Baeshmunti - A Celebration of the Meregits peoples

 

So, the other night, Kitten and I were chatting and she started to spin a yarn about a strange New Year’s custom she’d heard of. It was interesting, so I wrote it down.

Baeshmunti Celebration of the Meregits peoples

By G.W.H.

 

 

There is a fertile valley in the foothills of the Mere mountains, deep in the heart of the continent. It is inhabited by the people known as the Meregits. Although their country has changed names over the centuries, as borders shift, the people still call themselves the Meregits.

 

At the end of the year, in line with the winter solstice, they have a very special new year’s celebration called ‘Baeshmunti’. In the late afternoon, each family gathers for a special feast. If there are people without family, a family will adopt them for the celebration. It is considered quite an honor for a family to adopt a single person for their celebration; as this shows their ability to welcome strangers.

 

The feast is an elaborate affair featuring a variety of special dishes. Besides several types of roasted root vegetables, there is roasted young goat stuffed with fragrant herbs, small river fish are sautéed in the berries of the Jarlow bush, made into a paste, and served on unleavened bread made from the grains of an ancient breed of wheat. A simple salad made from the wide, soft leaves of the Jarlow bush, wild onions and a vinegar made from fermented grain. For dessert, they serve sour fruit of the Fullallet tree, slathered with wild honey. All of these dishes are served in large platters made from river turtle shells.

 

At the end of the feast, and after everything is cleaned up, the families lie on their sleeping mats and reminisce about the past year and await sundown.

 

At sundown, everyone strips naked and takes up a ceremonial torch made from rushes soaked in animal fat. With lit torches, they leave their houses and join the rest of the villagers as they sing ancient songs. The songs tell of the people’s history, with new verses added every year.

The oldest and wisest woman of the village leads the walk to the sacred mudflats along the river. If she is too frail to walk, several young men are there to carry her, for it is a great honor to do so. No one is left behind, from the oldest man, to the youngest child.

Once they reach the river, they discard the burning rushes into small piles. These small piles light up the riverbank in a soft light. Then, the people cover each other in the soft mud of the riverbank.

This is the part of the river where the turtles come in the spring to mate and lay their eggs. The river turtles, which grow as big a dinner plates, are protected in the springtime, as the villagers know that overharvesting of the eggs and turtles can lead to dire shortages in years to come.

The mud signifies the troubles and tribulations that all suffered during the year. It’s not just one’s own troubles, but by putting mud on a friend or family member, one shares their troubles with that person. They in turn, share their troubles with you.

When everyone is sufficiently covered, special fragment candles made of beeswax are lit. With the soft light of the candles, the villagers parade back to the village square. Here, they march around singing the songs of the new year. Songs full of the joys of the past year, the troubles that they have surmounted and the hopes of an even better year ahead.

As the candles burn low, they all march back to the river and wash themselves clean with special fragrant soaps. This signifies the washing away of their troubles and transgressions from the fading year. While still wet, they anoint themselves with the fragrant oil extracted from the flowers and seeds of the Mar Mar tree.

Clean and smelling sweetly, they disperse back to their homes and sleeping mats for a well deserved sleep.

 

In the morning, to welcome the new year, they don new clothes, gather in a circle and exchange handmade gifts. A special breakfast is served, made from fresh fruits and vegetables. This is to signify the newness of the coming year. They also dine on a hot porridge made from ancient grains, dried fruits, fragrant twigs, and crunchy, small animal bones. This is to signify that all their lives are based on what has come before and that their life is always built on the past.

 

Just a Touch

 

Touching things

Sometimes, we have to write things down so that years later we can remind ourselves of what happened.
Back before the turn of the century, (Still love saying that just to confuse people.) in ’98, I thought of a story about a guy, Reggie, who could touch people. It ended up being a good story, if a little dark. ‘Just a Touch pt1’.
When my friend, the lovely Miss T, read it; she said, ‘GW, how come you never write a story about us?’ So I wrote the second story with her and Miss S. She liked it, even though it did not portray her in a good light. ‘JT#2’
In ’00 I thought of additional info on Reggie and got halfway through writing JT#3 when I realized that it was crap and the facts were wrong; so I abandoned it. (But wisely, did not throw it away.) Seventeen years later, ’15, I thought of more details to explain my character Jamie Skinner. And to do it, I had to add Billy McGregor. JT#4 aka Wicked Pissah. Now mind you, these are all little five to seven page stories and they pretty well stand alone, mostly.
So last summer, ‘18’, I reread the stories and realized I had to explain Billy! Cake, I thought. Everything began to fill my head and get written down. It flowed, unstoppable! It was one of those times where my muse parks her cute little butt on my shoulder and begins whispering and giggling in my ear. I wrote ten to fifteen pages in a few days, and then all the stories swirled in my head and began to coalesce into one big story, all in the same universe. I had to stop and do rewrites. Names, dates, ages, places, east coast, west coast, foreshadowing, who was related to whom. And she was still whispering and giggling in my ear! Then go back to Billy’s story and stopped when it got to twenty four pages, and I wasn’t done!
But I could stop it and fill in the middle, or not. By December, the whole group meshed together nicely and I gave everything to older brother to review.
And it dawned on me how I could take unfinished JT#3, remove the crap, and turn it into Sally’s story and tie up some loose ends!
And now I have five chapters and six will be Jamie’s story. Yeah, I seriously need to tell her story!
So, I was explaining chapter six to my brother and his daughter by saying ‘It starts like this.’, and rattled off a paragraph off the top of my head. ‘No!’, he said. That’s the prologue, just like you said it! Write that down and the whole series starts with that paragraph. Then write chapter six. ’ My niece agreed. So here is how the whole series starts. Can I now go back and tell Jamie’s story? I’ve got to do her right. You do not want to face those blue-gray eyes when she is angry!
JUST A TOUCH
Prologue
By Greg W. Hogg
©1-19-19

Jamie Skinner sat at her favorite table in the back corner of an old mom and pop coffee shop, just off Sixth Street in Berkeley. One reason she liked it was because it was quiet and no one bothered you. The main reason was that it was the only place in Berkeley that served a good cup of tea, she despised that nasty brown stuff that most people drank.
On her table, which sloped a little to her right, were some personal documents to review. She set her pen down next to her tea, not bothering with the cap, and picked up the thick mug of Keemun tea. She preferred this tea when she had to think.
As she closed her eyes and took a sip, enjoying the smoky aroma and the taste of the tea, the pen, no longer held in place by the mug, began to roll.
It picked up speed as it rolled and was almost to the end of the table when it suddenly stopped. Jamie casually reached down with her right hand and picked up the pen. As she put down the tea, the cap floated over to the pen and onto the tip. She reached over with her left hand, and pushed the cap on.
The sound of chairs scraping on the wooden floor caused her to open her eyes. A couple had pulled up chairs and were sitting down at her table!
“Mind if we join you?” The man asked as he sat. He was good looking, with a nice, easy smile.
“Please let us.” The woman said as she also sat down. She had a sweet smile and Jamie immediately felt at ease.
The man moved his right hand above her pen and the pen floated up into his hand. He grasped it, turned the cap towards her, and part of the cap seemed to get sliced off by nothing.
“You should be more careful.” Reggie said, a look of concern on his face. “It’s not safe to display what you can do, in public.”