Poem: "Those Who Travel on Foot"
This poem is spillover from the October 4, 2022 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from Dreamwidth users Dialecticdreamer and Librarygeek. It also fills the "I got the instructions off eHow." square in my 10-1-22 card for the Fall Festival Bingo. It has been sponsored by a pool with DW user Fuzzyred. It belongs to the Big One thread of the Polychrome Heroics series.
"Those Who Travel on Foot"
[Thursday, July 30, 2016]
It was nearly noon when
a spot of green appeared
on the horizon before them.
Randall Seaholm had been
hiking for hours, pulling a travois
full of their salvaged supplies.
His wife Siliwa had another that
held their four-year-old son Richart.
Before the Big One, they had lived in
San José, in a tribal neighborhood where
Siliwa's family had been for decades.
After the earthquake flattened it,
though, they all had to leave.
Beside them hiked another family
who used to live outside of Gilroy.
Alon Eshkol had worked in
an organic orchard where
his wife Reeva had been
revitalizing native species.
They had stuck around
for a while, trying to keep
the trees alive, but the water
dwindled and then vanished
altogether due to breaks in
the pipes and reservoirs.
Eventually they had to leave,
now towing their goods along with
their son Oren and daughter Libi.
The two families had become friends,
even though the Seaholms were native
while the Eshkols were Jewish.
"What do you think?" Randall said
as he turned to his friend Alon.
"There shouldn't be anything
that green out here," Alon said.
"The pipes are broken everywhere."
"I don't know, there must be somewhere
far enough east that still has intact pipes,"
said Reeva. "Maybe we've gone far enough."
"The question is, do we check it out now
or do we go around it?" Randall said.
"I say we check it out," said Reeva.
"It could be a refugee outpost."
"It could also be a trap, if
some traffickers put out bait
to attract refugees," said Siliwa.
That was certainly a possibility.
They had all heard stories about
traffickers preying on people,
especially young women, as if
the quake wasn't bad enough.
"We're following a main road,"
said Reeva. "The signs point
to Mercedes in this direction.
It's big enough that traffickers
would probably avoid the town."
"Point," Siliwa conceded. "They
wouldn't want that much attention."
"You keep going along this path,"
said Randall. "I'll swing closer
to the road and check for signs."
"Be careful," Siliwa said. She
hugged him, and the other adults
patted him on the back for luck.
Randall angled toward the road.
They had been hiking parallel to it
but not on it, because the pavement
was broken in places and besides,
it soaked up extra heat from the sun.
He hadn't gone far before he saw
the road sign for Mercedes, but
under that was tacked a new one:
Refugee Relief Station - 2 miles
Water - Food - Shelter - First Aid.
Randall checked the water bottle
at his waist. It was almost empty.
He took a drink, hoping that he
could really refill the bottle soon.
That hope quickened his steps as
he veered back toward his family.
"There's a sign for refugee aid,"
Randall said when he rejoined them.
"That must be what we're seeing --
water, food, shelter, and first aid."
As they walked, the spot of green
slowly grew larger and closer.
When they came to a stretch of
knee-high green vines on the ground,
Reeva said, "Crud, that's kudzu!"
The vines spread over the dry land
and up over several pavilions,
creating much-needed shade.
"Worry about that later,"
said Alon. "For now, let's
just be grateful for the shade."
They followed a path through
the kudzu to the pavilions.
The place was staffed by
a young man with green hair.
"Hi, I'm Kudzu Dan," he said.
"The Refugee Relief Station has
basic supplies free for everyone.
Is anyone sick or injured?"
"No, just tired," said Alon.
"We couldn't get a ride and
the roads are wrecked anyway,
so we've been walking for weeks."
"Let's hear it for native technology,"
Kudzu Dan said, waving at the travois.
"I got the instructions off of eHow,"
Randall muttered, looking down.
"The world reveals itself to
those who travel on foot,"
Siliwa said with a smile.
"There are no shortcuts
to any place worth going,"
Alon added. "We've had
good company on the way."
"Besides, the best remedy for
a short temper is a long walk,"
said Reeva, who would know.
"Well, I'm glad that you've made
the best of it," said Kudzu Dan.
"You've got some distance left
to walk -- transportation is only
available for emergency cases,
there's not enough to go around
for everyone traveling into town."
