The Neighbors

Humans face Neanderthals across the Danube

Danube River valley  =/- 40,000 ya

            Muka trudged through the brush and trees in the gray light of dawn.  He stopped sometimes, using his spear handle to gently part the grass or low branches on a bush.  Then he would move forward again, his large head swinging from side to side, sniffing the air.  Almost every morning, just as it was getting light, he would walk like this, a different route every day.

            Approaching a small meadow, he slowed, inhaling the air.  Going completely still behind a small shaking tree, he peered between the branches.  There were four deer, quietly munching on grass.  Muka knew he could hit the one closest to him. She was small, but it would be enough to eat for him and the clan. He raised his spear slowly, taking one final sniff-

            --and stopped short. Smoke, different smoke, was in the air.  His own home was high on the ridge behind him, and all the smoke was going upward in the still morning.  This smell was different.

            The deer forgotten, Muka stood quietly, inhaling the air again, and looking for the signs of a big fire. It couldn’t be too large, as none of the animals or birds were fleeing the area. The deer had even been calm. The smell was strongest in the direction away from the meadow, and toward the fast water.

            Even more slowly, he followed the odor to the edge of the water. Hiding behind a large tree he looked up and down the edge. Now he was hearing some odd noises, like several little ones calling and crying out. Suddenly he heard a male voice, but making noises he had never heard. 

            Crawling out on his knees, he cautiously searched for the source of the noises.  He found them. The sight made him fall flat on his stomach, and his mouth was open.

            On the other edge of the fast water was another meadow, ringed with trees. In it were strange wood objects that were tall, like trees in the cold time.  A large fire burned in the center, and two tall figures were holding a pig carcass over the flames.  Several small ones were indeed running around and making all sorts of noise. Muka was sure there would be no game around for  a long ways with all these strange loud sounds.

            A tall figure, who sounded male, came among the small ones.  He made two of them follow him to the edge of the fast water.  He gave each of them a small sharp spear. Then he walked into the fast water up to his knees. Muka was shocked. When one entered the fast water, one fell in and was gone. This tall one stayed, standing still, not falling in.

            The tall one held his spear for what seemed a long time, then plunged it into the fast water.  When he brought it out, there was a water animal flapping on the end.  The two small ones stood in the water and watched, trying to copy the tall one.  One of them plunged his spear in and toppled over, falling into the fast water.

            Muka was startled and cried out.  Not sure how, he found himself standing.  The other small turned quickly and seeing Muka, froze. The tall one went into the fast water and helped the fallen small one back onto the land.  Muka gasped aloud.  This time the tall one heard it too.  The three of them turned and looked straight at Muka.

            Tapoh laughed as his son, Tipunu, tried to get the hang of fishing.  Tipunu came out wet, but with a smile on his face.

            “A fish, big!”

            “Tipunu learns.” Tapoh patted him on the shoulder, proud. Then he heard a strange sound.

            Across the river, his large face in shock, was a heavy set stranger. His hair was long and matted.  He wore no clothes and  held a very simple spear. Tapoh stared, and the stranger stared back.  After a long moment, Tapoh raised his hand in greeting.

            Muka scurried away, terrified. What were these creatures,  tall, with power over fast water and water animals?  When the tall one had raised his hand, Muka was terrified that he would have power over him as well. Muka ran the entire distance  back to his cave, his clan, scared of something he could not understand.

Giant Stone Axe

http://phys.org/news171790409.html

… the discovery of the first of what are believed to be the world’s largest stone tools on the bed of the lake...Four giant stone hand axes, measuring over 30 cm long and of uncertain age, were recovered from the lake basin.

 

Maybe 100,000 years ago, the dry basin of Lake Makgadikgadi in the Kalahari Desert.…

Waki was almost finished. He was relieved and yet a little sad.  He was relieved because this work had taken time and was heavy. His back ached and his fingers were raw, and cut in some places. He was sad because it meant his son was now a man, and would face a man’s dangers.

He squinted at the sun.  It was starting down.  When night came this stone axe, a gift for his son, would be finished.  Waki adjusted his feet amongst the flint chips, barely noticing yet another small cut.  When a man worked the stone as Waki did, a man got cut.

There was a noise in back with the people.  Waki’s mate and children, her sister and her mate, their children, and Waki’s younger brother were the people.  His mate’s mother had been with them until the last rainfall, when she had fallen asleep for the last time.  They were a small people, but all was well as they hunted along the lake. 

The noise grew louder; Waki’s mate was wailing. Waki lifted his head, then stood up slowly, his aching knees refusing to move as fast as he needed them to.  He walked to the people.  His brother was dragging a long tall animal behind him.  It was lean and brown, with fresh blood…as he got closer, Waki saw that it was his son. One look and he could see that his son, who had been Waga, had gotten too close to a lion.  Waki looked at his brother.

