Raising A Human

Mohag has prepared their morning meal. He and Moshe have decided to take turns with different tasks and chores. Moshe has been teaching the child to do all the things that he can do. If something happens to him, he wants the boy to be able to take care of himself.

Each morning, Mohag does not remember walking to the sea to stand before the lights, Moshe has asked him about it. The boy’s use of spoken language has improved greatly and seems to increase with each new day. “Somehow,” Moshe thinks, “The lights ritual that he performs each night is increasing his intelligence.”

While sharing their meal, Mohag asks, “Moshe, my father, what did you do in the world of humans before you became stranded on this island?”

“Yes, I guess I should begin preparing you for the world out there. Someday, hopefully, we will be rescued, and you will experience the modern society and the many other humans, with whom we share this planet.”

Moshe begins describing the government role that he serves, and of his interactions with other humans.

He tells the boy of his travels and of journeying to exotic lands. He explains the climate crisis, and of the demands that it is making on the environment and all life.

Mohag grows silent for a while, as they clean away the remains of their breakfast. The boy is deep in thought, considering the things that Moshe has just shared with him. They are preparing a trip to the pond, to swim and fill the water containers. With their gear in tow, the duo leaves the cave.

They are entering the forest, Mohag asks, “Moshe, my father, when you spoke of the climate and the changing weather patterns, and the suffering it is bringing, you said that humans are causing this to happen.”

“Yes, Mohag, my son,” Moshe puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The types of fuels that we have been using to maintain our modern societies, for centuries, continues to add carbon to our atmosphere.”

“Why then do humans do this? Moshe, my father, this does not make sense, does it to you?”

Moshes chuckles to himself, “In answer to your first question, why do we ‘continue to do it’? I have been asking myself this very thing for decades now.”

Moshe’s is somber. “And no, it does not make any sense. The world will continue to warm. I am not sure that humanity can save itself from what is coming.”

“Moshe, my father, when we are rescued and return to your world, we will tell them, you and me. We will tell them that they must stop putting more carbon into the air.”

Moshe laughs, “Forgive me, my son, I know that you are sincere. I laugh at your wisdom to solve the climate crisis. You are still young and yet you understand. You are an intelligent child. You see the world with honest eyes.”

Mohag is pleased with his father’s compliment. Moshe places his hand on Mohag’s shoulder, “I noticed that you said, ‘when we are rescued’. How is it that you believe we will be rescued?”

Mohag looks within himself, searching for an answer to Moshe’s question. “It is not something that I believe, but...it...feels correct. I think this will happen, Moshe, my father.”

After their time at the pond, the two perform different tasks. Mohag travels into the forest to gather more firewood. He has crafted tie bands made from weaved grass. The bands are laid upon the ground and the tree limbs and branches that he gathers are placed across them. The bands are then drawn in, tightened, and tied, allowing the bundle to be carried over his shoulder.

Moshe takes the grass weaved shopping bag that Mohag had crafted. He travels to the top of the cliff, above their cave. He has noticed several flowering plants growing here. The flowers are in many different colors. He will gather dried flowers for the purpose of creating different colored paints. Mohag had learned to draw with a stick so easily. Moshe wants to expose the boy to painting.

At the cave, Moshe sees the large pile of broken branches beside the small fire pit. The boy has been busy. He enters the cave to work on his projects. He hopes to inspire the artistic ability in his son. He had gathered several pieces of flat tree bark. He crumbles the dried flowers and makes small powdery piles of different colors on the bark palette. He has several small twigs, that he has chewed the ends. They are not exactly paint brushes, but they will work as such.

The day before he had gathered the items needed for his next project. He had stored them in a corner of the cave. He gathers the forest twine and the large rubbery leaves he picked from a bush near the pond. He places a hand size stone inside a leaf, rolling the plant’s leaf and covering the rock. Then he wraps twine around it several times, tying off each strand.

He repeats the process of leaves and twine over and over, until he completes the island futbol. It is round, it has the proper weight, but it rolls with a bit of a wobble. He will teach Mohag how to play the game, despite having the proper equipment.

Mohag returns to the cave and discovers that Moshe has prepared their lunch. Two leaf platters are ready for them both. The platters are filled with fruit, berries and the fish that was left over from the morning meal. Mohag reports that he has stored much firewood in the small cave. They will be able cook their meals for several days, without the need to gather more.

