink. Then, when we are feeling good (high) we need to stop drinking for a while.