This was not how he ever wanted to spend his time visiting the Kenti tribe, but it never seemed to fail. Carmine knew he had has father to blame for half of the communications he had to keep up. He also had his mother to blame for the other half. But, in the end, he had only himself to blame for encouraging it. Usually he did not mind too much, but this time he was here with other people.
There was a pause in the proceedings and Carmine smiled as he continued his mediation. Each side took turns telling their story, but they had to repeat back what the other was saying. All Carmine really had to do was make sure the discussion did not escalate. If they could not come to some sort of conclusion by themselves then it would be up to the mediator to work out a decision and consequences to go with it. These situations always went much easier for Carmine if the people could solve the problem on their own, but that sometimes was not the case.
“Your voice is getting too loud,” Carmine said in quiet Kenti as the argument nearly started to escalate again.
Three more hours passed by and Carmine was nearing the end of his limit. Of all things to have an argument over, a fallen tree was pretty ridiculous. These kind of proceedings could take anywhere from five hours to five days, and Carmine was hoping to finish it quickly. A good mediator let the parties sort out their problems alone, but Carmine never fancied himself a good mediator. Once it reached the five hour mark he was going to stop taking a side seat in the whole affair.
No one approached him during the customary feast. It was a tradition. The mediator’s village acted as the host and fed everyone, but the mediator was rarely spoken to so as not to insinuate favoritism or threats affected his or her decision. It was not that he was not trusted, but tradition was a pretty powerful force in the jungle. Both sides had to feast together, but Carmine took his food and went off on his own.
“Hey everyone,” he said as he sat down in a small, but well kept area. “So, the dead are really the only company I’m allowed to keep right now. Though, you all know that I would visit even if there wasn’t some debate going on.”
There were no headstones, in the sense of fancy carved statues or engraved granite. Carmine’s father had carved out the wood piece, which was nestled against the large tree, for his mother. Carmine himself had made the pieces for his father, and his wife. The Kenti did not fear death and they had a habit of talking to the dead. Carmine did so every time he visited.
“I hope you’re keeping Dad out of trouble, Mom,” Carmine said as he started eating his food. “And Val, keep them both out of trouble. Actually, all of you stop causing trouble because I know you all still do. I don’t recover as fast as the rest of you. You’re all dead and together, and I really miss all of you. Especially you Val. I know, I know. You’d chew me out for being antisocial and expecting to find someone else like you. Maybe you trouble makers should just smack me over the head instead. It would probably be more effective. I’m really not that smart.”
“I don’t mean to intrude,” Vire said quietly as she and the others stood at the edge of the path. “Can I say hello to my sister as well?”
“Of course,” Carmine grinned. “You know Val would smack me if I said no. I thought you were going to be cooped up in the hut all day.”
“Well, that girl, who seems to fancy you, let us out because she knew where you’d be,” Vire explained. “She told us all about the mediation thing.”
“Lucy doesn’t fancy me,” Carmine sighed. “She’s practically my cousin and the next matriarch of the tribe. She has to know where I am.”
“So, she’s single?” Don asked.
“That’s a complicated question to ask about the next leader,” Carmine said with a smile. “But, yes, for all intents and purposes, she’s single.”
“I don’t have a chance, do I?”
“You have a crush on someone ten years older than you,” Carmine laughed. “If you want to be serious, you have to be completely insistent nutcase like my dad was.”
“It’s okay to miss them,” Vire whispered.
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