Mohag notices the pieces of tree bark with the different colored piles of dried flowers. “What is this Moshe, my father?”

“That is for an art lesson. Tonight, after our evening meal, I will show you how to paint pictures on the wall.” Moshe picks up the soccer ball. “And if you will pick up those cane stakes by the doorway and your stone hammer, we will go down to the beach for your first lesson of futbol.”

They move down the cliff, Moshe begins to explain the game to Mohag. The boy asks many questions. He always asks questions. As the child has matured his language and his questions are becoming more complicated and interesting.

At the beach, with Moshe instructions, Mohag drives the stakes in the ground which will be their goal markers. Moshe rolls the ball around with his feet, moving towards Mohag and then away from him. “When I was a boy, I would play futbol with my friends.” He kicks the ball in the air and bounces it off his head several times.

Moshe continues to show his skills of the game while explaining the rules and how to score. Finally, he kicks the ball towards the boy, “Now Mohag, you try to move the ball towards your goal. I will try to take the ball from you and move it to my goal. You will need to stop me.” Mohag shakes his head. His smile causes his face to shine. Moshe again, experiences a familiarity with the expression on the boy’s face.

Mohag runs at the ball and kicks it hard. The ball sails over Moshe’s head, bounces near the goal and then rolls in. “Moshe, my father, look, like that? Is that how I score?”

Moshe laughs hard, “Well, I was not expecting you to pick it up so fast, but yes, exactly like that, you have scored!”

The two engage in the game. Mohag takes the ball from Moshe each time, and scores. Moshe enjoys watching the boy run and play. Mohag has never seemed happier. Suddenly, Moshe sees it in the boy, the familiar face. Now he understands.

The current score is six to zero. Moshe holds his hands up in laughter. “My son, you have mastered the game. I surrender. Besides, you have made me tired. I cannot keep up with you. You are a challenging opponent. I will rest over here in the shade. You continue to practice with the ball.” He walks towards one of the black rocks to rest.

Mohag moves the ball further down the beach. He is kicking it towards rocks and trees, causing it to bounce off his chosen targets. Moshe watches him and is sure of his suspicion. Mohag is an exact duplicate of himself, only younger. The boy is growing and maturing to become Moshe’s double. But why?

Mohag finally tires from kicking and chasing the ball around the beach. The two of them walk back to the cave. “Mohag, I was watching you run on the beach, and I noticed something special about you. You are exactly as I was, when I was a boy of ten or twelve years old. You look like me, you sound like me. I believe when you mature to full adulthood, you will be my twin.”

Mohag answers matter-of-factually, “But Moshe, my father, of course I am like you. I am from you.”

“Yes, my son, you are.”

The evening meal has been put away, and the fire pit has been tended. “Mohag, please bring over a bottle of water.” Moshe picks up the bark palette and takes a place on the floor, against the cave’s back wall. He takes the water from Mohag, pouring and mixing it with each dried flower pile.

Moshe dips his brush in an orange tinted mixture and makes markings on the wall. He paints two stick figured people, with one being smaller than the other. “This is us Mohag, what do you think?”

“Moshe, my father, this is wonderful.” Moshes hands him the bark and shows him the twig brushes to use for different colors. “What shall I paint?”

“Start with something simple, perhaps a cloud that you see in the sky.” He points beyond the cave’s opening to the sky above the horizon. “There, do you see that little cloud? Can you paint that on the wall?”

The boy walks to the front of the cave and looks out at the scene. He then examines the different colors on the bark. “I will try Moshe, my father.”

With a few strokes, using an almost white paint, Mohag paints a cloud on the wall. Moshe laughs, “As I was expecting, you are a gifted artist.”

Mohag takes several looks back and forth, from the wall to the skyline. Moshe stands and gathers their water containers. “Since there is about an hour’s worth of sunlight left, I will collect water, and bring back some fruit and berries. Please continue to try your hand at painting. I am excited to see what you will create while I am gone.”

When Moshe returns, Mohag hears him approaching the cave. He sets aside his painting tools and runs to the cave’s entrance. Moshe approaches and Mohag holds up a hand, “Stop, wait. I do not want you to see it until it is finished!”

Laughing and holding out the items he carries, “Then take these, Mister Artist, and place them in the cave.”

Mohag puts away the items, “Moshe, my father, will you help me with this painting?”

“And how shall I do that, if I cannot see it?”