"That's fine," said Randall. "We
can walk. We would love to get
some fresh supplies, though."
Kudzu Dan pointed. "Water is
in that pavilion. Food bars and
field meals are in the next one.
First aid kits and supplies are last."
"Thank you," said Randall. "Okay,
folks, I suggest we split up and
stock up." Siliwa, Alon, and
Reeva headed to the pavilions.
"I have references in English
or Spanish if you want to know
about resources in Mercedes,"
Kudzu Dan offered next.
"Yes, please," said Randall.
"We need all the help we can get."
"You're carrying everything that
you own?" Kudzu Dan said softly.
"Pretty much," said Randall. "Siliwa
and I couldn't pull much out of what
was left of our apartment building.
Alon and Reeva had to abandon
an orchard when the water ran out.
I don't know if they left things behind
or if their place got pancaked too."
"All right, here's a list of the services
especially for refugees," said Kudzu Dan.
"These places provide food and drinks,
these just hand out the bottled water."
"That's very useful, thanks," said Randall.
"We were just about out of supplies."
"This map shows sanitary facilities
in Mercedes," Kudzu Dan went on.
"This one has the camping areas and
these are maps of new neighborhoods
that are building roundhouses, but
those all have waiting lists already."
"We have tents," said Randall.
"We can wait for better housing ...
I don't know if folks will want to stay
or move on. We were just trying
to reach somewhere that we could
get supplies and information."
"You found it," said Kudzu Dan.
"Mercedes barely had a shimmy,
so it's become a major beachhead.
Much farther west, the roads start
breaking up in some places."
The women had returned, and
Siliwa exclaimed over the maps.
"Oh, these will be so useful!"
"I wonder if anyone is growing
organic food around here,"
Alon said. "I have a degree."
"Yes, and they're expanding,"
said Kudzu Dan. "There's also
a community garden. Anyone
who knows how to grow food can
find work. We've still got water,
and a lot of mouths to feed."
Randall sighed. "I'm an artist
and an oddjobber now," he said.
"I used to work on boats."
"Check the jobs boards,"
said Kudzu Dan. "There
are youth projects for
odd jobs, but some are
calling for adults too."
"I haven't found anything
because the jobs all wanted
more schooling than I had,"
said Siliwa. "So I've just
been a stay-at-home mom."
"You can get certificates --
there are a lot of free classes
offered now, if you would like
to boost your credentials,"
said Kudzu Dan. "Folks
need child care especially."
"Well, I already have first aid
and parenting stuff," said Siliwa.
"So that's worth exploring."
Reeva poked at the leaves
with her foot. "I am still
concerned about the kudzu."
"It's okay, it's not permanent,"
Kudzu Dan assured her.
She gave him a look. "I've
rarely seen anything that is
more permanent than kudzu."
"No, really, it's my superpower,"
he said, waving a hand. Some
of the vines slithered back into
his body. "I can't remove all of it,
but at the end of my shift, I just
go stand in that bed over there."
He pointed to a patch of mulch
bordered by salvaged wood.
"What's left is just a small patch
of kudzu," he went on. "That gets
shoveled into a compost tumbler --"
He pointed again. "-- and then
the sun cooks it all to death."
"All right, that's good to know,"
Reeva said. "I work in restoration
and conservation, so I worry."
"Folks around here do a lot with
native species," said Kudzu Dan.
"Ask and you can probably get a job."
"Thanks," said Reeva. "That's good
to know. I'll need to find work soon."
They finished loading fresh supplies
into the travois, then sat down to eat.
The food pavilion had everything from
snack bars to camp food to meals that
could be eaten right out of the wrapper,
including some allergy-friendly options.
"Most of this stuff is labeled kosher,"
Siliwa said as she checked packages,
and Reeva heaved a sigh of relief.
"Oh good," said Randall. "It's been
touch-and-go since we ran out of
our personal food supplies."
"Official relief stations have
to provide food for everyone,"
said Kudzu Dan. "Mercedes
even caters to soups who have
really uncommon dietary needs."
"None of that here, just kosher,"
said Reeva. "We've been foraging
what we could from the wild too."
"Useful, but no longer necessary,"
said Kudzu Dan. "Eat up, and
you can shelter here through
the hottest part of the day. It'll
be safer to walk into town in
the cooler evening hours."