“Grothr” the one word made sense.  A female lion, probably protecting her young.

Waki hung his head.  He couldn’t look at his wailing mate, or his other children. Instead, he went back to his stones.  He picked up the stone axe he had been shaping as a fine gift for Waga.  

He finished it, hearing the heart wrenching wails of his mate until the sun was almost down.  He picked up the fine stone axe.  Large because Waga was large.  Large because Waki felt a great sense of goodness for his young man-son.  He went to Waga’s still body.  Over the head he held the great stone axe.  He lifted it to the sky and his bellow to the sky was bloodcurdling.  He roared again, shaking the axe against the twilight and the quiet stars. He turned, and purposefully strode to the edge of the lake.  In sorrow, anger and unanswered rage he threw the stone axe to the bottom.

Caveprints...

Ancient footprints in Pyrenees Cave

Image from http://neanderthal.de/blog/

I cannot wait for July 17, when the findings from this interesting and informative project are released!  I'm going on the presumption (for now) these are ancient Homo Sapiens prints.  If the results are that they're Neanderthal, well then that's another blog! Update: another article about these prints dated them to 13000 years ago...so that takes care of any Neanderthal prints. Dern it...

Cave in the Pyrenees, +/- 13,000 years ago

The sun was going down, but there was still time to finish the meet, and walk to the fires.  Mato and Vako stood still, pondering.  Vako's son of nine winters, Vaki, walked back and forth, practicing his spear stance.  Mato stood quietly, looking at the cave floor.  His held his spear in his quiet hand, gripping it firmly.  Vako saw that Mato put weight on the foot and spear side.  Mato would not say it, but he was was getting tired.  As Mato had no sons any more, Vako and his son Vaki were next to lead. 

Vako turned his head to the lowering sun again, still waiting for Mato to speak.   Vaki continued pacing back and forth.  At length he stopped and wandered to the Wall of the Old Ones.  Mato's father, and his father before him had left their Hands on the Wall.  Vaki reached out to measure his hand against one of them.

"Ssst!" hissed Vako.  Vaki turned and his father was signaling for him to sit down.  Vaki did so, he hadn't planned to touch the handprints...that was taboo, and would bring bad luck to the Leader.  

Mato glanced up, broken from his thoughts.  He shook his head sadly at the boy, but there was just a glimmer of a smile.  Mato had understood it was just curiosity.

With a heavy sigh, Mato walked over.  He gestured with his working hand for Vaki to leave. Vaki was already on his feet before glancing at his father.  Vako reached out and put a strong hand on Vaki's shoulder, ushering him outside the cave.

Mato stood in front of the Wall of the Old Ones.  Something in him knew he could touch the hands now.  Looking to be sure Vaki and Vako could not see him, he reached out.  He touched his father's hand, now smaller than his own.  He touched his father's father's hand, which was even smaller.  Mato touched all the hands on the Wall of the Old Ones.  He felt like a huge weight had been lifted. 

Quietly, he pulled out the rolled leather he had carried up with him.  Kneeling on the floor, he made sure all the objects were still there.  Two hollow bones.  A piece of red crumbling stone.  A small old dried gourd, that held a precious amount of spring water.  A small stone, hollowed in the middle from generations of use.  A smaller oblong stone.

Mato had only seen this done once before, when his father's father had done this.  The green time his father had done it, he had been away on a hunt.  He had come back, feeling proud that he and the other warriors had found and killed an adult mammoth, only to find his father had died.  A rogue bear had come out of the woods.  Even though his father was a great hunter and great leader, that day he had been too slow.  Some had said his father waited for the beast to get him.  Mato had felt great grief that his father couldn't put his hand on the Wall.  Then, he saw the faded red stains on his fathers working hand.  This red wasn't blood.  Somehow, his father had known.

And now, Mato knew.  He felt tired in his bones.  He felt the cold winter coming.  He did not care if he saw the next green time, or not.  Since he had lost his mate and sons, little interested him as it had before.  And so, he readied himself to put up his hand.

He ground the red stone, adding water a drop at a time, until it was right. He carefully poured the mixture into one of the hollow bones.  Carefully, he stood up, and put his working hand amongst the Wall of the Old Ones.  He then stopped.

"Vaki" he called.

Vaki appeared at the opening of the cave, his eyes big.

"Come" Mato spoke firmly, gesturing with  his head.

Vaki came in slowly, in awe of what he was about to witness.  An arm's length away from Mato,  he stopped.  Mato positioned his working hand on the wall until it felt right.  Using his quiet hand, he put the hollow bone stuffed with the red stone mixture into his mouth.  He breathed in deeply through his nose, then blew the red onto his hand.  His thumb and first two fingers were covered in red.

