Among those giants was where they had built the huts taking advantage of the rocky walls that served as support . In some places of those stony giants , spectacular caves were formed with undulating and smooth surfaces that showed the traces of time . Absorbed by what she saw , she was surprised by several locals who came out to meet her . As soon as she explained who she was , they led her through the labyrinthine village to one of the highest promontories . She climbed up a staircase carved in the stone to the mouth of the shelter , it was huge and had , on one side , an opening where you could guess an endless landscape . Sitting on some skins and leaning against the central wall of the shelter , an old woman with long white hair seemed to be waiting for her . Above her head , a meter high , a solar figure painted on the rock caught Yanga ' s attention , she had also painted the sun , but she quickly returned to the eyes , bluish with age , of the old woman , they were familiar to her , she did not know how it was possible , but she had seen herself reflected in them before .
They spent the whole night sitting facing each other , accompanied only by the light of the fire that kept them warm . The old woman did most of the talking .
The next day , after drinking a bowl of freshly milked milk , she gently took her hostess ' s weather-beaten face and brought it close to her own until their foreheads met . That act that lasted an instant , for Yanga would be eternal .
The way back was not the same person as before . She was different , the conversation with the old woman had been the reason for this trip . Now she knew why her grandmother did not miss her village , now she understood that you have to leave - even your land - if it prevents you from learning . She had understood the message , nothing is permanent , even those tall mountains would one day disappear . The premonitory vision her grandmother had as a young girl and the old woman related to her had been revelatory , both for her teacher then and for her now . The words still echoed in her ears "... Here in the village , there were other people , others , different from us , they inhabited our houses , which were not the same , but they were the same . Their gods were not ours , they wore strange clothes , and spoke different languages ..."
60 OTWO 54 / JANUARY 2024