As her pregnancy continues, Nina has a meeting with Daaga, the village shaman and healer who will serve as her midwife when the time comes.

Part 3! Not much else to say. Pretty self-explanatory. Take a gander!

Commission story for  geckoguy123456789

COMMENTS ARE THE BEST PLEASE GIVE ME ALL OF THEM

<<< PREV | FIRST | NEXT >>>

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


11 DECEMBER

I have never stayed in Brazil long enough to experience winter here, especially not deep in the rainforest. You can't imagine my shock when, on a sweltering and humid afternoon, I opened this journal to discover it was already December. If only I had brushed up on my geography before this visit and I would have remembered. It is colder at night than I imagined it, but I can't help but chuckle at the reaction the Naragaka have to the cold. When I tell Chitani and Davi of the dreary rainfall of London, they think I am describing something out of Naragakan Hell. Of course, my current state leaves me more resistant to the cold than I am normally.

By now, I am roughly 15 to 16 weeks pregnant and, to the delight of myself and my new family, I am beginning to look the part. The tiny slope of a bump I was gifted a few months ago is beginning to blossom into the gentle hill of a baby belly. I would be able to hide it with a shirt, but I live my life here with very little clothing than I'm used to, my growing stomach visible to any sidelong glance. I don't particularly mind, however. I'm feeling more confident than I have in many years, so baring my belly open to the world feels more natural here.
Despite being pregnant, I'm not allowed to sit aside and tend solely to the growing fruit of my womb. Chitani has been teaching me some of the home-making skills and jobs I'm expected to do as a woman. I'm still somewhat frustrated at being delegated to certain tasks because of my sex, but the anthropologist in me forces me to hold my tongue, knowing that this is simply how many cultures develop. I'm not so keen on keeping my thoughts silent to my family. Davi understands my frustration; he at least has more of an idea of the world I come from. But he advises me, wisely, not to stir the pot; as a small, pregnant outsider to the village, it would be best if I did not challenge their way of things. Strangely enough, Chitani joins the parties of men who forage and hunt out in the forest. When I ask why, she and Davi usually change the subject. Perhaps this isn't my place to ask, either.

While weaving baskets, peeling fruit, and cleaning vegetables is not my idea of engaging activity, it leaves me time to my thoughts and to work on my field notes. I've nearly filled up one of the three notebooks I have with observations of the Naragaka's life and culture, and I haven't learned a single thing about their religion yet. And, to be frank, as my body grows larger and heavier with the life Davi and I have made, I'm more than content to stay in one place. While not working on either task, I'm happy to just relax and contemplate the tiny kinkajou baby growing inside me. There isn't a time one of my hands isn't splayed against my stomach, just waiting to feel a flutter or a movement from deep inside. I haven't felt anything yet, but I'm expecting to any day.

It is slow, glacially slow, but I believe many of the tribeswomen are beginning to grow used to my presence. The women living around Davi home used to shoot me strange and hostile looks as I'd sit outside and work, gossiping to one another in whispers. I was fortunate not to understand much of their language yet, though I didn't want to know what they were saying about me anyway. But over the past few months, they seemed to grow more tolerant of my presence. The gossiping seems all to have stopped, as have the secretive glances and other exclusions. Perhaps they were simply becoming more used to seeing me around, but I think my pregnancy might have something to do with it. Maybe I seem less of a threat as I grow more obviously with child. I don't know much about the Naragaka's religion or belief system yet, but they seem very pious toward fertility.

This morning, I had woken up before Chitani and Davi. I usually go back to sleep after a few minutes of this occurring, but the sound of the birds outside and the sunlight just beginning to crest over the trees made me want to get up. It's getting difficult to sit up comfortably, so I had to roll over onto my hands and knees to stand up. I was still unclothed from the night before and, for once, I didn't bother putting anything on. I walked out into the clearing wearing nothing but my fur, dusting my tail idly in the dirt with my hair falling over my shoulders. It was a cool, quiet sunrise, the daytime heat not yet bearing down on us. I didn't do much of anything other than take advantage of my time alone and contemplate the turn my life had taken.
Of course, my hands instinctively rested over my belly, scratching the itchy skin beneath my fur as it began to stretch. I cradled it, like I eventually will the child inside, and sighed. I thought about them, wondering what kind of person they were going to be. My own identity had always been a mystery to me, but having a baby, creating a new life, another person, was a way of sharing myself in a way I had never thought about before. Truthfully, I had never imagined having a family in any kind of realistic sense; I was always feeling like an outcast, an outsider to my own home. But being around so many other kinkajou, let alone carrying one in my womb, has made me re-think my place in the universe, what role I fill. Why I'm alive at all.