So they rested and ate
in the shade, and Randall
figured that Mercedes would
make a good place to stay,
at least for the time being.
They'd figure out the rest later.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.
"Those Who Travel on Foot"
[Thursday, July 30, 2016]
It was nearly noon when
a spot of green appeared
on the horizon before them.
Randall Seaholm had been
hiking for hours, pulling a travois
full of their salvaged supplies.
His wife Siliwa had another that
held their four-year-old son Richart.
Before the Big One, they had lived in
San José, in a tribal neighborhood where
Siliwa's family had been for decades.
After the earthquake flattened it,
though, they all had to leave.
Beside them hiked another family
who used to live outside of Gilroy.
Alon Eshkol had worked in
an organic orchard where
his wife Reeva had been
revitalizing native species.
They had stuck around
for a while, trying to keep
the trees alive, but the water
dwindled and then vanished
altogether due to breaks in
the pipes and reservoirs.
Eventually they had to leave,
now towing their goods along with
their son Oren and daughter Libi.
The two families had become friends,
even though the Seaholms were native
while the Eshkols were Jewish.
"What do you think?" Randall said
as he turned to his friend Alon.
"There shouldn't be anything
that green out here," Alon said.
"The pipes are broken everywhere."
"I don't know, there must be somewhere
far enough east that still has intact pipes,"
said Reeva. "Maybe we've gone far enough."
"The question is, do we check it out now
or do we go around it?" Randall said.
"I say we check it out," said Reeva.
"It could be a refugee outpost."
"It could also be a trap, if
some traffickers put out bait
to attract refugees," said Siliwa.
That was certainly a possibility.
They had all heard stories about
traffickers preying on people,
especially young women, as if
the quake wasn't bad enough.
"We're following a main road,"
said Reeva. "The signs point
to Mercedes in this direction.
It's big enough that traffickers
would probably avoid the town."
"Point," Siliwa conceded. "They
wouldn't want that much attention."
"You keep going along this path,"
said Randall. "I'll swing closer
to the road and check for signs."
"Be careful," Siliwa said. She
hugged him, and the other adults
patted him on the back for luck.
Randall angled toward the road.
They had been hiking parallel to it
but not on it, because the pavement
was broken in places and besides,
it soaked up extra heat from the sun.
He hadn't gone far before he saw
the road sign for Mercedes, but
under that was tacked a new one:
Refugee Relief Station - 2 miles
Water - Food - Shelter - First Aid.
Randall checked the water bottle
at his waist. It was almost empty.
He took a drink, hoping that he
could really refill the bottle soon.
That hope quickened his steps as
he veered back toward his family.
"There's a sign for refugee aid,"
Randall said when he rejoined them.
"That must be what we're seeing --
water, food, shelter, and first aid."
As they walked, the spot of green
slowly grew larger and closer.
When they came to a stretch of
knee-high green vines on the ground,
Reeva said, "Crud, that's kudzu!"
The vines spread over the dry land
and up over several pavilions,
creating much-needed shade.
"Worry about that later,"
said Alon. "For now, let's
just be grateful for the shade."
They followed a path through
the kudzu to the pavilions.
The place was staffed by
a young man with green hair.
"Hi, I'm Kudzu Dan," he said.
"The Refugee Relief Station has
basic supplies free for everyone.
Is anyone sick or injured?"
"No, just tired," said Alon.
"We couldn't get a ride and
the roads are wrecked anyway,
so we've been walking for weeks."
"Let's hear it for native technology,"
Kudzu Dan said, waving at the travois.
"I got the instructions off of eHow,"
Randall muttered, looking down.
"The world reveals itself to
those who travel on foot,"
Siliwa said with a smile.
"There are no shortcuts
to any place worth going,"
Alon added. "We've had
good company on the way."
"Besides, the best remedy for
a short temper is a long walk,"
said Reeva, who would know.
"Well, I'm glad that you've made
the best of it," said Kudzu Dan.
"You've got some distance left
to walk -- transportation is only
available for emergency cases,
there's not enough to go around
for everyone traveling into town."
"That's fine," said Randall. "We
can walk. We would love to get
some fresh supplies, though."
Kudzu Dan pointed. "Water is
in that pavilion. Food bars and
field meals are in the next one.