"More." he said to Vaki.  Vaki looked at the objects and with a little prompting from Mato, filled the second hollow bone with the remaining mixture.  Mato blew again.  This time it all his fingers were covered.  Very slowly, Mato pulled away his hand.

Both Mato and Vaki gasped quietly.  Seeing a fresh hand on the Wall of the Old Ones was a powerful experience.

After a little, Mato turned to Vaki and smiled.  He put out his hand and Vaki took it.  Gently, he put Vaki's hand into his freshly made one, being ever so careful not to touch the fresh red spray.  He then had Vaki touch the other hands of the Wall of the Old Ones.

Quietly, they picked up the objects and wrapped them in the leather.  Mato stood straighter than he had in a long time.  He gave the leather roll to Vaki to carry. Vako's eyes widened when he saw the two emerge from the cave.  He gave a quiet nod to Mato, who pretended he didn't see it. He went to smile at Vaki, but Vaki had his head turned, looking at the cave, seeing the footprints they'd left.

As they walked down the mountain to the fires, Mato absently scratched an itch on his chest with  his freshly stained red hand.

Vaki saw, and was sad to see there would be blood on Mato sometime soon.

Ancient Meat Eaters...

Early Meat Eating 

the African savannahs, +/- 2 million years ago...

It was hot.  He wiped the sweat out of his eyes.  It was time for food and he was going to get it.  Noises had come earlier from the far tree, and he was making his way there now.  Slowly and carefully, so as not to surprise any predators into hunting him.  A snarl reached him from the far tree...good, that meant there was still food from it.
He held his sharp stone in his hand.  He took a step and then...
...a gazelle jumped in front of him.  He froze, knowing that such activity meant the gazelle was being chased.  She disappeared into the brush.  A moment later a large cat ran by, chasing the gazelle.  He waited...then followed the lion.  Close by the sounds of the fatal encounter came to a squealing halt.  Very slowly, he approached, making sure the wind was in his face.  The fresh blood and meat reached his nostrils and he inhaled slowly.  It was too much.
Bending down and picking up a fist-sized rock, he then charged into the cat's feast, screaming at the top of his lungs.
As the snarling cat turned to face him, he lobbed the rock into its face.  With a bitter scream the cat retreated a few feet, snarling as it did so.
He grabbed the warm gazelle, and the cat began to follow.  Screaming back at the cat he saw one of the legs was almost off, thanks to the cats teeth.  Quickly he ripped it off and tossed it at the approaching cat.
He lifted the remains of the gazelle onto his shoulders and ran for his life back to the others.  Blood running into his eyes was so much better than sweat, he thought.

I write rather quickly, correcting my errors as I go.  The result isn't always fantastic.  My big problem with writing this, is that of course a Homo Erectus wouldn't think, talk, or otherwise communicate in English, or even in the fully formed and reasoned sentences we do.  Hence, what follows is solely my interpretation of the same story, totally in the character's linguistic/communicative/thinking perspective...


Hot. Eyes sting. Hungry, hungry.  Far tree food noise...food noise.  Step slow, slow.
FREEZE!  Close food noise...slow slow step.  Danger...hungry hungry. DANGER! Throw! Danger...food, hungry.  Danger..hungry...danger food.  Step fast fast!  Hungry Hungry!
Food.. eyes sting.

Welcome to Ancient Agendas

Hello! Welcome to Ancient Agendas.  First of all, I want to say here that I am absolutely NOT a scientist.  Of any sort.  As much as I like Anthropology, Archeology, Paleontology,  and Linguistics, I just cannot get into a logical mindset about any of them.  When I see a headline about the possibility of Neanderthal art, or charred bones that proved ancient hominids were cooking long before agriculture, my very intelligent response is "Wow, keeewwwwlll..."

And so, lacking any formal education in any of the above fields of study, and never having worked on a dig, I am anyway and anyhow going to blog.  As in the description, which says in full, "..A non-scientific blog about our ancestors, and what they did, or might have done", my blogging intention here is to take that "Wow, keeewwwwlll..." and turn it into something that is hopefully entertaining, thought-provoking, original, and even plausible.

Comments here or to auraburrows@gmail.com are welcome.  And may I say here, again reminding my readers this is non-scientific, if I occasionally put a bow and arrow into the arms of a Neanderthal, or have homo habilis cooking in ceramic pots, well, the error is unintentional...except for the 2 previously mentioned, those are intentional.  If one is completely  new to the world of  prehistory, then realize I've just given cell-phones to the ancient Greeks.

Enjoy.