Dancing man

Dancing Man (988 words)

He came from the east the dancing man. Sun a'back, dressed in black.
Absolutely awesome.

They watched him from the safety of their primitive hovels. Legs
kicking, boot heels clicking. Constant motion.

They did not fear his giant stature, nor his strange fair skin. They
feared his smell. The stench of burning and death.

But Kari put aside the smell. Only the rhythmic swaying could she see.
She yearned for more, and, shaking off restraining hands, she went into
the bright morning light, toward him.

As he knelt before him, he said in a strange tongue: May the dance be
with you! He handed her a walkman from his backpack, then put the
earphones in place. Magical sounds surged into Kari's head. Beautiful
but demanding. Her legs twitched unbidden. Hands rose from her sides.
But she resisted, took the earphones off.

He was not surprised, saying: Off and away, another day. The words
meant nothing to her, but his voice was deep and rich and for her
alone.

Turned away, he did. Still gyrating, off across the barren ground to
the shade trees, where he set up his tent, the eyes of the village upon
him.
Kari sat alone in her hovel all day, but returned to stay with her
dancing man that night.

* * * * *

He danced seven circles around their houses for six long days. Each day
more came and knelt before him. On the seventh day, he wore a long
black gown, and just sat near the shade trees humming softly. They
gathered around him, and each received the walkman. And the
incomprehensible blessing.

They tried to dance, but could not. Even with the walkman, they failed,
limbs just flailed, unprettily. He needed help.

His name was Nero, but they called him a'wayway, the whirlwind. They
endured his smell, and in time it was no more. He was part of their
being.

Then he left, with Kari. He tried to tell them he would return, but no
one understood his language. Dancing, dancing off to the high places in
the east, and beyond, where it was said that giants dwell.

Life went on. A'wayway was never discussed. Nor Kari. Walkmen were
forgotten. Then one day he returned, with Kari and two more giants.
When the four danced, the people retrieved their Walkmen. As one they
knelt before the giants, ignoring the vile smell's warning.

Kari cast herself to the ground before her people, then raised up to
meet their eyes. She spoke to them in their own language. Nero has
returned to save us all. Behold, his helpers, Twinkle and
Snapper.

The people thought they had no need of saving, but loved Kari, and they
said nothing. They were puzzled though. You can dance, Kari?

I have learnt many things. To speak with Nero. To live with giants. To
dance. She did not say that she had learnt to give birth and to give
her child away to some giant family, she knew not where.

A'wayway leant close and spoke to Kari. Twinkle and Snapper will teach
you to dance, she said to her people. A chorus rose to say this was
impossible. If I can learn, so can you. You have to trust in the
walkman.

A'wayway spoke again, and Kari translated. They will teach you every
seventh day. This will make the day special. You may not do work, like
sweeping pr hunting - this was good - nor have intercourse - this was
not good, but they were sure the giants would not know.

The dance day ritual became part of village life. Adults loved, almost
worshipped the dance, and wondered how they could have been happy
without it. Young children had extra lessons where they were taught
stories of the dance. Life was good.

One day the giants summoned the people. Snapper spoke: there were
rumours of couples having intercourse together from behind, like
animals. There would be no dance while this practice continued.

The people were enraged. Their guests had gone too far. How dare they?
The people surged forward. Twinkle stepped out with a long bent stick,
pointed slightly over their head. The stick suddenly roared. As they
came closer he held the stick lower. When it roared again, one man fell
down and lay still, blood streaming from his chest. Everyone stopped.
They feared the stick.

A'wayway ran to the man, and carried him inside, shouting angrily at
Twinkle. The people circled the giant's house, armed with hunting
spears. Stayed there, until the giants gave the man back, alive and
relatively well. But nothing could ever be the same. Trust had been
broken, and blood spilled.

* * * * *

Kari's ultimate allegiance was to her people. She told how young
village women came to the giants at night. And how the girls laughed at
the giant's unwillingness to experiment. How cruel words had been
exchanged.

Despite being identified by Kari, not one girl confessed. The elders
confronted the giants, but they denied all. An unhappy coexistence
prevailed, though the dancing restarted.

Then the first child was born. Too pale, too big to have a village
father. Denials were largely ignored. Three other girls became big with
child, and were questioned intensely, with two admitting the truth. The
coexistence tottered.

Then the final straw. Another birth, this time a woman with a partner -
and two children already. The giants were confronted: two children,
three testimonies. Refusing to confess, the giants decamped in the
silent hours, heading back east.

The people broke all the walkmen, forsook the dance, resumed their
life. But they knew the world was full of giants, who wanted the world
to dance. Their way. Only their way.

Perhaps next time, the Giants may try force. Or to charm the people
with gifts. To teach the children to speak and think as giants. Perhaps
to steal their children and raise them as their own.

What could the people do?