Many stories of the living are told but there is another part that is filled with its own adventures. For life does not end, obliterated and obsolete, after death. There are journeys for the afterlife. And you may wonder, how it is we get there. Tonight, I tell you about the carriers of souls.
Siblings are strange for there is no singular bond that exists between them. They may be enemies or the best of friends. Some go beyond friendship into love and others go beyond enemies to true nemeses. There may be a thread of all of these in one relationship but, generally, the most changed relationship is of that with a sibling. And so it was with the siblings who were born to a zikwa father and an acha mother.
This partnership had resulted in children many times before. This time, however, there was something different. They’d had clutches of acha and zikwa and a mix thereof. Never before had they had a kimeti child, let alone two. It was a bit startling, if not a pleasant surprise. The fact that they were not twin kimeti was also quite interesting for they had almost always had one set of twins in their clutches of offspring. It seemed this time, instead of twins, they had two new type of children altogether.
From the beginning, the kimeti children were bonded. The acha son had bright clear eyes that saw very little and he believed in beauty and kindness from the start. The zikwa daughter also had bright eyes though she saw about the same as her brother. Instead of goodness, she believed in suspicion. That left the eldest, another zikwa whose eyes had been blinded by the growth of skin. And so they were the only two children that could see clearly and yet it left them both a little baffled.
Their mother was helpful and nurturing but they thought of themselves as the same. A team in the midst of two zikwa and an acha, of a set of parents, of achas, and of zikwas. Children, however, grow and as they do viewpoints change and perspectives come into play. For twins, it might be difficult to be two beings; for the siblings, it became difficult to be one.
The eldest of the kimeti, the daughter born right in the middle of the clutch, was called Sight by her siblings but it was not her name. She was their eyes, a guide to the blind ones that suffered from poor eyesight. She watched her acha brother—Believer—who was so sure that everyone was kind and pure of heart. She watched her zikwa sister—Caution—who thought the whole world was a trap. She didn’t agree with either; she believed in her kimeti brother and that was it because he was the same as her. Or so she thought.
The kimeti son did believe in his kimeti sister. He also believed them to be one and the same. It was hard not to when the youngest acha had the world to watch over him and the elders were two zikwa who could not see well. It seemed as though there were pairs of them. Where his sister thought only he was trustworthy, he thought they were all to look out for each other. Trustless and Webwoven could not have been more different in their outlooks.
It did not take long for fissures to start in the bond between the kimeti siblings. A gesture unreciprocated, a potential friend scared off, little things that were meant to maintain them closer perhaps but life often comes down to endurance. And thus little things became bigger disagreements—Trustless began to scare off more than just potential friends of her brother and Webwoven took too much care in how others that were not him or his sister were doing. Eventually, it came to blows.
In the dead of winter, no less.
The kimeti siblings had ventured to a family reunion as the solstice came near. It felt awkward to Trustless but Webwoven was quite delighted to meet new siblings. Even more so when it became evident that their baby brother had children of his own. Webwoven wanted nothing more to show them in gifts and love; Trustless, however. . .
“He should eat first. The little ones will be hungry,” Webwoven was adamant that they be taken care of first.
“Then he can find his own rabbits. I caught these for us,” Trustless hissed back. If their baby brother had children, let him care for them.
“He can’t leave the children to hunt!”
“A pity for him then, isn’t it?”
“Then give me my rabbit and he can have it.”
It should have been a compromise. Instead, Trustless found it to be a slap in the face. She’d hunted for these rabbits. She’d decided that they were for her and her kimeti brother. And now he was going to give away her present? The kimeti doe bristled.
“No.” It was harsh and loud, teeth clenched tight in insult. “I caught it for you to eat. Not him.”
“But if it’s mine then I should be able to do what I wish with it!”
“It’s mine and I deign to share it with you,” she warned.
Webwoven blinked. Mine and yours were not words they had tended to before. Me and my, you and yours. They were a pair, a set. Or so they had always thought before.
“Then I will get my own rabbit!” he finally hurled back, storming off to find a meal to share with his brother and his brother’s children.
Trustless narrowed her eyes and left. She wouldn’t come back to see the family they shared. Nor would she ever see Webwoven again. At least, not in life. For though both of them lived, neither one of them could forgive.
In death, the siblings found each other again. Not much—nothing at all, in fact—had changed. Trustless was still concerned with herself; Webwoven was still concerned with others. And it may not have mattered but even restless souls need something to do.
