Times have changed. I no longer feel that my tribe think as I do about the ancient traditions of my country. My own granddaughter has gone against my will, but even so, every time I see her learning to be a leader, I am filled with a burning sensation of pride, although i could never express it outwards.
Up until now I have always felt that my people have respected me, but now as I see children running around, careless and without regard for anyone but themselves, and their parents pretending everything is perfect, I can see what has really happened. The people ahev forgotten and only a small few can still hazily remember when our culture was one of, if not the most important thing in society.
As the ocean rumbles and the birds sing themsleves to sleep, I cry out for the whales to guide me, but they never come, as if they have rejected one of their only remaining followers. The air is cold and as tears roll down my face the icy wind slices into my flesh like a thousand unforgiving knives. The salt in the air stings my eyes as if it is some kind of punishment, but i dont understand why.
But then I think of Pai, and the pain is gone. Although she is a girl, she seems to be the person capable of ruling the tribe.