Marbles

The children formed a circle in the clearing, chattering and jostling to get as near as possible to Elder Jakintsu. His long white beard and hair spoke of ancient wisdom, but the youngsters were more interested in the stories he told, which were invariably fun. At a loud clap of his hands, all fell silent.

“Little ones, you are no doubt wondering why we are gathered here on this rest day, when you might normally be playing,” Jakintsu said. He took a cloth bag from his lap and plonked it at his feet. It made a clinking sound.

Sitting opposite him, a little boy called Mukizu put his hand up. The old man sighed; Mukizu had a reputation that went before him.

“Yes, my boy?” Jakintsu said.

“Why are we here?”

Jakintsu rolled his eyes.

“If you let me go on, young one, I will explain.”

“Only, we were going to play marbles, and now we just have to sit here listening to dusty old words.”

“Words are very important, you know!”

“So is marbles! And we’ve got a big game today.”

Mukizu looked over at Isilik, a quiet boy, and the pretty girl sitting next to him, Neska. He gave Neska a wink, but she dropped her eyes and put a hand on Isilik’s leg. The boy covered it with his own hand.

“You like games?” Jakintsu asked, fixing Mukizu with his kind eyes.

“Ooh, not half!” Mukizu replied, and the others muttered their agreement.

“Well then, let me tell you a story.”

“Hooray!” they all cried.

Jakintsu spent a few moments scanning the group, careful to make eye-contact with each of the dozen or so there; he was an expert story-teller and knew all the tricks of engagement.

“Our story begins in the old, old, old days, when—”

“How long ago?!” Mukizu called out. Jakintsu considered his answer.

“Oh, more than ten years!” he said and watched to see how Mukizu would react, which was with a knowing nod, confirming to the old man that the boy – and by extension most probably the others too – had no real sense of time; the question had been asked simply to disrupt and grab attention.

“In those days,” Jakintsu went on, “the gods were still children, just like you. And they were very competitive.”

“What’s that … comptipuv?!” Mukizu blurted out.

Jakintsu sighed; at this rate he’d never get to the end of the story in time.

“It means you always want to beat the others in games.”

“That’s me!” Mukizu crowed.

“Is that so?” the old man said. “Well, being too competitive isn’t always a nice thing, you know. And Mukizu?”

The boy sat up straight; it wasn’t common for the elders to address young children by name.

“Please don’t keep interrupting me. I’m sure everyone wants to hear the story.”

There was a hubbub of agreement, bringing a scowl from Mukizu.

“Now, a coincidence … does anyone know what that means?” Jakintsu threw the question out to the group. Neska picked it up.

“Isn’t it when two things that are kind of the same kind of happen together … kind of?”

“Very good, Neska,” Jakintsu said; the young girl blushed. “The coincidence here is that the gods’ favourite game was…?”

“Marbles!” the children cried, laughing.

“Exactly! Well, two of the most important gods, as you know, are the god of the sun, and the god of the moon. One day, they were playing marbles. The sun god was the best marbles player…”

Mukizu smirked, he considered himself the best.

“… and he was beating the moon god easily. He’d won all of the planets and there was just Venus left to win.”

“I bet he won that too!” Mukizu shouted out, glancing over at Neska again. An icy glare from Jakintsu was enough to put him in his place. The elder continued.

“The sun god had Venus in his sights. All he had to do was flick his marble a short distance to hit it and Venus was his. Easy! But…”

He paused here to observe the sky. He’d have to hurry.

“What happened next!” Mukizu cried. This time, Jakintsu didn’t mind the interruption because the young boy’s question was like a slingshot to the climax of the story.

“… but it was the moon god’s turn first. His marble was a long way away. It would be very hard to hit Venus from there.”

“I could do it!” Mukizu bragged. Jakintsu ignored him.

“Anyway, he had to try. So he summoned up all his skill, prayed to the Great God, and flicked.”

The children’s mouths hung open.

“I bet he missed!” Mukizu sneered.

“He did,” Jakintsu admitted.

“Told you!” Mukizu scoffed.

“The ball rolled, and rolled, and rolled … and rolled right between the sun god’s marble and Venus. Then stopped dead.”

“No!” Mukizu groaned.

The other children laughed and clapped.

“Of course, however the sun god looked at it, it was impossible to hit Venus from there, with the moon god’s marble in the way. So all he could do was to nudge his marble to one side. Then it was the moon god’s turn.”

“I bet he missed!” Mukizu said, not so confidently this time.

“He did not!” Jakintsu said.

Everyone but Mukizu cheered, clapped, slapped each other on the shoulder. Isilik squeezed Neska’s hand. Mukizu harrumphed.

Jakintsu squinted up at the sky again. It was close.

“But why am I telling you this story, children?”

There was a shaking of heads and shrugging of shoulders.

“Because I have it on good authority that those same gods – all grown up now – are just as competitive, and they’re playing at this very moment!”

“Ooh!” they all oohed.

He stood now, picked up the bag from the ground beside him and went round the circle, handing each child a piece of coloured bottle-glass.

“Use these to look through,” he said, his voice becoming grave. “Mind you do now!”

The sunny clearing began to grow dimmer. There were gasps. Isilik put his arm around Neska; Mukizu noticed it and his heart sank.

“Don’t be afraid, little ones,” Elder Jakintsu said softly. “Remember: it’s just a big game of marbles after all!”

And as the moon rolled quietly across the sky, obscuring the sun, the children looked up, awestruck and delighted to see the moon god winning this game too.