The “Primitives” Come to Study the Anthropologists

[photo from Pexels]

Anthropology Studies In Reverse

    I’ve been living mostly in the secret caves of my Ut’ishsih people. But I must come to the surface at least once in a while.
    You might say that at least in the distant past that the typical stereotype that the general public in the up-top world would have would be that an Anthropologist studies “primitive” people and indulges them in their foolish ways to learn about their culture (I’m not saying that professionals have that bias anymore, or do they). So one might imagine that an Anthropologist would come down here to study us. But as a “primitive person” and Utcoozhoo’s anthropology student, I must go up-top to study the Mekibota, the Homo sapiens. Although, basically, our genes are mostly the same. It’s just that the cultures are radically different as is the official language, which, of course, is the point. So as a common person down here I will attempt to be the grand Anthropology grad student looking to immerse himself in the “primitive” culture of the surface world.

I suppose that anxiety is a common trait

    This modern era is very uncomfortable for me. Would someone forgive a shy caveman his tentative introduction to the modern world? So maybe I should just be poetic with that up-top girl, and talk about Cirrus clouds. I could say to her, “Deep is the puff of your word, the tuft of wispy breathless love, a dear cloud for my sky I use as pillow to sleep in; it’s your fluff without rain enveloping it.” “Cirrus-ly,” I’d say, “could we be cumulus?”
    Nah, who cares about fluff pieces (Hey, is this colloquial enough — haven’t I mastered idiomatic English enough to pass as not caveman? I think it’s approaching conversational without affectation. I’ve gotten to use those careless redundancies and a few Y’know’s — right?)

Shall I begin making notes?

    OK, so I’m sort’a making a diary here. What do I do now? I guess I can just begin with a Dear Diary:

    There is some disturbing news on American television: some Ojdispekib, the ones who assimilated long ago, are beginning to appear on talk-shows and bragging about their special powers. They may have accumulated money but they have neither boyish charm nor savage enchantment.
    I would have preferred to remain in the cave and woods, but with modern media, there’s no more hiding, and I probably should establish myself outside the cave where the Grand Council has no jurisdiction — Utcoozhoo seems to think their benevolent dictatorship is about to transform itself into a malignant evil that might even threaten the up-top world, but politics doesn’t interest me. I’ve been to the city, and I can see why they call the city a “concrete jungle”. But the women are beautiful and graceful like deer… and I am like a caveman lost in the forest. There would be uncertainty on the forest’s edge, my spear would seem not steady, a stone’s throw away from the missing red deer who’ve gone with the cattle, fenced by plank woods, and tamed. I, lost caveman, still feel frozen out. On edge, I’ve lost my säng-froid beyond the Ice Age.
    She is a red deer who will not stray, stays deep in the jungle; it’s hard to ambush her heart when I am edgy, my spear heavy. Supercilious, she will not touch the edge of my brow, the forest of my desire, unless I meet her for coffee at the Antelope Hotel minding my manners – small spoon on cantaloupe.

The Up-top Girl

    I’ve made a date with her. I guess I should keep her anonymous — otherwise, she’ll be a laughingstock. I’m not quite comfortable yet doing a full diary. I’ll work into it. I’m not sure about the protocols for a Blog.

Good News Going To Dinner

    Her roundness astounded me, and a glorious ballet danced her to our table, ecstasy tableau. The mâitre d’ hôtel knew about her kindness, and smiling at us, served mixed pleasures without a raised eyebrow – he was a fine shaman, uncorking champagne and venison. She took me home.
    Gorgeous was the evening when she spoke to me as if I were a hunter of love, and she knew my appetite profoundly. She stroked the hair of my back, my buttocks, raised me right with sheep skin on my rod to save my genes for a future cherished child when glory would be our name, we, dancers of wealth sharing with every child who’d cry, a kiss. Never have I seen such a feast like we had this night of lore, and I wish for more.
    She is a smile, and I am a sigh, my hug was accepted. Yes, I am we, we sing, and I would say to ring the tones of me forever.

I don’t know: should do colloquial English?

I guess it might be simpler to say, up-top girl contrasted with cavegirl Zawmb’yee Nuje. Is Zawmb’yee going to be jealous. Geez, I forgot. I actually have two studies. One is with Zawmb’yee about Ut’ishsih history and language, and the other my assignment up-top from Utcoozhoo. I think Zawmb’yee is going to have a surprise for me.