I was so distracted with my thoughts that I didn't notice the flap from one of the nearby huts open. I caught her out of the corner of my eye as she came outside, wrapped in a thin blanket. She was an older, more quiet woman, with a pre-teen son I'd seen following her around the village. She stood away from me, looking up at the sky as the orange began to turn blue and the clouds began to form. When she turned in my direction, I looked down quickly, not wanting her to think I was watching her. But as I glanced up, I saw the she was indeed watching me. My heart started to thump against my bared chest. I felt so exposed, almost angry to have been intruded on while having a private moment with my unborn child. I sighed, trying to remember that I was the guest in this place.
With a shuffle of the dried leaves, the older kinkajou padded softly over to me. I swallowed, not sure what to expect. Every other tribeswoman gave me a wide berth, as if I carried some disease. This was the first time I could recall someone other than Chitani or Davi actively willing to engage me. Thankfully, as she neared, she kept silent, stopping next to me and turning to match my gaze at the sunrise cutting through the leaves above. Though we said nothing, and even if we had we wouldn't have understood one another, I think she was outside for much of the same reasons I was.

After a few silent minutes, she turned and glanced down at my tummy that I still held protectively. She turned back up and gave me a quiet, demure smile. I returned it, trying to match her expression as best I could. She shifted under her blanket to free one of her hands, which hesitated in the air for just a moment. Without a word, she turned toward me and laid her hand against my softly bulging stomach, her touch as gentle as the breeze. It was strange to feel a stranger's hand on my sensitive bump, but it wasn't unpleasant. She ran her fingers through my belly fur, examining my size and shape by her touch alone. She smiled again at me and nodded before pulling her hand away.

“Eh...” she said, quietly. “Do...you...jagin hind a ynwa?” She spoke in Naragaka, but I could only understand part of what she said. It occurs to me now that it was likely the first time in her life she had spoken to someone who didn't share her native tongue. I blinked, before smiling dumbly back at her, trying to convey my ignorance.
“Ah...eh...” She stalled, trying to find a way to make me understand. “Do...Are you able to...jagin hind a ynwa?” With a finger, she used the back of her knuckle to tap against my belly a few times. It took a moment, but I finally understood.
“Oh!” I said, smiling and curling my tail around my leg. I shook my head no, which she seemed to understand. She smiled again and patted my stomach, then made a strange motion and brought her palm to her own chest. With an affectionate smile, she shuffled away back to her hut, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. It was a peaceful moment, a connection beyond the separation of our cultures. I hope for many more of those.

I was jerked out of my memories by the sight a young tribeswoman standing expectantly above me a few meters away. Her hands were clasped behind her back and she seemed nervous, as if she was afraid to get too close to me. As I looked up and met her eyes, she blinked and smiled shyly, giving a little wave. I responded with one of my own, which eased her a bit.
“You!” She said, pointing at me. “You Davi's woman?”
“Uh...” I was learning quickly, but needed to actively shift my brain in order to remember Naragaka. “Yes.” I put a hand to my chest. “Nina. Ni-na.”
“Ni-Na,” she repeated, before excitedly beaming and pointing at me. “Nina! You tsimbtina tsit Nina!” She patted her own chest similarly, above her exposed breasts (I am still getting used to that custom). “Lalik!” She said, pointing at her excited face. “Lalik! La-lik!”
“Lalik!” I said, pointing at her, which made her clap happily. “Uhh...Hello Lalik!”
“Hello Nina!” She beamed, waving again. Lalik dropped her arm, gasping as she finally remembered what she was there for. She made a wild beckoning motion with her hand. “Come! Come, Nina!”
“Where?”
“Daaga! Daaga home!” She shuffled over and grabbed me by the shoulder, helping me to my feet. It was only as close as we were that I noticed the slight bulge to Lalik's own stomach on her otherwise slim and youthful body. It was similar in shape to my bump, but protruded less obviously and hadn't yet filled out in shape.

“Lalik!” I said, pointing to her belly. “Have young one?”
“Yes!” She said, bouncing up and down, her perky breasts bouncing with her. She took my arm and pulled it forward. “Daaga, Daaga!”
“Yes, yes. I come,” I said, racking my brain for all of the Naragaka I knew. It was nice to have a conversation in their language with someone other than Davi or his sister, who both taught more than conversed. I felt like I was making some real use out of my practice. To avoid further worrying Lalik, I followed along as she pulled me from behind by the arm, leaving my basket half-finished on the ground.

