Her hair flowed like water, running down her shoulders in a cascade of black. She danced in rhythm with the pulsing of the river, slowly moving with the current until she reached the riverbank.
She surveyed the offerings with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance. There was an offering that was not white, a single brown chicken with its throat slashed, though there were more than enough other offerings to make up for it, a tinge of offense still lingered on her tongue. She told herself that she would not forget this affront and with a flick of her hand made the current stronger.
She made sure that the fishermen would have a hard day’s work.
She flowed back into the river now, how she pitied the other spirits of the forest that they would never learn the secrets of the river. There was no such thing as time as far as she was concerned. The river is everywhere, at the source, at the waterfall, in the current, in the oceans and mountains and streams. There was only the present. There was only the river.
Every small disturbance in the water she could feel, from the forest creatures lapping up the life giving fluid to the fishermen struggling to steer their boats through the current. She bathed in the pureness of that moment. The spirits in the lower world could keep their secrets of the past and the spirits of the Skyworld could waste their time on riddles of the future.
She thought to herself how strange a river is. It would always be there but it is never still. It is made up of water, but the water never stays in the same place. The river is constant change. It makes its way through the land and cuts through the earth like a sword. She had heard tales from other spirits of great rivers in faraway lands where humans would harness the river’s power for their own use. Great structures of stone and steel would divert the coursing rapids, for what purpose, the spirits didn’t know. She didn’t like to think about those stories, for that is not what the river is. Not to her at least.
She thought about humans and wondered if they were like the river, flowing but different? Do they also change, bursting like a riverbank from too much rain, or drying up in times of drought? Will they grow and widen their surroundings or stay still and unmoving? Will other humans confine them and use their flow for their own purpose?
She had not known many humans in her time apart from the times when offerings were given to her. She could feel them in the river when they swam, of course. She could not understand why beings like them stayed in her waters when they were so ill-equipped for it. They couldn’t even breathe in the water, yet they wanted to swim like fish.
These were questions that she wished to find answers to and what better time to ask then the present?
Her form materialized in front of a confused fisherman. He fell to his knees and asked for forgiveness, but she was not interested in that. The river rose and engulfed them both and in an instant they were gone.
“Are humans like the river?”
“Where am I? Great spirit please forgive me!”
“Get up, you have nothing that needs forgiving. Answer my questions and you will return to your world.”
“Please spirit, why am I here?”
“Are humans like the river? Do they change and grow?”
“…I cannot speak for all humans, great spirit. I am too young and not wise enough to give you your answers.”
“Answer me all the same. Do humans change?”
“…Yes we do. We change from children to adults, each part of our life facing new challenges the world will give us.”
“Were you challenged as well?”
“Yes great spirit, challenges are all I have ever known.”
“Tell me about them.”
“I…”
“Speak!”
“…I was very young when I lost my father. I learned the ways of hunting and farming from my uncles, but it was difficult. I could not follow the seasons of planting as well as I should have. The harvest was only enough to sustain myself and my mother. I did not want to be a burden to the rest of my family so I taught myself how to fish in the river for more food.”
“And that is where we met.”
“Yes, great spirit.”
“Have you changed since you were young?”
“I had to. Since my father’s passing I had to make the decisions for our household. I needed to make sure there was someone to take care of my mother.”
“Like a sword through the earth.”
“…spirit?”
“Never mind. Tell me more.”
“I tried to be strong, but it just gets so hard. My uncles tell me that my father was a great warrior and that I should follow in his footsteps, but now I feel like a scared child.”
“They want you to flow where they want.”
“Exactly! Sometimes I don’t know where to go. During the night I go to the cliffside near my house so I can feel alone, for just a moment. “
“But that moment never comes does it?”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Thank you, fisherman, for answering my questions.”
“Wait! Before I go, I would ask you something.”
“You’ve earned that much. What is it you wish to know?”
“Does it get any easier?”
“Does what get any easier?”
“My life? Surely a great and powerful spirit like yourself can see the future!”
“Let me tell you a story. Once, I was chasing the moonlight through the river. I could feel it in my bones whenever it shined through the clouds. I crossed the mountain streams and even drifted to the ocean to catch just one band of moonlight. For days upon months upon years I could only think of catching the moonlight, but always it eluded me. I spent nights dreaming that I would hold it in my hands.”
“But you can’t catch moonlight!”
“I did not know that then, I was once a young spirit full of pride and foolishness.”
“What happened?”
“One night, when the moon was bright, I flowed into the river and let the moon shine through every waterfall and stream. In that moment I knew I could not trap something so beautiful, so I let my dream fade into the night. When the moon is full I think back to that moment and smile.”
“What does that have to do with my question?”
“Nothing. Everything. It is up to you to decide.”
“….goodbye spirit.”
“Goodbye young fisherman, may your catch be bountiful.”
That night the fisherman looked to the moon and remembered the spirit’s story. He was the only one to catch fish that day and he shared his bounty with his family. He wondered what the spirit was trying to tell him and sighed. Maybe the sunrise would tell him what the full moon could not.
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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by the Yumud description in CURRENT RESEARCH IN ETHNOMUSICOLOGY, Vol. 4 = Jose` S. Buenconsejo : Songs and Gifts at the Frontier : Person and Exchange in the Agusan Manobo Possession Ritual. Philippines. Routledge, NY & London, 2002.
Yumud Illustration by Alek Weber
FB: Beartrap, par Alekibutt