Webwoven tried to be useful which was a hard feat in death. Even harder is caring for one’s self, as there was no hungry or thirst to abate, no harm to flee. In short, there really was nothing for either of them. And so when they did meet, old wounds reopened.
Surprisingly, it was Webwoven who hurled the first stone, “Enjoy any rabbits recently?”
“I’m sure you haven’t. You never were good at capturing prey,” she shot back.
It was true and hurt all the more for it, he thought.
“You died bitter and alone, just like you lived. You couldn’t care about anyone but yourself,” he snarled.
“And caring for others got you so far? You’re just as dead as I am!”
It left them at a standstill. It could have left them there forever. Instead, a crane offered them a chance at something different.
“You each think you are right and the other wrong. What if you’re wrong and the other is right? What if neither of you is right?” the crane asked the two kimetis. When neither chose to respond, “There are many souls such as you, lost and wandering the swamp of the living. I could use some help ferrying them about. Which of you would be better at it, do you think?”
That, of course, renewed the squabbling between the siblings but the crane was quick to nip it in the bud.
“A trial for both of you then,” the crane decided. It approached each kimeti and looked them over before voicing its decision.
“You, Trustless, will guide souls to the heavens. Since you believe no one to be deserving, you will have to find a way to bestow belief on others.”
The crane watched the doe’s face become incredulous at the direction and noted the buck smirking at his sister’s discontent.
“You, Webwoven, will guide souls to the hells. You will have to choose punishments for those who you believe have done no wrongs.”
Now both kimeti looked stricken but before they could consider arguing the point, the crane was gone.
Trustless rebounded first. She was determined to do better than her brother and, without a word, stormed off to do something about it.
The doe mulled over the task for days without much success. She encountered a lot of lost souls like herself and, for all she didn’t think they were wrong, she couldn’t bring herself to herald them up least she ruminate on her own reasons for still remaining in the swamp. For all the souls she met that reminded her of her brother, she found herself enraged at the thought of helping them. More so, she found herself at a loss. She was still so angry and unable to move forward. She was stuck.
Webwoven was no better off. He had always tried to be helpful and he couldn’t condemn anyone else for that approach to life. The more he tried, the most he missed his sister. She could have done this without blinking but he couldn’t do anything without his stomach twisting into knots.
A week passed with no difference before the two met again. Webwoven was clearly struggling and, for once, Trustless offered no mask to conceal her own challenges.
“I don’t see how anyone deserves to be sent above for letting life do as it pleases,” she admitted.
“Nor do they deserve to be sent below for simply surviving to their best ability,” he agreed.
“I thought we were the same, a pair,” Trustless started, “but then you didn’t value me. Just everyone else.”
“I did value you! I thought we had so much that we should share, is all,” he refuted.
“You didn’t appreciate what I did, only what I caught and who you could give it to,” she argued sadly.
“It seemed so easy for you. I didn’t think it took effort. Just like it never took effort for me to give,” he shrugged.
In this, the two began to admit mistakes and fears and challenges. It wasn’t until the crane returned that they told it of their failure to help any soul at all.
“Nonsense,” the crane chuckled. “You helped each other and now, together, I believe you can both help me.”
The crane looked at Webwoven first, “You have a lot to learn about yourself and your sister. It is not always so easy to take but you shall have to in order to live.”
It turned then to Trustless, “And sometimes you must give. There’s more to living than making sure you come out first.”
The crane considered them carefully, then shrieked. No longer did two kimeti stand before it. Now there was a caiman and a songbird.
“Together you’ll ferry lost souls to where they want to go. Together you make decisions. Together you can be whole.”
And so it was the once-kimeti became the carriers of souls. One of them was a caiman that could take from the depths to give to the songbird. Sometimes, it took from the songbird to take to the below. One of them was a songbird that could give to the heavens after it took from the caiman. Sometimes, it took from the heavens to give to the caiman. It was all a balance. Tandem, teamwork, thought.
Which one was the caiman and which one was the songbird? Everyone has different opinions on that. It might be that the doe was blessed a songbird to learn to give. It might be that the buck was blessed a caiman to learn to take. It could have been the opposite, for their natural abilities were what made them a great team. Or, perhaps, there was a little bit in each of them in both animals. No one ever said they stayed a caiman and songbird all the time.