Chapter 8: It Takes a Village
We have disagreements over how to share our limited sleeping space. The general sentiment is that we must construct more buildings. Given the problems we have come to expect in this terrain, the construction details are still being debated. Čogon, being the architect among us, insists that "raising a barn onto stilts" is ridiculous, and instead attempts to reinvent housing entirely. Our compromise is to make a small simple hut first and learn from that while Čogon develops his ideas.
Rabîl, his daughter Išül, and I are clearing the site and digging holes for the columns. She has a morbid worldview, and not in the humorous sense. As a loosely translated example, "If the bog wants to swallow us, did you upset it, or is this how we tell it to stop?" Yet she seems untroubled, fascinated even. I can almost sympathise. Rabîl is far less talkative, but pleasant to work with. I only wish I wouldn't have to hold him by the scruff about the scale of this construction.
Tosirid spent the past days cutting wood with Dodåk and Îgboth. We have now pieced together why this family moved here.
Rabîl spent his youth training to become a smith, and the Walled Hall was looking for an apprentice at the time. But he does not enjoy warfare, and not for a lack of courage. "Liruk guz. Nadak etest." While he was still making up his mind on this, he fell in love with somebody from the local convent of Kirar. This is how Išül came to be.
Rabîl must've come to regret the circumstances, perhaps he was simply young and foolish. Dodåk was also worried for the childs well-being, harbouring her own doubts about the monastery. She is a stern troll who punishes deviance and dangerous behaviour. By their attention for Išül, these two got together and had a child of their own, Îgboth. Besides the concerns about family-friendliness in their religious milieu, there must have been some social tension. It seems cruel to drive a family with a three-year-old child away into untamed wilderness.
This construction is unsuccessful. Luckily, Čogon holds no grudge in light of an exciting new project. Mattöl and Darikon have helped him orchestrate it. The former seems overall passive, while her husband is so conceited, it makes Čogon seem humble. I suppose Čogon only ever held his ideas to high esteem, not himself. We'll see if Darikon deserves the appreciation he expects from us.
Išül has taken a liking to our cat and vice versa. She names it Belulthuš.
We still do not know much about Üsën, who eludes all prying, and Båb, who only talks about wanting to be a good father to Detam. They don't seem to mind raising their children alongside the others, so for now, we agree to accept their mystery.
Working with dried reeds is slow, but the stilt house is coming along well and standing sturdy so far. It is about time, the rain hardly intermits anymore.