“I will show you. Close your eyes.” The boy leads Moshe to a place on the floor, just inside of the entrance. Moshe is facing out, toward the beach. He can feel the salty breeze. He keeps his eyes closed.

Mohag goes back to his work. “And Mister Artist, for how long, shall I sit in darkness?”

“You may open your eyes, but do not look until I am finished.”

Moshe points to the horizon, “The sun will be gone soon, it may prove to be difficult to paint in the dark.”

“I am almost finished. Be patient.”

He makes several more strokes with his brush, “Tomorrow, you can show me how to make the paint. I have used it all.” He puts his tools away, “Come Moshe, my father and see what I have painted for you.”

Moshe stands and turns to see the painting. “Oh, my Ancestors! Mohag! This is wonderful!” Moshe searches through the fire pit to find a branch that he can hold. He locates one and enters the darkening cave.

He moves back and forth with the little torch, examining each section of the scene. He looks out toward the horizon and back to the painting. Mohag painted the scene from the cave’s entrance. He even framed the scene, using darker shades to color the cave’s jagged opening.

He had mixed streaks of white and yellow to designate the sandy beach. The darker sea he painted using the charcoal paint. There are scattered tuffs of white streaks upon the waves. The sky is blue. He used darker colors to join it to the sea.

The one feature of the scene that touches Moshe’s heart most is the representation of two silhouetted people. They are on the floor, beside each other, looking out. “Moshe, my father, this is us!” The boy laughs.

Moshe notices that he used orange paint to represent them, as well. “Mohag, this is beautiful. I notice that you did not include the sun in your scene, is that because the sun is lowering on the horizon.”

“I thought of trying to depict it, but I do not have enough colors.”

Moshe takes the palette in his hands and points to the red and yellow paint that remains. “Could these have been used to color the sun?

“There are not enough colors here, to paint the sun, as I see it. When I look at the sun, I see many colors.”

“And so, you look like me, but have much better eyesight than I.” They laugh.

Mohag is upon his bed. Moshe is on his mat. “Moshe, my father, you have given much to me. You provide my clothes and food, and you teach me how to live here on the island. These are very good things that you have given me.”

“It is what a parent does for their child. I am glad to do these things and watch you grow. I believe you are becoming a very fine human.”

“I give you the painting, Moshe, my father. It is a gift to you for all that you have given me.”

“I am honored my son. It is the greatest gift that I have ever received.”

“When I am fully matured and become an adult as you are, I wish to be a man just like you?”

“That is a kind thing to say. I think you will be a better man than I.”

“I am learning many things from you. I am learning how to be a human.”

“So, tell me, my son, what have you learned? What does it mean to be a human, to my little Mohag, futbol player and artist?” They both laugh.

“To be a human means to watch over another, for this is how you are. You watch over me.”

It is the darkest time of the night. Mohag rises in response to the lights beckoning him to the ritual. Moshe is in a deep sleep and does not hear Mohag leaving. He is dreaming.

He sees a cloaked man walking towards him across the burning desert sands. Moshe is tired and hot from the glaring sun. He kneels beside a bush to take shelter in the small shadow and rest from the heat. The man approaches him. The sun is behind the traveler. Moshe looks up and sees only the silhouette of a cloaked man.

The traveler hands him a skin of water. The water is cool. “Drink, my son. Be refreshed and strengthened, for you must finish your work.” The man speaks in his father’s voice.

It is not the voice of drunken rage, nor is it the voice of a sick and angry old man, dying in a hospital. It is the voice of his father as a young man, when they lived the desert lifestyle. When they lived the true life of their people. When his father was still a good man.

Moshe drains the skin and feels the satisfaction of a thirst that has been quenched. He feels invigorated and sustained by powers from other realms. His ancestors cheer him on. Their praises fill his heart, and he knows that whatever work he is to finish, he will succeed. He will be responsible to his tribe. It is the right thing to do, as his father taught him when he was young.

He asks the traveler, “What is the work that I must finish? What is the task that I must perform?”

The hooded man answers, “You have been chosen to save the world. The darkness now spreads. You must take your light and stand against it. The way will be difficult and costly, but only you can do it.”

“Father, if I may call you that? How can I, just a lone man, save the world?”

“My son,” the father declares, “there is only one way for you to save the world now, you must give your light to the darkness. If it is received, the darkness will become illuminated. If your light is pure, humanity will continue, and if not, all shall perish. Shine brightly my son.”