Mara and Dann. Doris Lessing

stood looking at each other. Under all the dust and dirt had been Mara, had been Dann, and now they were there again. Their flesh was not firm and plump like the woman pilot’s, but at least the skin lay healthily on their bones, even on Mara’s, for she was no longer only bones and skin. And now at the same time they were shy and turned away. Dressed in dust they had not thought of covering themselves, but now they did. Mara averted her eyes from his thick tube and the two smooth balls in their little sac, and he glanced at her slit, with its fluff of hair, and looked away.

      She could not bear to put on that filthy garment, so stiff with dust it was lying on the earth with her shape in it. Naked, she stepped back into the pool with her garment, and he too with his. And they rubbed and rubbed in the soap foam, the soap itself having dissolved away; and soon the water was brown and the white foam masses were pale brown too. Dann washed his robe with his back to her. It was a strong muscled back, and her body was as hard and strong. On her chest, above the knotted cord of coins, were hard round plates, like Dann’s, but back at the waterhole in the Rock Village there had been no flesh there, only bones. When they had washed their robes, they laid them on a rock to dry. Their pool was no longer an invitation, being so dirty. Dann tested another, and they lolled in it and floated in it, while the sun sucked the water out of their two robes. And then it was midday, and they were hungry. Mara mixed the very last of their flour with water, and cooked it on the hot rock, and they ate, and drank a great deal of water, out of hunger, though Dann said that soon they would eat, he was sure of it.

      Then they put on their almost dry robes. Mara’s would never be white again, for it had been dyed by dust, and his was the same. But they were clean. They filled the water can from another pool and then, the carrying pole between them, the can hanging there, they set off to walk into Chelops, along the stream. In front of them soon was a barrier that they could not understand. It was several times their height, made of closely laced metal ribbons, covered with barbs like thorns, and rusty. There were holes in this fence where the metal had simply rotted away. There was a great gate, which they tried to push open, and then two men, big yellowish men with rolling, abundant flesh and cold yellow eyes, came running.

      Dann shouted at Mara to run – but there was nowhere they could run, the fences went on and on. When a man grabbed Mara she fought, but her wrists were tied together with thin rope, which hurt. Dann too, though he kicked and twisted and several times got away and was caught, had his wrists tied.

      Within half a day of entering Chelops, Mara and Dann were prisoners, charged with defiling the city’s water source, and for being inside a forbidden area, and for resisting arrest. On that same afternoon they were put to stand in front of a magistrate. Mara had been expecting someone like the guards, whom she now knew were Hadrons. But the man sitting on a little platform, looking at them, Mara thought, with curiosity, was not a Hadron. He was more like a Mahondi, but could not be because he was large and even fat. This was Juba, who soon would become Mara’s very good friend. Meanwhile he was seeing something that he expected to see several times a week: starved fugitives from the famine down south, whose first action was always to steal some food. These two had not, though they had no food at all. Juba never punished the thieves, merely sent them off to join the slave force. But in this case he had to find out what they were doing in the water pools. If they had come from the south then why not by the road everyone used? Why had they sneaked like criminals down over the escarpment?

      Mara was doing the talking. Dann, from the moment the cord went around his wrists, had become listless and silent, and seemed to have given up hope. He stood beside his sister drooping, sometimes shivering a little, and would not look up.

      ‘My brother is ill,’ said Mara. ‘He hasn’t eaten enough.’

      ‘I can see that,’ said Juba. ‘You have committed a very serious crime. You don’t seem to realise how bad. It is a death sentence for defiling the water supply. And then you resisted arrest too.’

      Mara said, ‘I didn’t know about an arrest, or resisting.’

      ‘Where do you come from?’

      ‘The Rock Village.’

      ‘But you aren’t of the Rock People. You are a Mahondi.’

      ‘Yes,’ said Mara.

      ‘Where were you born?’

      ‘In Rustam.’

      ‘What is your name?’ Here it was again, a small tugging at her memory.

      ‘Maro.’

      ‘No, your family name.’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘You are going to have to tell me how you got down into our water supplies.’

      Mara had not wanted to mention Felice, but now she said, ‘Felice brought us to the top there.’

      This seemed to disturb him.

      ‘Felice did? And how did you pay her?’

      ‘She was – sorry for us,’ said Mara. And knew she had said something that Felice would be questioned about.

      They were put in a little room near the court while someone went off to find Felice. They were given food, at Juba’s order, and it was good, hot food, which made them feel better. Though Dann seemed not himself, and sat staring, and would not speak.

      How was it possible? Mara thought. Could one night, one terrible night in a child’s life, mark him for ever? So that he would never get free of it? Even though he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – remember it?

      When the messenger came back, he said that Felice was asleep when he got there, but said that she had given a lift to the two boys, since she was coming back to Chelops anyway. They had asked to be set down on the ridge and would make their own way down into Chelops. She had not taken payment from them. This was a relief, because when the guards had gone through their sacks, not very thoroughly, because they had to do it so often, they had actually found Dann’s cord of coins, but thought it was probably some sort of amulet or fetish, and had thrown it back into the bottom.

      Juba sat there for quite a time, his head in his hand, thinking. He could understand why Felice – who had piloted him often enough on official business – had felt sorry for these two innocents. He knew quite well that he was not being told all the truth, but did not believe that truth for truth’s sake had always to be insisted on.

      In the end, he simply said to the guards, ‘Take the cords off.’ And, while Mara and Dann rubbed their wrists, ‘Take them to the slave quarters.’ These were buildings in a compound where Chelops’ slaves were housed. Dann and Mara were slaves because they were Mahondis, who had ‘always’ been the Hadrons’ slaves. They were not at once put to work but fed double rations for a few days. They were sent out with the other slaves before either of them felt strong enough, but were given light tasks to begin with. Then they kept streets and public buildings clean, acted as bearers for the chairs on poles the Hadrons were carried about in, or pushed the old skimmers that were now ground vehicles, or did any other tasks that needed doing. The slaves were well fed, worked twelve hours a day, and one day a week wrestled and threw each other in a big hall used for that purpose. Male and female slaves slept in different buildings.

      Dann and Mara had little opportunity to talk, for they were supervised by Hadron guards whose task it was to discourage any possible attempts at conspiracy.

      Where they had come from was spoken of with contempt, which masked a dread that what had happened – was happening – ‘down south’ or ‘down there’ in ‘the deadlands’ or ‘the bad place’ or ‘the dust country’ or ‘the country without water,’ could happen here too. No one went south but officials, to Majab, when they had to.

      The Mahondis were an inferior race and had always been servants and slaves.

      The Hadrons had built this city, and many other cities in the country, called Hadron, which they had settled and had always administered.

      Certain things were only whispered. No one lived in the administrative centre, those twenty-five grim buildings in the middle of