As I said before, the Naragaka seem very pious and respectful of fertility. As Lalik led me through the village, the two of us were frequently interrupted by other Naragaka, particularly tribeswomen. As we passed, they would stop us and rub our stomachs and perform the same grasping motion I had seen the woman this morning make. Of course, Lalik was stopped much more than myself. She seems to be popular around the village and her excitement about her glowing pregnancy is plain to see, even through our language barrier. Still, a number women gave my own belly a pat and even flashed an awkward smile or two at me before walking away. It's such a strangely intimate practice that I can't help but be charmed by. It gives a wonderful sense of community for the expecting mothers. I can only hope my inclusion means I am being further tolerated by the tribe.
After a while, even the bubbly Lalik seemed to be fed up with the frequent interruptions. She took me by the hand and marched determinedly through the village center and into the forest, where an old, elaborately decorated hut squatted beneath the trees like a great frog. Covered in the bones of small animals, tree branches, painted leaves, and feathers, Daaga's hut was nearly impossible to miss. A few other kinkajou women hurried in, with Lalik and I being among the last.

The interior was surprisingly dark, given the bright daylight of the forest, and lit mostly by a fire burning in the middle of the room, the smoke billowing out from a small flap in the ceiling. At least ten other tribeswomen crowded inside, the ones that knew one another whispering quietly. Lalik squeezed my hand, flashed me a soft smile, then padded off to speak to one of her friends. As I expected, each of the tribeswomen were sporting soft, rounded middles that many of them rubbed affectionately as they chatted. Some of them barely showed, while others were beginning to show a full curve as their pregnancies began to take shape. I glanced down, noticing shyly that I was one of the larger-bellied women there. As if I needed yet another reason to stand out.
The women all jumped in alarm and snapped their attention to the doorway behind me. I turned to spot the long-robed, grouchy, sharp-eyed Daaga marching in with none other than Chitani following behind. Daaga stood before the fire and stamped her thick walking staff on the ground. As if rehearsed, the women all fell into line facing her with quiet and almost military attention, with me on the far end mimicking them. Chitani quietly crept behind me and stood in the darkness. Daaga peered at the aligned women and made a rough noise deep in her throat. She tossed aside her walking stick and threw off the first layer of her robes to better use her arms. Flexing her fingers, she shuffled over to the first in line, on the other end, and began to inspect her.

“What's going on?” I asked Chitani, in Portuguese. “What are you doing here?”
“Daaga is the midwife to all first time mothers,” Chitani whispered. “This is the first examination.”
“Do you work with her?”
“No no no,” Chitani shook her head. “She called me back for you. She knows you don't speak our language and...well, Daaga does not like to repeat herself.”
“I'm learning!” I hissed, defensively.
“Either way,” Chitani continued. “You'll need to understand what she tells you.”
The two were interrupted by a fit of high-pitched giggling from Lalik, who was being examined by Daaga, the old woman's fingers tickling her sensitive belly. After a pause, Lalik glanced around the room at the other mothers and cleared her throat, returning to silence. Daaga sighed and shook her head, yet held an amused smirk on her face.
“What is she like?” I whispered. “Daaga, I mean.”
“She is...” Chitani frowned, tapping her tail on the ground as she thought. “She is very wise. One of our old ones. We trust her. But...someone can be good without being kind.” Chitani quickly tapped me on the back and straightened my shoulders for me, pulling my hair down my back. “Stand up straight. Here she comes.”

Like our encounter months ago in the village center, Daaga slid into view in front of me, glaring daggers into my eyes. Flexing her fingers, she stuck her hands underneath my arms guided me to raise them upward, giving her more room to examine my stomach. She gripped my waist, digging her fingers into my belly uncomfortably as she felt out its size and shape. I grunted once in discomfort, yet said nothing to protest.
Daaga spoke a long string of Naragaka in her harsh voice.
“'I don't know why you came here,'” Chitnai translated. “'Or what it is that you want. But it is my duty to keep you healthy as you carry a Naragaka child. We cannot afford a dead foreigner because she would not listen to my advice.” Daaga squeezed my waist again, making me squirm. Her hands more delicately spread over my bump to examine its shape. She pulled at the garment I wore around my chest and made a sharp tug on the fabric. I hesitated, but eventually took them off, exposing my breasts. I blushed beneath my fur, my tail curling around my leg, as she hefted both of them in her hands, squeezing them to test their weight and running a finger or two over my nipples. She spoke again.
“'At least your child will be well-fed,'” Daaga raised an eyebrow. “'If that is not too primitive for you, outsider.'”
Even through a language barrier, I understood mocking when I heard it. Still, I bit my tongue and said nothing. Daaga let go of my breasts, letting me pull down my makeshift bra. More surprisingly, she pulled aside my tunic and tugged down my undergarments, using two fingers to examine my vagina. I snapped around to glance alarmedly at Chitani, who simply shook her head.

