205. Lost wisdoms
© Bruce Goodman 3 May 2014

Carl offered to give Piripi a ride to the next town. Piripi was an old man. His ancestors had lived in these parts since time began. In the car, Piripi spoke to Carl about his great sadness:

His grandson had come to stay. He thought he was to teach him the old traditions; teach him what had been passed down generation after generation. Instead, the grandson spent the time at the grandfather’s house watching sport on television. He had no interest in the past. “It’s all bullshit,” he said.

Piripi pointed to the mountains. Every peak has a name. Every bend in the river has a name. Every inlet in the sea has a name. Every name has a history. His grandson didn’t want to know. “I’m the last on the planet to know these things. You don’t write them down; you pass them down. A thousand years of wisdom will die with me.”

And the old man’s voice quivered.

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