First aid kits and supplies are last."
"Thank you," said Randall. "Okay,
folks, I suggest we split up and
stock up." Siliwa, Alon, and
Reeva headed to the pavilions.
"I have references in English
or Spanish if you want to know
about resources in Mercedes,"
Kudzu Dan offered next.
"Yes, please," said Randall.
"We need all the help we can get."
"You're carrying everything that
you own?" Kudzu Dan said softly.
"Pretty much," said Randall. "Siliwa
and I couldn't pull much out of what
was left of our apartment building.
Alon and Reeva had to abandon
an orchard when the water ran out.
I don't know if they left things behind
or if their place got pancaked too."
"All right, here's a list of the services
especially for refugees," said Kudzu Dan.
"These places provide food and drinks,
these just hand out the bottled water."
"That's very useful, thanks," said Randall.
"We were just about out of supplies."
"This map shows sanitary facilities
in Mercedes," Kudzu Dan went on.
"This one has the camping areas and
these are maps of new neighborhoods
that are building roundhouses, but
those all have waiting lists already."
"We have tents," said Randall.
"We can wait for better housing ...
I don't know if folks will want to stay
or move on. We were just trying
to reach somewhere that we could
get supplies and information."
"You found it," said Kudzu Dan.
"Mercedes barely had a shimmy,
so it's become a major beachhead.
Much farther west, the roads start
breaking up in some places."
The women had returned, and
Siliwa exclaimed over the maps.
"Oh, these will be so useful!"
"I wonder if anyone is growing
organic food around here,"
Alon said. "I have a degree."
"Yes, and they're expanding,"
said Kudzu Dan. "There's also
a community garden. Anyone
who knows how to grow food can
find work. We've still got water,
and a lot of mouths to feed."
Randall sighed. "I'm an artist
and an oddjobber now," he said.
"I used to work on boats."
"Check the jobs boards,"
said Kudzu Dan. "There
are youth projects for
odd jobs, but some are
calling for adults too."
"I haven't found anything
because the jobs all wanted
more schooling than I had,"
said Siliwa. "So I've just
been a stay-at-home mom."
"You can get certificates --
there are a lot of free classes
offered now, if you would like
to boost your credentials,"
said Kudzu Dan. "Folks
need child care especially."
"Well, I already have first aid
and parenting stuff," said Siliwa.
"So that's worth exploring."
Reeva poked at the leaves
with her foot. "I am still
concerned about the kudzu."
"It's okay, it's not permanent,"
Kudzu Dan assured her.
She gave him a look. "I've
rarely seen anything that is
more permanent than kudzu."
"No, really, it's my superpower,"
he said, waving a hand. Some
of the vines slithered back into
his body. "I can't remove all of it,
but at the end of my shift, I just
go stand in that bed over there."
He pointed to a patch of mulch
bordered by salvaged wood.
"What's left is just a small patch
of kudzu," he went on. "That gets
shoveled into a compost tumbler --"
He pointed again. "-- and then
the sun cooks it all to death."
"All right, that's good to know,"
Reeva said. "I work in restoration
and conservation, so I worry."
"Folks around here do a lot with
native species," said Kudzu Dan.
"Ask and you can probably get a job."
"Thanks," said Reeva. "That's good
to know. I'll need to find work soon."
They finished loading fresh supplies
into the travois, then sat down to eat.
The food pavilion had everything from
snack bars to camp food to meals that
could be eaten right out of the wrapper,
including some allergy-friendly options.
"Most of this stuff is labeled kosher,"
Siliwa said as she checked packages,
and Reeva heaved a sigh of relief.
"Oh good," said Randall. "It's been
touch-and-go since we ran out of
our personal food supplies."
"Official relief stations have
to provide food for everyone,"
said Kudzu Dan. "Mercedes
even caters to soups who have
really uncommon dietary needs."
"None of that here, just kosher,"
said Reeva. "We've been foraging
what we could from the wild too."
"Useful, but no longer necessary,"
said Kudzu Dan. "Eat up, and
you can shelter here through
the hottest part of the day. It'll
be safer to walk into town in
the cooler evening hours."
So they rested and ate
in the shade, and Randall
figured that Mercedes would
make a good place to stay,
at least for the time being.
They'd figure out the rest later.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.