Oguina Builds a Fire

That night I had to sleep outside on the ground near the edge of the village. I could hear the Natives singing songs in gentle, melancholy tones near their large campfire. Quadequina had left me with some sticks to build my own fire, but I didn’t know how. When some of the Indians walked by and saw that I had yet to build a fire I guess it confirmed their suspicion that I was helpless.

They had shared some corn soup and bread with me for supper, but I was still hungry. I felt exhausted, but it was difficult to sleep. I lay down on the grass and tried to relax, but the thought of moving on to another village in the morning had me worried. A fresh, cool breeze began to rustle through the tree tops. I could smell rain. Perfect.

“Zammie.”

“I sat up and saw Quadequina’s sixteen-year-old daughter standing over me. Her lean legs seemed to rise up forever.

“Oguina?”

“Where’s your fire?” she asked me.

“I can’t build one.”

“Here.” She handed me a thin strip of cooked deer meat. “I grabbed this for you.”

“Thank you.” I ate the venison quickly. It was warm and delicious.

Oguina knelt down and picked up the flint rocks from the pile that her father had left me. “Let me show you. First you need a pit.” She took one of the larger sticks and dug out a shallow hole in the ground maybe two feet wide and a few inches deep. Then she grabbed some of the smaller sticks and some dried moss and put them together in a pile in the middle of the pit. Then she began chipping the flint rocks creating sparks until the weeds began to smolder. She gently blew on the smoking embers, holding her long hair back with her hands, until a small flame began to grow. Then she placed some of the larger sticks into the flame and it started to really burn.

“Wow. Do all the kids know how to do that?”

“Of course.” Her eyes sparkled in the light of the small fire.

“I guess that’s why they’re sending me away. They can tell I don’t belong here, can’t they?”

“It wasn’t always like this,” she said. Her smile faded. “A few years ago they would have let you stay and be trained by one of the smaller families. But we’ve had so many die from sickness. I guess my uncle feels there’s no one here willing to help teach you.” She had a beautiful face. Her skin color was similar to mine, but her facial features were longer and better defined.

“Is he right? Is there no one here? I don’t wanna hafta go to another village. What if they turn me away, too?”

“I think there is room for you, but it doesn’t matter what I think. You’d have to convince Massasoit somehow.”

“How can I do that?”

“I don’t know. But I hope you think of something soon.” She looked back towards the center of the village. “I have to go back now before my father comes looking for me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

As quickly as she had arrived, she sprung up and darted away.

“Thank you,” I said.

It was hopeless. I couldn’t even build a fire much less hunt or build a hut. But there must have been a reason for me being here. Why would the Arjuna send me somewhere that I didn’t belong?

-- Oguina Builds a Fire

from Time Trip #3: Witness to the First Thanksgiving

TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 3

WITNESS TO THE FIRST THANKSGIVING 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 1

THE JOURNEY TO ANCIENT GREECE 

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TIME TRIP ADVENTURE 2

A RIDE ON THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD

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