“This is normal,” she whispered into my ear. “Let her work.”
I winced uncomfortably as she spread apart my lower lips and prodded inside with her other fingers. As strange and uncomfortable as it was, it was very dispassionate and almost surgical the way she touched me, nodding to herself every few minutes. She pulled away and wiped her hand off on the front of her tunic, letting me quickly drop to pull my loincloth back up. Daaga spoke again in Naragaka.
“'You are healthy so far. More fat than most Naragaka women. You will grow much larger, I think. You must eat only figs and two eggs a day until we meet next.'” I swallowed, resting a hand against my belly. I had suspected that I was growing larger than normal. At least the baby was healthy.

Daaga began to walk away, but paused. She turned back and marched closer to me. Standing as close as she could, she scowled at me and spat Naragaka at me, faster than I could even think to understand. Instead of translating, Chitani spoke back to her in her native tongue, but was interrupted by a quick hiss by Daaga before she spun on her heel and marched to the other side of the hut.
“What did she say?” I asked. Chitani sighed.
“She...she said...'If you do not lie, and you indeed carry Davi's child, then it is because you tricked him. I do not know what you want with us, but I do not trust you. You are not welcome here.'”
A cold feeling traveled up my spine. My tail twisted around itself like a dying snake as I felt an unexpected rage flowing through my body. Looking back, I realize how out of character it was (more than likely a hormonal side effect of my pregnancy), but at the time, my anger was something powerful and alive that I couldn't control. Resisting the pull of Chitani, I marched across the floor of the hut and stood over Daaga, glaring at the old woman with a powerful rage I couldn't believe was my own.

“I love Davi,” I said, in Naragaka. “Davi is my bimawa.” I put a hand over my stomach. “This is my child.” I continued to glare as I tried to remember the words, finally spitting out. “That is why I am here.”
The atmosphere in the hut was thick and anxious as I clenched my fists, staring down at the Daaga with hot anger bleeding out of me. Part of me felt like I was about to cry. Chitani, Lalik, and the rest of the women stared at me in shock from the back of the room. Daaga turned around to glance up and down at me. We locked eyes, mine nearly watering. She blinked slowly, staring up at me.

“Fine.” She said, slowly enough that I could understand. “Just remember your diet.”
Daaga nonchalantly threw her robe over her shoulder and picked up her walking stick, only to quietly plod out the door passed all the stunned onlookers. I sighed, feeling fatigued from the sudden anger. Chitana crossed over and looked the most surprised at all.
“Nina...nobody talks back to Daaga...” she said
“I...I know I shouldn't have but...she just made me so...” I clenched my fists again.
“But she didn't scream at you? She didn't throw you out or refuse to see you? She just...left.”
“Does that mean something?” I asked.
“I don't know...” Chitani said, sighing. “If I were crazy, I would say that she was starting to like you.”

“Then it's a good thing you aren't crazy,” I said. Chitani shook her head and we exited Daaga's hut. We said our goodbyes as she went out to catch up with the foraging party out in the forest. The other pregnant tribeswomen filed out past me. Some of them refused to look at me, a few cast suspicious glances in my direction, and at least Lalik stopped to rub my belly and call me a 'friend' before bouncing away. At the end of the line, a tall, imposing, almost amazonian kinkajou woman stopped and glared at me. She may have been one of the women I'd met while coming into the village, but I wasn't sure.

“You are kinkajou,” she said, in a deep voice. She jabbed a finger into my protruding stomach. “You have Naragaka child.” She balled up her fist and pointed to the middle of my chest as she hissed, “You are not Naragaka.” Huffing angrily, she strode off on her long legs, tail whipping back and forth. I was too exhausted to even say something back.

Perhaps I'm just lucky for friendly girls like Lalik, but I'm afraid that my tolerance, if not my acceptance, into this tribe will be a long uphill battle. I pray for a new ally on my side.